Lois Drew Takes a Hand
Just about the time that the arrest of Austin Ponson was taking place,
Miss Lois Drew entered her drawing-room, and sitting down at the old
Sheraton desk near the window, became immersed in her household
accounts.
The low ceilinged, green-tinted room was pleasantly cool on this hot,
dusty morning. The bow window faced west, and so was shaded from the
glare of the sun. The casements stood invitingly open to the warm,
scent-laden air, which streamed gently in over the fragrant masses of
colour in the flower beds without. The faint hum of honey-seeking
insects fell soothingly and companionably on the ear. Now and then a
sudden crescendo marked the swift passage of a bee, busily intent on
its own affairs, while butterflies flitted aimlessly by with erratic,
dancing movements. Beyond the garden a meadow stretched down to the
river, in which cattle, immersed to the knees, stood motionless,
enjoying the cool of the water. The surface of the reach was still and
unruffled, and reflected as in a mirror the tree-covered slopes of the
opposite bank. Restful and pleasant was the prospect without, and
within, the whole atmosphere of the room breathed an equal contentment
and peace.
And no less pleasant and restful to the eye was the figure of the girl
at the desk. Though hardly anyone would have called her beautiful, she
had what was of much greater importance—that elusive indefinable
quality called charm. There was charm in her graceful movements, in
the steady glance of her dark, lustrous eyes, in the ready smile which
lit up her expressive face, and in the low, mellow tones of her
musical voice. She bent over her task, working rapidly, carrying out
the business of the moment as she did everything she undertook,
quietly, unobtrusively, and efficiently.
She had lived what most girls of her age would have called a dull and
pleasureless life. Her mother, who had been the brains and the manager
of the household, had died when she was fifteen, leaving the care of
her kindly, idealistic, impractical father and her pretty,
inconsequent younger sister on her hands. Almost unconsciously she had
shouldered the burden, but a very real burden she soon found it.
Though they lived comfortably, even well, they were far from being
well off; indeed, before long the chronic strain of making ends meet
became to her a veritable nightmare. But she carried on bravely with a
smiling face, entirely forgetful of her own pleasure. If only her
father could be spared worry, and her sister have as good an education
and as much amusement as could be extracted from their circumstances.
But if the strain had made her self-reliant and dependable, it had
also somewhat aged her and given her a seriousness beyond her years.
She had, however, her reward in the way her father, now a rapidly
ageing man, idolised and leant on her, and in the exuberant affection
of her sister.
She had on this bright summer morning just completed her accounts,
having with characteristic thoroughness at last run to earth a
fugitive fivepence which for a considerable time had avoided capture.
She was putting away her books when the elderly general servant
brought in a note. It was addressed in Austin Ponson’s square,
masculine hand. With a sudden irrational feeling of foreboding she
waited till the woman had left the room, then tore it open, and with a
clutching at the heart read:
21st July.
‘Dear Lois: I am writing this by the courtesy of Inspector Tanner of
Scotland Yard, though he has warned me he will have to read it
before sending it on. He tells me that some evidence has been
received which throws suspicion of my father’s murder on me, and
that he is bound to arrest me. I do not yet know the details. This
is just to say, dearest, that of course I see that under the
circumstances there can be no question of an engagement between us.
I will live in hope that if this trouble passes over, you will
perhaps allow me once again to plead my cause, but if this should be
good-bye, I can only say I am innocent of this awful charge, and beg
you to think as kindly of me as you can.
‘Always yours devotedly,
‘Austin Ponson.’
For several minutes Lois Drew sat motionless, her white face hard and
set, her horror-stricken eyes fastened on the fateful words. So the
blow had fallen at last—the terrible blow that ever since the
Inspector’s visit she had feared day and night. Since the tragedy it
had been as if some Dread Shade lurked, for the moment indeed in the
background, but ready at any minute to step forward and intrude its
baleful presence into Austin’s life and hers. For never for a moment
had it occurred to her to break off the engagement, and now, though
Austin had written of its cancellation as an obvious and indeed an
accomplished fact, she never really allowed her mind to harbour the
idea. Had she not promised to marry him? Very well, that was enough.
If he had wanted her when all things were well, would he not want her
tenfold now when trouble had come? But though she did not seriously
consider his proposal, subconsciously she was pleased that he had made
it so promptly. And she did not resent the cold tone of his note. She
realised his feelings were sacred to him. Neither he nor she could
have them weighed and sifted by an Inspector of police.
As she sat, motionless in body and almost numb in mind, waiting
unconsciously till the first rude shock should have somewhat passed
over, she tried to consider the matter dispassionately. She knew that
many persons arrested on suspicion were afterwards set at liberty, the
charge against them breaking down on further investigation, and that
of those actually brought to trial, a respectable percentage were
acquitted. But she also knew that in a case like the present Scotland
Yard would not order an arrest unless there were pretty strong grounds
to go on. And this was particularly so where the accused had been
under suspicion for some time, as she guessed from Tanner’s visit to
herself Austin had been. But she was a good friend. In all her
cogitations never once did the possibility of her lover’s guilt enter
her thoughts. Of his innocence she was as certain as of her own
existence.
As time passed, her mind became clearer, and her practical common
sense reasserted itself. What, she wondered, was she to do? She was so
ignorant of the law, so unversed in its usages, so unaware of its
possibilities. But she felt one thing demanded her immediate care.
That impossible idea of breaking the engagement must be put out of
Austin’s head without further delay. He must not be allowed to think
for one moment that his trouble could make any difference to her. He
must be made to feel she was not leaving him in the lurch.
But how was she to communicate with him?
She did not know whether he would be allowed to receive letters, but
she fancied not. At all events there might be a delay in their
delivery. She thought for a few moments, and then she took a sheet of
paper and wrote as follows:
‘Dear Mr Tanner: I have received the letter from Mr Ponson which you
were good enough to permit him to write and I wish to convey to you
my grateful thanks for your consideration. In case it should be
contrary to the rules for him to receive my reply direct, I write to
ask whether you could possibly see your way to convey to him this
message—first, that I will not hear of our engagement being broken
off; on the contrary, I am going to announce it immediately, and
second, that though I know it is unnecessary to assure him of my
absolute belief in him and in his innocence, I still wish to do so
in the strongest manner possible.
‘I thought you were exceedingly kind on the day you called here, and
I am sure that if you can do me this great favour you will.
‘Yours sincerely,
‘Lois Drew.’
She addressed the envelope to ‘Inspector Tanner, Criminal
Investigation Department, New Scotland Yard, London’, marking it
‘Personal’. Then putting on her hat, she walked quickly to the post
office and dropped the letter into the receiver. She thought that many
of the passers-by looked at her curiously, but she was too much
absorbed in her own thoughts to care.
As she turned homewards it suddenly occurred to her that her cousin
Jimmy might help her. Mr James Daunt was junior partner of a London
firm of solicitors, a clever, and she believed, a rising man, and who
would have all the knowledge of the possibilities of the case which
she lacked. Moreover, Jimmy was a decent soul, and a good friend of
her own. They had seen a lot of each other as children, and she felt
he would help her if he could.
She turned into the local telephone office and put through a call. Mr
James Daunt was in his office. If she came to town he could see her at
five o’clock.
She travelled up by the 3.30 train, and at the hour named mounted the
steps of the old house in Lincoln’s Inn. She was soon in her cousin’s
room.
‘Hallo old girl!’ he greeted her when the door had closed. ‘Jolly to
see you. It’s not often you take pity on a lonely old bachelor like
this. Sit down, won’t you?’
She sank back into a deep, leather-lined arm-chair. They talked
commonplaces for a few moments, and then Lois referred to the object
of her call. She found it much harder to begin than she had expected,
but when her cousin understood she was really in trouble he dropped
his somewhat breezy manner and became serious and sympathetic.
‘Have you had tea?’ he asked, interrupting her story.
‘Not yet. I came direct from the station.’
‘Then not a word till you’ve had it,’ he declared. ‘Come out to a
quiet little place I know. We can talk there without interruption.’
Though she had not realised it, Lois was almost fainting for food. She
had not eaten any lunch, and now the hot stimulant and the fresh rolls
and butter did her more good than she could have thought possible. She
smiled across at him.
‘I believe I was dying of hunger,’ she announced.
‘Just like you,’ he retorted, ‘at your old games again. Always
thinking of somebody else, and forgetting your own much more important
self.’
‘Well, you’ve probably saved my life. And now, Jimmy, I do want your
help.’
‘I know, old girl. I don’t need to tell you I’ll do everything I can.
Just start in and let’s have the whole story. You don’t mind if I
smoke?’
‘Of course not. The first thing I have to tell you is—that I have
become engaged to be married.’
‘By Jove, you have!’ cried Jimmy, jumping up and holding out his hand.
‘I hadn’t an inkling there was anything in the wind. Best possible
congratulations, old girl. I think a cousinly salutation—’ they were
alone in an alcove, and he kissed her lightly on the cheek. ‘And who’s
the lucky man, if it’s not a secret?’
‘Ah, there’s no luck in it, Jimmy. That’s what I’ve come about. It’s
Austin Ponson.’
‘Austin Ponson? How do you mean no luck? Why, dear girl, I
congratulate you again. I have heard of him, and always that he was a
white man through and through.’
Tears trembled on Lois’s long eyelashes. It took all her strength of
will to speak in her normal tone.
‘Dear Jimmy, you can’t think what it means to me to hear you say that.
You evidently don’t know what has happened. He’s in frightful
trouble.’
Jimmy looked his question.
‘He’s just been arrested on the charge’—Lois’s lip quivered in spite
of herself—‘of murdering his father.’
Her cousin whistled.
‘Good Lord!’ he cried, ‘you don’t say so? Poor old girl.’
‘It’s terrible. Oh, Jimmy, what are we to do?’
‘It’s damnable. But you musn’t be downhearted. Many and many a man has
been arrested for a crime he has known nothing about. Don’t get upset
till we’re sure there is something to be upset about. Tell me the
details.’
She told him all she knew; of Austin’s visit at eleven on the fatal
night, of the hoax that had been played on him, of their learning of
Sir William’s disappearance the next day, of the inquest and its
adjournment, of Tanner’s visit to her, of the adjourned inquest, and
of Austin’s note, and her reply to it. He listened in silence till she
had finished.
‘And you have no idea what this new evidence is?’ he asked at last.
‘None whatever.’
‘Our first step will be to find that out. I think I can do that. Then
if you give me authority to act for you, I’ll see him and hear what he
has to say about it. That would probably be the quickest way to learn
our defence.’
‘Could I see him, Jimmy?’
Her cousin hesitated.
‘I hardly think so,’ he said slowly, ‘at present. Later on if the case
really goes to trial there should be no difficulty. Just for the
immediate present I shouldn’t make a move. You have done enough for
him, writing that letter to the Inspector.’
Lois looked at him searchingly.
‘Don’t try to keep me away from him, Jimmy,’ she pleaded.
‘Of course not. But it would be difficult for you to get an order, and
you better wait till we see how things go on. You probably wouldn’t
get two orders under any circumstances.’
‘If you keep me from him, I’ll never forgive you.’
‘Dear girl, don’t get notions. I wouldn’t attempt it. But we’re hardly
so far on as that yet. There is his family to consider. Have you seen
them?’
‘No. Why should I?’
‘Just that if they’re going to undertake the defence I don’t quite see
where we come in. But we’ll find that out.’ He paused and then went
on: ‘Now, old girl, you’ve come to me for professional advice and
you’re going to get it. Don’t think I’m trying to keep you away from
Austin Ponson, but my advice to you is, don’t make any announcement of
your engagement for a day or two yet. You will only distract and worry
Ponson, and you won’t do any good. The thing to concentrate on is to
get him out of the hands of the police. He’ll want all his wits to
help with that. He knows you’re not going to drop him, and that will
be enough to comfort him. Take my advice, Lois, and let things alone
for the present.’
‘But how can I see him or do anything for him if the engagement is not
known?’
‘What could you do if it was?’
‘Well, I could at least take my share of arranging for his defence.’
‘Aren’t you doing that now? What more do you think you could do?’
‘But how can you approach the family, acting for me, if it’s not known
that we’re engaged?’
‘Perfectly simply. I’ll see him, explain the facts, and get him to
employ me. That will give me ten times the authority that you could,
and it will leave his mind at rest about you. Believe me, Lois, that’s
the thing to be done.’
‘Oh, Jimmy, if you’ll do that it would make just all the difference.
How good you are!’
‘Rubbish. But remember you’ve got to do your part—to sit tight and say
nothing. I’ll see all these people and arrange matters.’
‘But you’ll let me know how you get on?’
‘Sure. I’ll keep nothing back from you.’
He asked her some more questions, finally seeing her to St Pancras and
putting her into the Halford train.
‘By Jove,’ he soliloquised as he left the station, ‘here’s a mess!
Whatever happens’—he swore great oaths under his breath—‘Lois must be
kept out of it. As decent a girl as lives! That’s the way with these
extra good women—they _will_ throw themselves away on rotters of all
kinds. Heavens, what an idea! To announce an engagement with a man
arrested for murder! And now first of all to nip that madness in the
bud—_if_ possible.’ He hailed a taxi and was driven to Scotland Yard.
‘Is Inspector Tanner in?’ he asked. ‘Private business.’
Tanner, it appeared, was just going home, but had not yet left. He
returned to his room.
‘My name,’ began Jimmy, ‘is Daunt—James Daunt, junior partner of
Willington, Daunt & Daunt, Solicitors, of Lincoln’s Inn.’
Tanner bowed.
‘I know your firm, sir,’ he said quietly.
‘I called on behalf of my cousin, Miss Lois Drew, of Halford. You can
no doubt guess my business?’
‘You are going to act for Mr Ponson?’
‘Not quite. At least I am not sure. It is my cousin I am really
interested in. I want to ask your help, Mr Tanner. My cousin, who is a
little—well, fond of her own way, has written you a letter, a
compromising letter, one which should never have been written. You
probably haven’t received it yet, but in it she asks you to inform Mr
Ponson that she holds him to the engagement that they had just fixed
up, and is going to announce it at once. Now, Mr Tanner, you will see
that this is quixotic and absurd, and it musn’t be allowed. I have
succeeded in getting her to promise to say nothing for the present,
and what I want to ask you is to be so good as to respect her
confidence, and keep her name out of it.’
Tanner looked somewhat distressed.
‘I should be only too glad,’ he answered, ‘to do as you say,
especially as I so greatly respected and admired what I saw of Miss
Drew, if only it were possible. But I fear it won’t be. I am afraid
the engagement will be an integral part of the Crown case. But I may
say that I shall not use Miss Drew’s letter. Both she herself and Mr
Ponson told me of the engagement.’
‘You don’t say so? And have you mentioned it to anyone else?’
‘Only to my chief.’
‘Well, you know the case against Mr Ponson, and I don’t. I can only
ask that you don’t make the fact public until it is absolutely
necessary.’
‘That I will promise you with pleasure.’
‘I am very grateful. And now there is another thing,’ and Jimmy
explained that he wanted to see Austin, and for what reason.
‘I shall certainly raise no objection,’ Tanner answered, ‘but I’m
afraid your application will have to go through the usual channel.’
‘Of course. When is he to be brought before the magistrate?’
‘Tomorrow at eleven.’
Two hours later the door of Austin’s cell opened to admit the junior
partner of Messrs Willington, Daunt & Daunt. Austin was sitting with
his head on his hands and an expression of deep gloom on his face, but
he rose with a look of inquiry as Jimmy entered.
‘Mr Ponson?’ said the latter as he introduced himself. ‘I come on
rather delicate business. It is on behalf of my cousin, Miss Lois
Drew,’ and he told of the interview which he had just had. Austin was
much moved.
‘God bless her!’ he cried hoarsely. ‘Isn’t it unbelievable, even for
her! But it must be stopped, Mr Daunt, at all costs it must be
stopped. Her name must be kept out of it no matter what happens.’
Jimmy did not repeat what Tanner had told him.
‘I’m glad you agree, Mr Ponson,’ he said. ‘Now another point. May I
ask who is acting for you in this matter?’
Austin passed his hand, wearily over his forehead.
‘I’m afraid I haven’t arranged anything yet. You see, I only arrived
here a few hours ago.’
‘But who is your usual man of business?’
‘Any little thing I have wanted done up to the present I have taken to
Mr Hopkins, of Halford, and he was present at the adjourned inquest on
my behalf. He is as straight as a die, but he is elderly, and I dare
say out of date. I’m afraid he wouldn’t be much use at this kind of
thing. Wills and deeds are more in his line. I wonder, Mr Daunt, if I
asked you to take it on would it draw attention to Lois?’
‘It’s rather a delicate matter as it looks like cadging for business,
but for Lois’s sake I should be glad to act for you. As for dragging
in her name, I don’t think half a dozen people in the world know we
are cousins, and at Halford probably no one. Besides, you would not
employ me, but the firm.’
‘Then I do employ your firm—if you will be good enough to act. What is
the first step?’
‘The first legal step is to be present in court on your behalf
tomorrow. Then I shall get hold of the case against you, after which
we will put our heads together over your defence. But there is also
your own family to consider. Have you any near relatives other than
your mother, sister, and cousin?’
‘None.’
‘I presume you would like me to take them into our confidence?’
Austin agreed and they discussed the matter further, arranging terms
and other details.
‘Now, Mr Ponson,’ said Jimmy when these were settled, ‘I have to give
you a very solemn warning. Your very life may depend on how you heed
it. It is this. You must tell me the truth. I don’t mean refrain from
falsehood only, but tell me everything—_everything_ you know. It is
only fair to say that if you hold anything back I can no longer help
you, and you may be signing your own death warrant. Do you realise
that?’
‘I certainly do. You need not be afraid. I’ll be only too thankful to
tell you. Now ask your questions.’
‘You forget I know nothing of the case as yet. Just tell me the whole
business from beginning to end and with all the details you can.’
Austin sat motionless for a moment as if collecting his thoughts,
then, settling himself more comfortably, he began to speak.
He opened by explaining his relations with his father, and his mode of
life in Halford, and then described his friendship with Lois Drew,
culminating in his proposal and the engagement. He told of the note he
had received on that fatal Wednesday evening, his taking the boat to
the Old Ferry, the self-styled servant of Mrs Franklyn, her message,
his walk to the Abbey, his visit to the Franklyns’ house, and his call
at the Drews. Then he recounted the circumstances of Sir William’s
death, the call from Innes, the inquiries at Dr Graham’s, the search
for and discovery of the body, the subsequent inquest, the interview
with Tanner, the latter’s questions, and the demand for the shoes, and
finally, the medical evidence at the adjourned inquest, and his
arrest. He stated he had no idea what the discovery was which led to
this culmination.
It was clear to Jimmy Daunt that he must hear Tanner’s side of it
before he knew where they stood. Nothing more could be done that
night. He therefore told his new client to keep his heart up, took his
leave and went home.
The proceedings next morning were purely formal, evidence of arrest
only being given. Austin was remanded for a week, bail being refused.
Daunt made it his business to see Lady Ponson, Enid, and Cosgrove, all
of whom expressed themselves as being heartily in agreement with
Austin’s selection of advice. It was decided that if the case went on
to trial, Sir Mortimer Byecroft, K.C., one of the most eminent
criminal experts at the bar, should be retained for the defence.
When Daunt received the depositions of the crown witnesses, he saw at
a glance that he was up against something very much stiffer than he
had anticipated. The motive suggested for the crime was horribly
adequate. In the face of Austin’s story of his visit to the Abbey
ruins, the evidence of Lucy Penrose and young Potts was almost
overwhelmingly damaging. But when Daunt read of the purchase of the
two identical pairs of shoes, and grasped the theory of the faked
alibi which this seemed to support he was genuinely aghast. ‘Heavens!’
he thought, ‘if the fellow hasn’t an explanation of this, he’s as
guilty as sin!’
Accordingly, Daunt lost no time in again seeing his client, and at his
interview he did not mince matters.
‘Look here, Mr Ponson,’ he said. ‘There are two bad bits of evidence
against you and I want to hear what you have to say about them. About
9.30 that night you tell me you were half-way to the Abbey. Is that
so?’
‘Certainly. I was on the path between the Abbey and the road.’
Daunt leant forward and watched the other keenly, as he spoke slowly
and deliberately.
‘Then how do you account for the fact that you were seen rowing a boat
up to the Luce Manor boathouse at just that hour?’
Austin Ponson started and his face grew dead white. He sat motionless
for several seconds gazing with terrified eyes, at his questioner, and
apparently unable to speak.
‘What’s that you say?’ he gasped at last, licking his dry lips.
‘Impossible! I—I wasn’t there.’ He dropped his head into his hands
while the sweat stood in drops on his forehead. Daunt waited silently.
His doubts were becoming confirmed. The man surely was guilty.
Presently Austin raised his head.
‘This is awful news,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I can only say I wasn’t
there. I swear it. There is a mistake. There must be. Who is supposed
to have seen me? And from where?’
In Daunt’s opinion the answer was unconvincing. The man’s manner was
shifty. Unless Jimmy was greatly mistaken he was lying. He replied
somewhat coldly:
‘Two people in Dr Graham’s wood at the other side of the river are
prepared to swear to it.’
‘Two?’ Austin groaned. ‘My God! How can they? They must have seen
someone else, and mistaken him for me.’
‘Suppose it was proved there was no other boat down the river that
night but yours. What will you say then?’
‘What can I say? I don’t understand it. That could not be
proved—unless someone took my boat from the Old Ferry.’ He sat up
eagerly and a gleam came into his eye. ‘Could that be it, Mr Daunt?
Could whoever worked the trick on me have been watching at the Old
Ferry, and have taken my boat when I went ashore? What do you think?’
This was an idea which had not occurred to Daunt, and he instantly saw
that it might account for the whole thing. Suppose the real murderer,
knowing of Austin’s financial relations with his father, had seen how
that fact could be used as the basis of a case against the son, and
had added details to strengthen it. Suppose he had forged notes,
getting Austin to bring a boat to the Old Ferry, and, leaving it
there, go to the Abbey. Meanwhile he himself, made up to represent
Austin, might have taken the boat to the boathouse, committed the
murder and returned the boat to the Old Ferry before Austin arrived
back? Daunt felt that this was a possibility which must not be
overlooked. It might at any rate be a line of defence.
Then he remembered the shoes. No. If Austin had deliberately made a
fake with the shoes, he must be guilty. He spoke again.
‘Unfortunately, there is another very serious point. Your alibi
depends on the fact that the prints made at the Abbey were made by
shoes which it can be proved you were wearing on that Wednesday night
and at no other time. Isn’t that so?’
‘That is so.’
‘How many pairs of that kind of shoe had you?’
‘One pair.’
‘Then how do you explain the fact that you bought two pairs on the
Monday before the murder?’
This time Austin showed no signs of embarrassment.
‘I bought two—yes,’ he answered readily, ‘but I only brought one home.
I lost the other.’
‘Lost the other? Just how?’
‘Very simply. I went that Monday to Hunt’s shoe shop in Piccadilly and
there I bought a pair of shoes. I had them carefully fitted, and was
pleased with them. The shopman gave me a card with their number, in
case I should want to replace them. I took them with me, as I was
hurrying to catch the 3.25 train from St Pancras. I had to call at a
shop in Regent Street, and I walked there. But as I stepped off the
footpath to cross the street, a lorry I hadn’t seen came quickly up,
and I had to jump back out of its way. I was startled, and I
unfortunately dropped the shoes. As luck would have it they were run
over by the lorry. A hawker picked them up and returned them, but one
was badly torn, so, as they were no further use to me, I made him a
present of them. That left me without any, so I decided to replace
them. I noticed another of Messrs Hunt’s shops close by, and I went in
and asked for shoes of the number on the card. That saved me from a
troublesome refitting. By the time my purchase was complete I was late
for my train. I therefore waited till the 5.15. Does that make the
matter clear?’
Daunt was relieved, but somewhat puzzled by what he had heard.
Unquestionably, Austin’s explanation was plausible, and he could see
no reason why it should not be true. If the hawker who got the shoes
could be found it would set this part of the matter at rest, but Daunt
feared he would be untraceable. He felt doubtful and dissatisfied in
his mind about the whole affair, but he saw that Austin’s statements
provided a line of defence, though whether the best available he was
not yet certain.
Still turning the idea over in his mind he went down the next Saturday
to Halford, to spend, on the earnest invitation of Lois, the weekend
with the Drews.