Death in the Tunnel (9 page)

IX

Arnold allowed himself to be persuaded. He knew by experience that Merrion never acted from mere caprice. There was also some good, if sometimes imaginative reason, for what he did.

So the pair of them arrived at Blackdown station about ten o'clock on Monday morning, and avoiding the station-master walked into the town. Here they took the main road leading southwards, and followed it for rather more than a mile. On reaching a signpost, Merrion consulted a map which he had brought with him. They turned to the right, along a secondary road, which carried comparatively little traffic. Some distance along this, they came to a grassy lane, which wandered off through a wood. After another glance at his map, Merrion decided that they would take this. They passed through the wood, and emerged upon an open expanse of pastureland. Merrion stopped, and pointed straight in front of him. “See that?” he exclaimed triumphantly.

Arnold looked in the required direction. A few hundred yards from where they stood was a cylindrical brick structure, about six feet in diameter and eight feet high, not unlike a factory chimney cut off short just above the base. The suggestion was heightened by the fact that a feather of whitish smoke was floating lazily from the top. The inspector looked at it without interest. “That thing that's smoking over there?” he replied. “Yes, I see it. What is it? A lime-kiln, or something?”

“Lime-kiln!” Merrion retorted scornfully. “Don't you remember walking through the tunnel on Saturday? And when I remarked to the ganger that the atmosphere seemed a trifle less poisonous towards the middle, he said that was because there was a ventilating shaft there. Well, we're just about over the middle of the tunnel now, and that's the top of the shaft. The smoke you see comes up from the tunnel beneath. Now, let's go and have a look at it.”

To do so, they had only to follow the lane which ran within a few feet of the shaft. Merrion looked at this thoughtfully. “I wish we'd thought of bringing a ladder,” he said. “Never mind, there are one or two holes in the brickwork. Enough to give me a foothold, I think. Lend me your back a moment, will you?”

With Arnold's aid he scrambled up the side of the shaft, and perched himself on the top, with his legs dangling over the edge. He sat there for so long in silence that the inspector became impatient.
“
Are you going to stop up there for the rest of the day?” he asked.

“Shut up, I'm listening,” replied Merrion sharply. And it was not for several minutes that he spoke again.

“It's all right,” he said at last. “It works perfectly. Sitting up here I can hear the whistle of the trains as they enter the tunnel, and I'm beginning to be able to distinguish the direction from which they are coming. The roar is faint at first, then becomes louder as the train approaches the shaft. The noise is quite different as it passes under the shaft, more like a rattle. Then the roar begins again, and dies away as the train proceeds towards the other end of the tunnel. That's all I want to know to begin with. Lend me a hand down, will you?”

Arnold did so. “Listening to trains isn't a hobby of mine,” he said. “Since you appear to be satisfied, let's see if we can't find a decent pub where we can have a drink.”

“You'll have to curb your thirst for a little longer, I'm afraid,” Merrion replied. “Look here, on the grass between the lane and the shaft. See that track? Made by a biggish car or a light lorry, unless I'm greatly mistaken. And I think these are the wheel-marks of a smaller and lighter car too. Neither of these tracks are many days old. Come and have a look at them for yourself.”

“Yes, I see the tracks all right,” said Arnold. “What about them?”

“Sit down here, on the leeward side of the stack, and light your pipe. What has been our chief difficulty with regard to the man or men in the tunnel?”

“Why, how they got in or out unobserved.”

“Right. Well, this shaft is the way out of that difficulty. Let me explain how the trick was worked. Because we found those lamps in the tunnel, we jumped to the conclusion that there must have been a man down there to work them. But that's just where we were wrong. They were worked from up here.

“There were two men concerned, A and B. A was the man with the beard, B his confederate. B arrived here some time before half-past five in a car. I don't understand why there should be two sets of tracks, but that's a detail. He had with him in the car the battery that puzzled me so much, and the two lamps, each attached to a considerable length of flexible cord, on each of which, at the battery end, was a switch.

“He ran the car up against the shaft. I expect that it was a saloon and that by getting on to the roof he could overlook the top of the shaft. And I also expect that he had made his observations beforehand, and knew pretty well what he was about. He had probably used a lead-line, and knew the distance from the top of the shaft to the floor of the tunnel.

“He got everything ready, then waited till he heard the whistle of Saxonby's train as it entered the tunnel. Then he lowered his lamps, so that they hung by the flexible cords, and switched on the red lamp. He could tell pretty well by the sound what was happening below. He would hear the train slowing up, and when he judged it had done so sufficiently, he switched off the red lamp and switched on the green. This bears out what Prentice and Haynes told us. The lamps swung slowly across the tunnel, between the two sets of rails. That's just what they would do if they were suspended from here.

“As the train gathered way again, B switched off the green, and started to haul up his lamps. But he wasn't quite quick enough. The engine caught them, smashed them to pieces, and broke the flexible cord. The men on the engine would see or hear nothing of that. It is too dark in the tunnel, and far too noisy. The impact threw the remains of the lamps to where we found them, which, you will remember, was some yards to the southward of the middle of the tunnel.

“Meanwhile, A had jumped off the train and made his way to the bottom of the shaft. How did he know when he had got there, you ask? Because he had a torch, which he kept pointing upwards, instead of downwards, as we did. He then calls up to B, who lowers a rope-ladder. A swarms up it, the rope-ladder is raised, and there you are.”

“This time I really believe you've hit the nail on the head,” said Arnold approvingly. “Your theory certainly clears up the difficulties. But I don't much like the rope-ladder part. A rope-ladder of any length is a confoundedly bulky thing to carry about. And heavy, too, for that matter.”

“To be quite frank, I'm not in love with the rope-ladder, either. When I was up there just now, I looked for some place where the top end could be fixed, and couldn't find one. However, I'm pretty sure that A must have left the tunnel by the shaft, rope-ladder or no rope-ladder.”

Arnold stood up and looked about him. “This confounded country seems utterly deserted,” he said. “I shouldn't wonder if that car drove up and away again without anybody seeing it.”

“We mustn't be too pessimistic. There must be a cottage or a farm or something somewhere. Suppose we follow this lane for a bit, and see where it leads to?”

They went on for about half a mile, and then, upon rounding a shoulder of the downs, came to a small farmhouse. An elderly man of benevolent aspect was working in the yard, and Merrion addressed him. “Can you tell us where this lane leads to?” he asked.

The man looked up and gave them a friendly smile. “Well, sir, 'tis a funny old lane, and no mistake,” he replied. “It don't rightly lead nowhere, properly speaking. Just through the farm here, and out again to the road, half a mile beyond.”

“Then you don't get much traffic along here, I suppose?”

“There's nobody comes along but the few folk what wants to get to the farm. Barring now and then somebody who's out for a nice walk, same as you might be, or what has lost his way and turned along the lane by mistake. There was one of them last Thursday.”

“A car, do you mean?” Merrion asked casually.

“Aye, one of them little cars like overgrown prams. Bloke what was driving it turned in at the end of the lane. Said he wanted to get to Little Hazelbury. But the turning to Little Hazelbury is nigh on a mile beyond the lane, as I told him.”

“Did you see him turn into the lane?”

“No, for I'd have set him right if I had, wouldn't I? 'Twas later on that I saw him, when he'd got as far as the shaft, and his car wouldn't go any further. It chanced that I was out that way, looking for a young heifer that had strayed. And I saw the car and the bloke standing by it.”

“By Jove!” Merrion exclaimed. “I wonder if that was my friend Jones? He told me that his car had broken down somewhere in these parts, one day last week. What did he look like?”

“Elderly gentleman, with a short grey beard and walked with a stoop. I can't say that I took any particular notice of him. I went up to him and asked him if the car wouldn't go, and he said that he thought the magneto had broken down. That's when he told me that he was bound for Little Hazelbury.”

“Poor old Jones! He's always in trouble with that bus of his. Did he manage to get her going again?”

“No. He fiddled about for a bit, and then said that he would have to find a garage and get them to send some one out. He said he'd walk back to the main road, where he could pick up a bus to take him into Blackdown. I told him it wouldn't do to leave the car where it was, as it was right in the middle of the lane, and nothing couldn't get by. He said he wasn't strong enough to move it by himself, so I lent him a hand, and we pushed it on to the grass, right beside the old shaft. And then he went off, though any one could see that he wasn't much good at walking.”

“No, the poor old chap suffers terribly from rheumatism. It must have taken him a long time to walk to the main road. What time was this, by the way?”

“Somewhere round about twelve o'clock in the morning. And the chaps from the garage didn't hurry themselves about getting here. It was nigh on dark when I saw one of they breakdown lorries coming along. You'll know what I mean, sir. One of them things with a crane and tackle in them, so they can hoist a car up.”

“I know them,” Merrion replied. “Did Jones come with the lorry?”

“I couldn't say. I was too far off to see. I was just on my way back to get my tea. I saw the lorry drive up to where the car was standing, and then I went on. They were some time messing about, for it was well past half-past five when I heard them go off.”

“You didn't see them go?”

“No. I was back here, you see. And I wouldn't have heard them, neither, but that it was a still evening.”

Merrion chatted with the man for a little longer, then he and Arnold went on their way.

Merrion was delighted with what he had heard. “Now we know how the dodge was worked,” he said. “We've got a pair of pretty clever rogues to deal with, my friend. A breakdown lorry! I never thought of that. So that disposes of the difficulty of the rope-ladder.”

“Yes, it could easily be carried on a lorry,” Arnold replied.

“It could, but it wouldn't be necessary. Don't you see? The lorry was fitted with a crane, as our rustic friend expressly stated. Right. B runs the lorry up against the shaft, and swings the crane over the top of it. When he hears A's signal from below, he lowers a rope with a bowline at the end of it. A puts his foot in the bowline, B sets the crane to work, and up comes A, like truth out of a well. Simple, neat and efficient. Now we'd better make our way to Blackdown, and see if we can't find a pub on the way.”

They found a pub, at which they refreshed themselves. And during the remainder of their walk they discussed how the two men, A and B, were to be run to earth.

“It's all very well to know, or at all events to have made a pretty good guess, how they worked it,” said Merrion. “But their methods were so thorough that I'm afraid there is very little chance of tracing either the small car or the lorry. The small car was probably towed for a short distance, say to the end of the lane. Then, I have no doubt, the magneto recovered miraculously, and the car and the lorry went off in different directions. And by that time it was quite dark.”

“I expect you're right,” Arnold replied. “As a matter of routine, I shall have to get in touch with the local police, and get them to make inquiries at the garages round about.”

“Yes, you'll have to do that, of course. Meanwhile, let's see if we can disentangle their movements a bit. The elderly gentleman with the short grey beard, seen by the farmer, is obviously the same man whom Mrs. and Miss Clutsam saw in the train. The one we have called A, in fact. He turned up at the shaft in a small car about twelve o'clock on Thursday. After his conversation with the farmer, he hobbled off towards the main road. But I don't suppose he hobbled far. I expect he took off all or part of his disguise, and stepped it pretty briskly for the rest of the way. And you may bet that he didn't go near a garage.

“We lose sight of him for a bit. But he must have gone to London, for we hear of him again at Cannon Street, shortly before the departure of the five o'clock train. He disappears again just before the train enters Blackdown Tunnel. And nobody appears to have seen him since. But I think we can assume, with every confidence, that B hoisted him out of the tunnel with the aid of his crane. Where he may be now, goodness only knows.

“We know considerably less about B. We only know that he existed, from the evidence of the lights and the breakdown lorry. Somebody must have worked the one, and driven the other. A couldn't have done that, since he was in the train. We have no description of B, since we have found nobody who saw him. He is, in fact, merely an accomplice, since A was undoubtedly the murderer. But all the same, if we could find out who B was, we should very soon learn A's identity. It's like one of those double-barrelled equations, when as soon as you know the value of x, you can find the value of y, and vice versa.”