Two evenings later an unofficial and somewhat unconventional reunion took place at ‘Serque’. In the seat of honour was Brenda, her head neatly bandaged and her left arm in a sling. She was pale, but the look of dreadful anxiety had gone from her face. Her features instead wore an expression of deep and quiet happiness, albeit tinged with sadness. The cause of her happiness could be seen by following the direction of her eyes. Beside her sat Harry Lowell, none the worse apparently for his nerve racking experiences. He seemed unable to take his eyes off Brenda and the expression she read in them made her smile dreamily.
In spite, however, of her obvious satisfaction, there was sadness also in her mind, for opposite sat Inspector French, and French’s presence brought back almost too poignantly the unspeakable horror she had felt when first she had realised the truth about Clifford Parry. Even now she could scarcely refrain from shivering as she thought of that unhappy young man.
French at her invitation had just lit his pipe, and now he began to speak.
‘I asked you to fix up this meeting, Miss Vane, firstly, because I thought it was due to you and Mr Lowell to know the truth, and secondly, because I was anxious to hear your experiences. I may say that this is an entirely unofficial meeting of which my superiors know nothing. But I think we may be quite open with one another for the simple reason that there will be no trial, at least, not in the ordinary sense. Parry has signed a full confession and will plead guilty. In the circumstances in which he was arrested he could scarcely do anything else. But besides that he said he had been trying to keep his secret for over a year till he had been almost out of his mind from fear and worry, that it had now got beyond him, and that all he wanted was to ease his mind by confession and then let the end come quickly.’
Brenda sighed. ‘Poor man,’ she said softly. ‘In spite of everything I can’t help feeling sorry for him; at least, now that things have come all right.’
‘There can be no defence on the facts,’ French resumed, ‘though personally I think there might be a defence of unsound mind arising from shell shock. I feel sure he’s not normal. However, thank heaven that’s not my business.’
‘Don’t let’s think of him,’ Lowell interposed. ‘We’re both very much obliged to you, inspector, for coming down, and we’re both very anxious to hear what you have to say. Suppose you tell us?’
‘Yes, do, Mr French,’ added Brenda.
‘First, then, Mr Lowell, I think I should explain what made us believe in your guilt. You know, sir, it was your own fault: you have only yourself to thank. If you hadn’t lost your head and faked that alibi, we should never have seriously suspected you. You see,’ and French, starting at the beginning of his investigation, outlined the steps which had brought him to his conclusion. ‘So you must admit,’ he urged, ‘that though we were wrong, we were justified on the facts.’
‘We’re not going to quarrel over that now,’ Lowell answered. ‘I don’t suppose I’d have a claim for wrongful arrest in any case, but I’m not going to put one up. That’s very interesting, inspector. Now, tell us what really did happen.’
‘I’m going to, but I suggest that we take things in their proper order. Next, I think we should ask Miss Vane to explain how she came to suspect Parry, for it seems obvious that she must have. I think I know from his confession, but I should like to hear it from her own lips.’
‘I agree,’ said Lowell. ‘Go ahead, Brenda.’
‘There’s very little to tell,’ Brenda replied. ‘The whole thing was so simple. You know that Mr Horler showed us the letter that you, Harry, received signed “Well Wisher”? You’ve seen that, Mr French?’
‘Yes, I’ve seen it now. If I had seen it before the arrest there would probably have been no arrest made.’
‘Well, I noticed that the “r” of the typescript was out of line and twisted both in that letter and in the one Mr Carey had received. I saw that both letters had been done on the same machine, therefore, presumably by the same person.’
‘Good for you, Brenda!’ exclaimed Lowell.
‘Oh, no,’ said Brenda, ‘it was perfectly clear. Remember I’m a trained typist. Well, I settled up with Clifford Parry that he would get samples from all the typewriters in the railway and contractors’ offices, in the hope of finding the machine with the twisted “r”. He seemed so eager to help.’ Brenda half choked.
‘Of course he did,’ said French. ‘It was his best line. He admitted it in his confession. By pretending to help you he could keep in touch with the investigation and take any steps to safeguard himself that appeared necessary. His mistake was—I may as well mention it now while we’re speaking of this point—his mistake was that he didn’t know that the type of individual machines of the same make could be identified. He learned of his error from you at lunch on that Friday, two days ago, and that evening he intended to throw his machine into the sea and buy another. You were too quick for him. How was that, Miss Vane?’
‘That was the merest accident. It was due to my impatience. He had gone to Lydmouth that afternoon and he said he would be able to get samples from the machines in that office. Next day he was going to get samples from those in the Whitness offices, and that evening he was going to bring them all down here. But I felt I just couldn’t wait all that time. I was in Redchurch in any case, and I thought I’d call and see him for a moment on my way to the station. He hadn’t arrived, but was expected at any moment. I went up to his room to wait. There I saw, standing beside the clock on the chimney piece, a letter. I couldn’t help seeing the address—not that I meant to read it. But I did see it. I shall never forget it. It was typed, to Miss Ackerley, Hunter’s Hotel, Strand, London, W.C. 2. I stared at it in stupefaction. In the address there were three “r’s”, and every one of them was out of line and twisted.’
Lowell gave vent to an oath while French nodded his head in satisfaction.
‘Very remarkable and interesting case and very sharp of you, Miss Vane,’ said French.
‘There were two other defects in the type of Harry’s letter, a “t” and an “n.” I looked for these in the address. They were both there.
‘For a moment I didn’t see the significance of this. Then at last it came over me. Other things occurred to me, little things. I suddenly saw that this would explain everything. I saw it at once, in a flash. I think it was a sort of intuition rather than a reasoned conclusion. But I had no longer any doubt. Then all I wanted was to escape. I made some excuse to the landlady and hurried away.
‘At first I was overwhelmed simply by the horror of my discovery. Then, waiting at the station I saw what it really involved about you, Harry. You won’t believe it, but that didn’t occur to me at first. I was wild with excitement when I got home. Then that message was waiting for me and I didn’t stop to think, but just ran off. Then you know what happened.’
French nodded. ‘That all works in exactly with the confession, Miss Vane. He guessed that you had seen the typing of the address and took his measures accordingly. But perhaps I’d better tell you in order from the beginning.’
Both his hearers signified that this was what they wanted, and as he slowly refilled his pipe, French went on:
‘I don’t know if you are familiar with Clifford Parry’s history. In a sense I suppose it would be fair to say that all this trouble is due to the War. Parry served and left the army a wreck. During his service his father had died, and his mother was left hard up. Fortunately about that time they came in for a legacy of some £500. It was decided that this money should be spent in Parry’s finishing the course in engineering which had been interrupted when he joined up. His health having somewhat improved, he qualified. Immediately afterwards his mother died. Her little income died with her and Parry was left alone and penniless. Worse almost than that, debts that he contracted had not been paid off.
‘He passed through a very rough period. For a long time he couldn’t get work. Then he got some jobs which just kept body and soul together, but were without prospects. I don’t want to make excuses for him, but there can be no doubt that it was the cold shouldering he got and his sufferings during this period which hardened him against society and conventional morality and made him bitterly resolve to get his own back at any cost, if and when he could.
‘At long last his luck changed. He visited Mr Marlowe for the second time. Mr Marlowe had known his parents and somewhat dubiously he arranged for him to be given a trial. Parry always had an exceptionally engaging manner, and partly owing to this, and partly to the fact that he really did his job well, the appointment was confirmed.
‘Immediately all the old creditors were on his back. He was now getting a salary; very well, he could put aside part of it for them. He did so, but it left him very cramped and he had difficulty in living up to his position. His exasperation grew when he looked forward to years of this miserable existence. But he daren’t refuse to pay. He feared his creditors would go to Mr Marlowe and that he might lose his job.
‘Then the Widening started. Carey, who was a thorough paced scoundrel, intended to make a good thing out of the job, as he had done before on similar occasions. Carey looked round for a dupe, heard whispers as to Parry’s position and felt that here was something too good to be missed. Very delicately he approached Parry. He wanted money? Well, there was a simple way in which he could get several hundreds, perhaps a thousand or two. Safe? Yes, as safe as houses; no one could ever know anything about it. Carey had tried it before; it had worked and it would work again. You can imagine the style of thing.’
French paused, but the others made no remark. This was a rather terrible tale they were hearing. Neither had realised that Parry’s life had been so hard. Even Lowell was thinking of him less bitterly, and Brenda could scarcely refrain from weeping with the misery of it. Presently French resumed.
‘Carey put up his scheme. They were to make the tracings jointly, then Parry was to do the photo prints in the Lydmouth office in the middle of the night. Carey would supply paper so that the railway stuff should not be missed.
‘Carey knew that the dangerous point of the scheme was the getting of the prints, as these must be obtained in some way which could not be traced. This was to be Parry’s job, and as the discovery would mean prison, it got him fairly committed. But Carey chiefly wanted Parry in the thing because he believed that in case of discovery he would be able to shift the entire responsibility on to him and so escape himself. Parry was to get half the profits.
‘This was all carried out according to plan. The swindle was launched and no one suspected anything. For ten months it went on well and Parry, while still slowly paying off the debts, was living more comfortably and amassing cash, which he kept in a suitcase in his rooms. Then the first trouble arose.
‘One day Mr Mayers told Parry that Mr Ackerley was investigating the earthwork quantities, which he thought were not coming out satisfactorily. Parry immediately became panic-stricken. He saw that discovery was inevitable.
‘His first reaction was to go to Carey. Then he thought of a better way. Carey might be a swindler, but Parry did not believe he would stand for murder. Would it not be better if Mr Ackerley was simply to meet with an accident? Parry was very ingenious and he worked out a scheme which he felt sure no one would ever suspect.
‘I think,’ French continued, ‘Mr Bragg would appreciate this perhaps more than you will do, owing to his knowing the details of what happened better. However, the scheme was something like this.
‘Parry first discussed the excavation affair with Mr Ackerley and offered to help him in his investigations; the same trick as he adopted later with you, Miss Vane. In this way he got Mr Ackerley to put off telling anyone else what was in his mind. Then he fixed on the evening on which the certificate was to be completed as that on which the accident would happen.
‘He had been told a day or two earlier to fix up an appointment between Mr Ackerley and an adjoining owner called Potts relative to a right of way, and it was this which gave him his idea. He fixed the meeting for 5.30 on the afternoon of the certificate. This, he felt sure, would involve Mr Ackerley’s walking through from Whitness to Redchurch at the end of the day, as owing to the certificate Mr Ackerley would be at Whitness in the afternoon.
‘He had now devised a plan for making Mr Ackerley walk along the railway at a time when it would be deserted. He had next to arrange for himself to be sent there at the same time.
‘There was a piece of sea pitching at a convenient place, which he thought would help. It had been his duty to measure it up for the certificate, and he had done so, correctly. When Mr Bragg reached the Whitness office on that day, Parry put in his return, but he altered the figure, making it impossibly large. He knew Mr Bragg would question it and that he would probably be sent out to check it. He was not sure that the scheme would work, and if it failed he would have tried something else. But it worked perfectly. Mr Bragg noticed the erroneous figure and required it to be checked for the certificate. Parry made difficulties about going, so as to decrease the chance of suspicion, but at last he was able to arrange that he should walk out with Mr Ackerley when the latter was going to interview Potts.
‘On the previous Saturday Parry had taken his worst risk. He had bought a second-hand bicycle,’ and French explained the method. ‘To cover his tracks he had made himself up to resemble Carey. He wore high internal heels in his shoes, padded himself out with clothes, spoke in a high-pitched voice and mimicked, so far as he was able, Carey’s Irish accent. The disguise would not of course have taken in anyone who had seen Carey, but it was sufficient to obscure the issue.
‘On that Saturday night Parry rode the machine to Downey’s Point and hid it in the shrubbery at the side of the road. He had to take the risk of leaving it there over Sunday, but there was not a great deal of danger in this, as there was no occasion for anyone to enter the shrubbery. As a matter of fact no one did so, and the bicycle was not seen.
‘He walked out with Mr Ackerley to where he had to measure up the pitching. It chanced that he there met Ganger Mutch going home along the railway. Parry had intended to make an excuse to walk on with Mr Ackerley to Downey’s Point, but the presence of the ganger made it necessary for him to part from Mr Ackerley and go down the slope as if to begin the measuring of the pitching. It was not till afterwards that he realised that Mutch’s evidence would be a valuable asset to him.
‘As soon as Mutch had disappeared from sight, he ran after Mr Ackerley. He had not, of course, to measure up the pitching, as he already knew the correct figure. He took care to overtake Mr Ackerley at the place he had fixed on, and there, getting behind him, he struck him on the side of the head with a piece of lead pipe wrapped in a sock, which he had carried with him. He threw the pipe into the sea, arranged Mr Ackerley’s body to look as if the unhappy young man had tripped in the drain and fallen across the rail, then he rushed up to the road, took out the bicycle and rode at full speed to Whitness. He hid the bicycle in the little spinney near the contractors’ yard, and entering on foot through the small gate, turned up in the office as if he had just walked in along the line. His unavoidable excitement he would have explained by saying that he had to hurry back, but Mr Bragg did not appear to notice anything amiss.
‘When the “accident” happened he had no longer any need to act a part. His genuine horror and anxiety were taken as natural under the circumstances. No one suspected anything.
‘By going back with Mr Ackerley to his house, Parry gave Mr Bragg time to go on to Lydmouth. He was thus left alone at Redchurch. He walked back to Whitness, recovered his bicycle from the spinney, rode it to a cliff near Lydmouth, dropped it over into what he thought was deep water, and walked back to his rooms.
‘The inquest passed off as he had hoped, and he began to breathe more freely. He thought he was safe. But he was speedily undeceived. When the time came for the next payment from the fraud, Carey told him he was going to pay him no more, but intended to keep the whole of the profits for himself. When Parry began to bluster, Carey said: All right, did he want to be handed over to the police for the murder of Ackerley? Parry continued to bluster, then Carey made his position brutally clear to him.’
Lowell and Brenda were listening almost spellbound to this recital. Was this at last the connection between the two murders which had so long eluded everyone concerned? Without comment they waited while French resumed.
‘I omitted to tell you one other thing that Parry had done. Should suspicion be aroused that Mr Ackerley’s death was not really an accident, he wished to ensure that that suspicion should fall on someone other than himself. He chose Carey as the scapegoat, as he thought that Carey’s removal would be the safest thing for himself. He therefore typed a note to Carey, the famous note which you, Miss Vane, know all about. That worked very well. Carey was taken in by it and went out to the Whirlpool Cave.
‘This proved a tragic case of the biter being bit, of poetic justice, of digging a pit and falling into it oneself, or however you like to describe it. When Carey was returning to the office he unintentionally turned the tables on Parry. He was approaching the private gate when a bicycle arrived at a great speed, stopped, and was pushed into the spinney adjoining. Carey hid and saw Parry come out of the spinney and enter the yard. Knowing Parry had no bicycle, Carey became suspicious. He went into the spinney and took particulars of the machine. Next day he learned of Ackerley’s death and also that the letter was a forgery. He began to put two and two together. He made inquiries and at last discovered the shop at which Parry had bought the machine. He made an excuse to call at Parry’s rooms and found the typewriter with the crooked “r”, though this he didn’t tell Parry till later. What he did say was that if Parry didn’t do exactly as he was told, he, Carey, would “discover” the fraud, pointing out that it must have been worked by Parry, and at the same time would tell about seeing the bicycle, the significance of which, he would say, had only then occurred to him.
‘I may explain here,’ went on French, ‘that I also called at Parry’s rooms on the lookout for the typewriter with the crooked “r”. But by a piece of extraordinarily bad luck it happened that Miss Ackerley had borrowed it to do some Musical Society circulars, and I did not find it. Had I done so, not only would you both have been spared your anxieties, but Carey would not have lost his life.
‘Parry, of course, had to knuckle under. The least breath of suspicion and he was lost. The old, miserable life then began again, with the dread of arrest added to it. Parry found his position intolerable. He had already by desperate means rid himself of one danger. It was practically inevitable that in this next emergency his thoughts should turn to the same expedient.
‘He made four separate attempts to murder Carey: he has put it on record without the least evasion. The first three failed owing to small details not working out as he had hoped. The fourth succeeded.
‘Mr Bragg had told him that he would be leaving the office for Drychester about six o’clock on a certain Tuesday evening. Parry decided to make this fourth attempt on that evening, provided Mr Ashe was not at Whitness. As it happened, Mr Ashe was otherwise engaged, and Parry went ahead with his attempt. His plan was to drug Carey and then get him alone in his own office. If he could get Carey to come in to see Mr Bragg shortly before six, and get Mr Bragg out of the way at the same time, he could manage the drugging. Parry had whisky of his own in the cupboard and Carey never could bring himself to refuse a drink. At this time Carey’s office would probably be empty and if Carey went back there no one would know he had been drugged.
‘Parry stated he obtained the drug from a London chemist, signing the poison book with the name and address of an Exeter resident which he selected from the telephone directory. He told the assistant he had been ordered the draughts by his doctor, giving the name of a well-known Exeter practitioner, and adding that he had unfortunately come away from home without them.’ French’s subsequent inquiries in London had confirmed Parry’s statement.
‘Parry had intended to see Carey and ask him to call at the railway office, but it happened that that afternoon he met him at the viaduct. He was about to give his invitation when Carey played into his hands by saying he wanted to see Bragg about blasting at the tunnel. Parry arranged the interview for 5.30.’
French had laid his notebook on the table in front of him and every now and then he glanced at it to refresh his memory of names and hours. At the same time he surprised both his hearers by the completeness of his grip of the story.
‘Parry had next to get Mr Bragg out of the way so that he could administer the drug. But he wanted Mr Bragg to see Carey in the office, so as to be able to back up his own future statement that Carey had left in perfect health. He did it by putting up a story to Mr Bragg that the contractors were mixing dust with the concrete. Mr Bragg fell for it, as Parry knew he would. When Carey arrived, Parry was alone. He brought out the whisky and Carey got his dope, Parry excusing the somewhat unusual indulgence by saying he was feeling cold after his wetting and wanted a drink and asking Carey to join him. Then Mr Bragg came in, but his leaving immediately for Drychester ensured that Carey would be out of the way before the effect of the drug began to show.
‘When Mr Bragg left, Parry went over to the contractors’ office. He knocked to make sure that everyone but Carey had gone, then let himself in with a key which he had made. He had obtained the impression by borrowing Mr Pole’s keys to try to open a box, and taking a mould of the door key. Carey was alone and asleep. Parry then carried the murder through.’
French paused for a few moments. He certainly should have been satisfied with the attention which his hearers were giving him. Breathlessly they hung on his words. They did not, however, speak, and presently he resumed.
‘In spite of the warning as to the danger of safeguards which Parry had had, he this time took several precautions to turn aside from himself any suspicion which might afterwards be aroused. He knew that with this terrible affair before him, and indeed after it was past also, he could not preserve a normal manner. He therefore staged a deliberate fall into a pool to account for his agitation. Next, he wished to prove that he had been in his own office between the time Mr Bragg left it and the time he had himself to leave to catch the 6.25 goods. He did that by pretending he had to mark some information on a plan for Inspector Holford. He showed the unaltered plan to Mr Bragg as the latter was starting for Drychester, and the plan which he handed to the stationmaster at Whitness some twenty-five minutes later bore the extra information. He intended it to be argued—and it was argued—that he had done the work in the quarter of an hour before he left the office. In reality, however, he had made two identical plans, on one of which he had previously marked the additional details. All he had to do was to show the unaltered plan to Mr Bragg, then to copy on the other Mr Bragg’s pencil marks, partially rub them out, and hand this second plan to the stationmaster. A further safeguard which he adopted was to tell an entirely false story of having seen the silhouette of a man approaching the contractors’ office as he left to catch his train.
‘To clinch the conclusion to which the details of Carey’s murder were intended to lead, namely, that Carey had committed suicide, he took a further step. He planted a piece of one of the original cross sections where you, Mr Lowell, would find it, believing that you would remark upon it. He would then see that the matter was followed up, leading to the discovery of the fraud. This, he believed, would supply the required motive for Carey’s suicide.
‘But he also saw that some accident might reveal the fact that Carey had been murdered, and he faked another piece of evidence to safeguard himself in such a contingency. This was designed to throw suspicion on you, Mr Lowell. He determined to use the well-known bad feeling which existed between yourself and his victim. He wrote you that famous letter which led to his downfall. This was in order to prevent your having an alibi at the time of Carey’s death. He trusted to your sense of chivalry not to reveal where you were and the reason you went there.
‘When this part of his plan succeeded and you, sir, were arrested, he at once approached Miss Vane with offers of help. This, as I said, was to keep in touch with the progress of events, and perhaps supply further evidence if such became desirable. Thanks to your cleverness, Miss Vane, the truth came out.
‘But only just,’ French added, shaking his head at Brenda. ‘Now that it’s over I may tell you what you probably know, Miss Vane, and that is that you had a very close call yourself. Even in Parry’s improvised attempt to murder you he showed great skill and ingenuity. He, of course, put through both telephone calls. Here at “Serque” he convinced your mother and sister that he was afraid that some other enemy was about to attack you, and his ringing up Sergeant Emery to test his pretended suspicions and to ask for help was nothing less than a stroke of genius. Fortunately for you, he over-reached himself. His anxiety seemed so genuine and his appeal sounded so urgent that Emery sent two of his men out in a car instead of allowing them to walk. Parry believed that by taking the short cut by the hotel stables he would have plenty of time to murder you before they arrived. He would then have thrown his bit of lead pipe away, run back in the direction he had come, and watched till the police found your body, when he would have rushed up and registered the necessary surprise and horror. As a matter of fact, if he had got his blow in when he met you, his plan would have succeeded. You saved your life by running back and so giving the police time to come up.
‘I must add one other remark,’ French continued, ‘something to be said from my own point of view and that of the police. There was no fear at any time of a miscarriage of justice. I may say that I had made up my mind that if your alibi, Mr Lowell, stood, I should apply for warrants to search the houses and rooms of everyone on my list of possible suspects. I should then have discovered that Parry had a typewriter—a fact which does not seem to have been generally known—and, of course, I should at once have sampled the type and seen that he had written the Carey letter. As things turned out I am satisfied that your explanation of why you faked the alibi would have thrown sufficient doubt on your guilt to have ensured the making of that investigation. At the same time, Mr Lowell, I don’t deny you ran a risk. It’s never safe to play tricks in a murder case.
‘That, I think, brings us to the end of our business. I may be allowed to add my regrets for the unhappy time through which both of you have passed, and my satisfaction that a happier period is now opening out before you.’
‘No,’ said Lowell, ‘there’s one thing more. You’re a good fellow, inspector. We’ll have a drink together to show there’s no ill will.’