Read The Milliner's Hat Mystery Online
Authors: Basil Thomson
The Milliner's Hat Mystery (25 page)
“It will be opened in your presence,” said Vincent; “and you can see that everything taken out of it is replaced provided that there is nothing in it to which you have no right. Get a hammer and chisel, Walker.”
The tools were brought and at the second blow of the hammer the lock gave way. The box contained nothing but a leather cash bag such as bank messengers use. That, too, had to be opened forcibly, since Green declined to supply a key. It was packed with Bank of England notes of varying denominations and at the bottom lay a passbook of the National Insurance Bank in the name of Bernard Pitt.
Vincent turned towards Green, from whom all truculence had now disappeared. “Arthur Green, I arrest you for the murder of Bernard Pitt by shooting him through the head. You are not obliged to make any statement.”
Goron and Vincent breakfasted together half an hour after the arrival of the train from Newquay.
“So you have arrested the man you believe to be the murderer of Pitt,” said Goron; “and that fantastic story told by those Americans is true after all.”
“Yes.”
“What interests me keenly is the difference between criminal procedure in England and its counterpart in my own country. There is a refreshing finality about your English procedure. With us a lawyer would be briefed; there would be interminable delays; the case would be carried to the Cours de Cassation and thence to I know not what legal authorities until it reached the President of the Republic. By that time the wretched prisoner would have been languishing in jail for perhaps two years. With you there is only one appeal.”
“Yes, when the Court of Criminal Appeal has pronounced its decision the matter is ended except for private petitions to the Home Secretary for a respite of the sentence; such respites are very rarely given.”
“That is why violent crime is less common in England than it is in France. Your justice is not only sure but swift and that is the secret of judicial administration. But now tell me, confidentially, has your man made a confession?”
“No, we do not press our prisoners to confess, but we do not bring him to justice until the case against him is watertight enough to satisfy the Director of Public Prosecutions.”
Goron heaved a sigh. “Ah! If only politics were not involved in criminal cases, it might be the same with us. People are apt to say that the democratic institutions of our two countries are the same. Alas! There is a wide difference. No political party would dare to interfere with judicial punishments in England; whereas with usâ¦But tell me, how do you regard your case as watertight?”
“Well, the story that Blake and Lewis told was that their car was held up in the road by a masked bandit who killed Pitt and made off with a bag of money. That money, consisting of notes that could be identified, was found in Green's possession, and, what is more, a search of his room revealed a black mask hidden in a drawer.”
“How strange that criminals should so often preserve objects that bring the crime home to them! Was his motive only robbery?”
“Partly revenge, I think. It appears that at one time he was a fellow employee of a woman named Alice Dodds; they were in the service of Mrs Pearson, Laurillard's daughter. She employed Dodds over the drug traffic, with the inevitable result that Dodds herself took to drugs. After that Green took service with Pitt and blackmailed him. Pitt promised to give him two thousand pounds to clear out of the country with his young woman, Dodds, but Green discovered that Pitt was on the point of leaving England himself without redeeming his promise. That, in my opinion, supplied the motive. From enquiries I have made, Green found out the make of car that Pitt was hiring and his time of departure. He lay in wait for him in the open road and shot him.”
“And so while you were hunting for the murderer in France he was here under your very nose.”
“Had Pitt's companions been just ordinary law-abiding passengers they would have denounced the murderer and he would have been run to ground sooner, but they were criminals with much to hide and Pitt himself was no flower; he was bolting with money stolen from his employers.”
“A pretty nest of rascals. But why didn't Arthur Green make his escape while there was time?”
“To do him justice I think he was trying to persuade the woman to go with him and she was in such an advanced state of addiction to drugs that she hung back. Then, apparently, he was afraid to use the money because the numbers of the notes were known.”
“It seems to me,” said Goron, “that the person who deserves the heaviest punishment is Laurillard's daughter, Mrs Pearson.”
“Yes, the sinister part of it is that she will escape scot free.”
“Never mind, my friend, in hunting down your murderer, you have rendered a signal service to us in France. You have enabled us to close down another of these poison factories which were sapping the strength of our youth. These young people began poisoning themselves from a sense of adventure, the sense that assails most young people at some time of wishing to defy the law.”
“Yes, if the sacrifice of Alice Dodds and of this young fool, Green, could be a warning to others, their deaths will expiate their follies.”
THE END
S
IR
B
ASIL
H
OME
T
HOMSON
(1861-1939) was educated at Eton and New College Oxford. After spending a year farming in Iowa, he married in 1889 and worked for the Foreign Service. This included a stint working alongside the Prime Minister of Tonga (according to some accounts, he
was
the Prime Minister of Tonga) in the 1890s followed by a return to the Civil Service and a period as Governor of Dartmoor Prison. He was Assistant Commissioner to the Metropolitan Police from 1913 to 1919, after which he moved into Intelligence. He was knighted in 1919 and received other honours from Europe and Japan, but his public career came to an end when he was arrested for committing an act of indecency in Hyde Park in 1925 â an incident much debated and disputed.
His eight crime novels featuring series character Inspector Richardson were written in the 1930's and received great praise from Dorothy L. Sayers among others. He also wrote biographical and criminological works.
Richardson's First Case
Richardson Scores Again
The Case of Naomi Clynes
The Case of the Dead Diplomat
The Dartmoor Enigma
Who Killed Stella Pomeroy?
A Murder is Arranged
A Murder is Arranged
None of the other guests could explain what she was doing in Crooked Lane during the nightâ¦
Beautiful Margaret Gask, guest at Scudamore Hall, was shot to death on the driveway of the estate. The mink coat that she should have been wearing turned out to be the first clue Scotland Yard had to work on. Then a man she knew, a receiver of stolen goods, turns up dead. Soon more shady characters are drawn into the story: receivers, jewel thieves, confidence men and convicted felons on both sides of the Channel.
Richardson, now Chief Constable, orchestrates the clues concerning a murdered French senator, the theft of a famous emerald, a fake Italian prince and a mysterious priest who sought sanctuary after perpetrating thefts and felonies all over France. The case ends back in Scudamore Hall, where an ecclesiastical robe replaces a mink coat as Exhibit A.
The last and arguably most entertaining of all the Richardson novels,
A Murder is Arranged
(1937) has action, humour and a brilliant cast of major and minor characters. This new edition, the first in many decades, includes a new introduction by crime novelist Martin Edwards, acclaimed author of genre history
The Golden Age of Murder
.
“Few authors can claim such an intimate knowledge of Scotland Yard and criminals as Sir Basil Thomson, one-time Assistant Commissioner at the Yard. He provides subtle intrigue, clever deduction, and bright dialogue.”
Referee
Chapter One
I
T WAS
the duty of Chief Constable Richardson's clerk to run through the morning papers and call his chief's attention to any case in which the help of New Scotland Yard (C.I.D. Central) might be invoked. The clerk, a patrol named Walter Goodwin, brought in a number of newspaper cuttings one morning in December.
“Anything special?” asked Richardson.
“Not in the metropolitan area, sir, but there's a case at Marplesdon in Surrey that I think you ought to read.” Richardson took up the cutting from a popular paper and read:
“
MYSTERIOUS SHOOTING CASE NEAR MARPLESDON, SURREY.
“In the early hours of yesterday morning the body of a young woman in evening dress was found lying in Crooked Lane, which traverses Marplesdon Common. She has been identified as Miss Margaret Gask, one of the guests at Scudamore Hall where Mr Forge is entertaining a house party for Christmas. She had been shot through the head. None of the other guests was able to explain why she should have been in Crooked Lane during the night. Apparently she had said good night and retired to her room just before midnight. Her bed had not been slept in.”
“This is just the sort of case in which the chief constable of Surrey may ask for help from Central,” said Richardson. “Who have we got available?”
His clerk reflected. “I believe that Detective Inspector Dallas has about cleared up that case in Chelsea. His report is coming in to you, sir.”
“Very well; we must sit tight until we have an application from the Surrey chief constable.”
“Very good, sir.”
“You might tell Mr Dallas that probably he will be wanted and he must not undertake any fresh case until he has seen me.”
“Very good, sir.”
When his clerk had left the room Richardson began to run through the telephone messages received since the previous evening, marking most of them “F.P.”, signifying “former papers to be attached.” They would then go to the C.I.D. Registry and return to him a little later with bulky files tied up in bundles. He had scarcely finished his task when Constable Goodwin returned, holding one of the flimsies from the telephone room at the top of the building.
“What have you got there?” asked Richardson.
“A message from the chief constable of Surrey, sir.”
Richardson read it. It was the request for help that he had expected for the shooting case at Marplesdon.
“Ask Inspector Dallas to come round.”
Two minutes later a man of about thirty-five announced himself with a single sharp rap on the door.
“You wanted to see me, sir.”
“Yes, Mr Dallas. I have here a telephone message from the C.C. of Surrey asking for our help in a murder case at Marplesdon. He is sending over Chief Inspector Vernon to explain the circumstances. You have nothing pressing on hand at the moment?”
“No sir.”
âWell then, you'd better take on this case. Look out for Chief Inspector Vernon and go with him. You needn't trouble the chief inspector to come and see me unless he particularly wishes to. The case may turn out to be simpler than it appears in the newspaper report.”
Next morning Richardson found at the top of the papers on his writing table a report with a green label marked “pressing” attached to it. He knew the handwriting as that of Detective Inspector Dallas.
“In accordance with instructions I met Chief Inspector Vernon on his arrival and we proceeded together to Scudamore Hall, owned by Mr Forge. It is a large house finished only a few weeks ago. On our way Mr Vernon gave me an account of the crime as far as he knew it. The body of the woman in evening dress had been discovered by a labourer named Henry Farnell on his way to work in the morning of December twentieth, Crooked Lane being on the direct line he would take from his cottage to his place of work. He informed the police and the body was carried into the schoolhouse at Marplesdon to await the inquest. It had been identified by Mr Forge as that of a young lady, Margaret Gask, a member of his house party at Scudamore Hall. She had been shot through the head, probably by a revolver bullet which had gone through the skull from left to right, but in spite of an exhaustive search no trace of the bullet could be discovered.
“Mr Forge, the owner of the Hall, was a war profiteer and had contrived to stick to his fortune. Nothing is known against him. I gathered that Mr Forge has a habit of picking up chance acquaintances in hotel bars. It was thus that he had first made the acquaintance of the murdered woman, Margaret Gask, in a Paris hotel. He speaks no French and when he was in difficulties in the reception room at the Hotel Terminus she volunteered her help, being quite qualified to act as an interpreter, though her intervention was not really necessary, since most of the staff speak English intelligibly. During his stay in Paris she acted as guide and he invited her to come over to England as a member of his house party at Scudamore Hall for Christmas. After a slight demur she consented. She had been his guest for only four days when her body was discovered shot through the head in the road known as Crooked Lane.
“On questioning the guests and staff at Scudamore Hall, Chief Inspector Vernon ascertained that the last person to see the deceased woman alive was a young man named Gerald Huskisson, of no occupation and known to be in financial straits. He also had met the woman in Paris and though he was believed to be in love with her he had had a serious quarrel with herâa fact that was known to other guests at the Hall.
“Mr Vernon also informed me that he had made a search of the premises and had discovered in a shed at a small distance from the ordinary garage an Austin Twelve car bearing the number P.J.C.4291. The chief inspector recognised the number as that of a car which was wanted in connection with serious injuries to a woman who had been knocked down by it near Kingston. The driver had accelerated without stopping to succour the injured woman. Mr Vernon took the usual steps to discover the owner and found that it belonged to a Mr Oborn, a guest at the Hall. When questioned at Police Headquarters he denied all knowledge of the accident and said that a dent on the fender had been caused by bad steering when entering the shed. The number of the car had been supplied by two witnesses who saw the accident.
“Arriving at Scudamore Hall the door was opened by a man dressed like a butler. I recognised this man as Alfred Curtis, alias Thomas Wilson, with Criminal Record Office number 2753. He has had five or six previous convictions, always for the same kind of offenceâgetting himself engaged as an indoor servant with a forged character and robbing members of the house party. He seemed much disconcerted at seeing me and without disclosing his identity I put discreet questions to Mr Forge about the butler's movements on the night of the murder. It had been a very foggy night and some of the invited guests had telephoned to say that they might arrive very late, owing to the fog. The butler had therefore had to sit up until past 3 A.M. to receive them. Thus he had a watertight alibi if Dr Treherne, who made the post-mortem, was correct in believing that the woman had been shot not later than midnight.
“The coroner intends to hold the inquest in the school-house at Marplesdon this afternoon at 2 P.M. and both Chief Inspector Vernon and I will be present. We think that it would be unwise to question any of the witnesses until they have given their evidence.
“A
LBERT
D
ALLAS
,
Detective Inspector.
”
