"Why, the Colonel--Colonel Chetwode!" the man answered excitedly.
"Colonel Chetwode!" I gasped. "Impossible!"
"It's a fact," he declared. "The whole thing's a deep mystery. They
found him at five o'clock this morning."
"Tell me all about it," I urged.
"Mr Plummer, sergeant of police, was in here half an hour ago, and he
told me all about it. According to what he says, it seems that a
workman going across the park to Twickenham early this morning, saw the
body of a man on the edge of the lake, half in the water. He rushed
forward, and to his horror found it was the Colonel, quite dead."
"Drowned?"
"No; he wasn't drowned. That's the curious part of it. He was
murdered."
"How?"
"By a blow on the head, the police believe. Plummer says that there are
lots of marks near the edge of the lake as though a struggle took
place."
"Extraordinary!" I ejaculated. "You say he was quite dead when
discovered. Was a doctor called?"
"Yes; the police surgeon, Doctor Douglas. He declared that the poor
Colonel had been murdered, and had been dead several hours."
"Is there no suspicion of the assassin?" I inquired, as the thought of
the man whom I had watched in the Park dashed through my brain.
"None whatever," he answered. "The Colonel was very popular everywhere,
and was always good to the poor. It's his wife who isn't liked; she's a
rum un', they say."
"Where was the body found?" I inquired, when I had seated myself at the
table while he had taken up a position before the empty fireplace to
continue gossiping.
"Ah!" he said, "you wouldn't, of course, know the spot, for you've never
been in the park. There's a path which leads across the grass at the
back of the house through some thickets, and, skirting the lake, crosses
the brook by a little bridge. It was just by that bridge that the poor
fellow was found. They think that just as he had crossed the bridge he
was struck down, and then fell backwards into the lake."
"Ah! I understand," I said. "Let's hope that the detectives will
discover something when they arrive. It was evidently a most dastardly
bit of work."
The man's remark that I had no knowledge of the spot where the body was
found aroused me to a sense of my own position. If it were known that I
had entered the park that night, might not a serious suspicion fall upon
me?
I recollected how, as I had crossed the bridge, I had heard distinctly a
short cough. The murderer was, without doubt, lurking there when I had
passed.
"Every one is talking of it. Lots of people are going down to see the
spot. I shall go down presently. Do you care to come?" the landlord
asked.
I acceded willingly, for I wished to see the place in daylight, and, as
one of a crowd of sightseers, I should escape observation.
While I ate my breakfast, the man, full of the mystery, continued
discussing it in all its phases. I allowed him to run on, for every
word he spoke was, to me, of intense interest.
"The poor Colonel was the very last man to have an enemy who would take
his life," he said.
"But his second wife?"
"Ah!" he said with a knowing air, "he was never quite the same after he
married again. They say that she flirted indiscriminately with every
man she came across, no matter who he was."
"As bad as that--eh?"
"Of course I don't know for certain. I only tell you what I've 'eard."
"Of course, of course," I said. "People will always talk. But do you
really think it's true that she is as giddy as reported?"
"I really don't know," he responded, raising his eyebrows. "These women
of the upper ten are a queer lot sometimes."
"Well, the Colonel's death is a very mysterious affair, at any rate," I
observed.
"Very," he said. "And one or two evil-tongued people are already
suggesting that she might have had a hand in it."
"That is cruel," I answered. "She may be unpopular, but that's no
reason why she should be a murderess. I suppose they base their
suspicions upon the quarrel of which you told me yesterday."
"I suppose so. The first Mrs Chetwode was a born lady, but of this
woman nobody ever knew anything of who or what she was before he was so
misguided as to marry her."
"Perhaps the police inquiries will throw some light upon that," I
remarked.
"Let's hope so," he responded. And then, having finished my breakfast,
we went together to the park.
Fortunately, on the previous night, I had been able to slip out and in
unobserved, for the landlord had been absent with his wife at a
neighbour's, and was therefore not aware of a fact which might prove
damning against me--namely, that I had disguised myself in a suit of
second-hand clothes.
The tragedy had been enacted at the bridge I had crossed. I had passed
over that very spot, and had actually heard the sound of the assassin's
cough.
Was that a signal to an accomplice? It seemed very much as though there
had been two persons lying in wait for the Colonel, and I, having passed
at the moment when they expected him, had narrowly escaped being struck
down. That cough was possibly the signal that had saved me.
"Pass along, please! Pass along!" said a constable, as I stood staring
in wonder at the spot where the body had been found half in the water
among the waving reeds.
We receded for some distance, while the publican pointed out the
geographical position of the spot with its relation to the house and the
high-road.
"It's a lonely place 'ere of a night," he said. "Just the place where a
man might commit a murder. Funny, however, that the Colonel was
wandering about in the park alone!"
"Curious, too, that his presence was not missed by his wife, or any of
the household."
"Yes," he said. "Very mysterious, indeed. He must have gone out
unknown to any one, and, when the place was locked up for the night, it
was believed he was indoors."
"He was wearing evening dress," I said.
"Oh, I believe so. But I'm not certain. I've not heard how he was
dressed--I say, Harding," he cried, turning to a bent old man who
chanced to be passing, "how was the Colonel dressed when he was found?"
"In his cut-away coat and shirt," was the reply. "They said that his
shirt-stud was stolen."
"Ah!" exclaimed my garrulous friend, the publican, "that looks as though
it was done with a motive of robbery--don't it?"
"Yes," I said, my thoughts reverting again, as they constantly did, to
that strange conversation which I had overheard in the darkness, the
words of a man who had practically acknowledged himself to be an
assassin.
When we again emerged upon the high-road I parted from my companion, he
returning to Hounslow and I continuing my walk along the highway leading
to Twickenham.
I wandered aimlessly, trying to form some resolution. Had any person
seen me enter or leave the park on the previous night? If they had then
my position was certainly one of peril, for, if arrested on suspicion, I
should experience the utmost difficulty in clearing myself.
Where was Beryl? I called her Beryl, for that was the name by which I
had first known her, and it appeared to me that her cousin had falsely
introduced her to me as Feo. Had they both returned to London, or were
they still at the Park?
At a point beyond Kneller Hall, just then within sight of Twickenham
Town, I turned back, and, passing along the boundary of the park to
Hounslow railway station, made inquiries of a friendly ticket collector,
from whom I learnt that the two ladies had left, with several of the
other guests for Waterloo half an hour before.
This information decided me. I went on into the town, and, entering the
police-station, sought an interview with the inspector. It fortunately
happened that Mr Rowling, the sub-divisional inspector from Brentford,
a tall, rosy-faced, smart-looking man, was there, and he being the chief
of that sub-district of the T Division, I gave him my card and placed
myself at his disposal.
He had ridden over from Brentford in response to a telegram, and looked
a veritable giant in his long police riding-boots and spurs. When I
told him that I was a medical man who took a great interest in the
detection of crime, and therefore wished to assist in the inquiries
regarding the Colonel's death, he looked at me curiously with his merry
blue eyes, and again glanced at my card.
"Well, Doctor," he said, "I've sent to Scotland Yard as well as to my
superintendent at Hammersmith, and we are expecting three or four men
from the Criminal Investigation Department to take up the case. They
left by the 09:05 from Waterloo, and will arrive here in a few minutes,
I hope."
"But cannot you give me permission to assist them?"
"That, I fear, is beyond my power. The inquiries are, you see, left
entirely to them."
"But you are chief of this division of police. Surely you can give me
permission?"
Before replying he made further inquiries as to who I was and where I
lived.
While we were talking three men in plain clothes entered the office and
saluted. Then, after briefly explaining the discovery to them, Rowling
introduced me as an assistant.
The elder of the three, a thin-faced, dark-haired man, who was an
inspector--Bullen by name--while his companions were sergeants, seemed
greatly surprised at my application.
"It's quite irregular, you know," he said briefly.
"But I think, under the circumstances," said Rowling, "that the Doctor
might be of some service. He has had previous experience in murder
cases, and has just applied to me. Of course I referred him to you, as
you are to direct the inquiry."
"The difficulty is that any little indiscretion on his part might upset
our plans," responded the detective.
"I will give you my word of honour to preserve secrecy in everything,
and likewise to obey your orders as though I were a subordinate," I said
eagerly.
"Very well," he replied at last, but not without some reluctance. "Of
course, you are not attached to the inquiry officially, but I will give
you permission to act with us."
I thanked him, declaring my intention to use every discretion; and then
Rowling gave them a brief description of the character of the man who
had discovered the body, and handed them a written report made by the
police surgeon, Doctor Douglas, who had been called to examine the body.
"There are no suspicions against any one?" inquired Bullen, after he had
read the medical statement aloud to his two companions.
"None," answered Rowling. "The boundary of the Park is patrolled, but
the man on duty last night declares that he saw nobody of whom he could
entertain, any suspicion."
Then, going to the wall, he pointed out on the ordnance map the position
of the park and mansion. This having been examined carefully by all
three, Rowling gave them a brief description of the murdered man, his
wife and his son, very similar to that given by my gossiping friend of
the _Red Lion_.
"There were a lot of visitors at the Park, you say," Bullen observed.
"Are they still there?"
"No. Most of them have returned to London, I believe," I responded.
"Ah!" said the detective, in a tone of disappointment; "it would have
assisted us greatly if we could have seen what kind of persons they
were. But we'd better go down to the house and have a look round."