Fatal Venture (31 page)

“But they couldn’t have been, because of the flowers.”

“They must have been, because of the purchase of the film,” French insisted.

Nugent moved uneasily. “Damn it all, the thing’s impossible.” He paused, then continued: “But, look here, he could have done it in one way. He could have had an accomplice.”

“He couldn’t have had an accomplice, because his own shadow showed in the photo. It’s inconceivable that anyone could have made up to give exactly his shadow.”

“That certainly seems right.”

“And what’s more,” went on French, “I don’t believe he ever thought of the shadow. You see, he wasn’t a super-man. He never thought of the flowers.”

“That’s right again. It does seem as if he’d taken it himself. And if so, he’s innocent.”

“He’s guilty because of the trick about the flowers,” French declared firmly.

“Then he’ll have had an accomplice to take the photographs, shadow or no shadow. But see here, there’s another thing we haven’t considered, and it confirms your view. It was Bristow started the talk about the driving.”

French glanced at him keenly. “I didn’t know that.”

“Well, it was. It’s only just this minute that I’ve seen its significance. He started the subject and he suggested the photographs. In fact, he insisted on taking them.”

“There you are,” retorted French. “That’s pretty strong. I tell you he’s as guilty as sin.” He paused, then as Nugent didn’t speak, went on: “Suppose we have another look at the photographs. If they contain that evidence of the flowers, they may contain something else that we’ve missed.”

“If they do, I’ll eat my hat,” Nugent declared. “But, by all means, we’ll try again.”

They spread the five views of the ruin out on the table, and stood for some moments gazing at them. Then with lenses they went over every inch of their surfaces.

“No good,” French admitted at last. “We’ve seen everything about them.”

Nugent stood back and drew at his cigarette. “There’s not another thing in them,” he declared. “Sure, they’ve been examined till there couldn’t be. It’s no good. Chief Inspector. There is only the accomplice for it.”

French did not reply. He stood gazing from print to print, his face growing gradually more eager.

“What is it?” Nugent asked, seeing his expression. “Got something?”

“I don’t know,” French said presently. “Look at those photos again. Do you see anything about the lighting?”

“The lighting?” the DI repeated, staring at the pictures.

“Yes.” French’s manner now showed keen interest. “Any part of them better lighted than any other?”

Nugent made a gesture. “You’re right, by George; I see what you mean. In all five views there’s more light in the upper right-hand corner than anywhere else. That it?”

“That’s it,” French nodded.

“But wait a bit: don’t be in too big a hurry. It’s only very slight. Something about the lens maybe?”

“No, it’s nothing about the lens,” French retorted. “I’ve got it at last,” he went on in delighted tones. “I see what was done!”

“By the hokey! It’s more than I do,” Nugent declared. “Explain yourself.”

“Well, look here.” French no longer tried to hide his satisfaction. “All those five ruin photos are better lighted towards the top right hand corner, but that is not true of the seven golfing ones taken with the same camera. Therefore it’s nothing about the lens or camera.”

Nugent nodded slowly.

“And it has nothing to do with the light at the ruin, because if so it would vary on the different photos. If there was extra light on the right of a view facing north, it would be on the left of one facing south.”

“You’re right there. But what do you get from it?”

“That they’re the photographs of photographs!” French declared triumphantly.

Nugent stared, then slapped his thigh. “You’ve got it!” he exclaimed. “You’ve got it this time right enough.”

“As I see it,” French continued, “Bristow came here early in August and took the photographs and made enlargements of them. Then he came here again with the ship, bought his new roll, took the first four views of the golfers, screwed his film round for five spaces and took the other three golfing pictures. When he went back to the ship, he took out the roll of films, rewound what was used, put it in again, and screwed it round to No. 5. Then he fixed up his enlargements somewhere in his cabin and photographed them on the proper spaces. All he had then to do was to make sure the original film and enlargements were destroyed and there he was.”

“Good for you. Chief Inspector.”

“But he made his mistake all the same. He overlooked the fact that the light was stronger on the right side than on the left.”

Nugent was enthusiastic. Bristow was a clever ruffian, but he had met his match in French. French was right, they had got their man, though the case still wanted further proof.

“I hope we’ll get it through the enlargements,” French returned. “It’s not an easy thing to make enlargements secretly. The apparatus is clumsy and couldn’t be hidden. I don’t believe Bristow would have attempted to do it himself. And if he got it done for him, we should be able to find out where.”

“Not in Portrush, anyway,” Nugent believed.

“I shouldn’t think anywhere in Northern Ireland,” French returned. “The ruin would probably be recognised. London, I should think, is the likely place. They’ll go into that at the Yard.”

“If that could be proved it would end the case.”

“As far as method is concerned, yes. But we’ve yet to find motive.”

“You thought he had a motive at first?”

“Yes, for two reasons. First, because he had been heard blackguarding Stott, and second because of his letter complaining he hadn’t been paid his percentage.”

“But he agreed that Stott was going to pay him?”

“Yes, and I thought that was an answer to the thing. But now, of course, it might have been a lie, told to cover that very suspicion.”

Nugent thought deeply. “It’ll be the money,” he pronounced presently. “The old fella’ll have been cheating him out of it.”

“He couldn’t. They had an agreement.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve seen it.”

“Could they have gone into court in England? A French boat, you know.”

“It was drawn up and signed and witnessed in England and stamped with an English stamp. I don’t think the boat could affect it.”

Nugent shook his head sagely. “He’s got round it somehow, old Stott has,” he insisted. “Try it again. Chief Inspector. Let’s have the agreement out and see if we can find a hole in it.”

Among French’s notes was a copy of the document. He now read it clause by clause. When he came to that giving the percentages each man was to get, Nugent called a halt.

“Read that again. Chief Inspector,” he demanded. “The nett profits of the said undertaking shall be divided between the said three partners to this agreement in the estimated proportions that their ideas, money and help shall have contributed to its success, this being at present estimated as follows: to the said John Mottram Stott, forty-five percent, to the said Charles Bristow forty-five percent, and to the said Harry Morrison ten percent.”

Suddenly Nugent slapped his thigh. “There you are,” he exclaimed with animation. “There’s the thing at last! Don’t you see?”

“Got it, you think?” French’s manner was tense.

Nugent seemed equally excited. “Well, see,” he returned. “It says, ‘this being at present estimated at so and so’.”

“And if it does?” French’s manner was slightly testy.

“Well, couldn’t he have got out of that? It means that those percentages were liable to revision if the respective contributions of the three partners were altered. Suppose Stott put in another hundred thousand after the concern had been running a while; under that he could claim a larger percentage.”

“Yes, that would be a reasonable provision. But we don’t know that he did put in anything extra.”

“Don’t we?” Nugent returned. “What’s the date of that agreement?”

“October the first, 1937.”

“There you are. That was after they had begun their negotiations and before Stott had decided to buy the ship. Now what happened – if I’m not greatly mistaken – between these dates?”

French moved impatiently. “I hope I’m not being half-witted, but I don’t see what’s in your mind.”

Nugent made a gesture of horror at the idea. “Well, wasn’t it this?” he exclaimed. “Wasn’t it between those two dates that Stott thought of the gambling?”

French sat quite still thinking this over. “You mean that as a result of putting in the gambling idea, Stott would demand a larger percentage?”

“I mean that Stott might have argued that the entire profits came from the gambling and that as a cruise the affair would have been a washout.”

“Not easy to prove that.”

“If you have the books under your own control you can prove a whole lot.”

“Then you think he might have refused Bristow any share at all?”

“I do. I think it’s what he’s done.”

French considered this again. “But, look here,” he said at last. “Even if you’re right, I don’t see how it would lead to murder. How would killing Stott alter the percentages?”

“Revenge, most likely. If Bristow couldn’t enjoy the cash, he’d take damned good care Stott wouldn’t either.”

French was far from satisfied. Murders for revenge did take place about women, but seldom, he thought, about money. Even if Bristow had lost some of what he expected, he could not complain, provided the profits really did come from the gambling. The man, moreover, had a good salary and an extraordinarily interesting and comfortable life. No, there was not enough motive here.

Then suddenly French saw. If John Stott would by a legal quibble evade payment, Wyndham Stott would not. Even if Wyndham thought of the scheme, which was doubtful, he would never adopt it. He might be a gambler, but he was both straight and generous. With Wyndham in control, Bristow would get his money.

Here was ample motive, and when French considered it further he found corroboration. Wyndham was generous and straight, but Percy Luff was neither. Suppose Wyndham should die and the control go to Luff? Would Bristow not then be as badly off as ever?

Here seemed to be the explanation of the button and Mercer letter episodes. If Luff were executed for the murder, it would not only meet this difficulty, but it would ensure Bristow’s own escape from suspicion. To arrange matters that Luff should be convicted would be a very important part of the scheme.

Nugent was enthusiastic about the idea. To the DI it seemed to clear up the entire case. “In theory,” he added after a panegyric. “But it hasn’t been proved yet.”

“I’ll get the proof all right,” French returned optimistically, “but what I want help in is an arrest, and that’s your pigeon.”

Nugent thought an arrest premature, but French was insistent, and eventually he carried the day. The
Hellénique
was then moving down the coast from Aberystwyth to Swansea, while the excursionists drove through the Welsh hills. The warrant could be got that day, and he and Nugent could cross that night to Liverpool, making the arrest at Swansea on the following evening. It could be carried out either ashore or on board inside the three-mile limit, according to whether Bristow had or had not taken the excursion.

This programme was carried out. Armed with the warrant and accompanied by a stalwart Northern Irish constable, French and Nugent took the night boat from Belfast. When the coaches arrived at Swansea on the following evening, Bristow was among the first to alight. French went up to him, while the other two closed in.

“I’m sorry, Mr Bristow,” he greeted him, “that we have an unpleasant duty to perform. It had better be done privately. Will you come away from the others, please? No,” he went on, as an ugly light showed in the man’s eyes, “these are police officers from Portrush: you can’t do anything.”

Bristow’s face went a dead white and for a moment French thought he was going to faint. But he pulled himself quickly together. French, indeed, admired his coolness. With a curt nod he turned and went with them.

^*
Orangemen’s Day, July 12th.

French found the further working-up of the case easier than he had anticipated.

First he dealt with the photographs. He went into Bristow’s movements after he left Portrush early in August. The
Hellénique
was then off the Channel Islands and Bristow had returned to her via Belfast, Liverpool, London and Southampton. On the whole, French thought, it was more likely that he had dealt with the photographs personally, and therefore he began by concentrating on these places. Reproductions were circulated to the local police, with the gratifying result that a photographer was found in Southampton who had made the enlargements. When this man stated that he had been given the order on the date on which Bristow passed through Southampton on his way to the Channel Islands, and when further he picked out Bristow’s photograph from a dozen others, French felt that the foundation-stone of his structure was well and truly laid.

This foundation was still further strengthened by his discovery of twenty tiny perforations, such as might have been made by drawing pins, in the wooden panelling of the wall of Bristow’s sitting room. These were distributed in four lots of five each, and spaced just where the four corners of an enlarged photograph would come. When he found that the ceiling light shone most brilliantly on the upper right hand corner of this parallelogram, he felt he knew what had happened. No doubt Bristow had changed the bulb for a more powerful one when making his exposures, but no proof of this need be looked for, as that larger lamp would now no doubt be overboard.

Among Bristow’s papers, French came upon the next course of the structure he was building. The file labelled “Claims” contained several letters from a lady who had had her left hand crushed between the boat and the ladder when coming aboard. These, he saw at a glance, bore the handwriting of the Mercer-Luff letter, and he was able, after a good deal of work, to find in them the exact model for every word or letter of that work of art.