Antidote to Venom (16 page)

“It's not certain.”

“No, sir, I admit it's not certain. But I put it to you that it's sufficiently suggestive to warrant investigation.”

Again Sir Mortimer remained silent for a moment. “Have you worked out a theory on those lines?”

“To a certain extent, sir; of course, quite tentatively. I suggest someone wanted the old man out of the way, and knowing of his researches, decided he could use a snake with a good chance of avoiding suspicion. This person, I suggest, stole the snake, and—”

“Incidentally you're meeting the difficulty that the deceased hadn't the nerve to do so.”

“Quite so, sir. I suggest X stole the snake, and knowing of the old man's chess-playing habits, was waiting for him to set out on that Wednesday night, when, mind you, the house was empty. I suggest he carried the snake in the tongs and held it out towards the deceased, and that it was while the deceased was trying to ward it off that he got bitten.”

“It's not a nice idea, French.”

“So nasty, sir, that if anyone has done it, he shouldn't get off with it.”

“Agreed. Very well: carry on.”

“Now think of X's position. He has committed his murder in safety because the old man hasn't seen him in the dark, and in any case will almost certainly become unconscious before meeting anyone. But X has the snake and the tongs on his hands. What is he to do with them?”

“He has already thought of the barrel?”

“I assume so, sir. But that covers the snake only. He will have to decide whether to throw the tongs in too, or remove them. I believe he finds himself forced to remove them. His whole object is to suggest that the deceased allowed the snake to escape from whatever receptacle he was keeping it in, and leaving the tongs in the pool would give this idea away. If he could leave the tongs in the house beside the snake's receptacle it might help him all right. But he probably is unable to get into the house or perhaps doesn't know where the snake has been kept.”

“And motive?”

“We don't know it. But my informant tells me the deceased was well to do and someone must have stood to gain by his death.”

“It's all very hypothetical.”

“I know, sir, and what I wanted this interview for was to ask if you thought that on such hypothetical evidence any action should be taken?”

Sir Mortimer's eyes flickered again. “Now, I confess you've got me puzzled. You know very well we can't interfere.”

“I wondered, sir, if you thought the point should be put up to the Birmington force?”

Once again there was a pause, this time longer than before. “It's difficult to imagine them overlooking it,” Sir Mortimer said at last, “though, I agree, it's possible. Your suggestion is to ask if a tongs or other apparatus was found?”

French shook his head. “Hardly, sir, I think. To interfere like that would probably annoy them. I wondered if you would consider writing that the point was raised by one of your people and that you pass the idea on for what it's worth.”

“Pure altruism?”

French grinned again. “As a matter of fact the case was put up to me by my wife's brother-in-law, who is a brother of the head keeper at the Zoo. That's how I became interested.”

The Assistant Commissioner rubbed his chin. “I can see them in Birmington frightfully hurt in their little feelings,” he murmured. “I should be myself, you know, if the positions were reversed.”

“No, sir, I don't believe that,” French returned firmly, though with a twinkling eye. “You'd be glad of anything that helped you to the truth.”

“If threats don't work, try flattery? Well, I never was proof against that. I'll write the C.C. a private note.”

French returned to his room with rather mixed feelings. He was by no means sure he had not simply made a fool of himself. It was not his business to interfere where his opinion had not been asked, and now that his urge was satisfied, he wondered why he had done so. Of course, it was true that no one who had carried out a ghastly murder should get off with it, but then he was not a keeper of the country's morals. However, since Sir Mortimer had accepted his suggestion there couldn't be so much wrong with it, and in any case the matter was now out of his hands and he need waste no more time over it.

In spite of these admirable sentiments the case did remain a good deal in his thoughts. He wondered what reception the A.C.'s letter had received, and if the officer who had been in charge was fuming with malice and hatred against the Yard. He didn't expect to hear anything more about the affair, which would probably be closed by a polite but noncommittal acknowledgement.

However, to his surprise, next afternoon his forebodings were agreeably dispelled. Just before leaving for home he received a summons to the A. C.'s room.

He found him in conversation with an alert looking young police officer. “This is Inspector Rankin of the Birmington City Police,” Sir Mortimer explained. “He's all het up over the brick you've thrown, so I rang for you to come and cool him down.”

The startled inspector seemed about to offer a shocked protest, but catching sight of the twinkle in French's eye, he caught himself up in time.

“It's just about knocked the whole of our case into a cocked hat, sir,” he smiled, in his turn, doing his best to play up to this novel method of conducting business. “Our C.C. sent me up to talk the thing over with you.”

“We only put up the idea,” French pointed out, tactfully.

“The fact is, sir,” the newcomer looked from one to the other, “that I thought of murder at first, but afterwards it seemed so certain that it was accident that I dropped the murder idea. Having done that, you can understand that I stopped looking for suspicious circumstances.”

“Very natural: I should have done the same myself,” Sir Mortimer agreed, easily. “But the chief inspector here is the very devil. You can't get anything past him. Better take Rankin to your room, French, and have your talk.”

French took an instantaneous liking to the young inspector. Instead of showing resentment, he seemed grateful for French's idea and was clearly out to get any help he could with his case. Moreover, he was efficient also: eager about his work and with the details of what had happened at his finger ends.

“There were no tongs in the case at all, sir,” he explained. “None were found at ‘Riverview' and none were missing from the Zoo. We found no bag or net which could have been used to carry the snake. There were three boxes in the deceased's study which would have held it, but we could get no evidence that they had.”

“There would have been enough air in them?”

“The expert thought so. We assumed the snake had been in one of them, because there was nowhere else it could have been kept.”

“Were they fastened?”

“One was locked. The other two were unfastened, though the lids were closed.”

“Could the snake have pushed up the lid and got out?”

“The expert thought so, but he wouldn't say for sure.”

“And you concluded?”

“We concluded that the snake had done what you suggest: that through a mistake the box hadn't been locked, and that it pushed itself out under the lid. The deceased had found it as he was about to start for his chess, and had been bitten.”

“It certainly sounds reasonable.”

“But I think, sir, your argument about the tongs upsets it.”

“What, then, do you propose? Will you reopen the case or let it go?”

“About that, sir, the Chief Constable wondered if you would be good enough to come down and have a look round and then talk it over with us? That's really what he sent me up to ask. If by any chance the thing was murder, he's very set on getting the man.”

Though French made no immediate reply, he was really delighted. The case had taken hold of him and he felt he should be interested to see it through. From a more humanitarian point of view he also would be set on getting the man, even if there were no interesting features in the problem. Yes, he would like to go, and he was sure Sir Mortimer would raise no objection.

In this he was correct. The A.C. agreed at once to the proposal, and it was decided that he should accompany Rankin on the evening train back to Birmington, the formal application then following in punctilious accord with official procedure.

Chapter XVI

Venom: In the Conference

Next morning French was early at police headquarters, where a conference on the Burnaby case was to be held. Rankin was waiting for him and took him to his room.

“You can't meet the super, sir, as he's in hospital for an operation,” he explained, “but the Chief Constable, Mr. Stone, will take his place. He said he'd be ready about ten.”

“That'll suit me,” said French. “It'll give me time to read over the inquest depositions.”

“I've got everything here, sir. Perhaps you'd care to use the super's room?”

“No,” French returned, “I'm all right where I am. You get along with your work and don't mind me; then if I want to ask you anything, I'll have you within reach.”

The favourable impression Rankin had made on French was still further strengthened when he came to examine the dossier. The reports were clear, concise, and neatly put together, and what was much rarer, were admirably indexed. The photographs, though few, were illuminating, and when French had finished the file he felt he knew fairly accurately what had taken place.

Chief Constable Stone, who presently received them, was a complete contrast to Sir Mortimer Ellison. He was a tall, powerfully built man with a heavy face and rather sombre expression. His manner was official, and though he was polite to French, he was not in the least cordial. With the briefest of introductions he settled down in a cold impersonal way to the business of the meeting.

“I understand from your letter, Chief Inspector, that you have made certain deductions from the fact that no snake tongs was found on the deceased's premises. I should like to hear you discuss this point, as if I became convinced that there was any indication of murder, I should have no hesitation in re-opening the case. Perhaps you would give us your ideas.”

French had expected a question of this kind and was prepared for it. “Certainly, sir,” he answered, “but you must please bear in mind that my conclusion was reached from a newspaper report only, and that in making it I recognised that further information might modify it considerably.”

The chief constable nodded shortly.

“I'll put what I have to say in the form of questions. First, did the deceased require tongs or other instruments to steal the snake and use it for his experiments at his home? If so, and as none such were found, someone got rid of them. Was this person the deceased? If not, someone else was present and the idea of murder is introduced.

“Now, with regard to the first question—” and French went on to state his views in detail.

The Chief Constable seemed impressed. “I admit you've made a strong case,” he said, “but I don't know that it's entirely convincing. I agree with you that the stealing of the snake and conveying it to ‘Riverview' would have required tongs or other apparatus. I'm not convinced that the experiments the deceased was carrying out would have done so, because we don't know exactly what these were. It seems possible, for instance, that the deceased might merely have lowered a guinea pig into the cage and lifted it out again when it was bitten, which could have been done with a basket and cord. Upon this point I think we must therefore reserve judgment.”

“I agree, sir,” French admitted.

“Then I'm with you that if there was a tongs at ‘Riverview,' someone other than the deceased removed it, but I'm not with you when you say that murder necessarily follows. I think another person can be introduced into the affair without involving murder. And here I would ask the question: did the deceased steal the snake?”

“The balance of evidence seems to be against it.”

“Quite: then why shouldn't he have employed someone to do it for him? Look at it this way. Suppose he bribed one of the attendants to take the snake from the Zoo to his house. This man would probably use a tongs, but on putting the snake in Burnaby's cage—probably one of those boxes—he would return the tongs. If not, the suggestion evidently intended—that the snake escaped—would have been negatived.”

French had not thought of this, but he was not going to say so. “I admit that's perfectly possible, sir, but personally I think it unlikely. Some objection was taken to the theory that the deceased had stolen the snake on the grounds of character: that he was too upright to do it. But it would certainly be much more strongly against his code to bribe a servant to steal from his employer, than to steal himself. Frankly, sir, from the evidence, I don't believe he did it.”

“Very well. Leave that for the moment and assume that your theory involves murder. Who do you think might have committed the crime?”

“I had no evidence on that point, sir, but I knew that the deceased was well off and assumed he had an heir.”

The Chief Constable turned to Rankin. “Tell him about that, Inspector.”

“We thought of that as a motive for murder too, sir,” the young man answered. “The deceased was worth between twenty and twenty-five thousand pounds, so his heir had a strong motive for doing him in. We found the heir. He's a nephew named Capper, a solicitor. He practises at Bursham, a town about forty miles from here. His practice is small and he lives in a rather poor way. So he had a doubly strong motive. But he was innocent. I went into his movements and he was in his house at the time of the death.”

Here was a reversal of all French's theories.

“You're sure of that, I suppose?” he asked, rather weakly.

“Absolutely. The doctor rang him up as soon as the deceased died, which, as you remember, was not more than half an hour after he was bitten, and he answered from his home. He then went to a nearby garage for his car, which was there, waiting some repairs. All that was substantiated by various witnesses. No sir, there's no doubt of his innocence.”

“And you heard of no other suspect?”

“None, sir.”

This certainly was a blow to French. It was beginning to look as if his fear that he had made a fool of himself would be realised. How often, he thought, when he had suspected someone else of error, it had turned out that he himself was the one in fault. Poetic justice, he supposed, but unpleasant.

He had been surprised at the uncanny readiness with which Stone had invited him down and heard his views. Now he began to wonder if the motive had been less admirable than he had supposed. Had Stone, for some reason jealous of the Yard and anxious to give it a snub, seized what he believed would prove an opportunity for doing so? It wasn't very likely, perhaps, but it certainly was possible.

But though French realised he might be wrong, he was not going to give way without a struggle. He considered the matter for a few moments, then with some misgivings embarked on a reply.

“I appreciate what you say, sir, and you have thought of a good deal which hadn't occurred to me. All the same, I still feel doubtful on the matter. Let me put it as I now see it.”

Stone nodded and French went on with gradually increasing assurance. “My first point, modified by your remarks, now stands like this: If Burnaby
alone
had been concerned in the matter, he would have had a tongs or other apparatus. This would have been necessary to capture the snake and convey it to his house, as a man of his years could scarcely have carried one of the boxes all that distance. Once arrived at his house, it is surely unlikely that he would have gone back to replace the tongs, as that would involve a capability for plotting and deceit not in accordance with his character. If I'm right so far, the disappearance of the tongs seems to prove the presence of some other person.”

“I don't think you can say it proves it, though I admit the probability. But I point out that this other person need not have been a murderer.”

“Very well, sir, suppose another person was involved. Who was that person? Either he was employed by the deceased to steal the snake, or else he
was
a murderer. If he had been a casual or innocent acquaintance, he would have come forward.”

Stone nodded again.

“From the point of view of character once more,” went on French, “it is unlikely that the deceased employed anyone for such a purpose. Therefore the balance of probability—I put it no higher—suggests the murderer.”

“I agree with that so long as you keep it as a probability. But to my mind the probability is over-ruled by the fact that no possible suspect had a motive.”

“I suggest, sir, we're scarcely in a position to say that. However, we can easily test the point. If the deceased employed anyone to act for him, it should be easy to find it out. I don't want to push the view, as it's your case, not mine, but I think this is important. If someone stole the snake for him and replaced the tongs, I'd drop the case; if no one did, I should suspect murder and carry on.”

It was now Stone's turn to hesitate. “I have felt all along,” he said at last, “that the entire theory we are holding is inadequate. I am not satisfied that the deceased ever stole a snake or got anyone else to do it for him. I know it can be argued that for the sake of the greater good which success with his experiments would involve, he might have winked at the smaller evil, but even that does not accord with his character. This is why I asked you to come down, and if I could see that murder was possible, I should concentrate on it.”

The man's honesty was patent, and with a slight feeling of shame French mentally withdrew his former suspicions.

“Your idea of finding out who stole the snake seems good to me,” went on Stone. “I'm inclined to agree that if we knew that, it would solve the major problem.”

French was delighted. Certainly no snub either to himself or to the Yard was intended. He expressed his approval of the other's views.

“What about approaching it from the opposite angle?” he went on. “I mean, considering all those connected with the Zoo, who could have committed the theft?”

“We've done so,” Stone returned, “though possibly not sufficiently completely. We took them in order, beginning with Surridge, the director, and going right down to the various labourers. But none of them had any motive that we could discover.” Stone paused for a moment, but as French did not speak, he went on: “Very well; the next question is, can you stay and look into it for us? Rankin has unavoidably got behind in his routine work and it would be a convenience if you could spare the time. Of course, Rankin would help you.”

This was better and better. It was what French had been hoping for. “You would have to consult Sir Mortimer, I'm afraid, sir,” he pointed out. “But it would only be a matter of form. We're rather slack at present and he's certain to agree.”

So it happened that through the accident of his wife's brother-in-law trying to make himself agreeable, French became involved in one of the strangest cases he had ever known in the entire course of his career.

He spent the remainder of that day in reading all that had been written on the affair, visiting the Zoo and “Riverview,” getting a detailed knowledge of the locality, interviewing Dr. Marr, and making up a programme of future work.

Fortified next morning by the arrival from the Yard of his “first aid” suitcase containing lenses, forceps, bottles, envelopes, note-books, camera, and similar aids to detection, he set to work on the first item of his programme. This was to compile a list of all those who might have been bribed by Burnaby to steal and hand over to him the snake and then to interview all on the list and form his own opinion of their personalities. For this he enlisted the aid of Peter Milliken, to whom Arthur introduced him. He would, as a matter of fact, have applied to George in the first instance, had not George gone that morning to London.

“I don't want it known that enquiries are being made, Milliken,” he explained. “I should just like to walk round with you while you speak to the various men; just to see what they're like, you know.”

“I understand, French. But you won't get anywhere that way. Not one of these fellows would have done the job.”

Milliken proved a useful ally. Under his guidance French talked to all the possible suspects, with entirely negative results.

He was impressed with Milliken's certainty that Burnaby could not himself have obtained the snake. The head keeper argued not from the moral view, but from the physical. To pick out one of four venomous snakes from a cage was a job requiring more skill than the broken old man possessed. This, reinforced so strongly his own and Stone's view reached from other premises, that French felt he might definitely accept it.

If he were right so far, it certainly strengthened the murder theory. But French was always afraid of too rapid work: it generally meant that he overlooked something. At this juncture, therefore, instead of reporting to Stone, he once more concentrated on the list of persons whom Burnaby might have bribed, wondering if by chance he had missed anyone.

Presently he felt glad he had done so. In reading the dossier again he saw that there was another possible suspect. Cochrane! Had Cochrane been Burnaby's tool?

A search of the reports showed that Cochrane had been employed at the Zoo as a night watchman, had been dismissed for inattention to duty, and had evidently taken his discharge hard. His bitter frame of mind would make him a willing agent, as he would feel he would be getting some of his own back. So far satisfactory, French thought. But when he went on to read that Cochrane's daughter was a day maid at “Riverview,” and that since his dismissal the man himself had worked there intermittently as a gardener and handyman, he grew very much more interested.

He saw Rankin and put the matter to him. The Inspector was obviously impressed.

“He's started in business for himself,” Rankin explained. “I happened to notice him yesterday riding a cycle combination with ‘John Cochrane. Window Cleaner' on it.”

French looked at him. “Where did he get the money for that, do you suppose?” he asked.