Except for a hoarse cry from Malcolm as the shroud was lifted aside, everyone stood as if turned to stone, staring silently at all that was left of the late magnate. The remains were a ghastly spectacle, for time had already begun his terrible work. But of their identity there was no question. Apart from the formal identification given presently by both Malcolm and Victor, it was plain that here lay the original of the photograph.
Slowly the door with its grim burden was carried to the house and the preliminary examination began. French and M’Clung, setting their teeth, stripped off the clothes and took them to another room, while the doctor busied himself with the body. Rainey, evidently troubled by the problem with which he was faced in connection with Malcolm, hovered, frowning, between the two.
The clothes gave little of interest. The garments themselves bore no marks of any kind. Not even were they stained with mud or dust, as might have been expected from the condition in which the hat was found. The pockets contained just those articles which a man in Sir John’s position might be expected to carry. There was an old-fashioned but valuable gold watch, a knife, keys, a cigar case and loose coins to the value of 27s. 4d. In the pocket book were a number of cards bearing the words ‘Sir John Magill, 71 Elland Gardens, Knightsbridge, S.W.1.,’ the return half of a first-class ticket from Euston to Belfast via Larne, one or two unimportant letters, and notes amounting to £54 10s. On the little finger of the left hand was a ring bearing a large, blood-red ruby, worth in itself a considerable sum.
‘There’s only one thing here that many help us,’ French declared to Rainey.
‘The keys?’
‘Yes, sir. With luck we’ll find the key of Sir John’s safe and with luck we’ll find his will in the safe. The will should be useful.’
‘Too late to matter. Now that we’ve found the body we could get powers to open the safe.’
‘No doubt, sir, but the key will save trouble, seeing we’ve permission to use it. Incidentally the money and ring prove that the motive was not robbery.’
‘Well, we never thought it was.’ Rainey spoke irritably. He was looking worried and French had no doubt as to the cause. Clearly the man couldn’t make up his mind whether or not to arrest Major Magill. French could sympathise with his dilemma; it was one on whose horns he himself had often been impaled. If Malcolm vanished or committed suicide and were afterwards proved to be guilty, Rainey would be held to have shown unpardonable laxity and his very position might become precarious. On the other hand to arrest a influential man, a friend of the Ulster Prime Minister and intimate with the ruling classes, would, if he were found innocent, be an almost greater blunder. French said something of what was in his mind. ‘Yes, confound it,’ Rainey returned, ‘that’s just the trouble. If the man’s guilty and gives me the slip there’ll be the very devil to pay. If I charge him needlessly it’ll be worse. I’m considering holding my hand and waiting developments.’
‘I think you’d be wise, sir, if I may say so. In cases of doubt I’ve usually found it the best policy. It’s what we do at the Yard.’
‘I daresay you’re right,’ Rainey answered. ‘Hullo, here’s the doctor looking as if he wanted us.’
Dr Finley, the police doctor, was tall and thin and efficient-looking. As he joined the others he glanced round to see that they were alone.
‘You told me something about this case on the way down, Superintendent,’ he said, ‘from which I understood, rightly or wrongly, that Sir John had been the victim of a crime of violence. His bloodstained hat, for example, had been found?’
‘That’s right, Dr Finley. The hat was found and there were traces of blood and marks of a struggle on the ground at the place.’
‘Then you’d expect some signs of bleeding from the body?’
‘I certainly would.’
‘Well, there aren’t any.’
‘What?’ Rainey exclaimed. ‘No signs at all?’
‘None.’
‘Then what was the cause of death?’
‘I’m not absolutely certain. Before I give an opinion I must make an autopsy.’
‘Good heavens, doctor, this is very surprising! You evidently have a suspicion of what took place. You won’t tell us?’
‘I hardly like to put forward suspicions,’ Dr Finley returned. ‘If I make an autopsy I can tell you at once.’
Rainey shrugged, but made no further comment.
‘Right, doctor. I’ll get you the authority. You’ll want some help. Get whoever you think best and I’d be obliged if you’d push on with it as quickly as possible.’ Then as the doctor disappeared into the next room he turned to French.
‘What do you make of this, Inspector? It gives our theories a jar, what?’
‘It may settle your problem about Major Magill, sir.’
Rainey looked at him sharply.
‘Meaning?’
‘If that blood didn’t come from Sir John it must have come from the murderer. If it came from the murderer some trace would remain for twelve hours, a cut hand, a swollen lip or nose. Major Magill was at headquarters within twelve hours of the crime. The question is—Were there any signs of injury on him?’
‘Good, French, very good! I’ll swear there were no marks of any kind, but we’ll ask M’Clung.’ They strolled over to where the sergeant was at work. ‘You saw Major Magill when he called at headquarters on the morning after the murder. Any signs of injury or bleeding about him?’
For a moment M’Clung looked doubtful, then his expression cleared. He was positive there had been no such indications. Of course a man’s nose might bleed without leaving marks, but he was sure Major Magill’s had not bled from injury.
‘’Pon my soul, French, that’s very puzzling. If those drops of blood came from neither Sir John nor Malcolm Magill, who did they come from? Who else was there?’ He paused, whistling tunelessly between his teeth. ‘However,’ he went on, ‘there is something to be thankful for. This settles the hash about the major. Under the circumstances I wouldn’t be justified in arresting him.’
‘It would be wiser not, sir, if I might say so. Particularly if it turned out that death was from natural causes.’
Rainey swung round.
‘From natural causes? Oh, come now, French. What about the struggle?’
‘I think, sir, there might be an explanation of that, but it’s admittedly a bit far fetched. Suppose the major, in going back towards Whitehead, found Sir John lying dead on the road. Or suppose that he found him in good health and that Sir John got a heart attack and died after they met. Sir John might have fallen and the major might have thought his head had struck the ground and would show a bruise. The major would see that he was in an awkward hole. He was alone with his father. It would be known that he was hard up and that he would stand to get a large sum at the old man’s death. He might get panicky that his story wouldn’t be believed and fake the struggle and bury the body.’
‘Your own argument: the blood?’
French grinned.
‘He could have cut his arm above sleeve level.’
Rainey smiled reproachfully and shook his head as he thought over this.
‘I suppose it’s possible,’ he admitted, ‘but to my mind it’s darned unlikely. However, we’ll keep it in view. Now, French, is there anything else? I must get in touch with the coroner and fix up about the inquest.’
The first question to be settled was whether the inquiry should be concluded immediately or adjourned for further investigation after the taking of formal evidence of identity. After considerable thought Rainey decided—rather against French’s advice—to recommend the former. He explained to the coroner, first, that the attention of the police had been called to the affair, not by the discovery of the body, but by Sir John’s disappearance, and that the time which had elapsed since that disappearance had enabled all the obvious inquiries to be made, and second, that such further investigation as might be desirable could best be made secretly, the publicity resulting from its being discussed at the inquest tending to defeat its aim.
All this seemed to French to be special pleading of a rather blatant kind and with some amusement he recognised in it Rainey’s endeavour to shift the responsibility of the arrest or otherwise of Malcolm Magill from his own shoulders to those of the coroner’s jury. If that august body should bring in a verdict of guilty against Malcolm his hand would be forced and he could not be blamed if Malcolm was afterwards proved to be innocent; whereas if in the face of the evidence the jury plumped for a person or persons unknown it would give him moral support in a policy of apparent inaction.
Eventually it was decided that unless some unforeseen point arose during the hearing, no adjournment would be made, and the inquest was fixed for the afternoon of the third day. This was Friday and the hour of 1.30 p.m. on the Monday following was agreed on. It was believed that this would give ample time for the post mortem as well as the search for the will in London, while so far as the remains were concerned, it was felt that another three days’ delay would make little difference. The coroner decided that the inquiry should take place at Lurigan, as he thought that the jury should view not only the body but the grave also.
Armed with Sir John’s keys, French that night crossed back to London and next morning opened the safe in the deceased’s study. He had asked the senior partner of Messrs Hepplewhite, Ingram & Ingram, Sir John’s lawyers, to be present, as well as the secretary, Breene. Immediately he found the missing will. After a glance he put it aside and spent a couple of hours going through the remaining papers. But there was nothing else bearing even remotely on the old gentleman’s fate. Nor was there a trace of any plans, either of the linen-silk invention or of anything else. Then, having asked Sir John’s stockbroker to join them, he and Mr Ingram read the will and worked out what its provisions meant at the current date.
The summary given French by Miss Magill proved substantially correct. £50,000 was left to each of the sisters, Malcolm and Victor, the Knightsbridge house going in addition to the elder sister. Another £50,000 was consumed by small legacies to servants and others as well as in gifts to charities. Of these Breene’s name was down for £5000. A sum of £400,000 was left in trust. Malcolm was to have the life use of it and at his death it was to go to his son. If Malcolm had no male issue it was to go to Sir John’s only other male relative, Victor Magill. He also was to have the life use of it and similarly at his death it was to go to his son. Of this arrangement Malcolm and Victor were appointed trustees. If Victor had no son the money at his death was to be be divided equally among any surviving members of the family. All these bequests were to be free of legacy duty, the residuary legatee being Malcolm.
The whole of these provisions seemed clear enough except the last, but to ascertain the amount coming to Malcolm as residuary legatee meant a spell of exceedingly hard work lasting for the entire afternoon. Even then a good many of the figures arrived at were estimates rather than actually calculated amounts. But at last a sum was reached which it was agreed could not be much in error. By this Malcolm as residuary legatee received £124,000.
It followed therefore that as a result of his father’s death Malcolm would receive £174,000 absolutely, as well as a life interest in £400,000 more. And French believed that if Malcolm were unscrupulous enough to commit a murder for gain, he would have little difficulty in converting at least a portion of this trust to his own use.
Here then was all that the most exacting jury could require in the way of motive. Malcolm was in financial difficulties, Malcolm stood to gain by his father’s death, Malcolm … As French sat in the 8.30 Stranraer boat train on Sunday night he ran over the familiar steps of the argument. And the more he did so, the more adequate they sounded.
He went through to Belfast and by half past nine was seated once more in Rainey’s office. The superintendent did not seem over-pleased with his report.
‘That’s life,’ he grumbled. ‘And it’s drama too,’ he added as an afterthought. ‘Here you turn up with a bit of evidence that a couple of days ago we’d have given our ears for, and while you’re getting it we’re learning that it’s no use to us. I’ll tell you,’ he went on in answer to French’s look. ‘We’ve learned a good deal since you left. We’ve pretty well got proof of Malcolm’s innocence, or rather we never could get a conviction against the evidence that’s turned up.’ He shook his head disgustedly.
French still looked his question and Rainey went on in the manner of a professional demonstrating a mathematical proposition.
‘First look at it from the point of view of time. Sir John was alive in Whitehead at nine o’clock on Thursday night. He was murdered—for it was murder—either that night or shortly after. It was just a week till we found the body and both doctors agree that death must have taken place about a week earlier. They couldn’t tell that to the day, but they’re both prepared to swear death took place before Sunday.’
French nodded.
‘Now, will you admit one other point? The man who buried the body was the murderer?’
This also seemed unquestionable. It was the obviously likely thing; besides there was no suggestion in the evidence of a second person being involved.
‘Very good, sir,’ French agreed.
‘We know already that Malcolm Magill must have left his home by the usual time on the next morning, Friday, because of the time he called at the Grand Central Hotel and here. But we’ve since learned that he went from here to the mill and remained there till the afternoon. Then he motored to Derry and spent Friday night, Saturday and Saturday night with some friends at a little place called Culmore. He returned on Sunday, reaching home in time for tea. All that we have checked up and it has been established beyond question. It therefore follows that if Malcolm did not bury the body on that Thursday night or Friday morning he did not not bury it at all.’
Once again Rainey paused for French’s agreement.
‘The question then left is: Did Malcolm bury the body on Thursday night or Friday morning? If he did, he is guilty, if not, he is innocent.’
French nodded as he changed his position.
‘That’s what I like, sir,’ he declared; ‘getting things cut and dry like that. There’s no doubt you’re right so far.’
‘I think it’s right enough,’ Rainey agreed. ‘Now that night is divided into two parts, up till Malcolm’s arrival home, and after it. Let us consider the first part.
‘Malcolm’s movements with the car have been absolutely demonstrated. He could not by any possibility have run to Lurigan with the body before his final return at 11.25—there would not have been time. Therefore if he brought the body to Lurigan it could only have been on that last journey. Further, on that occasion he left Whitehead at 10.55 and reached Lurigan at 11.25—fourteen miles—an average of twenty-eight miles an hour, good enough for night travelling. It would therefore have been utterly impossible for him to have stopped on this trip to bury the body. Therefore he could not have done it till after his arrival home.’
French readily agreed.
‘Now from 11.43 at night, when Malcolm rang up his friends at Whitehead, until 7.00 next morning, when both the servants heard him going to his bath, we have Mrs Magill’s positive statement that he never left the house. Of course such a statement doesn’t amount to much if unsupported, though I think if you knew the lady you’d give it a good deal of weight. But it so happens there is confirmation. For two or three days before this, Malcolm had been slightly unwell, some small internal upset. Whether due to worry about his father or from some other cause, this developed on his return home into a sharp bilious attack. Mrs Magill was up with him most of the night and the servants were wakened, first to look for a bottle of medicine which had been lent to the cook and which she had not returned, and secondly, to heat water for hot water bottles. About five in the morning the attack passed over and Malcolm fell asleep. When seven o’clock came Malcolm insisted on getting up, though he was by no means well. The Magills’ statement is amply confirmed by the servants and we have questioned everyone so carefully as to preclude the possibility of a concerted story. The house was disturbed practically all night and in my opinion it would have been utterly impossible for Malcolm to have slipped out secretly and remained out for the time required for burying the body.’
French was puzzled. This seemed conclusive enough, and yet …
‘Suppose the major deliberately took something to upset himself,’ he said doubtfully.
Rainey twisted impatiently.
‘Suppose he did, French, suppose he did. How would that affect things? If Malcolm had given his household mild sleeping draughts, that would be another matter. But surely to goodness he wouldn’t do anything to keep them awake! Besides there’s another—’
There was a knock at the door and a constable entered and saluted smartly.
‘Beg pardon, sir,’ he said. ‘The Commissioner’s compliments and he’d be obliged if you could step up and see him now,’ adding as a sort of personal aside, ‘He’s got some gentleman from the Home Office with him.’
Rainey swore impatiently. ‘That’ll take me the rest of the morning till it’s time to start for that infernal inquest. And there was more I had to tell you, also confirming Malcolm’s innocence.’
French sighed. If all this new evidence were true it meant that they hadn’t begun to solve their case.
‘But there’s no suspicion against anyone but Malcolm,’ he lamented.
‘No,’ said Rainey as he rapidly collected papers from his desk, ‘and I’ll tell you why. The murderer is an Englishman and the secret lies in England.’
French shrugged. If the superintendent was going to take that line there was nothing more to be said. But Rainey gave him no time to say anything, even if he had wished to.
‘Don’t misunderstand me or think I am criticising what you have done, French,’ he said kindly. ‘It’s not that at all. Simply I believe there’s more in this case than we’ve yet tumbled to. We may never get it. But I think we should try. Sorry I’ve to go. Well, get a bite of lunch and make your own way down to Larne. I’ll see you at the inquest.’