THE search for the body began in the morning, at low tide. Inspector
Murchison had come from Staveley to superintend, and from the landing
place he and Sergeant Westaway directed the operations of the
Ashlingsea fishermen who had been engaged to make the search.
Some of the townspeople who had walked up from the town to witness the
proceedings thought that the body would be swept out to sea and never
recovered, but the fishermen, with a deeper knowledge of a treacherous
piece of sea from which they wrested their living, shook their heads.
If the gentleman had fallen in near the deep water of the landing-place
the undercurrent might have carried him out into the Channel, but there
were too many reefs and sand-banks running out from the headland, and
too many cross-currents, to let a body be carried out to sea.
They gave it as their opinion that the body would be found before high
tide, either in one of the shallows near the big sand-bank, a quarter
of a mile out, or in one of the pools between the reefs whose jagged,
pointed edges showed above the surface of the sea nearer the headland.
The sea lay grey and still under an October sky of dull silver. The
boats, as they came from Ashlingsea, put in at the landing-place to
receive the instructions of the police officers standing there,
and then started to search. There were two rowers in each boat, and
standing at the stern was a man holding the rope to which the grappling
irons were attached. Slowly and mechanically the boats were rowed out
some distance to sea, and then rowed back again. The men in the stern
watched the ropes in their hands for the first sign of tautness which
would indicate that the grappling irons had hooked in to something.
Frequently one of the irons caught on a piece of rock, and when this
happened the boat had to be eased back until the irons could be
released. The boats searching further out, near the sand-bank, used
nets instead of grappling irons.
Crewe, who had driven over in his car from Staveley, after watching
this scene for some time, turned back to the road in order to put up
his car at Cliff Farm. Marsland had not accompanied him. The young man
had motored over with his uncle, who, after hearing from his nephew
a full account of the events of the previous night, had insisted on
participating in the search for the missing man. Sir George Granville,
on arriving at the headland, had scrambled down the cliff with some
idea of assisting in the search, and at the present moment was standing
on the landing-place with Inspector Murchison, gesticulating to the
rowers, and pointing out likely spots which he thought had escaped
their attention.
Crewe, on regaining his car, found Marsland leaning against it,
contemplating the scene before him with indifferent eyes. He nodded
briefly to the detective, and then averted his eyes. Crewe explained
his intention regarding the car, and Marsland said he might as well go
down with him. He got up into the front seat with the same listlessness
that had characterized his previous actions, but did not speak again
till they reached the farm.
At the house Crewe and Marsland met Detective Gillett, who had gone
there to store his bicycle preparatory to watching the operations of
the fishermen searching for the body.
"I have had a pretty busy time since you came along to us last night,"
he said, referring to the visit of Crewe and Marsland to Ashlingsea
police station to report the fall of Brett over the cliff. "We got
the money--£12,000 altogether. There was £8,000 in the motor-boat and
£4,000 here in the bottom of the old clock case, as you said."
"What about the girl?" asked Crewe. "Was she there?"
Detective Gillett looked in the direction of Marsland before replying.
The young man, with the same air of detachment that had marked his
previous actions, had wandered some distance down the gravel-walk, and
was carelessly tossing pebbles from the path at some object which was
not apparent to the two men in the porch.
"I found her searching along the cliffs with a lantern," said Gillett,
in a low voice. "She was looking for Brett; she told me that she had
heard a scream and she thought he must have fallen over accidentally. I
didn't enlighten her. Poor thing, she is half-demented. She has got it
into her head that she is responsible for some document or paper which
Brett had given into her safe-keeping, and which she handed back to
him last night at his request before he went to the farm to look for
the money."
"Doesn't she know what is in the paper?" asked Crewe quickly.
"Her mind is in such a state that it is useless to question her. She
keeps repeating that it was to be opened in the event of his death. It
was only after great difficulty I ascertained from her that she had
given the paper back to Brett last night. I am anxious that Brett's
body should be recovered in order to ascertain what its contents are."
"I should think the girl would have a fair idea of the contents."
"I think so too, but she is not in a fit state to be questioned at
present, and may not be for some time. The strain has been too much for
her. In my opinion she is in for a severe illness."
"Where is she now?"
"At the station. Of course, I had to take her into custody on a charge
of attempting to steal this money. Whether the public prosecutor will
go on with the charge or whether he will bring any other charge of a
more serious nature against her remains to be seen."
Marsland, who had abandoned his stone throwing, had strolled back to
the porch in time to hear Gillett's last remarks.
"It is a strange thing to find a girl of her type in love with such a
scoundrel," he said.
"Quite a common thing," said Detective Gillett, speaking from the
experience of the seamy side of life which comes under the attention of
Scotland Yard. "There are some women brought up in good surroundings
who seem to be attracted irresistibly to scoundrels. You never know
what a woman will do. By the by, it is a good thing, Mr. Marsland, that
you did not hit him when you fired at him last night. If you had killed
him I should have had to arrest you, and the case would have had to go
to a jury. Of course, there is no doubt how it would have ended, but it
would have been an unpleasant experience for you."
"I shouldn't have minded that," was the young man's answer.
Gillett regarded this declaration as bravado, and merely continued:
"As it is, you are virtually responsible for his death in frightening
him over the cliff, but the law takes no account of that."
"I should prefer to have shot him," said Marsland.
"Ah, well, I must get away and see what they are doing," said the
Scotland Yard detective, who obviously disliked Marsland's attitude. "I
suppose I'll see you again during the day?"
When he had gone off towards the cliffs Crewe turned to Marsland and
said:
"I am going to have another look at the place--now that this case is
concluded."
He entered the house and Marsland followed him. The interior looked
more sombre and deserted than ever. The fortnight which had elapsed
since the tragedy--during which time the place had been left
untenanted--had intensified the air of desolation and neglect that
brooded over the empty rooms, had thickened the dust on the moth-eaten
carpets and heavy old furniture, and gave an uncanny air to the
staring eyes of the stuffed animals which hung on the wall in glass
cases--dead pets of dead occupants of Cliff Farm.
Crewe and Marsland looked through the house, entered the room where the
grandfather clock stood, and Crewe pointed out the mark of the bullet
which Marsland had fired at Brett the previous night. In his excitement
he had fired too high, and the bullet had gone into the wall about
eight feet from the floor, between two photographs which hung on the
wall. One of these photographs was of James Lumsden, the eccentric old
owner of Cliff Farm, who had broken his neck by falling downstairs. The
other was Frank Lumsden, whose dead body had been found in the house by
Marsland thirteen days before.
"That was the second time I missed Brett," said Marsland, staring at
the bullet hole in the wall between the photographs.
"The second time?" echoed Crewe. "Do you mean that he was the burglar
at whom you fired a week ago?"
"Yes. I came into the room just as he was getting out of the window.
I caught only a glimpse of him but I knew him instantly. I had a
presentiment that he was near and that is why I happened to be wearing
my revolver."
"What was his object in breaking into the house?"
"He wanted to be sure that I was the man he had to fear just as I
wanted to be sure that he was the man I wanted to kill. An hour before
I had broken into his rooms at 41 Whitethorn Gardens, for the purpose
of making sure about him. I saw his photograph there, and that is all I
wanted."
"And it was you and not he who was in the house when Mrs. Penfield
called out that the police were in the house?"
"Yes, that was I. I didn't understand why she called out, but it served
as a warning to me that she expected him. And so when I got back to my
uncle's I got my revolver out of the drawer. The first I heard of him
being in England was when Inspector Murchison told us, although I was
prepared in a way after finding that Lumsden had been here. Murchison
spoke of him as Brett, but I did not know him by that name. So to make
sure I got Mrs. Penfield out of the house by a hoax on the telephone
and broke into the place in her absence. I did not know that it was you
who came back with her."
"But his object in breaking into your room was probably to get some
article of yours which would help to bring suspicion against you with
regard to Lumsden's death. No doubt it was he who took the glasses
which were subsequently found in the well. As you lost a pair of
glasses in the storm and arrived at the farm without them, Miss Maynard
probably mentioned the fact to Brett. Did you tell her that you had
lost your glasses that night?"
"I forget. Oh, yes, I did! I mentioned it when we were looking at the
cryptogram on the stairs."
"He was certainly an enterprising scoundrel."
"Don't you wish to know why I wanted to kill him?" asked the young man
after a pause.
"I do, very much."
"I feel that I must speak about it," he said. "And you are the only man
to whom I can. You heard Murchison tell us that Lumsden and Brett, as
he called himself, had been tortured by the Germans but that they gave
away no information. That is their version; let me tell you the truth
about them. Both of them belonged to my company in France. Lumsden had
been under me for four or five months and I had nothing against him.
He was a fairly good soldier and I thought I could depend upon him.
Powell--or Brett--had come over with a recent draft. One night when I
was holding a short advanced trench to the south of Armentières I sent
Lumsden and Brett out on a listening patrol. The trench we were holding
was reached through a sap: it was the first of four or five that were
being dug as jumping off places for an attack on the German trenches.
"It was just about midnight that I sent Lumsden and Brett out and
they ought to have been back by 2 a. m. It was the middle of summer
and dawn commenced about 3 a. m. Either they had been captured or had
lost their way and were waiting for dawn. When it was light enough to
see the landscape, two figures appeared on the parapet of a German
trench in front about three hundred yards away. They were calling and
gesticulating to us. At that distance it was impossible to make out
what they were saying, but from their gestures we gathered that the
Germans had deserted the trench and it was ours if we liked to go over
and occupy it.
"It came as such a surprise that none of us stopped to think; but if
we had stopped no one would have thought of treachery. The men went
over the parapet--every one of them. It was a race--they were laughing
and joking as to who should be there first. And when we were within
forty yards or so there was a volley from rifles and machine guns.
The bullets seemed to come from every quarter. The men were taken
by surprise and they dropped almost before they had time to realize
what had happened. I was one of the first to go down but it was only a
bullet in the leg. As I lay where I fell I was struck by another bullet
in the shoulder. Then I crawled to a shell hole for shelter. I found
seven of my men there, all of whom had been hit.
"We were not there long before the Germans commenced to lob hand
grenades into the shell hole. How I escaped death I do not know: it was
an awful experience to see those murderous bombs coming down and to be
powerless to escape from them. I saw several of my poor men with limbs
blown off dying in agony, and from what I learned subsequently much the
same thing had happened in other shell holes where men had crawled for
shelter. Out of my company of 82--we were not at full strength, and I
had only three second lieutenants besides myself--I was the only one to
come through alive. And I lay in a state of semi-collapse in the shell
hole for two days before being rescued when our men drove the Germans
out of their trenches."
"A dreadful experience," said Crewe sympathetically.
"These two miserable loathsome creatures, Brett and Lumsden, to save
their own lives, had beckoned my company into the trap. They had been
captured by the Germans, and no doubt were tortured in order to make
them do what they did. But as British soldiers they should have died
under torture rather than be guilty of treachery. The memory of how my
poor men died without having a chance to defend themselves haunts me
day and night. I hear their voices--their curses as they realized that
they were the victims of a horrible act of treachery, their cries and
moans in the agony of death."
He sat down on the upturned clock case and buried his face in his
hands.