2:  Wheresoever the Carcase Is

From that time on, every night we patrolled the path to Latchet from dusk to dawn; and every night we looked within the coach-house, to see whether any car-owner had come to stay at the inn. For such duty, two were enough: so Mansel and Carson did it one night, George and Rowley the second, and Bell and myself the third. In our spare time we took our ease, fishing and visiting Salzburg and getting to know the country round and about the farm. The weather continuing fine, we did very well: but, as the days went by, yet nothing took place, I sometimes wondered if Mansel’s judgment was wrong.

Perhaps because I was doubting, I was the first to have something to report.

When Bell and I went out, our procedure was this. First, we inspected the road and the side of the road, and we proved the verge of the forest from the culvert up to the path. Then we followed the path to Latchet and, after inspecting the coach-house, made our way back. For the rest of the night, one was moving between the road and the meadow, and one was watching the edge of the Salzburg road.

It was my third turn of duty, and I was peering into the coach-house, about to switch on my torch, when I became aware of the presence below of a car that had been moving at speed and was not yet cold. For full three minutes I waited, straining my ears; then I lighted my torch, to see a wine-coloured saloon, all covered with dust. I could neither read its number, nor recognize its make: but it carried a ‘GB’ plate and one of its off-side windows was badly starred.

I put out my torch, carefully closed the shutter and made my way down to the ground.

When I told Bell what I had seen–

“Looks like we’re off, sir,” he said.

I agreed with him.

Instead of retracing our steps, we then stole on and round, to have a look at the inn; for, had some window been lighted, we might have been able to see the people who had come in the car. But here we were disappointed, for every window was dark. This was not surprising, for the hour was half-past eleven; and if they had come some distance, as like as not they had been glad to retire. So, after a careful survey from every side, we turned again to the path and our not unpleasant walk to the Salzburg road.

By the time we had reached the meadows, the moon was up, so, for what it was worth, I left Bell at the edge of the forest, to watch the open ground. He was to follow me in a quarter of an hour; if half an hour went by, but he did not arrive, I was to go to him as fast as I could.

There is a saying ‘It never rains, but it pours.’ Be that as it may, as I came to the verge of the woods, through which the road ran, I saw a car at rest by the side of the way.

Its lights were out, but the moon was showing it up and I saw it well. It was black or blue – a coupé, and looked American.

For a moment, I stood very still. Then, since I was still in the shadow and full thirty paces away from the edge of the road, I began to move on very slowly, keeping my eyes on the car…

And there I made two mistakes, which Mansel would never have made. In the first place, I ought at once to have left the path; in the second, I should have been careful to keep my eyes off the road, for, looking out of the darkness into the light, they were, of course, far less fitted to pierce the darkness itself, and anyone in the forest, with his back to the road, would have been able to see me before I saw him.

And that is just what happened.

I heard a gasp and a rustle: and, as I turned, two arms went about my neck.

“Oh, John, John! I’m so thankful. I–”

The sentence snapped off short, and the girl recoiled and stood peering, with one of her hands to her head.

“My God,” she breathed. “Who are you? I – I thought…”

“I’m very sorry,” I said. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“You’re English. Have you brought me a message?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t,” I said.

“Then why are you using this path at this time of night?”

“Mere chance,” said I. “I don’t sleep well and I wander a lot at night. May I know who ‘John’ is? I might be able to help.”

“You must be staying at Latchet. Is there anyone ill at the inn?”

“I’m not staying there, but I daresay I could find out. Won’t you tell me who to ask for?”

I could see her looking at me and biting her lip.

“I suppose I can trust you,” she said.

“I suppose you can.”

“I want news of Major John Bowshot. He is – a great friend of mine. I – I haven’t seen him lately, and I have a – a dreadful feeling that he may have been taken ill.”

“I’ll do my best,” said I. “When and where can I meet you again?”

“Today is Tuesday. Can you be here on Thursday?”

“Not here,” I said, quickly. I had the sense to say that. “Do you know the crossroads beyond Latchet?”

“Of course. But why not here?”

“I shall be tired on Thursday, and this is too far.”

She looked at me very hard.

“Very well. The crossroads. Between half-past ten and eleven on Thursday night.”

“I will be there, I promise.”

She hesitated. Then—

“He was staying at Latchet,” she said, “and I had to go away. He knew that, of course. But when I got back and came here, he never came. And that’s not – like him. If you could find out what’s wrong…”

“I’ll do my best,” I said.

She turned and took the path, to go back to the car.

When she found me behind her—

“You needn’t trouble,” she said.

I took no notice and handed her over the ditch and into the road.

I saw a coronet painted upon the door of the car.

I opened this, and she took the driver’s seat.

“May I know your name?” she said.

“Perhaps on Thursday,” said I, and shut the door.

I felt her eyes on me.

“Why didn’t you slam it?” she said.

“Till Thursday,” said I, and stood back.

“You make me uneasy,” she said. “Will you tell me only one thing?”

“On Thursday, perhaps.”

“Do you know John Bowshot?”

“No,” said I. “But I’ll do my best for you both.”

“Thank you,” she said, and started her engine up.

As she let in her clutch, she inclined her head.

I made her a bow in return, and the car slid away.

Ten seconds later, I was once more out of sight.

 

Mansel was sitting upon the foot of my bed.

I got your note,” he said. “And I couldn’t wait any longer. It’s past midday.”

“Sorry,” said I, and, with that, I told him my tale. When I had done, he rose and moved to a window and stood looking out.

“Cherchez la femme,” he said. And then, “I might have known. Go and have your bath, William. You’ve given me food for thought.”

But when I came back he was gone.

After lunch we discussed the matter – Mansel and George and I.

It was my desire – and I said so – that Mansel should come on Thursday and keep my appointment with me; but this he refused to do.

“Not this time,” he said. “You are very well able to play the hand. All that you must be sure of is that the girl is straight. If she is, you can tell her whatever you please. And see what she says.”

“I can’t tell her that Bowshot is dead.”

“I think it will be your duty. I’m very sorry, William, but, if you decide that she’s honest – and of that, from what you tell me, there can be no doubt – I think you will have to tell her, there and then. And then you can tell her our mission – to find his murderers out.”

“It’s all damned fine,” I said.

“I know. It’s a hellish business. But we simply cannot lead her along the garden-path. Not even for twenty-four hours. If we did, she’d never forgive us – and she would be right. Once we are sure of her, we cannot have her on. What line she will take, I don’t know. If she takes the bit in her teeth, we can but go home. But if she was in love with Bowshot, then she has a right to know that Bowshot is dead. Whether or no she can throw any light on his death, I’ve no idea. But she may be able to.

“And now for the strangers at Latchet.

“This may be a mare’s-nest. Still, it’s an English car, and Latchet is off the map. Any way, it’s for us to make sure whether or no these are the fellows we want. So I think that tonight we should all go out on the job. And that, in good time. If they were concerned in the murder and mean to inspect the scene, I simply cannot believe that they will do it by day. A man’s got to have an iron nerve to dispense with the cover of darkness on such an occasion as that.

“Now if they do visit the spot which we know so well, our principal object will be to overhear what they say. We are out after proof. Once they stand convicted by what we have heard them say, we have got to see what they look like. This may mean that we have to declare our presence. It may mean – anything. What is quite certain is that, once they know we are there, our relations will not be cordial. And, for that reason, I think we had better go armed.”

That was as much as he said; but I know that I dreaded the appointment which I had made with the girl even more than I looked forward to the clash which might come that night. And that is saying a great deal.

I will not set down in detail the orders which Mansel gave before we set out; but I will make one point – that if the strangers at Latchet were indeed proposing to visit the scene of the crime, we could not possibly tell whether they meant to do so on foot or by car. It was, therefore, arranged that I should stay by the road, for I had seen the car and should know it again. And Bell and Carson with me. But Mansel and George and Rowley would answer for the path. George’s post was to be in the meadows, and Mansel’s by the side of the path, two hundred yards from the road. Rowley would move between them, playing connecting-file. Being, so to speak, in the centre, Mansel would be ready and waiting to move either way.

Carson and Bell would each carry a heavy chock. If the car I had seen were to stop not far from the path, and its occupants were to alight, they were to place these chocks beneath a front and hind wheel; so that, should the men take alarm and run for the car, although they gained it, they would not be able to leave.

The evening was overcast, and dusk came in soon after we left the farm. It was as good as dark when we came to the Salzburg road. We did not use our lights, but though I, who was driving the Lowland, was close to the Rolls, I could only just see her leave the road for the track and, once I had left it myself, I could see nothing at all. Carson at once alighted, to move in front of the car, taking with him one end of a cord which was tied to my arm. So long as this was drawn tight, I knew that the way was clear and that I could proceed. Five minutes later, both of the cars had been turned where the two tracks crossed, and had been berthed as usual, facing the road.

And then on foot and in silence we moved down the second track.

Arrived at the road, as usual, we crossed it one at a time. George crossed first, for he had the farthest to go; then Rowley; and, after him, Mansel. And I was about to follow, when I heard the sound of a car.

At once I left the track, stepping into the bracken which grew upon either side. And there I stood waiting until the car should have passed.

And then I suddenly knew that it was not going to pass.

Peering between the stems, I watched its lights approaching more and more slowly, until they stopped altogether, about a hundred yards off. Then they came on again at a walking pace. Twice more they stopped, as though the driver were looking for something he thought should be there. Craning my neck, I tried to follow their beam… As I did so, this reached the culvert – or, rather, the twin parapets which showed where the culvert was. The car stopped again. Then again it came slowly on, until it was almost abreast of where – by this time – I was kneeling, by the side of the track.

And then it swung to its right, and I fell on my face.

I might have guessed for what the driver was looking; I should have been ready for what he was going to do.

Be that as it may, all the forest directly about me was suddenly bright as a stage with the footlights on, and the car swung into the track, whilst I lay four feet from its wheels, with my sleeves tight across my face.

The next few moments were among the worst I have passed.

I was not so much concerned about Carson and Bell, for they could be counted upon to do the right thing. But what made me want to cry out was the thought that the driver might do as we had and make for where the tracks crossed, in order to turn his car. If he did that – or even if he went too far up – his headlights would certainly show him the marks of our wheels, while, if he backed round to the right, they would show him the Rolls and the Lowland, some fifty paces away.

In this anxiety, I was, of course, not alone. Mansel, who saw the whole thing from the opposite side of the road, was on tenterhooks the whole time, and he told me later that George, who was crouching beside him, was praying aloud.

Whether George’s prayers were heard, I cannot say: but the fact remains that, to my immense relief, the car stopped short of the cross, and, after what seemed an age, somebody switched off her engine and turned out her lights. And then I heard her doors opened and presently shut.

I was on my feet by now and was standing well back from the track by the side of a tree. This was as well, for somebody lighted a torch and threw its beam down the track and waved it from side to side.

“Keep that light on the ground, you fool.”

The words were spat, rather than spoken – by one of four men: and since I was soon to learn that he went by the name of Forecast, I may as well set it down now.

His order was obeyed – under protest.

“Got to see where I’m goin’,” said the man with the torch in his hand. “You ask me to–”

“See and be seen,” snapped Forecast. “And damned well put it out when we come to the road. I don’t want any cars stopping – to see what our trouble is.”

“I always said,” said a third man, “we oughter ’ave come by day. You wait till you’re over the road. No — drives like this. Nothin’ but ferns: an’ trees with — great roots all over the place.”

“What of the path you spoke of?”

“Well, wot of it?” said the other. “I said a path – not a by-pass. An’ all hid up with the ferns.”

“Boney,” said Forecast, grimly, “if you don’t mind your mouth, one of these — days I shall put you where you belong. As for coming by day, if you an’ Gulf weren’t lying, you’ve been here by night before.”

“No, you don’t,” said Boney. “We never say that. Got ’ere by daylight, we did. On purpose to see our way.”

“That’s right,” said the man with the torch.

“Well, you had to get back,” said Forecast.

“Wot if we ’ad? “ said Boney. “This is a drive, this is. But that’s a path. An’ it’s goin’ to take some findin’, torch or no torch.”

“Well, carry on. We’ve got to find more than that.”

“Sez you,” said the torch-bearer. “You wait till you see them ferns.”

“—needle in a — ’aystack,” said Boney, “if you ask me. An’ I’d like to meet the — that done it, — interferin’ body-snatcher.”

“You’ve said it,” said the other. “Took the words out of me mouth. A body-snatcher, that’s wot he is. To think after all we done–”

“Easy now,” said Boney. “This ’ere was an accident. Knock down an’ killed, he was, by a runaway car.”

“Quite so,” said Forecast, “quite so. And perhaps the driver got wind up…and, after you’d gone, came back…and dragged the body into the forest… Or, if not the driver, then someone – some god-damned, meddling fool.” I heard him suck in his breath. “Any way, show me the doings. And when I’ve got my bearings, we’ll have a look round.”

“Yes, an’ wot if there’s nothin’ there?” said the man with the torch. “Just because some body-snatcher has stuck in his — oar, me and Boney’s to drop four ’undred quid.”

“Gulf,” said Forecast, “I’ll give you a piece of advice. When next you’re arraigned for felony, don’t go into the box. As sure as you do, you’ll put the rope round your neck. And now lead on, you wash-out. I want to see exactly what happened and where it took place. If, after that, there is anything more to be done…”

“Yes?”

“You’d — well better do it,” said Forecast.

The meaning with which he invested this blunt apodosis was unmistakable. Even I, an eavesdropper, found it most sinister: and I was not surprised when, after a little silence, the other turned on his heel and led the way to the road.

Now all this confirmed so precisely what Mansel had always said that I felt as though some nightmare had come to life and I wished with all my heart that he had been standing beside me to hear what had passed. And, with that, it came into my mind how very important it was that Mansel should know at once as much as I knew. Before, however, I ventured to cross the road, I must give the servants orders concerning the car.

By now the rogues had come to the edge of the road, and, though Gulf had put out his torch, I could see the four of them peering and looking to right and to left. So for a moment or two; then one – I think it was Boney – took the lead, and the others followed behind in a little bunch. Since they did not cross directly, but bore to the right, in two or three seconds they had passed out of my view.

At once I turned – to find Carson standing beside me two paces away.

He put his lips to my ear.

“Shall we chock the car, sir?”

“No,” I breathed. “We’ll have to do better than that. I want you to do in her lights. Don’t cut the wires. Unscrew the dash-board connections and pocket the nuts. Use your torch if you need it; it won’t be seen. But Bell must keep a look-out at the mouth of the track.”

“Very good, sir,” said Carson. “And then?”

“You both cross over the road and pick us up. I’m going to find Captain Mansel and put him wise.”

“Very good, sir.”

As Carson slid into the shadows, I made for the track… I could not see the rogues, when I came to the road, but, in view of the line they had taken, I knew it was safe to cross. I did so at once. Then I turned to my right and began to move through the woods towards the path.

Now though Gulf was not permitted to use his torch on the road, I had no doubt at all that he would be encouraged to use it as soon as he and his fellows entered the woods; for to anyone not accustomed to moving in the country by night, the forest was by no means a ‘joyride,’ as he had foretold. But as the moments went by, yet no torch was lit, I began to think that caution had taken charge and that Forecast had made up his mind that no more light must be shown. I therefore stood still and listened, for I was perfectly sure that, light or no, their movements in country like this would give them away. And, as I stopped, I heard the approach of a car.

Automatically I took cover and stood by to use my eyes; and, as I looked, the head-lights made everything plain – in more senses than one.

Disliking the idea of the forest, the four had been walking along the crown of the road. So they had made good progress and had almost reached the culvert, when the beam swung round and caught them full in the midst of the way.

For a moment they stared at the lights, as though they were hypnotized. Then, as though the spell were lifted, they sprang to life.

To the scream of a high-pitched horn, they broke and ran, and two, to my great delight, fell into the ditch. Which goes to show what a guilty conscience will do, for they had but to stand to one side and suffer the car to go by. Still, in their defence, I must say that, on that particular reach, a car was upon you almost before you could think. For all that, when the car was gone by, the four fairly sacrificed caution upon the altar of rage; for they roared and cursed and swore like so many lunatics, and they very near came to blows, because Boney and Gulf had said nothing about the ditch. These two insisted with oaths that they had forgotten it was there, but the damning fact stood out that neither of them had fallen, but both had jumped clear.

As well as affording us pleasure – I frankly admit that I laughed till I could hardly stand up – this childish exhibition stood us in excellent stead; for, before the flurry was over, I had fetched a small compass and struck the path. And there I found Mansel and George, both of them weak with laughter, but both of them all impatience to hear what I had to tell.

But we none of us smiled when I had made my report and I often wonder how I could have laughed as I did, for here were two filthy blackguards seeking to prove to their master that they had done his bidding to put a poor soul to death: and here was the man who had ordered this pitiless crime, come like a ghoul in the night, if it could, to smell out its victim and ravage the field of blood.

“And the fourth man?” breathed Mansel.

“I’ve no idea. He hasn’t opened his mouth.”

“More than one torch?”

“I don’t know. I’ve only seen one.”

“All right. Steady. They’re moving. From what you say, they’re going to make for this path. I’m going over to join them, and you go up to its mouth. George and Rowley beside it, between there and here.”

The four were now in the bracken, moving in single file by the edge of the ditch. Their progress was very slow, for Gulf, with the aid of the torch, would move a few feet and would then stand still and turn round and throw the beam down on the ground for the others to see their way. Even so, they tripped and stumbled and cursed aloud; and two more cars came by, to reveal them standing like dummies, watching them pass.

As the snarl of the second faded, Forecast burst out.

“Blind leading the — blind. Where is this blasted path? And put out that — torch before the next car comes by.”

“I told you,” said Boney, “it was all hidden up with the ferns.”

“ Either there’s a path, or there isn’t.”

“We’ve walked the —,” cried Boney, “Gulf an’ me. It sort of goes on from the one that runs down by the inn. If we’d ’ave come that way–”

“God knows where we’d be,” said Forecast. “You can’t lead us three hundred yards, let alone four miles. You an’ Gulf go on; and China and I’ll wait here. And when you’ve struck it, come back and light us along.”

By this time they were, of course, quite close to the path, for I could hear all they said, although I was standing upon its opposite side: with the result that Forecast had hardly sat down before Gulf declared in triumph that there it was. To make matters worse, both he and Boney agreed that ‘that would be right’ and proceeded by calculation to show that only a fool would have thought it lay anywhere else. And this, I suppose, was more than Forecast could bear, for he leapt to his feet and, disdaining the use of the torch, blundered to where this was shining as fast as he could. Then he snatched the torch from Gulf and flashed its light on the ground.

“Are you sure this is it?” he said, quickly.

“This is it right enough,” said Gulf. “ I always said–”

“–what you always said. Get down to it – both of you. Show me exactly what happened from first to last.”

As may be well believed, neither Gulf nor Boney was anxious to do as he said; but Forecast was merciless. He cross-examined and bullied and lashed the two with his tongue, until the beasts had lost what spirit they had, and at last they threw in their hands and answered directly whatever he chose to ask.

From all they said it was easy to reconstruct the whole crime, and here, leaving out the detail, I may as well set it down.

They had followed Bowshot from Latchet one Monday night and had seen him met by a car on the Salzburg road. They had waited until his return, in about two hours, and had heard him make an appointment for just such another meeting in three nights’ time. The next day they had taken their car and had reconnoitred the place. It was then that they had marked the track in which the car was now berthed. On Thursday they had arrived before the daylight was gone, had left their car on the track and had made their way to the path. It was after night had fallen that Bowshot had come. They had let him go by to his meeting, and, as before, had waited for his return. It was then that ‘the accident’ had happened – sullenly enough, the murderers showed the place.

“And then?” snapped Forecast.

“We pulled out the tab, as you said, and then we took him back an’ laid him full in the road.”

“Show me the place again.”

In silence the four proceeded as far as the ditch.

Then–

“It was just along there,” said Gulf. “Jus’ short o’ that culvert. We ’ad a job, I remember, to get ’im out o’ the ditch.”

There was a little silence. Then—

“Have you any doubt he was dead?”

“’E was dead all right,” said Boney.

“That’s right,” said Gulf. “The – the car wot hit him done in his spinal cord.”

There was another silence.

“Did you meet any cars when you left?”

“Nothing,” said Gulf. “We turned at the first crossroads.”

“He was found, of course,” mused Forecast. “The body was found. But why wasn’t it reported?”

Nobody answered, and presently he went on.

“Why didn’t the inn report that he didn’t come back?” In a sudden passion, he turned on the man called ‘China,’ “And you said that you could talk German!”

“So I can,” declared China. “I learned it off of a deck–’ and wot came from Bruges. But they talk a dialec’ here.”

“You filthy liar,” said Forecast. “You can’t talk a — word. But that’s for later. Some — shifted that body to suit himself. A gypsy, as like as not, that fancied his purse. But he didn’ want no trouble; so, when he’d robbed him, he dragged him into the ditch. Give me that torch.”

Now between where he stood and the culvert, the ditch was resembling a trench, being fully six feet deep and not more than three feet wide. Add to this that Nature had taken a hand and that the sides as well as the bottom were thick with ferns. It follows that, standing above, a man could by no means be sure what was lying below, and, after some fruitless endeavours to plumb the depths with its beam, Forecast handed the torch to China and told him to hold it whilst he got into the ditch.

Mansel breathed in my ear.

“Get hold of the others, William. Everyone back to the cars and wait there for me.”

As I turned to the path, I saw China kneeling down by the edge of the ditch. Then the torch left his hand for Forecast’s, and the light which it gave disappeared.

As I made the path, I felt a touch on my shoulder and there was Bell. (He was a splendid servant. Whenever I wanted something, he always seemed to be there: indeed, I think the truth is that in such a business as this he was always watching me with the tail of his eye and could interpret whatever movement I made.)

“Can you find the others, Bell?”

“Yes, sir. We’re all in touch.”

“Then pass the word – we’re all to go back to the cars.”

“Very good, sir.”

As he moved away, I turned to look at the ditch. In that moment a match was struck, and I saw three forms together lighting their cigarettes. Then the match went out, and I moved again. I wondered how Forecast was faring – and whether Mansel had decided to take a hand. I reached the ditch and looked down it. Forecast was making good progress, for, not very far from the culvert, I saw the glow of the torch. But the others had not moved with him – their cigarettes told me that. And as I looked, they sat down…

I slipped across the road, made my way through the bracken and reached the track. And there I was standing, regarding the strangers’ car, when Jonathan Mansel came limping up to my side.

“I’m inclined to think,” he said, “they should have a flat tyre. One of the back ones, William.” I stooped to unscrew the valve. “I want to have a look at their luggage, and we don’t want to be disturbed. They may be able to get along without lights, but changing a wheel in the dark is a hell of a job.”

“They’ve got the torch,” said I.

“It’s broken,” said Mansel, and laughed. “I followed Mr Forecast and laid him out. Then I did in his torch: then I lighted my own and went on – for the look of the thing. When I was close to the culvert, I had a look back. As you probably know, the three were sitting down, smoking, quite close to where Forecast went in. So that was all right. I doubt if they’ll take any action before he comes to – that’ll be in about twenty minutes. When he does, there’ll be trouble to burn; and he’ll have the deuce of a head for twenty-four hours. And here are the others. Before we move, we’d better go through their car.”

The search revealed the car’s papers, but nothing else. And those we left. Then we re-entered the cars, and ran without our lights for a couple of miles. Then Mansel put on his sidelights, as much to help me along as anything else, and twenty-five minutes later we stopped at the top of the hill below which Latchet lay.

Carson and Rowley stayed with the Rolls and the Lowland, with orders to turn them about, so that, if we had to leave quickly, the cars would be ready to move the way they had come. Mansel and George and I were to enter the inn: but Bell we took as far as the forecourt and posted him there.

As before, the door was unlatched, and there was no light to be seen. We passed upstairs quietly enough.

It was easy to guess that Gulf and China and Boney were sharing poor Bowshot’s room: for a second, smaller bed was standing against a wall, and three dirty pairs of pyjamas had been laid out by some maid. As may be imagined, they travelled extremely light, and our disagreeable search was very soon done. We found no papers at all, but a clip of ammunition suggested that someone went armed.

On the opposite side of the landing we found a sitting-room, far too handsome and pleasant to lodge such villainous guests. That this room, too, had been Bowshot’s, there can he no doubt; and the thought that its present tenants included the two who had actually shed his blood for some reason made me more angry than anything else. And here perhaps I should say that I was very much disappointed that, now that we knew the truth, no violence at all had been offered to those two men. That Mansel’s judgment was good, I knew very well: but an hour ago all four had been at our mercy, if we had cared to strike, and, knowing what Fortune is, I doubted that such a chance would occur again.

It was in Forecast’s bedroom that we found a battered dispatch-case, right at the back of a wardrobe, behind some clothes. The thing was locked, but we very soon had it open – to find what Mansel had hoped for, and more than that.

Mansel was after their passports: “for,” said he, “without their passports, they cannot leave Austria. They dare not go to a Consul, men like this. And so they will stay – at our convenience. And before they go – if they go – I’ll have the truth of this murder from bottom to top.” And now their passports were there – the four of them tied together – and George slid them into a pocket and said, “What next?”

‘Next’ was a quarto envelope, such as some lawyers use. It was neither addressed nor sealed, and when Mansel drew out its contents, I saw him open his eyes. There were some typewritten sheets, and pinned to these was a map, very roughly done. There was also an envelope, addressed to Duke Saul of Varvic, which was unsealed.

Mansel flicked this open and drew out the sheet it held, and I looked over his shoulder, to see what it said.

I saw the heading, and that was enough for us both.

Solicitors head their letters with the name of their firm. And this particular letter was headed WORSTED & CO.

 

An ample supper was laid, awaiting our coming in, and the servants heated and served some excellent, soup.

As we took our seats—

“And very nice too,” said George. “Better than the picnic in progress by the side of the Salzburg road. But I shall always be sorry we didn’t hear Forecast wake up.”

I laughed.

“He’d better save something for Latchet. He’ll feel the need of expression when he finds his papers have gone.”

Mansel nodded.

“Till then, he won’t be quite sure. Almost, but not quite. But then all doubt will vanish. More. The theft of the papers and passports will hit him over the heart. Of course he’s played into our hands; but we’ve had a good night out.”

“It’s a rotten position,” said George. “I’d hate to be in it myself. Up against someone who knows and who’s out for blood: line of retreat gone; and three bloody-minded wash-outs round your neck. If I were Forecast, I’m damned if I wouldn’t clear out.”

“And leave them to it?” said Mansel. “He daren’t. Those men are fools. Supposing they went to the Consul, to try and get home. No tale they could tell would wash. They’d find themselves in deep water almost at once: and then they’d let Forecast in. At least, that’s how I see it. I think he’s stuck good and proper, and I think he’ll call for help. And that was why I let the brutes go tonight. I was more than tempted to blot out Gulf and Boney as soon as they’d said their piece. It would have been perfectly safe. But Forecast and China would have panicked. They wouldn’t have called for help: they’d have faded away. But I want to know who’s behind this. I think the papers will give us a good idea. But we’ve earned our supper tonight, and we’ll eat that first.”

George looked very hard at Mansel.

“You know who’s behind this,” he said. “You always have. But you want to get them out here – under your hand.”

Mansel smiled.

“One of the truest things ever said is a jingle. This is how it runs. ‘Oh, what a tangled web we weave, When first we practise to deceive.’ In other words, criminals get involved. Say Gulf struck the fatal blow. But Forecast daren’t let him down, because he is involved. And someone bigger than Forecast won’t dare to let Forecast down, because he is involved. If we were to force the pace, all concerned would sit tight and do nothing but watch and pray. But so long as we leave a fair loophole – well, it’s human nature to try and save the game. Oh, and by the way, did either of you see the swine? I had a good look at Forecast, but I couldn’t swear to anyone else.”

“I saw Boney,” said I. “Gulf put the torch on his face. Clean-shaven and thin, with a nose a bit to one side.”

“Forecast is ruddy and has a jovial face. You wouldn’t think that, would you? But so it is. Bland to order, I’d say. Thick hair, and a hell of a jaw. A little bit under-hung. Quite decently dressed. Clean-shaven. Mouth turns up a little at either end. China, I imagine, has cheek-bones – hence his name. Oh, and what about his gift of tongues? I’d love to have heard him trying his Flemish on the hostess of Latchet’s inn. Which shows that Forecast is a man of no education. And yet he looks one. You find astonishing fish in the waters of crime.”

It was when we had finished our meal that we returned to the papers which we had found.

First we read through the letter from Worsted and Co.

 

HH Duke Saul of Varvic,

Schloss Varvic,

by Villach,

Austria.

YOUR HIGHNESS,

This letter is to introduce Mr Forecast, who has all our confidence.

We are anxious to trace the whereabouts of our client, Major J D Bowshot, who was lately in your neighbourhood, and the delivery of this letter will mean that Mr Forecast, who has the matter in hand, is in need of your Highness’ assistance.

Upon such assistance we feel that we may count, because of the interest in Major Bowshot’s welfare which your Highness has more than once expressed. If, however, your Highness should feel that it would be more convenient for us to raise the matter with our Foreign Office, your Highness has only to say so. In that case Mr Forecast will place himself at the disposal of the British Consul at Salzburg, who will, no doubt, communicate with your Highness direct.

 

We are,

Your Highness’ obedient servants,

WORSTED & CO.

 

“How’s that for blackmail?” said Mansel. “I told you Biretta and Cain were devilish hot.”

“But I don’t understand,” said I. “How can the Duke find the body – any better than anyone else?”

“Only we,” said Mansel, “know that he can’t. But that’s by the way. The last sentence of that letter is a definite threat. And now let’s look at the notes; for that’s what I think they are.”

The sheets were not signed, but they contained Forecast’s instructions, as they shall show. The typewriting was the same as that of the letter which I have already set out. Here and there they were altered in ink, and it was easy to see that the hand that had altered them was that of the man who had signed for Worsted and Co.

 

To Mr Forecast.

1. I see no reason why you should not stay at Latchet. It might become expedient for you to visit the inn; and action by a visitor is always more open to suspicion than action by a resident. But in no circumstances will you try and pump the landlord or anyone else. If your interpreter is any good, he should be able to pick up information – by letting the people talk. But he must show no interest in what they may say about B.

2. First, you will satisfy yourself that the accident in fact took place, and that it was fatal. Eye-witnesses can report a thing like that easily enough; but take them to the place where it happened, and tell them to reconstruct it, and you will see at once if they’re lying or not. This must be done after dark, and, except after dark, the spot must not be visited.

3. If you are not satisfied that a fatal accident took place, you will return at once alone, bringing the others’ passports with you.

4. If you are so satisfied, you will consider the possibility of:

 

(a) the body’s having been carried into the wood,

(b) and actually buried near by.

 

This may be the explanation. A passing motorist, reluctant to be held for enquiries, may have carried it into the wood. A gypsy may have found it, robbed it and then buried it to avoid the consequences of his crime.

Bearing these things in mind, you will make a careful search of the vicinity.

 

5. If and when you find the body:

 

(a) you will immediately wire us saying – BUY FUNDING LOAN,

(b) you will send the others home,

(c) yourself, you will return to the spot by daylight, officially discover the body, and then report this fact to the local police,

(d) as soon as the police allow you, you will follow the others home.

 

6. In the unlikely event of your being unable to discover the body, you will proceed to Schloss Varvic, present the accompanying letter and obtain an interview with the Duke.

7. The Duke will be difficult because he will be afraid of being involved. You will make it quite clear to him that only by helping you can he avoid being involved. He will try to avoid seeing that but he will see it in the end.

8. In all your dealings with him, never lose sight of the fact that what we must have is proof of B’s death. That is all you are after. But he must not realize this, for, if he were to, he would wash his hands of the matter. He must be made to believe that we are acting solely in his interests. In fact, we are using him.

9. The line you must take is this: Insist that B. was put out at his instance. Stick to that, no matter how much he protests. Emphasize that failure to find a body will have disastrous results – that any day now B.’s servants may grow uneasy because he does not return. If they do, they will approach us, as B.’s solicitors, when we shall be forced to take action. This action can only take the form of approaching the Foreign Office and telling them all we know. In which case, as B.’s solicitors, we should be compelled to involve him.

Point out that it is not a question of money, that, once a body is found, we should naturally expect him to fulfil his obligations, but that it is for his own security that the find must be made.

Insist that the matter is urgent, as it is. Any moment now the servants or someone may move. And if they should approach the authorities direct, the matter will pass beyond our control.

Put the wind right up him.

10. You will not wire to us (except, of course, as directed by paragraph 5), but in reporting you will use the ordinary post.

11. If we should have occasion to write or wire to you, we shall address you as WENSLEY, at 1645 Konigstrasse, Salzburg, which is an accommodation address. You had better call there once a week.

12. When you find the body, make sure that the tab is still there and is clearly legible. If it is not, put the attached envelope into one of the pockets of the coat. Any body which is to be found, must have this envelope in one of its pockets.

13. Also attached is a rough map, which will show you how to get from Latchet to Schloss Varvic.

14. You are to memorize the above instructions with great care. When you are satisfied that you have them by heart, you will place them in the enclosed, addressed envelope and return them to us, before leaving England, by registered post. The attached envelope and the map, you will of course retain.

 

When we came to the end of these instructions, each one of us drew a deep breath.

Then—

“Seeing’s believing,” said Mansel. “That’s all I can say. And someone dictated those words, and someone else typed them out. Takes all sorts to make a world, doesn’t it?”

“But fancy,” said I, “trusting Forecast to send them back.”

“Criminal folly,” smiled Mansel. “They should have taken them off him, before he left. The probable truth of it is that Forecast has never read them – or never read them right through. Criminals are incurably lazy: that’s why they so often fall down.”

There were three more documents.

One was the map referred to. This was a pencil sketch, which showed that Schloss Varvic stood twenty-two miles from Latchet and some twenty-nine from our farm. It was not more than fourteen from the spot on the Salzburg road.

One was a crumpled envelope, bearing a stamp which had been post-marked and addressed to Major Bowshot, The Manor House, Beehive, Somerset.

And one was the foolscap envelope, which Forecast ought to have used. This was addressed to Miss Bauchen, of Gallface Mansions in Maida Vale.

“Who would she be?” said I.

“I rather imagine,” said Mansel, “that she is a confidential clerk to Messrs Biretta and Cain. That of course is her private address. A hundred to one it was she who typed this stuff. And the letter to the Duke.”

“We’re learning quite a lot, aren’t we?” said George. “And what’s the betting that Forecast can’t remember his accommodation address? The one in Salzburg, I mean.”

“I should say,” said Mansel, “about five thousand to one. Which means we can have his letters without any fuss. There’s probably a wire there now, ordering him to return those instructions at once. And now let us think very hard. We’ve picked up a glorious hand, but I don’t want to play it wrong.”

“In other words,” said George, “we’ve got to try and decide what Forecast will do.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, I know what I should do. I should murder Gulf and Boney and China without delay. Then I should wire to Worsteds, telling them where to find the bodies and asking for another two envelopes. Then I should repair to the nearest monastery and take the veil under another name. After all, when it was safe, one could always pinch the abbot and get the sack.”

We all three laughed.

“That,” said Mansel, “is exactly what he’ll feel like doing; but I don’t think it’s what he will do. I think he’ll go to Schloss Varvic – as soon as his head will permit. Anyone will tell him the way, and it’s inconceivable that he has forgotten that name. He’ll miss those instructions, of course; but he knows that the Duke’s involved and roughly the line to take. And now he does want assistance. He’s in a hell of a jam – with his passport gone.”

“Will he write or wire to Worsteds?”

“I wish I knew. At a guess, I’d say that he wouldn’t, unless he draws blank at Varvic. Without his letter, the Duke may have him chucked out. In his position, I’d try and save the game. And only when I had failed, would I break the unpleasant tidings to Biretta and Cain. I mean to say, he’ll get no sympathy there. He has lost a paper which he should not have had to lose – a paper which lets them right in. Well, it isn’t much fun reporting progress like that. Oh, no. I’m sure he won’t do it, except in the last resort.”

“If you want my opinion,” said George, “he won’t do anything for thirty-six hours. What with his head and the darkness and having to sit in the car till the dawn comes up; what with Gulf and Boney and China all swearing blue that he must have had a bad dream – why, he’ll want about ten hours’ sleep, before he has control of his brain. And even then he may not search his dispatch-case. And not until he does that will he know that the murder is out.”

“I agree,” said Mansel. “I think we have plenty of time. But that we must use. Don’t forget what we’re trying to do. To get the big fellow out here. We know who he is – now. It’s either Biretta or Cain. And now let’s look at those passports, and then we’ll retire.”

Passport photographs are seldom pleasing, but those of Gulf and Boney were damning documents. They looked what they were – I cannot say better than that. China’s, too, was shocking; and if I had been a frontier official, I would have had them shadowed or, better still, turned them back. Forecast’s was harmless enough, for the man was smiling broadly and might have been full of goodwill.

It was whilst I was studying his face that Mansel gave a cry and suddenly plucked the passport out of my hand.

“Oh, I’m a fool,” he cried. “And the thing stood out a mile. Damn it, we’d better retire. If we find out very much more, we shan’t be able to sleep.”

I followed his pointing finger.

This was underlining Forecast’s full name.

James Belper Orion Forecast.

“Like men, like master,” said Mansel. “He shoved Shade under a train six weeks ago.”