The Ponson Case · Chapter 6 (2/2)

“Mr. Ponson, as reasonable men we must both see that you were interested. You will forgive me⁠—I don’t wish to be offensive⁠—but it is common knowledge that you are in low water financially, and that you benefit considerably under the will.”

“Good Heavens!” Ponson cried angrily, “and do you actually mean to say you suspect me of murdering Sir William?”

“I mean nothing of the kind, Mr. Ponson. I only want to justify myself in asking you the question to which you have just objected.”

Cosgrove did not reply. At last Tanner went on in a courteous tone:

“Obviously, I cannot force you to answer me, Mr. Ponson. But it must be clear to you that should you decline you may raise suspicions which, no matter how unfounded, are bound to be unpleasant. Please don’t think I am speaking threateningly. You can see the matter as clearly as I.”

The Inspector’s moderation appeared to bring Cosgrove, to a decision. He moved nervously, and then replied:

“I suppose you are right, Inspector, and that I have no cause to resent your inquiries. I haven’t the slightest objection to telling you where I was when you explain yourself as you have just done.”

“I am much obliged. It will save me a lot of trouble.”

Cosgrove settled himself more comfortably in his armchair.

“I remember that Wednesday night,” he began, “for I did one of the silliest things that night that I have ever been guilty of, and I think I may say without bragging I am usually as wide awake as most people. But I shall tell you.

“You know, or perhaps you don’t, that I go in a good deal for racing. I have a small stable not far from Bath, and I make a bit off dealing and training as well as on the course. For some time I have wanted another horse, and there was one for sale near Montrose that seemed the thing, so much so that I determined to run down and see it. I have a good many engagements, mostly of a social kind, and I found that the only day I could go was the Thursday of last week⁠—the day after my poor Uncle disappeared. There was an ‘At Home’ at the Duchess of Frothingham’s on the Wednesday afternoon, and a ball at Lincolnshire House on Friday evening, at both of which I wished to be present, so I decided to travel to Montrose by the night train on Wednesday, see the horse on Thursday, return to London that night, and get some sleep on Friday, so as to be fresh for the evening.

“This programme I carried out, but not quite as I had intended. I was at the Duchess of Frothingham’s till a little after five, when I returned home, dined and drove to King’s Cross to catch the 7:15 for the north. This train was due at Montrose about 5:30 the next morning, and it was my intention to drive the three or four miles out to the training stables and see the horses at their early exercise, returning to town when convenient.

“I reached King’s Cross in good time, found the sleeping berth which I had engaged was ready for me, deposited my things therein, and began to make myself comfortable. Wishing to smoke I drew out my cigar-case, and then I discovered it was empty. I was considerably annoyed, not only for my own sake, but because I wished to be able to offer a smoke to the man with whom I hoped to deal. I glanced at my watch. It was still ten minutes past seven. Thinking I had plenty of time I seized my hat and ran to the refreshment room, which was close by. As I was selecting some cigars I glanced up at the refreshment room clock. It was pointing to 7:15.

“ ‘Your clock’s fast, I suppose?’ I said.

“ ‘No, I don’t think so,’ the girl answered.

“I left the cigars on the counter and ran out on the platform. But the clock was right, and all I saw was my train moving off. It was already going too fast to board, and I had to accept the fact that it was gone with my luggage in the sleeping berth.

“I looked at my watch. It was still showing two minutes to the quarter. It was usually an excellent timekeeper, but in some way which I can’t account for just on the occasion that mattered, it was three minutes slow. Pretty maddening, wasn’t it?”

“It’s the way things happen,” said Tanner philosophically.

“Isn’t it? Well, I got my cigars, and then I went to the Stationmaster’s Office and asked what I should do. It appeared there was a comparatively slow train to Dundee at 8:30, but the next to Montrose was the express at 10:30. Even by taking a car from Dundee this earlier train would not get me to the stables in time for the morning exercise, so I decided my best plan would be to take the 10:30. I then asked about a sleeping berth. But here my luck was out. All those on the 10:30 were engaged.

“ ‘And what about my things that have gone on in the 7:15?’ I asked.

“ ‘They will be all right,’ the clerk answered. ‘The first stop of both the 7:15 and the 10:30 is Grantham, and I shall wire the agent there to have your things collected from the 7:15 and handed in to you on the 10:30.’

“This seemed the best arrangement, and I thanked the man, and having telegraphed to the dealer at Montrose, I strolled out of the station, wondering how I could best put in my three hours.

“More by force of habit than otherwise I took a taxi and drove back to my rooms. But my little adventure had made me restless, and I couldn’t settle down to spend a lonely evening. I would have liked to go to the Follies and see my friend Miss Betty Belcher, but I knew she was acting all the evening except during part of the second act, say from about 9:30 till 10:00. To pass the time till 9:30 I at last decided to go to the Empire. I did so. I left my rooms almost at once, drove to the Empire, sat there for an hour or so, and then went to the Follies. From about 9:30 till 10:00 I sat with Miss Belcher in her room, then when it was nearly time for her to go on again I made my adieux and returned to King’s Cross. I took care not to miss the 10:30, and at Grantham I got out and found a porter looking for me with my things. I duly reached Montrose about half-past eight next morning. So I trust you won’t any longer suspect me of being at Halford.”

Tanner laughed.

“How was I to know, sir, what you did until you told me? I am very greatly obliged. You have saved me an immensity of useless work.”

Cosgrove Ponson was quite mollified. He seemed like a man from whose shoulders a weight had been removed. He took out his cigar-case.

“I don’t know if it will confirm my story,” he said smiling, “but I hope in any case you will smoke one of the actual cigars I bought at King’s Cross.”

The Inspector accepted. He asked a few more questions, obtained the name of the Montrose horse-dealer, and then, with further compliments and thanks, took his leave.

It was obvious to him that, if true, Cosgrove’s story made a complete alibi. If he had been at King’s Cross at 7:30 o’clock, at the Follies Theatre at 9:30, and had travelled from King’s Cross to Montrose by the 10:30 express it was out of the question that he could have been at Luce Manor. Satisfied as Tanner was as to the soundness of Austin Ponson’s alibi, Cosgrove’s was even more convincing, and what was better still, it would be easier to test. Though he did not believe Cosgrove would make such a statement unless it could bear the touchstone of inquiry, Tanner felt his obvious next business would be to check what he had just heard so fully as to remove all possible doubt of Cosgrove’s innocence.