The Criminal Found
“He’s a long time getting that whiskey,” said Allery.
“I expect he’s having a talk with John and my brother,” said Mabel.
Sinclair sprang forward in his chair.
“Good God,” he shouted, and without waiting for leave, he rang the
bell, keeping his hand on the button in his excitement.
A maid answered the door.
“Where is Mr. Collins?” said he at once.
The maid looked her surprise. She was not used to being spoken to like
that.
“Mr. Collins and Sir Ronald have gone out for a run in his car, sir,”
she replied stiffly. “Sir Ronald left a message that they might not be
back for some time.”
“Why didn’t you come and tell us, Mary?” said Mabel quietly. She also
resented Sinclair’s interference.
“He said it would do later on as you were busy, Miss,” and she looked
surprised.
Allery was quick to notice it, and said:—
“All right, Mary, thank you. That’s quite all right.”
The maid went out. Sinclair’s face was ashy. He buried his face in his
hands.
“What’s the matter, man?” said Allery sternly.
“Matter, he’s gone to his death,” said Sinclair.
For a moment there was a silence tense and vital. It seemed as though
the horror of these weeks had come into the room in a living form.
Powers of evil gathered round.
The shadows deepened at the word. There was utter and crushing
conviction in the tones.
Mabel was the first to grasp the meaning, and a flush mounted to her
face. “Do you suggest that my brother, after all you have heard, is a
murderer?” she said in a passionate voice.
“No, not for a moment,” said Sinclair, “but before the morning comes
he will be murdered, as his father was murdered, and by the same
hand.”
“You mean?” said Allery, leaning forward.
“Exactly. Collins, the cleverest scoundrel we have had for a
generation.”
“Mr. Collins,” said Mabel, and there was pain in the voice. “I will
never believe that. You must be mad.”
Allery rose with a grim look on his face. “You have said too little or
too much. We must know what you mean.”
The temporary numbness passed from Sinclair and he was the man of
action.
“Yes, yes, of course, everything, but not now. We must act at once.
You must trust to my word. I shall want all your help. First, have you
a car, and a driver?”
His energy infected the others.
“There’s our car,” said Mabel.
“Then get it ready at once,” said Sinclair abruptly. “Ask questions
afterwards.” Sanders, who had not said a word after his last rebuff,
sprang to his feet. “I’ll go and see to it.”
“Good. Can you drive? No, the chauffeur must do that. I will go, no,
no, that won’t do, I must telephone.”
“I’ll go,” said Sanders quietly. “If you’ll tell me where to go.”
Sinclair looked doubtful. “It’s dangerous your dealing with a man who
will stick at nothing. Have you a revolver?”
“Yes,” said Sanders blushing at the recollection which it conjured up,
of the night he had unworthy suspicions of Mabel.
“Can you shoot? You are dealing with a crack shot.”
“I’m pretty useful,” said the other.
“Then go.” Sanders went without a word.
“The telephone, in the hall isn’t it?” he rushed out and seized the
instrument. “Hullo, Trunks. Scotland Yard priority call.
Superintendent Sinclair,” he said, and hung up the receiver.
Sanders came in breathless. “We can’t get the car to start,” he said.
“Ah, I feared as much, he’s tampered with it,” said Sinclair.
He seized the telephone, “Hullo that call coming through?——”
“All right; give me the police station at Wilton in the
meantime—urgent.”
He waited a moment with the receiver in his hand. “Hullo,
Superintendent Sinclair here. That you, Miles?—good. Get the best car
at once, and come here with two men. Armed, you understand. I take
full responsibility. Must ring off, I’m waiting for the Yard.”
The bell tinkled, and he got through.
He issued rapid orders.
When he put up the receiver, he turned to the others.
“There’s one point in our favour. He doesn’t know he’s suspected. He
has always regarded everyone as a fool. But he’s a clever rogue if
ever there was one, and he’ll take some catching.”
“But my brother,” said Mabel, “you said he was in danger.”
“I am so sorry, Miss Watson. I was so upset for the moment. There is
no immediate danger. In fact, his one chance lies with keeping your
brother safe, for the moment, but his life is in danger. I am bound to
tell you that I have given orders for the house in Leveson Square to
be watched, but it may not be there.”
“What may not be there?” said Allery; “we are all in the dark.”
“I know. I will explain, but there’s no time now.
“As far as I know he’s gone to London and he will not spare the car.
He may not go direct in case of some such action as I have taken.”
Sanders came in.
“The car will go now,” he said. “Luckily the chauffeur had spare
parts, otherwise it would have been hopeless, and there was evidently
not much time to tamper with it. I’ll get off, if you tell me where to
go.”
“Oh, don’t go,” said Mabel with a revulsion of feeling. “Surely the
police can do all that’s necessary?”
“I’m going,” said Sanders, and his jaw set square. There was a long
account to settle with this man.
“Go direct to London, as hard as you can. Don’t stop to ask questions
on the way. Go to Leveson Square; here, take my card with you, and
explain to the men on duty there. If you don’t catch them on the road,
and I’m afraid you have a poor chance, he will have got there first.
They have full instructions to act, but you must get hold of Watson,
and see to his safety if you can. Good luck to you. Telephone if you
can. Use my name, and they will give you priority.”
Without even looking at Mabel or saying good-bye, he went out.
“Oh, my brother and Mr. Collins! This is awful; surely there must be
some ghastly mistake!”
“You must be brave,” said Allery, “and wait for Mr. Sinclair’s
explanation.”
A sound was heard outside as the car shot out into the night.
“Too long a start,” said Sinclair, looking at his watch.
John had been hovering at the door, and now came forward.
“Can I be of any service, Miss?” he said.
“No, thank you, John,” said she, “except you can tell the servants to
keep absolutely silent about anything that is happening. They will all
know in time. Meanwhile I depend on their loyalty.”
The old man bowed. “I am sure you may depend on them, Miss; but can I
get you anything?”
“Yes,” said Allery, “some strong black coffee would do us all good. I
can see we are going to have a night of it.”
“Very good, sir,” said John.
The sound of a car at the door was heard. Sinclair opened it, and a
policeman in plain clothes entered and saluted.
“That’s right, Miles. Our man has gone to London, at least I think so.
A car has just gone in pursuit, and I have informed the Yard. The
whole route will be watched and patrolled. They are also watching the
house in Leveson Square. He has taken Sir Ronald Watson with him.”
The Inspector opened his eyes wide.
“Yes,” said Sinclair, “we have found Sir Ronald Watson only to-day.”
He issued further instructions, with a description of the car, and its
occupants. He gave them the number, “but,” he said, “he’s altered
that, if I know him.”
“Very good, sir,” said the Inspector, “we’ll catch him,” he added
cheerfully. It was not often such a chance came in his way, and
visions of promotion floated before him.
When he had sent them off, Sinclair came back to the others.
“Shall we come into the dining-room?” he said. “I must remain here
where I can be found, though I would have dearly loved the chase,” he
added sadly. “I don’t expect in the least they will catch him. But I
must try everything.”
He sank wearily into a seat. “What a day,” he said.
The others waited.
Presently he sat up.
“Of course you will want an explanation, and you are entitled to one.
It will help pass the time.”
“If you are too tired we can wait,” said Mabel, but she was on the
rack. Her brother, the man who had been her lover, and he who had
lately filled so much of her life and whom she had grown to respect
even if there was no deeper feeling, were all involved.
Sinclair started like a tired man, but as he went on he warmed to his
tale.
“Collins was a deep scoundrel, but like all such he had two
weaknesses. He was so vain that he could not leave things alone, he
must try daring experiments, and he regarded all mankind as fools.
That was where he made his great mistake. I don’t expect we shall ever
know the truth, for I am certain he will never be taken alive.
“A great amount is still obscure, in fact, it was only this evening
that I was sure I was right. Otherwise, of course, I should have acted
before. The first indication I had was a very slight slip, so slight
that it was almost instinct that made me notice it. He was recounting
Mrs. Simmons’ evidence to Boyce and myself, and he said that she had
stated that Sir James had complained of feeling sleepy. Now I was sure
that she had said nothing of the sort, and I took the trouble to ask
her after, and she was certain he had never said so. In a curious way
this kept on recurring to my mind, but I dismissed it. Mind you, I
hadn’t the remotest suspicion at the time. I merely thought it
curious.
“Then, of course, I had a letter from Sir James the day after the
murder.”
The other two looked at him in surprise.
“Oh, of course, you don’t know about that.” He felt in his pocket and
produced the letter, which he read to them.
“Again I was struck with the fact that he had been anxious not to have
Collins told. It stuck in my mind, until recalled, in a vivid manner.
I was in his flat, and we were discussing the evidence of Mrs.
Simmons, when he suddenly said he heard a noise, and went to the door,
dramatically taking his pistol with him.
“Now, my hearing is very good, and I was almost certain that there was
no one there. Outside the door he found a piece of paper with a
scribbled message on it. You know what that was because it has been in
the papers. We searched the flat, but there was no one there. When we
came back he picked up the evidence from the floor, and was reading
it. He handed it back to me, and I saw that the letter from Sir James
was with the other document. I could see then that he had got hold of
this by a clever ruse, but I did not think it was anything more than a
trick, though I did not like it.
“That night I stayed at his flat, and had very little sleep.
“I went over the scene at Leveson Square as I had done many times, and
then I recalled that Collins had asked me to telephone for a doctor,
and remained at the door while I called the old woman. When I came
back he had spread mats on the floor in order not to obscure
footmarks. He examined the floor himself, and said there were three
sets of footmarks, Sir James’ and the unknown man’s, and then he said
with a laugh, ‘and these, I think, are mine when I stepped to lay the
rug,’ and he took off his shoes, and they fitted.
“I was so astounded that I had to help myself to a whiskey and soda,
in order not to show my feelings, for the marks he found were under
where the rug had been. Since he had spread it from the doorway, it
must have been over the marks. It may seem surprising, but in the
events which followed, this had entirely gone out of my mind, but now
came back with added force. It is always said in my profession that we
must never eliminate any possibility, however seemingly improbable.
“More or less for idle speculation, I began to think, as I could not
sleep. Facts came crowding in. Mrs. Simmons had suppressed the fact
that Sanders had come in the afternoon, that I did not know at the
time, but I was sure that she would not hide a murderer. If that were
so, then, as we found there was no possible means of leaving the room,
and she had seen him go to his study and lock the door, the murder
could not have taken place then. What remained? It must have taken
place after the door was opened by us. But the only person who was for
a moment alone with Sir James was Collins. But the thing was absurd.
We should have heard the shot. I dismissed the whole thing from my
mind. But it would keep coming back. Collins had turned up at my
office at the very moment, with a plausible story of having been
called up on the ’phone. He would, of course, have been able to get
official paper, and knew my signature perfectly well. Motive—well, I
have been too long in the service to look for motive till I have a
case.
“The next day we went to Leveson Square, and the Home Office doctor
mentioned that the bullet had only penetrated a little way into the
skull.
“Forgive me for going into all this,” he said to Mabel.
“Go on,” she said, bravely. “I must know the truth.”
“I was on the alert, then, and I noticed that Collins started talking
about his grievance against Boyce for letting the Press have details.
As a rule, he would have picked up a point like that at once. The
doctor had suggested a half charge as the explanation, but another
came to my mind. An air pistol would make comparatively little noise,
especially if one shouted out something at the same time. The whole
appearance of Sir James was as though he was in a deep sleep. Here,
again, my experience came in. I had known a similar case in India.
“The man who did the murder would have to be certain that he was
asleep, or the plot would fail. There was only one way. Drugging! You
might say why not poison, but here was no need, and always the risk of
poison being found. A sleeping draught was all that was necessary, and
then I remembered that Collins had slipped out the remark about Sir
James feeling sleepy. There were two glasses which had contained
whiskey, into which a sleeping draught could easily have been put.
“Things were beginning to take shape. I must confess I had suspicions
of Lewis at first, but I soon dismissed that, and kept it up on
purpose.”
He paused and helped himself to coffee.
“You must understand,” he continued, “that I had not a shred of
evidence. If I had told my suspicions I should have been laughed at,
and probably lost my job. Then there came the complication of Boyce
and Jackson. I saw he was dead set on getting this man proved guilty,
as he was sure we should never get the real man.”
“Do you mean to say he was going to get an innocent man convicted?”
said Mabel, in horror.
“Not convicted. He would merely be put back in an asylum, and I can
assure you it happens far oftener than the public know, that an
innocent man has to suffer. The police argue that they have got hold
of a man with a terrible past, and that even if he is not the actual
culprit he deserves to be put away. You will find, in these cases
where murder is the crime, he is always sent to penal servitude for
life.”
“How dreadful,” said Mabel, “I thought our justice was so good in
England.”
“I am afraid what Mr. Sinclair says is true,” said Allery. “I have
never been mixed up with criminal cases, but I have heard a good deal.
Please go on.”
“I saw,” said Sinclair, “that the real clue lay in the letter I had
received, and it was disquieting that Collins had read it according to
my supposition. The key to the situation lay in finding Sir Ronald
Watson.
“I kept in touch with Collins’ movements, and soon learnt of his
visits here. I thought he was here for another reason,” and he glanced
awkwardly at Mabel, “but the mystery he made of it, led me to think he
might have a double motive. I did not in the least suspect the truth,
but thought he was trying to find the missing man from this end, if
you understand me?”
Allery nodded. “That’s all quite clear,” he said.
“He turned up at my office the other day. I could see he had something
in the wind. Even with his iron nerve the delay must have been
fretting him, for there was always the possibility that we should get
the man, and then the secret, whatever it was, would be out.
“I tried a bluff. I asked him where Wilton-on-Sea was, and said I
wanted to go there. All I knew was that it was close to this place. He
would not let me go alone, for he did not know how much I knew, and so
we came down, and watched for those wretched days which have put years
on to my life.
“I had to pretend to take to drink to throw dust in his eyes.
“When he found Sir Ronald in such a dramatic fashion, I realised that
things had come to a crisis. There was danger, real and personal, in
the air. With supreme bluff he introduced me, and I must confess he
took me completely by surprise. When I saw Lewis coming, for a moment
all my ideas crumpled like a pack of cards, and I thought I had made a
colossal fool of myself; but when I realised who it was, I saw the
whole game. He would not let him out of his sight, nor allow me a word
with him.
“He saw his one chance was to get the document out of him before I had
a chance.
“But he was one too good for me at the end. When he slipped out I
never thought he would make a bolt for it like that.”
He finished his story, and looked at the others.
Allery was scrutinising the end of his cigar. Mabel was deeply
distressed.
“You’ve been working pretty hard lately, I suppose,” said the former.
Sinclair started: “I am always pretty hard at work,” he said.
“You’ve been letting this thing prey on your mind, I expect, a good
deal?”
Sinclair stiffened. “Do you mean that I have been imagining things?”
he said.
“It is a most entertaining exhibition of deduction,” said Allery.
“Of course, I have not had time to tell you all,” said Sinclair, “and
it may never come out.”
“It is a wicked lie,” said Mabel. “I will never believe it.” Her eyes
were blazing.
“I am sorry, Miss Watson,” stammered Sinclair.
“I am going to lie down, Mr. Allery,” said she, and walked from the
room ignoring Sinclair.