A Woman’s Wit
After dinner on that Saturday evening, Lois Drew had a long
conversation with her cousin, James Daunt. She waited until he was
seated in the most comfortable chair in the drawing-room with his
cigar well under way, and then she spoke of the subject next her
heart.
‘Tell me, Jimmy,’ she begged, ‘just what you _really_ think. I want to
understand exactly what we have to meet.’
He told her. Directly and without any attempt to gloss over the uglier
facts, he told her all he knew. She listened in silence for the most
part, but occasionally interjected shrewd, pertinent questions. Jimmy,
who knew and respected his cousin’s intellect, yet marvelled at her
grip, her power of letting go irrelevant details, and the unhesitating
way in which she went straight to the essential heart of the various
points. When he had finished she remained silent for a considerable
time.
‘It seems to me then,’ she said at last, ‘that Austin’s suggestion
must be the truth—that the murderer forged the notes purporting to be
from me, and which brought Austin to the Abbey that night, that he
waited for Austin’s arrival at the Old Ferry, that either he had an
accomplice there or he himself was disguised as Mrs Franklyn’s
servant, that on Austin’s leaving for the Abbey he made himself up to
look like Austin, that he rowed to the boathouse, committed the
murder, and returned the boat to the Old Ferry before Austin got back.
What do you think, Jimmy?’
‘It seems a possible defence.’
‘It seems more than that; it seems to be what happened. If so, let us
consider what that teaches us about the murderer. Several things, I
think. Tell me if I go wrong. Firstly, he must have had a strong
motive for Sir William’s death. Secondly, he must have known all about
the family—Sir William’s habits, the lie of Luce Manor, the household
arrangements, and that sort of thing. Thirdly, he must have been
acquainted with Austin, and _his_ house and habits, and fourthly, he
must not only have been aware of my existence and friendship with
Austin, but he must have had my handwriting to copy. Surely there
can’t be many persons in the world to whom all these conditions
apply?’
‘One would say not,’ Daunt returned slowly. ‘It’s very unfortunate, of
course, but you must see how the prosecution will use all these points
you bring up—every one of them can be turned against Austin.’
‘I know, but that’s only wasting time. The fact that Austin’s
innocence rules him out surely makes the search for the real murderer
easier?’
‘Why, that is so, I suppose.’ Daunt tried to make his voice cheery and
sanguine.
‘Very well. I came to that conclusion days ago. Now Jimmy, it’s a
horrible thing to say, but who is the only other person we know of
that fits the conditions?’
Daunt looked up swiftly. It was suddenly evident to him that Lois was
speaking with a more direct object than he had thought.
‘I don’t know, Lois,’ he answered. ‘Who?’
‘Who but the cousin—Mr Cosgrove Ponson?’
‘Good Heavens! That never occurred to me. But does he fill the bill?’
‘I have thought so for some time, but it’s a matter for you to find
out. But just consider. Mr Cosgrove benefits by the will—Austin told
me so. He knew Sir William and all about Luce Manor; he knew Austin
and all about _him_; he was like Austin in appearance; and lastly he
knew me—he has dined here with Austin.’
‘Your handwriting?’
‘I wrote to thank him for sending me the name of an English _pension_
at Cannes—a friend of mine wanted to know.’
‘When was that?’
‘About two months ago.’
‘Seems rather a long time. And when did he dine?’
‘About a week before that. I happened to mention about the _pension_,
and he said he had some addresses and would look them up.’
‘And what kind of man is he personally?’
Lois did not reply for some moments.
‘That’s hardly a fair question,’ she said at last. ‘I have to admit
taking a dislike to him. But it’s not a question of my likes or
dislikes. I think it is essential that you should find out something
about him. Find out where he was on that Wednesday evening.’
Daunt smoked in silence. He was thinking that if Austin were out of
the way as well as Sir William, Cosgrove’s gains would not improbably
be considerably increased. There might be something in this idea of
Lois’s after all. A few inquiries would do no harm at any rate.
‘Well,’ he said at last, ‘I’ll do as you say. I’ll find out something
about him.’
They continued the discussion, and it was arranged that as soon as any
information was forthcoming, Lois would go to town, and they would
have another talk.
As Sir William Ponson’s will was to be one of the factors in the Crown
case, Daunt had no difficulty in obtaining a copy. That, and a few
judicious inquiries convinced him of the importance of Lois’s
suggestion. There seemed no question that Cosgrove’s motive for the
deed was at least as strong as Austin’s.
For some time Daunt puzzled over the best way to get hold of his
information. Then it occurred to him that so wide-awake an official as
an Inspector of Scotland Yard would certainly have foreseen and
considered all that he and Lois had discussed. As Cosgrove had not
been arrested, there must be some flaw in the case he was trying to
make. He decided to see Tanner once more, in the hope of gaining some
information.
With a man like Tanner there was nothing to be gained by any but the
most direct methods. Daunt could ask for what he wanted, and either
get it or be refused, but he felt he could not obtain it by a trick.
To try his luck he called at the Yard and inquired for the Inspector.
‘I want to get some information, Mr Tanner,’ he said, when they had
conversed for a few moments. ‘I’m going to ask you for it in
confidence, but you may not consider it proper to give it to me, and
if so, there is of course no more to be said. It’s not directly about
the case.’
‘What is it, sir?’
‘It’s this. In going into this matter it has struck me that the
nephew, Cosgrove Ponson, had as much to gain by his uncle’s death as
the accused. It is obvious that that must have struck you also. I
wondered if you would tell me why you acquitted him in your mind?’
‘Now don’t you get astray on that notion, Mr Daunt. It won’t wash. I
went into that, and I may tell you for your private information
Cosgrove is as innocent as you are.’
‘So I gathered from your action, in the matter, but if you could see
your way to give me particulars, I should be greatly obliged. You see,
it’s Miss Drew. She’s got it into her head Cosgrove was the man, and
I’d like to be able to clear the thing up to her.’
Tanner thought for some moments.
‘I’d like to oblige both you and Miss Drew,’ he said, ‘but I’m not
just sure that I ought. However, as you say, it’s not exactly on the
case, and if you give me your word to keep the thing to yourself I’ll
tell you.’
‘I promise most gratefully.’
‘Very well. The man has an alibi,’ and Tanner repeated Cosgrove’s
story of the visit to Montrose, the missing of the 7.15, the return to
his rooms, the call at the theatre on Miss Belcher, and the final
journey north by the 10.30. Then he explained how he had checked
Cosgrove’s statements, and produced his calculation of times and
distances, showing that Cosgrove could not have motored to Luce Manor.
To Daunt the whole thing seemed utterly conclusive. Apart from the
mere fact that it had satisfied Tanner—no mean test—he could not
himself see any possibility of a flaw. With considerable apprehension
of the disappointment Lois would feel, he telephoned to her and
arranged their consultation for that evening.
She heard his story almost in silence. But she did not show the
chagrin he expected.
‘If the thing was obvious,’ she said in answer to his comment,
‘Cosgrove would have been arrested and not Austin. But I feel
absolutely certain that that alibi of Cosgrove’s is a fraud. He has
tricked Inspector Tanner. How he has done it is what you’ve got to
find out.’
‘My dear girl,’ Daunt remonstrated, ‘it’s all very well to talk like
that, and I’ll do my best of course, but you know, if Tanner with all
his opportunities was taken in, it’s not too likely I shall find the
flaw.’
‘It’s quite likely,’ she declared. ‘Inspector Tanner was not specially
looking for a flaw; you are. Don’t you see—there must be a flaw. Look
at it like this. A man resembling Austin was met by Sir William at the
boathouse on that Wednesday night. It _must_ have been Cosgrove,
because no one else is sufficiently like Austin to be mistaken for
him. No kind of facial make-up will meet the case, because Sir William
himself evidently was satisfied. Therefore Cosgrove’s alibi must be
false. Don’t you agree with me?’
‘It seems reasonable,’ Jimmy admitted. ‘But the alibi certainly looks
right enough too.’
‘I admit that. It may be so good that we’ll never find the flaw. But
we must try. Oh, Jimmy,’ she turned to him beseechingly, ‘remember
what is at stake—his life—both our lives. You will try, won’t you?’
‘Of course I’ll try, and what’s more, I expect to succeed,’ Jimmy lied
bravely. And he spoke in the same confident tone as, after dinner, he
went to the station with her, and saw her off by the 9.30 to Halford.
But his secret feelings were very different.
Two days later he had another call from Lois.
‘You needn’t be frightened,’ she smiled at him; ‘I am not going to
haunt the office and make your life a burden to you. But I have been
thinking over our problem. I want you, Jimmy, to begin an
investigation. Will you?’
‘Why certainly, if I can. What is it?’
‘If you haven’t time yourself, and I don’t expect you will have,
employ a private detective. But get a good man who will do the work
thoroughly.’
‘Yes, yes. But what exactly is to be done?’
‘This. The evidence seems to me overwhelming that Mr Cosgrove missed
the 7.15 at King’s Cross on that Wednesday night, and went to Montrose
by the 10.30. But what did he do in between?’
Daunt was puzzled.
‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘We have the butler’s and Miss
Belcher’s evidence to corroborate Cosgrove’s own story there. I don’t
see that we can reasonably doubt he did what he said.’
‘Don’t you? But I do. Probably both these people were interested. Miss
Belcher we know was—she was on too friendly terms not to be. And the
butler may have been well paid to tell his story. Another thing makes
me doubt Miss Belcher. You remember the conversation Mr Tanner
overheard between her and Mr Cosgrove in the restaurant? They
mentioned an alibi. Mr Tanner thought they were talking about Austin.
I don’t believe it. It was Mr Cosgrove’s own alibi they were
discussing. What do you think?’
‘It’s possible, of course,’ Daunt answered slowly, ‘but I question if
we can be sure of it.’ He began to think Lois had got an obsession.
‘Well, whether or not is immaterial. What matters is that Mr
Cosgrove’s whereabouts after 7.30 has not been proved.’
‘But you forget Tanner’s time table. Cosgrove wouldn’t have had time
to go to Luce Manor between the trains.’
‘Yes!’ cried Lois excitedly, ‘he would! That’s the point I’ve been
coming to. According to Mr Tanner’s calculations he would have had
time or almost time, to go to Luce Manor and back, but he wouldn’t
have had time to commit the murder. But Mr Tanner assumed he had first
driven to his rooms. If he had gone direct from King’s Cross he would
have had time for all.’
This was a new idea to Daunt, and he had to admit its possibility.
‘It may be so certainly,’ he answered, ‘but how are we to prove it?
That butler won’t give himself away if he has lied.’
‘I’ve thought of that, too, and there seems to be one way we might get
at it. Mr Cosgrove said he took three drives during that time—first,
from King’s Cross to Knightsbridge; second, from Knightsbridge to the
Empire; and third, from the Follies’, to King’s Cross. Could we not
find the cabmen, or at least one of them?’
‘By Jove, Lois, you should have been a detective,’ Daunt said with
half-unwilling admiration. ‘I believe it’s a good notion.’
‘You see, if we were to search for these men thoroughly and fail to
find them, it would greatly strengthen my theory. On the other hand,
if we found them we would be sure of what we are up against, for if Mr
Cosgrove took any one of the drives, his statement must be true. Will
you try to find them, Jimmy? Or’—her eyes brightened eagerly—‘let’s do
it together. Would you mind?’
‘Mind?’ he echoed. ‘Dear girl, what do you take me for? I’m ready to
begin now—in collaboration with you, that is.’
‘Dear Jimmy, you are so good. I can never thank you enough.’
‘What utter rubbish. Now let’s get to work. Have you made any plans?’
‘I thought perhaps we could get lists from the taxi companies of the
men on the various stands. Then I thought we could see all those on
the stands nearest the three starting points. If it was none of these
could we not send a letter to each driver in London—get some office
supplies place to do it, you know? If this failed we might try
newspaper advertisements.’
‘Excellent. We could get the lists of the men through Tanner, if he
would give them. I’ll ring him up now.’
Inspector Tanner was at the Yard. On Daunt satisfying him as to the
reason of the demand, he promised to have the information looked up
and supplied.
The next day the lists came and the cousins set off to commence their
investigations. They saw a number of the men on the stands in
question, others at the depots and still others at their homes. After
three strenuous days they had gone over them all. But they learnt
nothing. None of the men had driven Cosgrove.
‘It’s hopeful,’ Lois announced as they dined together that evening,
‘but we must now try the circular.’
They drafted a letter offering a reward of £5 for information as to
the identity of the man who had driven a fare answering to Cosgrove’s
description on any of the three trips in question. With this Daunt
called to see Tanner on the following morning. He told him what they
had done, and what they proposed, and asked for a complete list of the
taxi and cab-drivers of London. Tanner, nothing loath to have his own
conclusions verified, had the information made out. Then Daunt went to
an office supplies firm in New Oxford Street, and arranged for a
circular to be sent to each man on the list—several thousand.
Two days passed and there was no answer, but on the third day a
taxi-driver giving his name as John Hoskins called at Daunt’s office.
Jimmy saw him at once.
‘It was abaht this ’ere letter,’ said the man. ‘I guess I’m the man
you want.’
‘Yes? You drove a fare on one of those trips on that Wednesday
evening?’
‘Yes, sir. I were just passing out of King’s Cross after setting down
a lady and gent, when the gent ’e hails me, “Engaged?” ’e asks. “No,
sir,” I says. “174B Knightsbridge,” ’e says. I drove ’im there, and
that’s all I knows abaht it.’
Daunt opened a drawer and took out half a dozen cabinet photographs,
which, in unconscious imitation of Tanner, he had procured. One was of
Cosgrove, the others of men as like Cosgrove as Jimmy could find.
‘Is the man you drove among those?’ he asked, handing them over.
The driver glanced over them and unhesitatingly picked out Cosgrove’s.
‘That’s ’im, mister,’ he said decisively.
‘And what time did you pick him up?’
‘Abaht 7.30. I left ’im in Knightsbridge at a quarter to eight.’
‘That’s all right, my man. It’s what I wanted to know. If you give me
your name and address I’ll give you the five pounds.’
Jimmy telegraphed the news to Lois at Halford, using for the benefit
of the postal officials a code on which they had previously agreed.
The information, he feared, would be a heavy blow to her. She had so
confidently made up her mind that Cosgrove was the guilty man, and
here was proof—to Daunt it seemed final and conclusive proof—of his
innocence. Even Lois herself had admitted that if Cosgrove had indeed
returned to his rooms after leaving King’s Cross, it would have been
impossible for him to have visited Luce Manor—times and distances made
that certain. Miss Belcher’s confirmation of his visit to the Follies,
and the discovery of the other two taxi drivers were therefore not
required. As matters stood, Cosgrove’s innocence was demonstrated.
So Daunt reasoned, but not so Lois Drew. As she tossed sleepless on
her bed that night she racked her brains for some flaw in the case,
some loophole that might save her lover. But the more she thought it
over, the more hopeless it seemed. As dawn brightened slowly into day
she had to admit herself beaten. And then, just as a delightful
drowsiness began to creep over her restless, wearied body, an idea
flashed into her mind. She remained motionless, hardly daring to
breathe as its full significance gradually dawned upon her. When it
did so all chance of sleep vanished. Her eyes became very bright, and
she laughed contentedly to herself.
She travelled to town by an early train and was in Daunt’s office soon
after it opened. She received his condolences quietly, then startled
him by saying demurely:
‘I want you to send out another circular to the taxi-men, Jimmy. I
have it here.’
The paper she handed him read:
‘Ten Pounds Reward
‘The above reward will be paid to the taxi driver who picked up a
fare’—here followed a description of Cosgrove—‘about 7.50 on
Wednesday evening, 7th July, in or near Knightsbridge, on his
identifying the man picked up from a photograph, and saying where he
was set down. Apply—’ and here followed Jimmy’s address.
‘But my dear girl,’ the latter objected, ‘we have already sent that
out, or practically that.’
‘Never mind, Jimmy,’ she said, with one of the brilliant smiles that
lit up her face and made it momentarily beautiful. ‘Do this for me,
and don’t ask questions.’ Before he realized what she was going to do,
she had kissed him lightly on the forehead, and with a whirl of skirts
was gone.
‘By Jove!’ said Jimmy weakly to himself as the door closed. ‘What bee
has she got in her bonnet now? At any rate she might have waited and
explained.’ But he did what he had been asked, and two days later the
new circular was in the hands of the taxi-men.
And it bore early fruit. Only a few hours after its distribution there
was an answer. A small, sallow, rat-faced man in a peaked cap and
leather coat called to see Daunt.
‘You think you picked up the man described in the letter?’ asked
Jimmy, as he produced his six photographs. ‘Was he one of these?’
Like his _confrère_ of a day or two earlier, the man glanced over the
cards and unhesitatingly drew out Cosgrove’s portrait.
‘That’s ’im, mister,’ he also said decisively.
‘Where exactly did you pick him up?’
‘In Knightsbridge, not far from Piccadilly.’
‘At what time?’
‘About ten minutes to eight.’
‘And where did you set him down?’
‘Over thirty miles away—at a cross-roads away beyond Luton.’
James Daunt sprang excitedly to his feet.
‘What?’ he roared. ‘Where did you say?’ Here, surely, was the
impossible! All were agreed that Cosgrove could not have made the run
in the time, and yet, it now seemed, he had done so. And then the
thought of the tremendous consequences of this discovery overwhelmed
every other consideration. If Cosgrove had really been to Luce Manor,
particularly after his own denial, he must unquestionably be guilty.
And if he were guilty, Austin was innocent. Jimmy believed he now held
the evidence which would save his client.
He thought rapidly for a few seconds.
‘At what hour did you reach this cross-roads?’ he asked.
‘About quarter-past nine, sir. I remember noticing when I was making
up the money.’
And the bogus servant met Austin at the Old Ferry about then! Truly
this was a great find!
‘Are you engaged within the next hour or two?’ Jimmy went on.
‘No, sir.’
‘Very good. Will you drive me to this cross-roads? I’ll make it worth
your while.’
They stopped at a post office and Jimmy sent a telegram to Lois asking
her to be at the end of the Old Ferry lane at midday. Then the run
began.
As the vehicle slipped quickly through the traffic, Daunt chuckled
with delight. Though he did not in the least understand how Cosgrove
had managed it, it was at least evident that he had visited Luce Manor
before taking the 10.30 to Montrose. And that, Daunt felt more than
ever certain, meant his guilt and the breakdown of the case against
Austin. Though, to do him justice, Jimmy’s chief joy was the thought
of the happiness this would bring to Lois, yet he was human enough to
realise the kudos which must come to him personally from the skilful
way he had unravelled the mystery. And yet, had he unravelled it? As
he looked back he had to admit that every particle of credit must go
to the girl. She it was who had suggested the steps which had led to
success—she who had evidently guessed the solution which even now
still eluded him.
In about an hour and a half they reached their destination, and Jimmy,
who knew the district from his visits to the Drews, saw with
satisfaction that the point was where the Halford-London road crossed
that which passed over the river bridge above the Cranshaw Falls. From
there to the Old Ferry was about ten minutes’ smart walk, and, if the
taxi-man’s statement was correct, Cosgrove could therefore have
reached Austin’s boat about 9.25. It would take him ten minutes or
more to row to the Luce Manor boathouse, so that he would arrive
there, say, between 9.30 and 9.40. This was quite sufficiently in
accordance with the statement of Lucy Penrose and young Potts that
they had seen the boat arriving about half-past nine. Jimmy recognised
delightedly that the whole thing was working in.
It was still about quarter to twelve, and Jimmy had the taxi run
slowly on to the Old Ferry lane. Lois was already there, and he lost
no time in putting her in possession of the facts.
‘You guessed that this happened?’ he queried.
‘Yes. I suddenly thought of it in bed, the night before I came up to
see you.’
‘But I can’t make head nor tail of it,’ Jimmy confessed. ‘Now it seems
that Cosgrove must have been at the boathouse between half-past nine
and ten, and yet he caught the 10.30 from King’s Cross, where he
couldn’t have arrived till at least 11.30. The thing’s an absolute
puzzle to me. Can you see light?’
‘Of course. He never caught the 10.30 at all.’
‘But, my dear girl, he did—he must have. You forget the porter at
Grantham and the dealer at Montrose.’
‘Not at all. He travelled no doubt by the 10.30 from Grantham to
Montrose. But that’s a very different thing. I’ll tell you, Jimmy,
what’s puzzling you. You haven’t studied your Great Northern time
table as I have. The 10.30 is not the only train in the day from
London.’
Daunt waited.
‘Well?’ he said impatiently.
‘Before that 10.30, as you might have known from Mr Tanner’s story of
his own movements, there runs a pick-up train. It leaves King’s Cross
at 10.00 and reaches Grantham at 12.28, ten minutes before the 10.30.
And that train, Jimmy, stops at three or four stations. It stops’—she
leant forward and whispered in his ear with an air of triumph—‘_it
stops at Hitchin at 10.45!_’
‘And Hitchin is only six miles from here! Good Heavens, how stupid not
to have seen that! Of course that’s what he did! After the murder he
motored to Hitchin and caught the relief train. Well, Lois, you
deserve all you’re going to get for thinking of it!’
‘But we’re not quite out of the wood yet,’ the girl reminded him. ‘We
have to find out how he went from here to Hitchin.’
‘Probably by the taxi,’ suggested Daunt, and they returned to where
the vehicle was waiting.
But his guess was incorrect. The driver assured them that on reaching
the cross-roads Cosgrove had paid him off and he had returned at once
to London.
‘I thought of that first,’ said Lois, ‘then I thought not, that he
would never have let any one man have so much information about his
movements. Then I wondered if he wouldn’t have arranged for a vehicle
from Halford to pick him up, but I saw that wouldn’t do either. At
last I thought the most obvious and indeed the least suspicious plan
would be to engage a car in Hitchin to run out for him. What do you
think?’
‘I believe you are right. Let’s run over to Hitchin now and make
inquiries.’
They reached the town in about quarter of an hour. There they paid off
their taxi, having noted the man’s name and address. Then after a
hurried lunch they got to work.
At the first and second garages they drew blank, but at the third they
had success. It appeared that late on the Monday evening before the
murder, a man, whom the proprietor instantly identified from the
photograph as Cosgrove, called and asked for a car to be sent to the
same cross-roads near Luce Manor. It was to be there on the following
Wednesday evening at 10.15, and was to wait for him and run him into
Hitchin. He gave no explanation of his movements, but he turned up at
the place a few minutes after the hour named, and was duly brought to
Hitchin and set down near the George Hotel. Daunt had the driver sent
for, and he stated he had seen his fare’s face in the light of a
street lamp when he was being paid, and he also unhesitatingly
selected Cosgrove’s photograph as that of the man.
‘How far is it from the George Hotel to the station?’ asked Daunt.
‘Three minutes’ walk, sir.’
Here at last was proof—utter and final proof. As the cousins left the
garage Jimmy once more congratulated his companion on her success.
‘But we’re not finished yet, Jimmy,’ she answered him. ‘We have to
find the woman—the false servant.’
‘You think it couldn’t have been Cosgrove?’
Lois shook her head.
‘He could never have deceived Austin. Besides, the hours don’t work.
Cosgrove could hardly have reached the Old Ferry till after Austin had
left. In any case Cosgrove would never have had time to make up so
well.’
‘I agree with you. Then our next job is, cherchez la femme. Have you
any ideas as to how we should start?’
‘I don’t know if you will agree with me,’ Lois answered slowly, ‘but I
wonder if we should not take Mr Tanner into our confidence. He has
been very straight and very kind all through, and I’m sure if he knew
what we have learned he would take over the finding of the woman.’
‘By Jove, Lois, I believe you are right in this as in everything else.
I’ll go and see him now. Would you care to come too?’
‘No. I think you could do that best alone. I’ll come to town with you
and hear your report.’
They went up by the Great Northern, and Daunt drove to Scotland Yard.
Inspector Tanner was out.
‘I am the solicitor who is acting for Mr Austin Ponson—you know, the
Halford murder—and I bring some very material information about the
case. I should like to see someone in authority.’
He was asked to wait and presently was ushered into the presence of
Chief Inspector Edgar. This official had followed the case with
Tanner, and he heard Daunt’s story with thinly veiled amazement.
‘It’s the most extraordinary case I have come across for many a year,’
he exclaimed. ‘That makes two suspects, and Tanner’s off to Portugal
after a third.’
‘Good Lord! To Portugal?’
‘Yes, with an extradition warrant and all complete. Well, Mr Daunt, I
needn’t say how grateful we are to you and Miss Drew for what you have
done, and you may count on your information receiving the fullest and
most careful attention. When Tanner gets back, perhaps you wouldn’t
mind calling in and having a chat over the matter with him?’
When Jimmy returned to Lois and told her of the Portuguese expedition
she was as utterly amazed as he was. But there was no way of
satisfying their curiosity, and they had unwillingly to content
themselves to wait till Tanner’s return.