“Have you been able to get the pump, Sergeant?” asked French as he
reached the police station that afternoon.
“I’ve got the loan of one, Mr. French, or at least I’ll get it first
thing to-morrow. From a quarry close by. It’s a rotary hand-pump, and
Mr. Glenn, the manager, tells me that it will throw far faster than
anything we’ll want.”
“We shall have to fix it down in the well?”
“Yes, the well’s forty-two feet deep. It’s thirty to the water and
there’s twelve feet of water. But there’ll be no trouble about that.
The beams that carry the old pump will take it, too.”
“You think they’re strong enough?”
“We’ll just have to try them.”
“What about ladders?”
“I’ve got a fifty-foot length of rope ladder from the same quarry.”
“Good. What time can we start to-morrow?”
“I shall have the pump by half past eight.”
“Then we should be at the colonel’s shortly after nine.”
This time French thought it would be wise to have Domlio present at
their experiment. He therefore rang him up and made an appointment for
nine-thirty.
Early next morning a heavily loaded car left Ashburton. In addition to
the driver it contained French, Daw, and two constables in plain
clothes, as well as a low, squat pump with detachable handle, an
immense coil of armoured hose, another huge coil of rope ladder, and
several tools and small parts.
“Another rush to Klondyke,” said French, at which priceless pearl of
humour Daw smiled and the plain clothes men guffawed heavily.
“I should have thought that tailor could have fixed up the ownership
of the coat,” Daw remarked, presently. “Shouldn’t you, sir?”
“Of course, Sergeant. But we shall get it, all right, even if we have
to do all the work ourselves. I thought it wasn’t worth troubling
about. It’s pretty certain the coat is not the only thing that was
thrown into the well and we shall get our identification from
something else.”
The car was run into the yard, unloaded, and dismissed, while French
went to the hall door and asked for Colonel Domlio.
“Sorry to trouble you at this hour, Colonel, but I want you to be
present at a small experiment I am carrying out.” He watched the other
keenly as he spoke. “Will you please come out into the yard, where I
have left Sergeant Daw and some men?”
Surprise showed on the colonel’s face, but not, so far as French could
see, apprehension.
“This is very interesting, Inspector. I’m glad I’m at least being
informed of what is taking place on my own ground. I shall certainly
see what you are doing.”
As they turned the corner and the purpose of the visit became apparent
to Domlio, his surprise seemed to deepen, but still there was no
appearance of uneasiness. The police had lifted the cover of the well
and were getting the pump rigged. Coombe and Mee had joined the others
and stood speechlessly regarding the preparations.
“Ah, an invasion? I presume, Inspector, you have adequate authority
for these somewhat unusual proceedings?”
“I think you’ll find that’s all right, sir. With your permission we’re
going to pump out the well.”
“The removal of the well cover and the pump rather suggested something
of the kind, but for the moment I can’t quite recall the permission.”
“I feel sure that under the circumstance you won’t withhold it. Better
lower that lantern with the candle, Sergeant, before you send a man
down. We want to be sure the air is good.”
“If it’s not an impertinence,” Domlio remarked, with ironic
politeness, “I should be interested to know why you are not using the
existing pump.”
“I didn’t think it was in working order. Is the well used?”
“An explanation, complete, no doubt, but scarcely satisfying. It did
not occur to you to try it?”
“No, sir. Too noisy. But what about the well?”
“Ah yes, the well. The well is used—in summer. We have a gravity
supply from the hill behind the house, but it fails in summer; hence
pumping from the well.”
This statement was very satisfactory to French. It cleared up a point
which had been worrying him. If it were possible to get rid of the
clothes by throwing them down the well, why had Pyke’s body not been
disposed of in the same way? But now this was explained. The condition
of the water in the following summer would have led to investigation.
“Try the fixed pump, Sergeant. It may save us rigging the other.”
But a test showed that the valve leathers were dry and not holding,
and they went on with their original program.
French had been puzzled by the colonel’s attitude. If beneath his
cynical manner he were consumed by the anxiety which, were he guilty,
he could scarcely help feeling, he was concealing it in a way that was
little short of marvellous. However, the preparations would take time
and it was impossible that if the man knew what would be found he
could hide all signs of tension.
The candle, lowered to the surface of the water, burned clearly,
showing that the air was fresh. The rope ladder was then made fast to
the stonework and Sergeant Daw climbed down. Presently he returned to
say that the beams on which the old pump rested were sound. The new
pump was therefore lowered and one of the constables sent down to
begin work.
Getting rid of the water turned out a bigger job than French had
anticipated. Slowly the level dropped. At intervals the men spelled
each other, French and Daw taking their turns. By lunch-time the water
had gone down seven feet, though during the meal it rose six inches.
After that they worked with renewed energy to get the remaining five
feet six inches out before dusk.
“You have a second well, have you not, Colonel?” French enquired. “I
noticed a pump near the kitchen door.”
“Yes. We use it for drinking purposes. This is only good enough for
washing the car and so on.”
On more than one occasion Domlio had protested against what he called
the waste of his time in watching the work. But French insisted on his
remaining till the search was complete.
About four o’clock the water was so far lowered as to allow an
investigation of the bottom, and the sergeant, squeezing past the man
at the pump, went down with his electric torch. French, leaning over
the wall, anxiously watched the flickering light. Then came the
sergeant’s voice: “There’s a waistcoat and trousers and shoes here,
Mr. French.”
“That all?” called French.
“That’s all that I see. I’ve got everything of any size, anyhow.”
“Well, tie them to the rope and we’ll pull them up.”
How Domlio would comport himself when he saw the clothes was now the
important matter. French watched him keenly as the dripping bundle
appeared and was carried to a bench in the garage.
Though the day’s work had prepared the man for some _dénoûment_, he
certainly appeared to French to be genuinely amazed when the nature of
the find was revealed.
“Good Heavens! Inspector! What does this mean?” he cried, squaring his
shoulders. “Whose are these and how did you know they were there?”
French turned to the plain-clothes men. “Just wait outside the door,
will you,” he said, then went on gravely to the other: “That is what I
have to ask you, Colonel Domlio.”
“Me?” The man’s sardonic calm was at last broken. “I know nothing
about them. The thing is an absolute surprise to me. I swear it.” His
face paled and he looked anxious and worried.
“There is something I should tell you,” French continued. “On
considering this Berlyn-Pyke case I formed a theory. I don’t say it is
correct, but I formed it from the facts I had learnt. According to
that theory you took out your car on the night of the tragedy, drove
into Ashburton, picked up Mr. Pyke’s coat, waistcoat, trousers, shoes,
and certain other things, brought them here and threw them into the
well. A moment, please.” He raised his hand as Domlio would have
spoken. “Rightly or wrongly, that was my theory. But there was a
difficulty. You had stated to the sergeant that you had not gone out
that night. I came here and found that that statement was not true.
You had been out. Then I made further enquiries and learnt that you
had taken out your car. You explained that, but I regret to say that I
was unable to accept your explanation. I thought, however, that the
presence or absence of these objects in the well would settle the
matter. I looked at the well and saw that the cover had recently been
moved. Two nights ago Sergeant Daw and I came out, and after trying
with a line and fish-hooks, we drew up a coat—Pyke’s coat. Now,
Colonel, if you wish to make a statement I will give it every
consideration, but it is my duty again to warn you that anything you
say may be used in evidence against you.”
“What? Are you charging me with a crime?”
“Unless you can satisfy me of your innocence you will be charged with
complicity in the murder of Stanley Pyke.”
The Colonel drew a deep breath.
“But, good Heavens! How can I satisfy you? I don’t even know what you
have against me, except this extraordinary business which I can make
neither head nor tail of. You must know more about it than you have
said. Tell me the rest.”
“You tell me this: Was your statement about the loss of the locket on
that night true?”
Colonel Domlio did not reply. He seemed to be weighing some problem of
overwhelming difficulty. French waited patiently, wondering how far
his bluff would carry. At last the colonel spoke.
“I have lied to the sergeant and to you, Inspector, with what I now
believe was a mistaken motive. I have been turning over the matter in
my mind and I see that I have no alternative but to tell you the truth
now or to suffer arrest. Possibly things have gone so far that this
cannot be avoided. At all events, I will tell you everything.”
“You are not forgetting my warning, Colonel Domlio?”
“I am not forgetting it. If I am acting foolishly it is my own
lookout. I tried to put you off, Inspector, to save bringing Mrs.
Berlyn’s name further into the matter, because, though there was
nothing against her character, I was sure you would have bothered her
with annoying questions. But, though I thought it right to lie with
this object, I don’t feel like risking prison for it.”
“I follow you,” said French.
“You will remember then what I told you about Mrs. Berlyn, that she
had been seeing a good deal first of Pyke and then of myself. I’m
sorry to have to drag this in again, but otherwise you wouldn’t
understand the situation.
“About—let me see—four months before the tragedy Mrs. Berlyn came out
here one afternoon. She said that she had been in London to a lecture
on entomology and that she had been so much interested that she had
read one or two books on the subject. She said that she knew I was
doing some research in it and she wondered whether I would let her
come and help me and so learn more. I naturally told her I should be
delighted, and she began to come out here quite often. On different
occasions she has accompanied me on the moor while I was searching for
specimens, and she has spent several afternoons with me in my library
mounting butterflies and learning to use the microscope. This went on
until the day of the tragedy.”
Colonel Domlio paused, squared his shoulders, and continued:
“On that morning I had received by post a letter addressed in a
strange hand and marked ‘Personal.’ It was signed ‘X.Y.Z.’ and said
that the writer happened to be walking about four P.M. on the previous
Tuesday in the Upper Merton glen at a certain point which he
described; that he had seen me with Mrs. Berlyn in my arms; that,
having a camera, he had at once taken two photographs, one of which
had come out; and that if I cared to have the negative he would sell
it for fifty pounds. If I wished to negotiate I was to meet him on the
Chagford–Gidleigh road at the gate of Dobson’s Spinney at one o’clock
that night. Should I not turn up, the writer would understand that I
was not interested and would take his picture to Mrs. Berlyn, who, he
thought, would prefer to deal rather than have it handed to Mr.
Berlyn.
“At first I could not think what was meant; then I remembered what had
taken place. We had been, Mrs. Berlyn and I, searching for a certain
butterfly at the place and time mentioned. Suddenly she had cried out
that she had seen a specimen and she had rushed after it past where I
was standing. Just as she reached me she gave a cry and lurched
against me. ‘Oh, my ankle!’ she shouted and clung to me. She had
twisted her foot in a rabbit hole and she could not put her weight on
it. I supported her in my arms for a few seconds, and it must have
been at this moment that my blackmailer came on the scene. I laid Mrs.
Berlyn down on the grass. She sat quiet for some minutes, then with my
arm was able to limp to the car. She said her ankle was not sprained,
but only twisted, and that she would be all right in a few hours. Next
day when I rang up to enquire she said it was still painful but a good
deal better.
“At first I was doubtful whether I should act on the letter; then I
thought that if there was a genuine photograph it would be better for
me to deal with the owner. I therefore went out to the rendezvous at
the time mentioned. But I might have saved myself the trouble, for no
one was there. And from that day to this I never heard another word
about the affair, nor did I mention it to a soul. Indeed, the
Berlyn-Pyke tragedy put it out of my head, and the same thing, I
suppose, robbed the photograph of its value.”
“You told me,” said French, “something about Mrs. Berlyn’s relations
with Mr. Pyke and yourself, saying that I would not understand your
story otherwise. Just what was in your mind in that?”
“Because these relations complicated the whole situation. Do you not
see that? Had everything been normal I could have treated the thing as
a joke and shown the photograph to Berlyn. As things were, he would
have taken it seriously.”
French felt a little puzzled by this statement. If the man were lying,
it was just the sort of story he would expect to hear, except for one
thing. It was capable of immediate confirmation. If it were not true
he would soon get it out of Mrs. Berlyn.
“I don’t want to be offensive, Colonel,” he said, “but by your own
admission you have twice lied about what took place that night. Can
you give me any proof that your present statement is true?”
Domlio squared his shoulders.
“I can’t,” he admitted. “I can show you the letter and you can ask
Mrs. Berlyn, but I don’t know that either of those would constitute
proof.”
“They wouldn’t in themselves, but from either I might get some point
which would. Now I’ll tell you what we’ll do. We’ll see first whether
Sergeant Daw has made any further discoveries; then you can show me
the letter and we’ll drive out to the place where Mrs. Berlyn fell.”
“That’s easily done.”
They returned to the well, and there, to French’s satisfaction, found
the missing duplicator parts laid out on the coping of the wall.
“Excellent, Sergeant. That’s all we want. I take it you will get the
pump away? You needn’t wait for me. I’m going out with Colonel
Domlio.”
While Coombe was bringing round the car the two men went to the study
for the letter. It was just as the colonel had described, and French
could see no clue to the sender.
They ran out then to the Upper Merton glen and Domlio pointed out the
spot at which the alleged incident had taken place. French insisted on
his describing the occurrence in the most minute manner. He wished to
form an opinion as to whether the man was relating what he had seen or
inventing the details as he went along.
After half an hour of close questioning on the lines of the American
third degree, French had to admit that the affair had either happened
as Domlio had said or that it had been rehearsed with great care. On
no point was he able to trip the colonel up, and knowing the
difficulty of inventing a story in which every detail is foreseen and
accounted for, he began to think the tale true. At all events, with
the mass of detail he now possessed, a similar examination of Mrs.
Berlyn should set the matter at rest.
French was in a thoughtful mood as they drove back to Torview. He was
up against the same old question which had troubled him so many times
in the past. Was his suspect guilty or was he the victim of a plot?
The evidence against the man was certainly strong. Seven separate
facts pointed to his guilt. French ran over them in his mind:
1. Domlio had the necessary qualifications for partnership in the
crime. He knew the _dramatis personæ_ and he was acquainted with the
works. He could have ordered the duplicator, and arranged for Berlyn
and Pyke to visit Tavistock on the night in question.
2. He was out in his car on that night at the time and for the
distance required.