Walter Brooklyn Goes Free
The business transacted at Thomas’s office that morning was
protracted; but the result of it was never in doubt. Thomas had before
long to admit that he had been suspecting an innocent man, and that
man his own client. At first he was inclined to be incredulous; but,
when witness after witness was produced, he had to admit absolutely
that Joan and Ellery had proved their case. The testimony of one, or
even two, witnesses might have been doubted; but the cumulative effect
of the evidence, given by the old night-watchman, Kitty Frensham, and
Horace Mandleham, and the men whom “the Spaniard” had found, was
irresistible. It was true that the evidence of the stick and the
telephone message which Walter Brooklyn was supposed to have sent were
unaffected by the case which Joan and Ellery had prepared; but Thomas,
though he knew nothing of Superintendent Wilson’s new view of the
case, agreed that any charge based on these would certainly collapse
in face of a conclusive _alibi_. Thomas confidently stated that it was
only a matter of a short time before Walter Brooklyn would be released
“without a stain on his character.”
There were stains enough on it already, Joan said to herself, even if
this last disgrace were removed. Walter Brooklyn was not guilty of
murder, and had been, in this case, unjustly accused. But no amount of
sympathy with him in his present misfortune could wipe out the
recollection of what she had suffered while she had still felt it her
duty to live with him. She had done her best to absolve him of the
charge of murder, because she was fully assured of his innocence; but,
that once accomplished, she desired to have no more to do with him.
When, therefore, Thomas suggested that she should go at once to the
prison and tell her stepfather the good news, while he and Ellery saw
the police and endeavoured to make arrangements for his release, Joan
refused and said that she would prefer Thomas to see his client
himself. To the rest of the suggested programme she agreed, and Thomas
at once got through on the ’phone to Superintendent Wilson, and
arranged an immediate appointment. Joan and Ellery agreed with him
that the best course was to tell the police the whole story at once,
and, instead of waiting for the trial, to endeavour to secure Walter
Brooklyn’s release as soon as the necessary formalities could be
carried through.
Taking their witnesses with them, therefore, Joan, Ellery, and Thomas
set out for Scotland Yard. There they left the witnesses in a
waiting-room, and were at once shown in to the superintendent.
Inspector Blaikie, who had been sent for when Thomas’s message was
received, was also present, and the two police officers now heard from
Joan and Ellery what they had done. The superintendent listened very
quietly to their story, in one of his favourite attitudes, with his
eyes closed most of the time, his legs thrust out before him, and his
hands buried deep in his trousers pockets. The inspector once or twice
tried to interrupt, and was at first obviously incredulous. But,
before they had done, the strength of their case was evident, even to
him, and the testimony of the witnesses, who were then called in and
examined one by one, was quite conclusive in its cumulative effect.
Walter Brooklyn had been seen by no less than seven persons, and it
was quite inconceivable, in view of the times and places at which they
had seen him, that he could have made his way into and out of Liskeard
House and committed even a single murder, in the time available. The
superintendent jotted down a list of the independent testimonies which
went to the making of the _alibi_.
10.15 or so. Shown out of Liskeard House by Winter.
10.20 or so. Seen by porter at Piccadilly Theatre walking up
Piccadilly towards the Circus.
10.45. Seen in Leicester Square by Kitty Frensham and Horace
Mandleham.
11.20 or so. Seen in Piccadilly Circus by night-watchman.
11.30 or so. Seen by taxi-driver near Liskeard Street in Piccadilly
(exact time uncertain).
11.35 (about). Seen, at time not precisely fixed, but it must have
been at this time, by “the Spaniard,” leaning on the parapet and
then walking along the top of Trafalgar Square.
11.45. Seen by witness of unknown occupation at the top of Whitehall
and followed by him up Cockspur Street and Regent Street, as far as
the corner of Jermyn Street.
12 midnight. Seen by night-porter entering the Byron Club (the porter
is positive he did not go out again).
When the last witness had withdrawn the superintendent looked at his
notes.
“What do you make of it now?” asked Thomas. The reply, unhesitatingly
given, was that the _alibi_ seemed to be conclusive.
“I admit,” said the superintendent, “that for a time we were barking
up the wrong tree. There remain, of course, to be explained the
telephone message and the presence of your client’s stick. I don’t say
that we shan’t have to test even the _alibi_ further—some of your
witnesses are of rather doubtful character. But personally I admit
that I have no doubt about it; indeed, quite apart from the _alibi_, I
had already made up my mind on other grounds that your client was
innocent. Your discoveries merely confirm my opinion.”
“Then you agree,” said Thomas, “that my client ought to be released.”
“Before you answer that question, sir,” put in Inspector Blaikie, “may
I have a word? I admit that what we have just heard is very powerful
testimony; but surely the telephone message proves that Mr. Brooklyn
was in the house, and therefore that there is something wrong with the
_alibi_. To say nothing of the stick. I hope you won’t agree to a
release at least until there has been time to look into the matter
further.”
The superintendent rose from his chair. “You will excuse us for a
moment,” he said to the others, and he beckoned to the inspector to
follow him into the adjoining room. “My dear inspector,” he said, when
he had shut the door, “you will kindly leave me to manage this
affair.”
The inspector replied, “Certainly, sir”; but he added, half to
himself, “All the same, I believe he did it.”
“I shall order release—I mean I shall announce that the prosecution is
withdrawn, and get the man released as soon as possible. To my mind
the _alibi_ is quite convincing. But, even apart from it, I was going
to tell you this morning that I proposed to recommend Walter
Brooklyn’s release. I will explain my reasons when the others have
gone. You leave it to me.”
The inspector said nothing, but followed his superior officer back
into the other room.
“Well, Mr. Thomas,” said the superintendent, “I shall certainly offer
no opposition to your client’s release. Will you take the necessary
steps on your side?”
Thomas said that he would, and the superintendent added that, in that
case, there should be neither difficulty nor delay. Only formal
evidence of arrest had been offered before the magistrate, and they
might now consider the charge as definitely dropped.
Joan began to thank him; but he stopped her.
“It is not a matter for thanks,” he said. “We appear to have arrested
the wrong man, and the need for apologies, if it exists, is on our
side. You will, however, agree that appearances were strongly against
Mr. Brooklyn, and that we could hardly have taken any other course.
Indeed, it seems clear that whoever did commit the murder, or murders,
must have deliberately planned to throw suspicion on your stepfather.
That, I think, furnishes an important clue.”
“But I suppose you have now no idea at all who the murderer was?”
“It is hardly fair to ask me that question, Miss Cowper,” said the
superintendent, smiling. “You come here, and knock the police theory
into smithereens, and then you ask us if we have another theory
ready-made. No. We have not a theory, but we do possess certain very
important clues.”
At this point Thomas had a word to say. “It is just possible that I
may be able to help you there. In preparing for the defence of my
client, I had, of course, to consider who the criminal, or criminals,
might be, and to make certain inquiries. I lighted on certain
information which you may find useful. I am not likely to need it now;
but I will gladly make you a present of it for what it is worth.”
“What is your information?”
“I believe you have been watching certain of the servants at Liskeard
House—Morgan, I mean, and the butler, Winter.”
The superintendent glanced at Inspector Blaikie, who nodded.
“You may, or may not, have discovered that the man Winter had a very
strong personal cause of quarrel with Mr. Prinsep; quite enough, I
think, to be the motive of a serious crime.”
The superintendent again looked towards Inspector Blaikie, who very
slightly shook his head. Then he said to Thomas, “I think you had
better tell us all you know.”
“Well, to begin with, the butler had a violent quarrel with Mr.
Prinsep a few days before the murder, and was practically given notice
to leave. That can be proved by the evidence of the maidservants and
of Morgan.”
“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” said Joan, “and what’s more, I
don’t believe it. Winter is a very old and trusted family servant. I
am sure Mr. Prinsep would not have given him notice.”
“The maids say that the notice was not quite definite, and that Winter
was not sure whether he would have to go or not. He spoke to Morgan
about it. But the evidence as to the quarrel is quite decisive.”
“I think it’s horrible,” said Joan. “I’m every bit as sure that Winter
had nothing to do with it as I am about my stepfather. And what if
they did have a quarrel? John—Mr. Prinsep, I mean—was always
hot-tempered.”
“I have not yet told the inspector what the quarrel was about. It was
about the girl Winter was engaged to—a girl down at Fittleworth—the
head gardener’s daughter, I believe. I understand that Mr. Prinsep had
some relations with her, and Winter objected.”
At this Joan suddenly went red all over; but she said nothing. The
superintendent, who was watching her, said very quietly, “Do you know
this girl, Miss Cowper, and can you throw any light on the incident? I
am sorry to ask; but—” he paused for her answer.
“Of course I know the girl well; but I would rather not speak of it. I
had no idea that she was to be married to Winter.”
“Very well, Miss Cowper. I see that you do know, and that there is
some truth in the story. Can you say that there is not?”
“I prefer not to say anything.”
“That will do. I see your point, Mr. Thomas. This certainly provides
what we have been seeking—a possible motive for Mr. Prinsep’s murder.
But, of course, it is merely a possible indication. There is no
evidence against Winter, as far as I am aware.”
“That, Mr. Superintendent, is entirely your business. I merely gave
you what information I had gathered. Tracking down the criminal is
fortunately no concern of mine.”
“Quite so. And that is the whole of your information?”
“Yes. Apart from that I know no more than you know already.”
“Then I can only thank you for the help you have given; and assure you
that everything possible shall be done to expedite your client’s
release. And, by the way, you had better say nothing to any one else
of what you have just told me.” And thereupon, with the skill born of
long practice, the superintendent bowed his visitors out of the room.
To Inspector Blaikie he spoke a word, asking him to remain for a few
minutes’ discussion.
Joan’s indignation burst forth as soon as she was outside the
building. She was particularly angry with Thomas.
“I call it abominable. We have just succeeded in clearing one innocent
man, whom an hour or two ago you believed to be guilty: and now you
are wantonly throwing suspicion on some one else. What business is it
of yours? I know Winter had nothing to do with it.”
“That is all very well, Miss Cowper; but it was my duty to tell the
police, and, moreover, by doing so, I probably speeded up Mr.
Brooklyn’s release by at least twenty-four hours. It is always wise to
have the police on your side—when you can.”
“If it was your duty, why didn’t you tell the police when you first
found it out?”
“I will be quite frank with you, Miss Cowper. I did not, because,
until your very smart work in proving Mr. Brooklyn’s _alibi_, my best
chance of getting him off was to be able to throw unexpected suspicion
on some one else at the trial.”
“I call it beastly—even to think of using methods like that.”
Thomas was very suave. “But I suppose, Miss Cowper, you would not have
liked to see your stepfather condemned. I had to do the best I could.”
“I don’t care. It can’t be right to throw suspicion on an innocent man
like that. Do you—yourself—believe Winter did it? Why didn’t you do
what he did—clear my stepfather by proving the truth of what he said?”
“Perhaps, Miss Cowper, it was because I am not so clever as you are. I
have already congratulated you on the way you have managed this
affair.”
“I don’t want your congratulations. Do you believe Winter did it?”
“As to that, Miss Cowper, I do not pretend to know. It is for the
police, and not for me, to find out.”
Joan, on hearing this, simply turned her back on him, and walked away.
Thomas very politely raised his hat to her back, told Ellery that he
must be off, and hailed a passing taxi. Ellery hurried after Joan.
For a minute after he came up with her, she strode on fast, saying
nothing. Then, “Don’t you think it’s beastly?” she said.
“I agree with you that Thomas is a cad, and I don’t believe old Winter
had anything to do with it. And I don’t think there was any need for
him to tell the police. But he probably did it, as he said, in order
to get the police on our side.”
“And now they’ll all be off full cry after Winter. I suppose they will
want to arrest him next.”
Ellery shook his head. “Hardly, without more evidence than they
possess. But they will probably have him watched.”
There was a further silence, during which Joan continued to walk fast,
staring straight in front of her. At last she said, “I’ve been
thinking, and I’m sure I see what we ought to do. So far we have only
been trying to prove that my stepfather did not do it. We’ve
succeeded. But at this rate we shall all of us be suspected in turn.
There’s only one thing for it. There will be no peace and quietness
till some one finds the criminal. I don’t believe the police will ever
find him. Why shouldn’t you and I find him ourselves? We haven’t done
badly so far.”
Ellery whistled. “That’s a much taller order than proving your
stepfather’s _alibi_,” he said. “But I’m game. There certainly won’t
be much peace for any of us till somebody finds out who did do it. But
I’m dashed if I know how to begin.”
“Neither do I, at present. We have to think it all out, and make a
fresh start. Come home with me, and we’ll start planning it at once.”
“They say two heads are better than one, and I’m prepared to be your
very faithful follower. But you’ll have to be Sherlock Holmes, I’m
afraid.”
“Come along then, Watson. But try not to be as stupid as your
namesake.”