"Hill has bolted!"
Rolfe flung the words at Inspector Chippenfield in a tone which he was
unable to divest entirely of satisfaction. "Fancy his being the guilty
party after all," he added, with the tone of satisfaction still more
evident in his voice. "I often thought that he was our man, and that he
was playing with you--I mean with us."
Inspector Chippenfield had betrayed surprise at the news by dropping his
pen on the official report he was preparing. But it was in his usual tone
of cold official superiority that he replied:
"Do you mean that Hill, the principal witness in the Riversbrook murder
trial, has disappeared from London?"
"Disappeared from London? He's bolted clean out of the country by this
time, I tell you! Cleared out for good and left his unfortunate wife and
child to starve."
"How have you learnt this, Rolfe?"
"His wife told me herself. I went to the shop this afternoon to have a
few words with Hill and see how he felt after the way Holymead had gone
for him at the trial. His wife burst out crying when she saw me, and she
told me that her husband had cleared out last night after he came home
from court. The hardened scoundrel took with him the few pounds of her
savings which she kept in her bedroom, and had even emptied the contents
of the till of the few shillings and coppers it contained. All he left
were the half-pennies in the child's money-box. He cleared out in the
middle of the night after his wife had gone to bed. He left her a note
telling her she must get along without him. I have the note here--his
wife gave it to me."
Rolfe took a dirty scrap of paper out of his pocket-book and laid it
before Inspector Chippenfield. The paper was a half sheet torn from an
exercise-book, and its contents were written in faint lead pencil.
They read:
"Dear Mary:
"I have got to leave you. I have thought it out and this is the only
thing to do. I am too frightened to stay after what took place in the
court to-day. I'll make a fresh start in some place where I am not known,
and as soon as I can send a little money I will send for you and Daphne.
Keep your heart up and it will be all right.
"Keep on the shop.
"YOUR LOVING HUSBAND."
"The poor little woman is heartbroken," continued Rolfe, when his
superior officer had finished reading the note. "She wants to know if we
cannot get her husband back for her. She says the shop won't keep her and
the child. Unless she can find her husband she'll be turned into the
streets, because she's behind with the rent, and Hill's taken every penny
she'd put by."
"Then she'd better go to the workhouse," retorted Inspector Chippenfield
brutally. "We'd have something to do if Scotland Yard undertook to trace
all the absconding husbands in London. We can do nothing in the matter,
and you'd better tell her so."
Inspector Chippenfield handed back Hill's note as he spoke. Rolfe eyed
him in some surprise.
"But surely you're going to take out a warrant for Hill's arrest?" he
said.
"Certainly not," responded Inspector Chippenfield impatiently. "I've
already said that Scotland Yard has something more to do than trace
absconding husbands. There's nothing to prevent your giving a little of
your private time to looking for him, Rolfe, if you feel so
tender-hearted about the matter. But officially--no. I'm astonished at
your suggesting such a thing."
"It isn't that," replied Rolfe, flushing a little, and speaking with
slight embarrassment. "But surely after Hill's flight you'll apply for a
warrant for his arrest on--the other ground."
"On what other ground?" asked his chief coldly.
"Why, on a charge of murdering Sir Horace Fewbanks," Rolfe burst out
indignantly. "Doesn't this flight point to his guilt?"
"Not in my opinion." Inspector Chippenfield's voice was purely official.
"Why, surely it does!" Rolfe's glance at his chief indicated that there
was such a thing as carrying official obstinacy too far. "This letter he
left behind suggests his guilt, clearly enough."
"I didn't notice that," replied Inspector Chippenfield impassively.
"Perhaps you'll point out the passage to me, Rolfe."
Rolfe hastily produced the note again.
"Look here!"--his finger indicated the place--"'I'm frightened to stay
after what took place in the court to-day,' Doesn't that mean, clearly
enough, that Hill realised the acquittal pointed to him as the murderer,
and he determined to abscond before he could be arrested?"
"So that's your way of looking at it, eh, Rolfe?" said Inspector
Chippenfield quizzically.
"Certainly it is," responded Rolfe, not a little nettled by his chief's
contemptuous tone. "It's as plain as a pikestaff that the jury acquitted
Birchill because they believed Hill was guilty. Holymead made out too
strong a case for them to get away from--Hill's lies about the plan and
the fact that the body was fully dressed when discovered."
"You're a young man, Rolfe," responded Inspector Chippenfield in a
tolerant tone, "but you'll have to shed this habit of jumping impulsively
to conclusions--and generally wrong conclusions--if you want to succeed
in Scotland Yard. This letter of Hill's only strengthens my previous
opinion that a damned muddle-headed jury let a cold-blooded murderer
loose on the world when they acquitted Fred Birchill of the charge of
shooting Sir Horace Fewbanks. Why, man alive, Holymead no more believes
Hill is guilty than I do. He set himself to bamboozle the jury and he
succeeded. If he had to defend Hill to-morrow he would show the jury that
Hill couldn't have committed the murder and that it must have been
committed by Birchill and no one else. He's a clever man, far cleverer
than Walters, and that is why I lost the case."
"He led Hill into a trap about the plan of Riversbrook," said Rolfe.
"When I saw that Hill had been trapped on that point I felt we had lost
the jury."
"Only because the jury were a pack of fools who knew nothing about
evidence. Granted that Hill lied about the plan--that he drew it up
voluntarily in his spare time to assist Birchill--it proves nothing. It
doesn't prove that Hill committed the murder. It only proves that Hill
was going to share in the proceeds of the burglary; that he was a willing
party to it. The one big outstanding fact in all the evidence, the fact
that towered over all the others, is that Birchill broke into the house
on the night Sir Horace Fewbanks was murdered. The defence made no
attempt to get away from that fact because they could not do so. But
Holymead vamped up all sorts of surmises and suppositions for the purpose
of befogging the jury and getting their minds away from the outstanding
feature of the case for the prosecution. We proved that Birchill was in
the house on a criminal errand. What more could they expect us to prove?
They couldn't expect us to have a man looking through the window or
hiding behind the door when the murder was committed. If we could get
evidence of that kind we could do without juries. We could hang our man
first and try him afterwards. I don't think a verdict of acquittal from a
befogged jury would do so much harm in such a case."
"You are still convinced that Birchill did it?" said Rolfe
questioningly.
"I have never wavered from that opinion," said his superior. "If I had,
this note of Hill's would restore my conviction in Birchill's guilt."
"Why, how do you make out that?" replied Rolfe blankly.
"Hill says he's clearing out of the country because he's frightened.
What's he frightened of? His own guilty conscience and the long arm of
the law? Not a bit of it! Hill's an innocent man. If he had been guilty
he'd never have stood the ordeal of the witness-box and the
cross-examination. Hill's cleared out because he was frightened of
Birchill."
"Of Birchill?"
"Yes. Didn't Birchill tell Hill, just before he set out for Riversbrook
on the night of the murder, that if Hill played him false he'd murder
him? Hill _did_ play him false, not then, but afterwards, when he made
his confession and Birchill was arrested for the murder in consequence.
When Birchill was acquitted at the trial his first thought would be to
wreak vengeance on Hill. A man with one murder on his soul would not be
likely to hesitate about committing another. Hill knew this, and fled to
save his life when Birchill was acquitted. That's the explanation of his
letter, Rolfe."
"So that's the way you look at it?" said Rolfe.
"Of course I do! It's the only way Hill's flight can be looked at in the
light of all that's happened. The theory dovetails in every part. I'm
more used than you to putting these things together, Rolfe. Hill's as
innocent of the murder as you are."
"And where do you think Hill's gone to?"
"Certainly not out of London. He's too much of a Cockney for that.
Besides, he's a man who is fond of his wife and child. He's hiding
somewhere close at hand, and I shouldn't wonder if the whole thing's a
plant between him and his wife. Have you forgotten how she tried to
hoodwink us before? I'll go to the shop to-morrow and see if I can't
frighten the truth out of her. Meanwhile, you'd better put the Camden
Town police on to watching the shop. If he's hiding in London he's bound
to visit his wife sooner or later, or she'll visit him, so we ought not
to have much difficulty in getting on to his tracks again."
Rolfe departed, to do his chief's bidding, a little crestfallen. He was
at first inclined to think that he had made a bit of a fool of himself in
his desire to prove to Inspector Chippenfield that he had been hoodwinked
by Hill into arresting Birchill. But that night, as he sat in his bedroom
smoking a quiet pipe, and reviewing this latest phase of the puzzling
case, the earlier doubts which had assailed him on first learning of
Hill's flight recurred to him with increasing force. If Hill were
innocent he would have been more likely to seek police protection before
flight. Hill's flight was hardly the action of an innocent man. It
pointed more to a guilty fear of his own skin, now that the man he had
accused of the murder was free to seek vengeance. Chippenfield's theory
seemed plausible enough at first sight, but Rolfe now recalled that he
knew nothing of the missing letters and Hill's midnight visit to
Riversbrook to recover them. Rolfe had concealed that episode from his
superior officer because he lacked the courage to reveal to him how he
had been hoodwinked by Mrs. Holymead's fainting fit the morning he was
conducting his official inquiry at Riversbrook into the murder.
"It's an infernally baffling case," muttered Rolfe, refilling his pipe
from a tin of tobacco on the mantelpiece, and walking up and down the
cheap lodging-house drugget with rapid strides. "If Birchill is not the
murderer who is? Is it Hill?"
He lit his pipe, closed the window, opened his pocket-book and sat down
to peruse the notes he had taken during his investigation of Sir Horace
Fewbanks's murder. He read and re-read them, earnestly searching for a
fresh clue in the pencilled pages. After spending some time in this
occupation he took a clean sheet of paper and a pencil, and copied afresh
the following entries from his notebook:
August 19. Went Riversbrook. Saw Sir H.F.'s body. Discovered fragment of
lady's handkerchief clenched in right hand.
August 22. Made inquiries handkerchief. Unable find where purchased.
September 8. Found Hill at Riversbrook searching Sir H.F.'s papers. Told
me about bundle of lady's letters tied up with pink ribbon which had been
taken from secret drawer. Says they disappeared morning after murder when
investigation was taking place. C.'s visitors that day: Dr. Slingsby /
Seldon to arrange inquest / newspaper men / undertaker's representatives
/ Crewe. C. saw one visitor alone, Hill says. Mrs. H----, who fainted. C.
fetched glass of water, leaving her alone in room. Hill suggests her
letters indicate friendly relations between her and Sir H.F. Sir H.F.
expected visit, probably from lady, night of murder. Hurried Hill off
when he returned from Scotland. Mem: Inadvisable disclose this to C.
Underneath his entries of the case Rolfe had written finally:
Points to be remembered:
(1) Crewe said before the trial that Birchill was not the murderer and
would be acquitted. Birchill was acquitted.
(2) Crewe suggested we had not got the whole truth out of Hill. Hill
disappears the night after the trial. Is Hill the murderer?
(3) The handkerchief and the letters point to a woman in the case,
although this was not brought out at the trial. Is it possible that
woman is Mrs. H.?
Rolfe realised that the chief pieces of the puzzle were before him, but
the difficulty was to put them together. He felt sure there was a
connection between these facts, which, if brought to light, would solve
the Riversbrook mystery. Without knowing it, he had been so influenced by
Crewe's analysis of the case that he had practically given up the idea
that Birchill had anything to do with the murder. His real reason for
going to Hill's shop that morning was to try and extract something from
Hill which might put him on the track of the actual murderer. He believed
Hill knew more than he had divulged. Hill, before his disappearance, had
placed in his hands an important clue, if he only knew how to follow it
up. That incident of the missing letters must have some bearing on the
case, if he could only elucidate it.
Should he disclose to Chippenfield Hill's story of the missing letters?
Rolfe dismissed the idea as soon as it crossed his mind. He knew his
superior officer sufficiently well to understand that he would be very
angry to learn that he had been deceived by Mrs. Holymead, and, as she
was outside the range of his anger, he would bear a grudge against his
junior officer for discovering the deception which had been practised on
him, and do all he could to block his promotion in Scotland Yard in
consequence. Apart from that, he could offer Chippenfield no excuse for
not having told him before.
Should he consult Crewe?
Rolfe dismissed that thought also, but more reluctantly. Hang it all, it
was too humiliating for an accredited officer of Scotland Yard to consult
a private detective! Rolfe had acquired an unwilling respect for Crewe's
abilities during the course of the investigations into the Riversbrook
case, but he retained all the intolerance which regular members of the
detective force feel for the private detectives who poach on their
preserves. Rolfe's professional jealousy was intensified in Crewe's case
because of the brilliant successes Crewe had achieved during his career
at the expense of the reputation of Scotland Yard. Rolfe had an
instinctive feeling that Crewe's mind was of finer quality than his own,
and would see light where he only groped in darkness. If Crewe had been
his superior officer in Scotland Yard, Rolfe would have gone to him
unhesitatingly and profited by his keener vision, but he could not do so
in their existing relative positions. He ransacked his brain for some
other course.
After long consideration, Rolfe decided to go and see Mrs. Holymead and
question her about the packet of letters which Hill declared she had
removed from Riversbrook after the murder. He realised that this was
rather a risky course to pursue, for Mrs. Holymead was highly placed and
could do him much harm if she got her husband to use his influence at the
Home Office, for then he would have to admit that he had gone to her
without the knowledge of his superior officer, on the statement of a
discredited servant who had arranged a burglary in his master's house the
night he was murdered. Nevertheless, Rolfe decided to take the risk. The
chance of getting somewhere nearer the solution of the Riversbrook
mystery was worth it, and what a feather in his cap it would be if he
solved the mystery! He was convinced that Chippenfield had shut out
important light on the mystery by doggedly insisting, in order to
buttress up his case against Birchill, that the piece of handkerchief
which had been found in the dead man's hand was a portion of a
handkerchief which had belonged to the girl Fanning, and had been brought
by Birchill from the Westminster flat on the night of the murder. It was
more likely, in view of Hill's story of the letters, that the
handkerchief belonged to Mrs. Holymead. Rolfe had not made up his mind
that Mrs. Holymead had committed the murder, but he was convinced that
she and her letters had some connection with the baffling crime, and he
determined to try and pierce the mystery by questioning her. Having
arrived at this decision, he replaced his notebook in his coat pocket,
knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and went to bed.