Detained on Suspicion
“Mr. Halley, will you accompany us to Ashstead, I have a car outside;
you will probably know why we have come.”
It was Sergeant Andrews who spoke these ominous words. By his side was
Fletcher with a smile of triumph on his face. He had run his enemy to
earth at last, and even though he might be treated with scorn by Ena,
what would be her opinion of his rival? There was a tense silence;
Halley stood motionless, not a muscle moved. Fletcher with deliberate
cruelty had staged this scene at the Sefton’s Bungalow.
“As you are police officers, I suppose I may take it that you suspect
me of some crime,” said Halley calmly.
“We wish to ask you some questions with regard to the murder of Lord
Reckavile, and these are better dealt with by the proper authorities,”
said Andrews, who disliked his task.
“I will come with you,” said Halley. “Am I to be handcuffed or
anything of that sort?” There was irony in his tone which was galling
to Fletcher.
“Not at present,” he said sharply.
Before another word could be said there was a cry, a door was flung
open, and Ena came into the room. Her eyes were blazing with anger, as
she walked straight across to Halley and stood by his side.
“What was this I heard,” she said “Police! Arrest! They must be mad.”
“We shall see about that,” said Fletcher, “when your precious friend
is in the Dock.”
“It is untrue,” she said. “Tell them that it is utterly false.” In
spite of her complete trust in him there was a terrible lurking
suspicion at the back of her mind. She knew that he was not a
murderer, but the facts that had leaked out from her brother’s
statement, that a struggle had taken place at the castle might mean
that he had acted in self-defence, but surely not with a knife, she
could not believe that he would, even in anger, deal so cowardly a
blow.
Halley spoke.
“Miss Sefton,” he said, “to these police officers I would have said
nothing, but since you have asked me, I can tell you that I did not
commit this crime.” Fletcher gave a contemptuous laugh, which made
even Sergeant Andrews look at him in reproof—it was unprofessional.
Halley continued calmly. “What is more to the point is that I can
easily prove my innocence.”
Her faced cleared. “I knew there must be some terrible mistake,” she
said.
Sergeant Andrews felt the conversation had gone far enough.
“I am very sorry, Miss Sefton, that you were here at all. Mr. Fletcher
told me that you were not at home, and that we merely came for Mr.
Halley. I had just driven to fetch him, so we had better get off.”
Ena came to the door, her face was white, but she had a look of pride
and confidence.
“Come back to us soon,” she said, “you will receive a warm welcome,”
and she glanced a look of hatred and contempt at Fletcher.
“Do not worry about me, it will only be a matter of a few hours,”
Halley said as the car drove off.
The examination was short, but Halley for the first time felt the
indignity of his position, for the surroundings in which he found
himself were enough to disgust any man of decent breeding.
The police at the station pushed him along as though he had been
caught in the act of stealing a purse or cutting a throat. He realised
how utterly futile is the old adage that a man under British Law is
considered innocent until he is proved guilty.
The short sharp questions of the Inspector grated on him, and behind
it all was the vision of one young girl torn with anxiety and waiting
to know the issue of this day’s business.
His pride would have made him keep silent, but the image ever before
him forced him to speak.
“If I studied my own interests,” he said “I would let you go on with
this absurd charge, and burn your fingers over the matter. If you are
wise you will let me clear myself immediately. The murder of which you
accuse me took place on the 20th of January and on that night I have
at least three witnesses who can testify that I was with them during
the entire evening, and therefore could not have been at Reckavile
Castle.”
The firmness of his tone and the quiet manner in which he spoke
disconcerted the Inspector, and he turned to Fletcher for advice.
“I have evidence,” said Fletcher “of the most compromising character,
and in spite of what this man says I would strongly advise that he be
detained, and brought before the Magistrates, where the whole matter
can be gone into. I may add,” he said with meaning, “that I represent
Scotland Yard in this matter.”
The Inspector was at a loss as to what to do; on the one hand he had a
heavy respect for the Yard; on the other Halley’s manner had impressed
him.
“Who are your witnesses?” he asked Halley.
“If you care to send for a certain Mr. Southgate of the _Black Horse_
at Portham Village and his wife, they will both confirm what I have
said. And there is a fisherman who also saw me there on that night. I
merely say this in your own interests,” he added “for it does not
bring the police force into good repute when they make wrongful
arrests.”
The Inspector scratched his head in perplexity.
“I think, Mr. Fletcher,” he said “we had better either send for these
witnesses, or wire for instructions from Scotland Yard.”
For the first time, serious doubts crossed Fletcher’s mind and he
addressed Halley in a more conciliatory tone.
“But if you can prove an alibi, can you account for the fact that
Brown is willing to swear an oath that it was you who were talking
with Lord Reckavile immediately before his murder.”
Halley shrugged his shoulders. “It is not for me to prove my
innocence,” he said, “but for you to prove my guilt. I am always to be
found, I do not intend to run away, but you must have better evidence
than you have at present before you can prove your case.”
“I think on the whole,” said the Inspector, “we had better send for
these people.”
Fletcher remained silent, and the Inspector took this for
acquiescence. He rang his bell, and an officer appeared.
“Tell Sergeant Andrews,” he said “to motor in at once and bring out
the landlord of the _Black Horse_, and his wife, and get the name of
the fisherman whom Mr. Halley says was with him on the night of the
murder.”
The officer saluted and went out.
There was an awkward pause. The Inspector had not any special liking
for the interference of Scotland Yard, and was rather pleased with the
prospect of proving their envoy in the wrong.
“Can you help us to throw any light whatever on this mysterious
matter?” he said to Halley.
“I could say a good deal,” said Halley, “but while I am an accused
person I refuse to make any statement whatever.”
“Then I may take it that you have information which might lead to the
detection of the criminal and are deliberately withholding it?”
“Which criminal?” said Halley.
The Inspector gave an impatient gesture. “You know what I mean, the
murderer of Lord Reckavile.”
“Oh, I understand, I thought you meant the other.”
“Are you talking in riddles to amuse yourself?”
Halley shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps you will learn the answer some
day.”
After a wait of half an hour, Sergeant Andrews arrived in the car
accompanied by Southgate, his wife and a fisherman. There was a look
of vexation on the Sergeant’s face.
“I am afraid there is something wrong, sir,” he said to the Inspector.
“It appears that on the night when the murder took place, Mr. Halley
was at the _Black Horse_ with Southgate and his wife, and was also
seen by a considerable number of other people. I would not trust the
landlord much myself, but the evidence of an alibi is overwhelming.”
Fletcher intervened. “There are certain movements of Southgate’s which
require explanation. He had a habit of going out at night on the
excuse of fishing, when it is impossible for anyone to put a boat to
sea.”
The landlord grinned broadly. “I am afraid this gentleman suffers from
nerves. ’E was very scared when ’e stopped at my poor place.”
When all the evidence had been heard, there was only one thing to do;
Halley was released with profuse apologies from the Inspector, and was
sent off in the same car in which he had been brought in as a
suspected person. The police officers stared blankly at each other.
The Inspector was a man of few words.
“You have made a pretty mess of things,” he said to Fletcher, “I
should think Scotland Yard will be rather pleased.”
Fletcher flushed angrily.
“If all the information that your police officers give me is as
accurate as what I have just had, I do not think much of their
efficiency.”
“Well, it is no good quarrelling,” said the other “you have tried to
pin the crime on to young Sefton, on to Mr. Halley and now I can see
you suspect Southgate, though he also has a complete alibi. Who is
going to be your next victim?”
Halley got out of the car before he reached Portham, and walked slowly
to the Sefton bungalow. Sefton was at _The Red Cote_, where he worked
all day, and Halley knew that Ena would be alone and anxious. He
softly approached the house and walked in without knocking, as he had
been accustomed to do for some time. There were no signs of the girl
in the lounge, and he tapped softly on her door.
“Who is that?” a muffled voice replied.
“It is I, Halley,” he said.
There was a sharp cry from within, and Ena came out; her face showed
signs that she had been crying, and she had a strained look, but she
came forward with a glad welcome and took both his hands in a frank
open manner.
“Oh, I am so glad you are back,” she said “I know it was all a
mistake, but how terrible it has been for you.”
He did not let go of her hands, but said quietly:
“And for you too?”
She looked down now and murmured. “The most terrible time of my life.”
“Ena,” he said, and she did not resent the use of her Christian name,
“even you were not quite sure of my innocence; I could see it.”
“Oh! don’t think that,” she replied “it is not true, I knew you had
never committed a murder, but I thought . . .” and she stopped.
“What was it you thought?” he said almost sternly.
“Oh, you know what my brother says about the struggle in the room, and
that Lord Reckavile must have struck his assailant, and the words he
said suggested a quarrel. I thought perhaps he might have assaulted
you.”
“And that I had stuck a knife into him,” he said sadly.
“Oh. No! No! I knew you could not have done that.”
A sudden look of amazement came into Halley’s face.
“My God,” he said “I think I can see light, but if so how devilish!
How fiendishly cunning!”
She was startled and tried to release her hands, but he led her gently
to a seat and sat beside her.
“Let us forget this horrible business if we can. I want to tell you
something. There is a mystery in my life, which I cannot explain even
to you at present. Some day perhaps I may be able to do so. This alone
has prevented me from saying something to you which has been burning
into my head since first I saw you.”
Ena gave him a quick glance, and then looked down.
“I think you can guess what it is, and if you have nothing to say to
me, I will walk out of this room and out of your life sooner than hurt
your feelings. When first I met you on that windy afternoon, when you
were battling against the storm so bravely, and I learned that this
was the symbol of your life—battling against the Storm, my heart went
out to you in sympathy such as I have never felt to anyone else in the
world, and during those following days, when your sweet companionship
meant so much to me—more than you perhaps will ever know—I knew that
for the first time in my life I loved, and would go on loving for all
time, whether you cared for me or not.”
His voice was very tender.
“Love I take it,” he said “is sacrifice and service. My whole mind and
body has been in your service and yours only since first we met, and
if my life could have been given to lift the burden, which I saw was
hanging over you, I would willingly have made the sacrifice.”
“I know,” she said softly, and tears were falling unrestrainedly and
she made no effort to wipe them from her face.
He waited for a moment and then continued.
“It is possible that I have hurt you by what I have said. I will not
insult you with the usual question as to whether there is someone else
to whom you have already given your heart, nor will I ask you for an
answer now.”
Then she looked up at last.
“Surely you men must be completely blind. I think you are the only one
of our acquaintances who has not seen the truth that I have loved you
all the time.”
With a great sigh he gathered her into his arms. She nestled her head
on his shoulder and with a happy laugh said,
“If you had not spoken to me, I think I should have to have spoken to
you. My brother has been constantly warning me that I am throwing
myself away on you. Fletcher taunted me with the same thing, and I am
sure all those police constables must have seen the state of things
to-day, when I gave myself away completely.”
His manner was gay, in contrast to his usual gravity.
“Well you have given yourself away now completely, I hope. Come, let’s
walk to _The Red Cote_, and tell your brother.”
With a happy smile, she took his hand and they went out together.