Dr Hawthorn lived in a large detached house on the Epsom Road. He was a tall man with a quiet manner and French took to him instantly. His greeting was curt, but adequate. French felt his statements would be cautious, but reliable.
He was ready to discuss the case from any angle, but he had little to tell them that they had not already known. Fenning then asked him about the time of death. He was very frank in his reply.
‘It’s not a matter about which a medical man can be dogmatic,’ he explained. ‘There are a good many factors to be taken into consideration, but not a single one of them is absolute. What I mean is that everyone of the factors is liable to mislead; exceptions have been noted to every conclusion. I don’t want to go into purely technical details, but I may say that this case is similar to most in that the results arrived at are a compromise of slightly conflicting factors. Briefly speaking, the conclusion I reached from the degree of rigor mortis and hypostasis—body staining, you know—and other indications present, showed death to have taken place slightly later than the approximate time I put in my report. On the other hand, the amount of cooling which had taken place pointed to a considerably earlier hour. Neither indication, as I said before, was necessarily accurate, so what I did was to compromise and give a time mean to the two results.’
‘That’s interesting, sir,’ French said. ‘Might I ask you what variation these different sets of indications represented?’
‘That I can, of course, only answer approximately, chief-inspector. Had I left the cooling out of account, I should probably have placed the time of death at from ten to twelve. Had I gone by the cooling only, I should have said seven to ten, or earlier. It’s possible, though unlikely, that a death at seven o’clock might have produced the rigor mortis and staining found, but I think it’s scarcely possible that with death at mid-night the body could have cooled as much as it did. It seemed to me reasonable to give a qualified opinion that death occurred between nine and eleven, or say, more or less about ten.’
‘One other question, sir. Which set of indications, the rigor mortis lot, or the cooling, would you consider the more reliable?’
Dr Hawthorn smiled slightly. ‘Another rather difficult question, I’m afraid. On the whole I should say that the cooling was the more reliable. Allowances have to be made, of course, for various factors even here. The temperature of the atmosphere, the amount of clothing or other covering over the body, the build, the health, the cause of death: allowance must be made for these and other matters. For instance, death from asphyxia, as we have here, tends to slow up the cooling, and so on.’
French shrugged. ‘A bit chancy work, if I may say so, sir,’ he suggested. ‘But there’s one thing we’re very anxious to know. I may ask this, super?’
‘Of course, chief. The more we can get to know, the better.’
‘Well, we want to know whether the murder was definitely committed before, say, two o’clock?’
‘Two? Oh, yes, definitely. When I said it wasn’t possible to be dogmatic about such matters, I meant within reasonable limits. But when it comes to periods of several hours, it’s a different thing. I give it as my deliberate opinion that it was committed before twelve at the very latest. Between ourselves and not to be put into writing, I may say I haven’t the slightest doubt in my own mind.’
French and Fenning exchanged glances. ‘We couldn’t ask more than that, sir. There is just one other point. Those bruises you mentioned, the wrists and ankles and mouth: were they incurred before or after death?’
‘Before death most certainly.’
This being all they could expect to get from Hawthorn, the two officers returned to the police station. There they turned to the question of whether Norne should be asked to explain the finger-prints. The matter was really one for Fenning, but French felt that anything that he could learn about the members of the Norne firm might help him with his own case, and he was keen to be present.
‘What about staying down here this evening, chief-inspector?’ the super ended up. ‘If you can, we’ll go out and see what he has to say.’
‘If you’re not satisfied it means an arrest,’ French pointed out.
‘I know it does,’ Fenning agreed. ‘I must risk that.’
It was getting on towards nine o’clock that night when the two officers drove up the Guildown hill to Severno. Fenning had provided himself with the necessary warrant, in case they decided that an arrest was advisable. But both were of the opinion that if Norne could put up any reasonable kind of explanation, they would appear to accept it and try to calm any fears which their visit might have aroused.
Fenning seemed worried. ‘I’m not happy about this business and that’s a fact,’ he declared with an anxious look. ‘If I arrest this man and don’t get a conviction, it’ll not do me much good: nor you either, chief-inspector, because we can’t hide the fact that we’re working more or less together in the case. Norne’s a pretty influential man. If I make a mistake now, there’ll be the hell of a row.’
‘Are you not satisfied he’s your man?’
‘I don’t see how it could have been anybody else. But I’ve no motive: that’s what makes me think. If I had a motive I wouldn’t care: I’d be justified. But I haven’t a case that I could bring into court and I may as well admit it.’
‘Let’s hear what he has to say. If he’s guilty we’ll know from his manner, if not from his words.’
‘I hope so,’ Fenning agreed dismally.
Just then they reached Severno and climbed heavily out of the car to put the matter to the test.
They were shown into the library, where Norne was sitting at the fire. With the curtains drawn and the lights on, hidden lights which filled the room with radiance, though softly and without glare, the room gave an impression of extraordinary peace and comfort. The colour scheme was brown, light almost to biscuit colour on the upper walls, dark almost to jet on the polished mahogany furniture. There were no reflections save from the curved legs of chairs and other woodwork near the blazing log fire. Books covered one complete wall, and had overflowed on to occasional tables and even to the massive desk which stood in the middle of the room. Norne sat reading in a brown leather armchair. He got up on seeing his visitors.
‘Good evening, superintendent. Good evening, chief-inspector,’ he greeted them. ‘Won’t you pull forward chairs and sit down? Will you smoke?’ He pushed forward a cigarette box of heavy chased silver.
‘Thank you, sir, we don’t smoke when we’re on duty,’ Fenning replied with a slight brusqueness which French put down to nervousness. ‘We’re both sorry to trouble you at this hour, but certain matters have to be cleared up, and we couldn’t get you in the day time. It’s about Mr Minter’s death, of course.’
As he spoke Fenning took the armchair to which Norne had waved. French at the same time moved a high chair to the desk and opened his notebook. Norne, having taken and lit a cigarette, sat down again where he was before.
‘Does this hunting in couples mean that you think his death was connected with the robbery?’ he asked.
‘We think so, sir.’
‘Very good. Go ahead.’
‘The matter is a little awkward,’ Fenning went on. ‘I think, chief-inspector, we’d better tell Mr Norne exactly what’s in our minds?’
‘It’s the best way,’ French approved, while Norne looked from one to the other with mild surprise, not wholly unmixed with apprehension.
‘Well, sir, it’s this,’ Fenning went on as Norne remained silent; ‘there are certain points about this case which, as I say, have got to be explained, and which only you can explain. These points—there’s no use in beating about the bush: I may as well tell you—these points suggest that you know more about the affair than you’ve told us. They suggest—well, I needn’t put that into words. Now, sir, I’m sure that there’s a good explanation for everything, but I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to make it.’
The super paused as if unwilling to go on, and French could feel his anxiety lest he should commit himself to a wrong course. French came to his aid.
‘Not to put too fine a point on it, sir,’ he said, ‘these points of which the super is speaking seem at first sight to incriminate yourself. The super would like you to make a more complete statement than you have done.’
‘That’s it, Mr Norne,’ Fenning added, ‘though before you speak I must give the formal warning that you needn’t reply unless you like, and that if you do so, what you say may be used in evidence. At the same time, I hope you will see your way to give us the satisfaction which it’s our duty to ask.’
French could have smiled to see how thoroughly Fenning was covering himself for a retreat in good order, should such become desirable. And then he suddenly grew more interested. Norne was beginning to exhibit all the traces of a bad conscience, with which French was so familiar. The man moved uneasily, then spoke with an attempt at a joke which fell flat as it was made.
‘This sounds very alarming, superintendent.’ He smiled unsteadily. ‘I hope you don’t mean to arrest me?’
‘Now, sir, I’ve said nothing about arrest. What we would like would be a fuller account of what took place in Mr Minter’s bedroom when you visited him on the Saturday night.’
‘I think I told you everything,’ Norne was beginning, but Fenning interrupted him.
‘No, sir, you have not. There was a matter of a glass.’
Norne did not reply. He was evidently thinking deeply. Then as if coming to a decision, he said: ‘Well, and what if there was?’
‘Only, sir, that you should have told us about it. Have you any objection to doing so now?’
‘None,’ Norne said shortly, ‘though I don’t see what matter it makes. What happened about the glass was this. Minter was lying there groaning a little and evidently very sick. I said to him, “I’ll call the doctor,” as I’ve already told you. He said not to do so, as he had often been in that state before and it would shortly pass. “I’d like an aspirin,” he said then, and he went on to tell me to look in his waistcoat pocket for a bottle. I found it and then he said he would take two. “Shake out two and give them to me with some water,” he said. I did so. I shook out two and poured some water into the glass on the wash-stand and gave it to him. But he said on second thoughts he wouldn’t take it just then and to leave it beside him. This I did. I left it on the little table at the head of the bed. What about it all?’
‘Why did you not tell us that before?’ Fenning asked.
‘Why should I have? What did it matter?’ He paused, then with a gesture of throwing everything to the winds went on: ‘No, superintendent, I’ll tell you why I didn’t. When Minter was found dead I became panic-stricken that perhaps I had given him the wrong medicine by mistake and that unwittingly I might have poisoned him. I’ve been terribly upset in case that may have happened, and I am still.’
‘But you actually gave him nothing?’
‘No, but I put out what I thought were two aspirin tablets for him to take.’
‘Do you know if he took them?’
‘He must have. They were gone in the morning and the water was drunk.’
‘Did you touch the glass when you were in the room on the Sunday morning?’
‘No. I saw it there with the bottle. I didn’t touch either.’
Fenning hesitated a moment. ‘I think I’d better tell you, sir, that Mr Minter was not poisoned.’
Norne sat up with surprise and relief printed on every feature. ‘Not poisoned?’ he exclaimed. ‘That’s good news. Then what did he die of?’
‘That remains to be seen,’ Fenning said darkly. ‘Now your own statement’s not quite complete. You say that because you thought the deceased had died from poison, and that you might in error have given him that poison or put it in his way; because you thought this you wanted to keep it dark that you had handled the glass? Is that right?’
Norne wiped the little drops of sweat off his brow. ‘Yes, that’s correct.’
‘But, sir, you must have known that your fingerprints were on the glass?’
‘Oh, was that how you got on to it? I didn’t think of it till the doctor was there, and then it was too late to do anything.’
‘But you didn’t know then that the death was not natural?’
Norne shrugged. ‘I saw the doctor looking at the bottle and glass with a very grave expression, and when he said that he couldn’t give a certificate and that the police would have to be advised, I guessed something was wrong.’
‘You state positively that you didn’t wipe the glass?’
‘Most certainly I did not. I almost wish I had.’
Fenning moved uneasily. ‘Now, I would like you to reconsider that point, Mr Norne. Let us all forget what you’ve said and go back to it afresh. I suggest your memory has been slightly at fault. Think now: did you not at any time wipe that glass? Remember, Mr Minter was not poisoned: it can’t injure you. But we want the truth.’
Norne looked more puzzled than ever. ‘I assure you most solemnly I did nothing of the kind. I can’t think what you’re trying to get at.’
‘Then that’s all right,’ Fenning said easily. ‘I’m sorry for having troubled you about it, but you must admit it was your own fault. You should have told us about that business of the glass and not let us find your prints on it and wonder how they got there?’
Norne passed his hand over his forehead. ‘I suppose I should,’ he admitted. ‘Well, I’m glad you’re satisfied at all events. But why did you ask me about the wiping?’
‘Because, sir, the glass had been wiped.’
‘It had?’ Norne shook his head helplessly. ‘That’s beyond me. It could only have been done by Minter, I suppose, but why he should have done it, I can’t see.’
‘Well, we’ll let that matter pass. Now, there’s another point. I understand from you that you and Sir Ralph Osenden and Mr Ricardo were here in this room before ten o’clock until Messrs Sloley and Sheen turned up about one. Is that so?’
‘Yes, that’s so, certainly.’
‘Were you here absolutely all the time without any exception?’
Norne hesitated. ‘I don’t think I said that none of us left the room at all. As a matter of fact, I went to the morning-room for an old print that I had been describing. But that was only for a few minutes.’
French and Fenning exchanged glances. ‘How long would you say you were out of the room?’
‘Ten or twelve minutes. I couldn’t find the print at once and had to look through a couple of biggish folios.’
‘What time was that, sir?’
‘About half-past ten, I should think. I didn’t look.’
‘And was that the only time you left the room?’
‘The only time.’
‘I follow. And the other two gentlemen? Did they leave the room between ten and one?’
‘Not unless it was during this period when I was getting the print.’
Fenning sat silent for a few moments, then he spoke to French. ‘That’s all, I think, chief-inspector, that we want to ask Mr Norne?’
French agreed. He and Fenning then set themselves to reassure the managing-director. Before they left they thought they had succeeded in doing so.
‘Guilty or not guilty,’ Fenning said as they drove down the hill from Guildown, ‘we’ve no case against him—not to take into court anyhow.’
‘Do you think there’s anything in his leaving the room?’
‘I thought there might be at first, but I’m not so sure now. We’ve Jeffries’ corroboration that he didn’t go upstairs.’
‘Quite.’
‘I may as well admit,’ Fenning went on in a sudden burst of confidence, ‘that I’m not at all sure he’s our man.’
‘He came out of the interview better than I expected,’ French returned. ‘I agree with you, super, you haven’t enough to go on. I watched him while you were questioning him, and it was my opinion that he was speaking the truth.’
‘Mine too, chief. Well, if we’re right, it leaves us in the soup.’
‘Yes, if Norne’s not guilty, we’ve got to start right at the beginning again.’
‘What time’s your train? Can you come back to the station for a minute or two?’
‘Of course. Any train’ll do me.’
‘If we’re to believe Norne,’ Fenning went on when they had settled down with their pipes in his room, ‘the wiping of the glass becomes fundamental. If Norne didn’t do it, who did? Minter didn’t: we may bank on that. Even if for some unknown reason he had wiped it, he would never have grasped it in that particular way. So it means that some third person was in the room during the night.’
‘That’s also proved by the disappearance of the two aspirin tablets—unless Minter put them back in the bottle. According to the analyst’s report, he hadn’t taken them.’
‘That’s so.’
‘What’s sticking me,’ French observed, ‘is this. According to Jeffries no one went into the room between ten o’clock and one. According to the doctor, Minter was suffocated before twelve. We seem to have got to a deadlock.’
Fenning nodded. ‘I know, damn it all. It’s a confounded puzzle, chief. I don’t see light anywhere.’
‘Nor I. No light about the murder. No light about the theft. It’s not looking too well for either of us, super.’
For some little time silence reigned, as both men sat puffing gloomily at their pipes and gazing before them into empty space. Then Fenning shook himself.
‘What’s the next move?’ he said as he got up and knocked out his pipe on the grate. ‘Have you a programme ready?’
French took out his notebook and slowly turned the pages. ‘Considering the robbery, not the murder,’ he returned, ‘what I had in my mind was this: Norne and Minter were the men with the keys. Between us we’ve now gone into their movements during the critical period, and I’m satisfied neither of them opened the safe—for the simple reason that neither had the opportunity.’ French paused and added: ‘Except on one occasion.’
Fenning looked up more hopefully. ‘It’s not my way to talk about mere unsupported ideas,’ French went on, ‘but as we’re discussing the thing I’ll break my rule. That one occasion, as I see it, was when Minter called at the office on the Saturday evening. What went on during that call? That’s going to be my next line.’
The super’s hopeful look changed to one of disappointment. ‘H’m,’ he grunted, ‘do you think there’s much to be got there?’
‘I don’t,’ French said frankly, ‘but it’s a straw and I’m drowning. That’s the best I can say of it.’
‘Just what’s your idea?’
‘Well, if the firm went down, Sloley and Sheen were going to sink with the others. They had a motive for the robbery, and if they somehow diddled Minter, they would have a motive for the murder: they wouldn’t want him to put two and two together when he learned the stones were gone.’
‘You mean they might have got Minter’s key?’
‘Something of that kind.’
‘What about Norne’s?’
French shrugged. ‘I realise that difficulty. But if I get anything about that meeting in the office, it’ll be time enough to consider Norne.’
‘Of course,’ Fenning went on, ‘even if Sloley and Sheen had a motive for the murder, they couldn’t have committed it.’
‘You mean that they hadn’t the opportunity?’
‘I mean that they were in a theatre in London when Minter was suffocated in Guildford. I suppose, by the way, there’s no doubt of that?’
‘Next item on my list,’ said French. ‘I’ll make sure.’
‘Well, you’ve got something to go on with. I’m hanged if I have.’
‘I expect to be in the same position shortly,’ French rejoined. ‘What time is that blessed train, super?’
On the way up to Town French’s thoughts remained concentrated on his problem. Sloley and Sheen! Could one or both of them be guilty?’
The case against them which he had outlined to Fenning was plausible enough. They might have on some previous occasion taken an impression of Norne’s key, and so required only Minter’s to commit the theft, and they might have devised some plan to get Minter’s on that Saturday evening. Of course, they couldn’t have committed the robbery while Minter was in the office—unless Minter was party to it. Nor could they have stolen Minter’s key: he had it with him at Guildford. At most they could only have taken an impression of it. But could they not then have made a second key on Sunday evening and robbed the safe that night?
This seemed possible, though French could not pretend it was extremely likely. All the same, he continued reviewing the probabilities of their guilt.
In the first place, there was the question of motive. If the firm went down it would be as serious for Sloley and Sheen as for the others, and it might well be that they were not prepared to face such a disastrous prospect. Then further, they had arranged for Minter to call at the office. They wanted to discuss, or said they wanted to discuss, that return of Sheen’s about the probable response existing shareholders might make to a new issue. French was not a business man, but to him that return didn’t seem to be of a very valuable character. Was it a genuine contribution to the problem the directors had to solve, or was it devised simply as an excuse to get Minter to the office?
So much supported the theory of their guilt. But there was the weighty argument against it pointed out by Fenning: the question of the murder. French didn’t see how either Sloley or Sheen could be guilty of the murder. If they weren’t, did it not mean that they were innocent of the theft also?
Curse it all, the thing was very puzzling. However, his analysis had confirmed his decision. Sloley and Sheen were his only suspects. He must come to a definite conclusion as to their innocence or guilt. Before going to sleep he resolved that next morning he would start work on this new phase of the inquiry.