The Cask · Part I · Chapter 6 (2/2)

“Number one point done. Now for number two,” he muttered, and returning to the entrance gate stood for a moment looking up and down the road. Choosing the direction of London he walked for a quarter of a mile examining the gateways at either side, particularly those that led into fields. Apparently he did not find what he was in search of, for he retraced his steps to where a cross road led off to the left and continued his investigations along it. No better luck rewarding him, he tried a second cross road with the same result. There being no other cross roads, he returned to the lane and set out again, this time with his back to London. At the third gateway, one leading into a field on the left-hand side of the road, he stopped.

It was an ordinary iron farm gate set in the rather high and thick hedge that bounded the road. The field was in grass and bore the usual building ground notice. Immediately aside the gate was a patch of low and swampy looking ground, and it was a number of fresh wheel marks crossing this patch that had caught the Inspector’s attention.

The gate was not padlocked, and Burnley slipped the bolt back and entered the field. He examined the wheel marks with great care. They turned sharply at right angles on passing through the gate and led for a short distance along the side of the fence, stopping beside a tree which grew in the hedge. The hoof marks of a horse and the prints of a man’s hobnailed boots leading over the same ground also came in for a close scrutiny.

It was a contented looking Burnley that turned out of the field and walked back to St. Malo. He was well satisfied with his night’s work. He had firstly succeeded in getting a lot of information out of Felix, and had further turned the latter into a friend anxious to help in the clearing up of the mystery. And though an unexpected check had arisen in the disappearance of the cask, he felt that with the information he had gained in the last three hours it would not be long before he had his hands on it again.

As he approached the door Felix hailed him.

“I saw you coming up,” he said. “What luck?”

“Oh, not so bad, not so bad,” returned the other. “I’m just going back to the city.”

“But the cask? What about it?”

“I’ll start some inquiries that may lead to something.”

“Oh, come now, Inspector, don’t be so infernally close. You might tell me what you’ve got in your mind, for I can see you have something.”

Burnley laughed.

“Oh, well,” he said, “I don’t mind. I’ll tell you what I found; you see what you make of it.

“First, I found your coach-house padlock had been forced with a lever. There was nothing of the kind lying about, therefore whatever theory we adopt must account for this lever’s production and disposal. It may quite likely bear marks corresponding to those on the padlock, which evidence might be valuable.

“I then found that your visitor had arrived at the yard gate with a vehicle and had climbed the wall with the aid of a very peculiar ladder. He had, presumably, opened the gate and, after loading up the cask and drawing his vehicle out on to the drive, had closed the gate, leaving by the same means. There is evidence to show that he lifted the ladder over after him, probably pulling it up by a cord.

“I have said the ladder was a peculiar one. Here is a sketch of its shape so far as I could learn it. You will see that it is short and wide with the ends shaped differently.

“I may remind you, in passing, how easy it would have been to load up the cask in spite of its weight. All that was necessary was to back the vehicle under it and lower out the differential pulley, a thing a man could do with one hand.

“I examined the drive, but could find nothing except at one place where there was a most interesting pair of footmarks. You must really see these for yourself, and if you will stroll down now I will point them out. There is reason to believe they were made by Watty when he was approaching the house with the dray, but I cannot be positive as yet.

“I then examined the lane and found in three places other footmarks by the same man. Finally, about 200 yards along the main road to the north, I found wheel marks leading into a grass field beside which he had walked.

“Now, Mr. Felix, put all these things together. You will find them suggestive, but the footmarks on the drive are very nearly conclusive.”

They had by this time reached the marks.

“Here we are,” said Burnley. “What do you think of these?”

“I don’t see anything very remarkable about them.”

“Look again.”

Felix shook his head.

“See here, Mr. Felix. Stand out here on the gravel and put your right foot in line with this first print. Right. Now take a step forward as if you were walking to the house. Right. Does anything occur to you now?”

“I can’t say that it does, unless it is that I have taken a very much longer step.”

“But your step was of normal length.”

“Well then, conversely, the unknown must have taken a short one.”

“But did he? Assume it was Watty, as I think it must have been. You were with him and you saw him walking.”

“Oh, come now, Inspector. How could I tell that? He didn’t normally take very short steps or I should have noticed it, but I couldn’t possibly say that he never took one.”

“The point is not essential except that it calls attention to a peculiarity in the steps. But you must admit that while possible, it is quite unlikely he would take a step of that length⁠—nineteen inches as against a probable thirty-three⁠—without stumbling or making a false step.”

“But how do you know he didn’t stumble?”

“The impression, my dear sir, the impression. A false step or a stumble would have made a blurred mark or shown heavier on one side than the other. This print shows no slip and is evenly marked all over. It was clearly made quite normally.”

“That seems reasonable, but I don’t see how it matters.”

“To me it seems exceedingly suggestive though, I agree, not conclusive. But there is a nearly conclusive point, Mr. Felix. Look at those prints again.”

“They convey nothing to me.”

“Compare them.”

“Well, I can only compare the heels and there is not much difference between them, just as you would expect between the heels of a pair of boots.” Felix hesitated. “By Jove! Inspector,” he went on, “I’ve got you at last. They’re the same marks. They were both made by the same foot.”

“I think so, Mr. Felix; you have it now. Look here.” The Inspector stooped. “The fourth nail on the lefthand side is gone. That alone might be a coincidence, but if you compare the wear of the other nails and of the leather you will see they are the same beyond doubt.”

He pointed to several little inequalities and inaccuracies in the outline, each of which appeared in both the marks.

“But even if they are the same, I don’t know that I see what you get from that.”

“Don’t you? Well, look here. How could Watty, if it was he, have produced them? Surely only in one of two ways. Firstly, he could have hopped on one foot. But there are three reasons why it is unlikely he did that. One is that he could hardly have done it without your noticing it. Another, that he could never have left so clear an impression in that way. The third, why should he hop? He simply wouldn’t do it. Therefore they were made in the second way. What was that, Mr. Felix?”

Felix started.

“I see what you’re after at last,” he said. “He walked up the drive twice.”

“Of course he did. He walked up first with you to leave the cask. He walked up the second time with the empty dray to get it. If the impressions were really made by Watty that seems quite certain.”

“But what on earth would Watty want with the cask? He could not know there was money in it.”

“Probably not, but he must have guessed it held something valuable.”

“Inspector, you overwhelm me with delight. If he took the cask it will surely be easy to trace it.”

“It may or it may not. Question is, Are we sure he was acting for himself.”

“Who else?”

“What about your French friend? You don’t know whom he may have written to. You don’t know that all your actions with the cask may not have been watched.”

“Oh, don’t make things worse than they are. Trace this Watty, won’t you?”

“Of course we will, but it may not be so easy as you seem to think. At the same time there are two other points, both of which seem to show he was at least alone.”

“Yes?”

“The first is the watcher in the lane. That was almost certainly the man who walked twice up your drive. I told you I found his footmarks at three points along it. One was near your little gate, close beside and pointing to the hedge, showing he was standing there. That was at the very point my man saw the watcher.

“The second point concerns the horse and dray, and this is what leads me to believe the watcher was really Watty. If Watty was listening up the lane where were these? If he had a companion the latter would doubtless have walked them up and down the road. But if he was alone they must have been hidden somewhere while he made his investigations. I’ve been over most of the roads immediately surrounding, and on my fourth shot⁠—towards the north, as I already told you⁠—I found the place. It is fairly clear what took place. On leaving the cask he had evidently driven along the road until he found a gate that did not lead to a house. It was, as I said, that of a field. The marks there are unmistakable. He led the dray in behind the hedge and tied the horse to a tree. Then he came back to reconnoitre and heard you going out. He must have immediately returned and brought the dray, got the cask, and cleared out, and I imagine he was not many minutes gone before my man Walker returned. What do you think of that for a working theory?”

“I think it’s conclusive. Absolutely conclusive. And that explains the queer-shaped ladder.”

“Eh, what? What’s that you say?”

“It must have been the gangway business for loading barrels on the dray. I saw one hooked on below the deck.”

Burnley smote his thigh a mighty slap.

“One for you, Mr. Felix,” he cried, “one for you, sir. I never thought of it. That points to Watty again.”

“Inspector, let me congratulate you. You have got evidence that makes the thing a practical certainty.”

“I think it’s a true bill. And now, sir, I must be getting back to the Yard.” Burnley hesitated and then went on: “I am extremely sorry and I’m afraid you won’t like it, but I shall be straight with you and tell you I cannot⁠—I simply dare not⁠—leave you without some kind of police supervision until this cask business is cleared up. But I give you my word you shall not be annoyed.”

Felix smiled.

“That’s all right. You do your duty. The only thing I ask you is to let me know how you get on.”

“I hope we’ll have some news for you later in the day.”

It was now shortly after eight, and the car had arrived with the two men sent back the previous evening. Burnley gave them instructions about keeping a watch on Felix, then with Sergeant Hastings and Constable Walker he entered the car and was driven rapidly towards London.