Murder Abroad (25 page)

Bobby laid down his pen once more and looked grave. It seemed to him that under motive, association, opportunity, temperament, a formidable case existed. He felt that in England he could have submitted it with some confidence to Treasury counsel.

Yet he reflected, too, that there was no material proof. Romantic and emotional temperaments are precisely those that shrink from cold-blooded murder, they are inconsistent with such brutality as the throwing of a still living woman down a well.

‘If Miss Polthwaite had been found with her head bashed in, I could have believed it of Camion more easily,' Bobby wrote, ‘though of course he may have been quite off his head with fear and fury, and when, and, if he threw her down the well, he may have thought only of concealment and not realized she was alive. But all's conjecture.”

Bobby shook his head again, ill-satisfied, and wrote slowly the name of the next upon his list:

‘Henri Volny'.

Again he wrote all he knew and had observed about the young man, the state of poverty in which he was kept by his father, his ambition to become a first-class boxer, his need of funds for the preliminary training, his attempt to drive away Mr. and Mrs. Williams from the Pépin Mill and his secret association with the Abbé Taylour, his tendency to resort to violence when he felt himself of superior strength, as when he had threatened Bobby after the visit to the Abbé Taylour he was apparently anxious should not be known. Finally Bobby dwelt upon his recent disappearance that seemed to suggest guilty flight. There was, too, the fact that he was a rival of Camion's for Lucille's favour, and that rivalry might possibly have been a motive urging him to try to get hold of the cash Miss Polthwaite was contemplating giving to Camion, so putting him in a favourable position for urging his suit with Lucille.

‘Jealousy, poverty, rivalry, all strong motives,' Bobby wrote, ‘but again no material proof, though Volny's disappearance is suspicious; and it is clear he knew or suspected something or why was he trying to chase away the Williamses?'

Once again Bobby laid down his pen and once again took it up.

‘Père Trouché'
.

He wrote, and wrote of him at length, for the old blind beggar interested him and of him, too, he felt doubtful, suspicious even, finding it difficult to come to any decided opinion about him.

‘An old scamp,' he wrote, ‘but what kind of old scamp? and is he really blind? There's my hundred-franc note test, of course, but that can't be full proof unless I can trace it back to his possession. Some one else may have picked it up. He is said to have had a grudge against Miss Polthwaite for her threat to complain to the police about him—and he is not a man to forget a grudge in a hurry—and by his own admission he was on the spot on the night of the murder. If he heard Camion's threats, he may have thought them good cover for himself. He boasts himself indifferent to money, and perhaps that is suspicious, too, for is there any one really indifferent to money? I think there's a case against the old man. On his own showing, he is fond of revenging himself on people who happen to offend him. Apparently, too, there is a record of violence and at least a suspicion that he has already killed. He seems, too, to know so much of what goes on, that almost certainly he would have heard talk of Miss Polthwaite's supposed hoard.'

The next name Bobby wrote was:

‘Basil Shields'
.

Of him, too, Bobby wrote in great detail, dwelling on the terms of intimacy on which he stood with Miss Polthwaite, the likelihood, therefore, that he knew a good deal of her private affairs, on the significant fact that he had acted as her art teacher. Then, too, he had kept up his connection with the village in a somewhat marked manner. Bobby went into specially full details of his own first encounter with Shields when Shields had talked pointedly about ‘coincidence', as if he had felt it necessary to explain his reappearance in the district.

‘Is there anything,' Bobby wrote, ‘in Shields's friendship with Eudes? On the face of it, they would not seem to have much in common. Why was Shields interested in my arrival? Simply because he had heard I was a fellow-countryman and a brother artist? Is that likely? Or had he been warned by Eudes, and was his visit to make sure that I really was what I seemed to be—a casual tourist fond of sketching? If so, then he and Eudes are partners—and partners may mean accomplices. Yet if they are guilty and are in possession of Miss Polthwaite's valuables, I still do not see why the mere appearance of a stray Englishman should so much upset them when the authorities appeared satisfied.

‘Again is Shields as successful as he claims to be in selling his stuff? He boasts of a very comfortable income from his sales and yet does not seem to spend much money—economy or scarcity? Shields is certainly not a really well-known man, but then I believe some artists have private connections they do well out of. He seems, too, to have been the chief suspect of the French police till his apparently impregnable alibi satisfied them. Personally I don't like alibis, seen too much of them. Every rogue is of the elder Mr. Weller's opinion. Even a grave in the churchyard alibi may be a fake—twin brother perhaps.'

It was some time before Bobby roused himself from the deep thought in which he now became lost and wrote down the next name on his list:

‘Eudes'
.

Of the schoolmaster, Bobby had less to write. The association, perhaps suspicious, perhaps innocent, with Shields he had already dealt with. Now Bobby noted his undisguised eagerness to secure money for starting his projected journal from which he hoped such great things and the fact that such fanaticism as his may easily take a man far.

‘Anti-clericalism,' Bobby wrote, ‘is itself a kind of religious fanaticism, and religious fanatics are unpredictable. Of course, starting a paper in France is much easier and simpler than it would be in England, and is often an ambitious politician's first step. Eudes is ambitious enough, that is fairly evident, and very likely he sees his paper as the first step to high political office. Though he would need very much less capital for the enterprise than would be required in England, it would still probably be very much more than he would have any chance of raising in the ordinary way.

‘You have to remember, though, that he is one of the three suspects with an apparently sound alibi, since he was attending a political conference at the time at Dijon. I suppose one can slip away from political conferences and Dijon is not so far from here, but I take it his alibi was checked at the time, though goodness knows how carefully.'

Of the next name Bobby put down:

‘Abbé Taylour',

there was even less to write. He was one of the three who had an alibi, since apparently he had been ill at the time of the murder. But he himself had said that his fever had gone by the time a doctor saw him and it is not difficult to sham a few symptoms that a doctor with no reason to be doubtful, would accept as genuine. The sole ground for suspicion in his case seemed to be that he was a somewhat mysterious person come suddenly to live near where a mysterious murder presently occurred. Bobby was conscious, too, of a vague feeling that in some way the regular hanging out of a lamp at night was somehow of importance and yet he could not think how that could be. No possible connection, it would seem, between a lantern high up upon the hill-side and a murder occurring in the valley far below.

Next was written:

‘Abbé Granges, curé of Citry-sur-l'eau'
,

and there, of course, what Bobby emphasized was the fact that the curé was actually in possession of uncut diamonds that once admittedly had belonged to the murdered woman. True, he said they had been a free gift, but of that there was no proof. Again he had been upon the spot about the time of the murder, he had apparently overheard the quarrel and Camion s threat, and, as in Père Trouché's case, might have seen the opportunity to use such threats as cover for his own contemplated crime. Was it possible, too, that the visit he had induced Camion to make to the bishop had been for the purpose of diverting any possible suspicion from himself? A far-fetched notion, perhaps, and yet in such a mirk of fog and doubt one had to consider every possibility. Remarkable, too, that living in such extreme poverty as seemed to be the case—even as Bobby had heard, taking long walks in the winter to keep himself warm so as to save fuel—he yet spoke continuously of his project for restoring the Citry church to its former glory. There was his tale of ‘l'oncle d'Amerique' certainly, but that might well be merely a blind. Bobby shook his head as he put all this down. It was at least susceptible of being interpreted as evidence of guilt.

Finally Bobby wrote the names of

‘Mr. and Mrs. Williams'
,

He dwelt on their tenancy of the Pépin Mill which he did not believe for one moment was merely a coincidence, but added that on the theory of their guilt their sudden departure seemed hard to understand since no fresh threat to them had appeared. If they were innocent, though, they might well have decided that they didn't want to have anything more to do with the Pépin Mill and its mysteries. Bobby dwelt, too, on all the many odd and suspicious facts about them he had noted, their attempt to bully Lucille, their attempt to drive him himself out of the village, and other such details.

‘They were at the Pépin Mill in my belief,' he wrote finally, ‘neither for health nor for holiday, but for some purpose of their own, and, in view of their record, probably a criminal purpose. Is it the diamonds supposed to have been in Miss Polthwaite's possession that they think are still somewhere in the garden or on the premises and are trying to find? If so, how do they know about them? Why do they think the stuff is still there? If they do think so, are they right? If so, have they found it and is that why they cleared out in such a hurry? Did they commit the crime, and did they know the diamonds were still somewhere in or near the mill for the very good reason that they had failed to find them? Apparently they were never seen in the village till they rented the mill and they claim they were in Paris at the time of the murder. But I suppose that alibi was not checked, since, when the investigation was on, they had not been heard of—they were then in fact in the position of the unknown “X”, a detective has always to keep in mind. In any case I still stick to it that alibis, like promises and piecrusts, are made to be broken.'

He paused and for a long time remained frowning and deep in thought. Then he took his pen again and wrote more slowly:

‘Well, to sum up, this is how it stands.

‘Take motive first:

I. GREED.

A. Camion.

Camion needed money to realize ambitions Miss Polthwaite had herself aroused. She had promised him money and after their quarrel might have refused it.

B. Volny.

He was kept short by his well-to-do father and had talked about going to America to train for professional boxing.

C. The curé.

He needed it and apparently expected to procure it, to rebuild his church.

D. Eudes.

He required it to start his projected paper and realize his political ambitions.

2. ALIBI.

Alibis, by implication or directly, are claimed by Williams, Eudes, Shields, the Abbé Taylour.

3. IDENTITY (of time and place).

Camion, the curé, Père Trouché, are known to have been near the mill at the time of the murder.

4. ILL FEELING.

A. Père Trouché had been threatened by Miss Polthwaite with the police and boasts of revenging himself on those who offend him.

B. Camion is known to have quarrelled with Miss Polthwaite that night and to have uttered violent threats.

C. Volny is said to have resented her show of friendship towards Camion.

5. CHARACTER.

Both Camion and Volny have shown a tendency to resort to violence, Camion when he felt his “honour'' injured, Volny against those he believed weaker than himself. Both conditions apply. Père Trouché boasts of his revenges and is under some suspicion of having killed already. Williams has a criminal record.'

Bobby once more paused to re-read what he had written and frowned again to contemplate so many indications all pointing different ways. Then he wrote:

If you look at and read everything from the very beginning over again carefully, you will see—it is of course perfectly obvious, even a child at school couldn't miss it—that the murderer's name may be there on record, staring us right in the face all the time. But even so, it doesn't help—not, I mean, from the official point of view which only considers the solid proof you can rub a jury's collective nose into. Still, there it is as, at least, a clear indication.'

But even yet he added a postscript. It ran:

‘I am waiting anxiously for your reply about those broken bits of wine glasses I sent you. If my luck is in, and Records finds finger-prints on them, any finger-prints at all, I shall chance my arm and go to the police commissaire. Not that the finger-prints, even if found, will affect anything in this letter or any of my previous ideas. But I shall gamble, I shall have to, on my other guess being right. Only if it's wrong, I shall probably find myself advised to return home by the next train and not meddle with other people's business. I shall be on the fidgets till your letter gets here.'

He had scarcely written these last words when Madame Camion came out from the hotel with a letter that had just arrived. He opened it eagerly and found within two sets of photographs of clearly defined finger-prints.

“That means me for the commissaire,” Bobby told himself uncomfortably, “and quite likely me put on the train and packed off back to England for an interfering, fussy fool. Got to chance it, though.”

He noticed that Madame Camion was lingering near. Evidently there was something she wanted to tell him. When she saw that she had his attention, she said to him: “There is news about that poor Monsieur Williams. It seems he is less sober in Paris than here, for now one hears he has been in trouble with the police and they put him in the shade for a day or two.”