The Ponson Case · Chapter 9 (2/2)

“Not quite. At least I am not sure. It is my cousin I am really interested in. I want to ask your help, Mr. Tanner. My cousin, who is a little⁠—well, fond of her own way, has written you a letter, a compromising letter, one which should never have been written. You probably haven’t received it yet, but in it she asks you to inform Mr. Ponson that she holds him to the engagement that they had just fixed up, and is going to announce it at once. Now, Mr. Tanner, you will see that this is quixotic and absurd, and it musn’t be allowed. I have succeeded in getting her to promise to say nothing for the present, and what I want to ask you is to be so good as to respect her confidence, and keep her name out of it.”

Tanner looked somewhat distressed.

“I should be only too glad,” he answered, “to do as you say, especially as I so greatly respected and admired what I saw of Miss Drew, if only it were possible. But I fear it won’t be. I am afraid the engagement will be an integral part of the Crown case. But I may say that I shall not use Miss Drew’s letter. Both she herself and Mr. Ponson told me of the engagement.”

“You don’t say so? And have you mentioned it to anyone else?”

“Only to my chief.”

“Well, you know the case against Mr. Ponson, and I don’t. I can only ask that you don’t make the fact public until it is absolutely necessary.”

“That I will promise you with pleasure.”

“I am very grateful. And now there is another thing,” and Jimmy explained that he wanted to see Austin, and for what reason.

“I shall certainly raise no objection,” Tanner answered, “but I’m afraid your application will have to go through the usual channel.”

“Of course. When is he to be brought before the magistrate?”

“Tomorrow at eleven.”

Two hours later the door of Austin’s cell opened to admit the junior partner of Messrs. Willington, Daunt & Daunt. Austin was sitting with his head on his hands and an expression of deep gloom on his face, but he rose with a look of inquiry as Jimmy entered.

“Mr. Ponson?” said the latter as he introduced himself. “I come on rather delicate business. It is on behalf of my cousin, Miss Lois Drew,” and he told of the interview which he had just had. Austin was much moved.

“God bless her!” he cried hoarsely. “Isn’t it unbelievable, even for her! But it must be stopped, Mr. Daunt, at all costs it must be stopped. Her name must be kept out of it no matter what happens.”

Jimmy did not repeat what Tanner had told him.

“I’m glad you agree, Mr. Ponson,” he said. “Now another point. May I ask who is acting for you in this matter?”

Austin passed his hand, wearily over his forehead.

“I’m afraid I haven’t arranged anything yet. You see, I only arrived here a few hours ago.”

“But who is your usual man of business?”

“Any little thing I have wanted done up to the present I have taken to Mr. Hopkins, of Halford, and he was present at the adjourned inquest on my behalf. He is as straight as a die, but he is elderly, and I dare say out of date. I’m afraid he wouldn’t be much use at this kind of thing. Wills and deeds are more in his line. I wonder, Mr. Daunt, if I asked you to take it on would it draw attention to Lois?”

“It’s rather a delicate matter as it looks like cadging for business, but for Lois’s sake I should be glad to act for you. As for dragging in her name, I don’t think half a dozen people in the world know we are cousins, and at Halford probably no one. Besides, you would not employ me, but the firm.”

“Then I do employ your firm⁠—if you will be good enough to act. What is the first step?”

“The first legal step is to be present in court on your behalf tomorrow. Then I shall get hold of the case against you, after which we will put our heads together over your defence. But there is also your own family to consider. Have you any near relatives other than your mother, sister, and cousin?”

“None.”

“I presume you would like me to take them into our confidence?”

Austin agreed and they discussed the matter further, arranging terms and other details.

“Now, Mr. Ponson,” said Jimmy when these were settled, “I have to give you a very solemn warning. Your very life may depend on how you heed it. It is this. You must tell me the truth. I don’t mean refrain from falsehood only, but tell me everything⁠—everything you know. It is only fair to say that if you hold anything back I can no longer help you, and you may be signing your own death warrant. Do you realise that?”

“I certainly do. You need not be afraid. I’ll be only too thankful to tell you. Now ask your questions.”

“You forget I know nothing of the case as yet. Just tell me the whole business from beginning to end and with all the details you can.”

Austin sat motionless for a moment as if collecting his thoughts, then, settling himself more comfortably, he began to speak.

He opened by explaining his relations with his father, and his mode of life in Halford, and then described his friendship with Lois Drew, culminating in his proposal and the engagement. He told of the note he had received on that fatal Wednesday evening, his taking the boat to the Old Ferry, the self-styled servant of Mrs. Franklyn, her message, his walk to the Abbey, his visit to the Franklyns’ house, and his call at the Drews. Then he recounted the circumstances of Sir William’s death, the call from Innes, the inquiries at Dr. Graham’s, the search for and discovery of the body, the subsequent inquest, the interview with Tanner, the latter’s questions, and the demand for the shoes, and finally, the medical evidence at the adjourned inquest, and his arrest. He stated he had no idea what the discovery was which led to this culmination.

It was clear to Jimmy Daunt that he must hear Tanner’s side of it before he knew where they stood. Nothing more could be done that night. He therefore told his new client to keep his heart up, took his leave and went home.

The proceedings next morning were purely formal, evidence of arrest only being given. Austin was remanded for a week, bail being refused.

Daunt made it his business to see Lady Ponson, Enid, and Cosgrove, all of whom expressed themselves as being heartily in agreement with Austin’s selection of advice. It was decided that if the case went on to trial, Sir Mortimer Byecroft, K.C., one of the most eminent criminal experts at the bar, should be retained for the defence.

When Daunt received the depositions of the crown witnesses, he saw at a glance that he was up against something very much stiffer than he had anticipated. The motive suggested for the crime was horribly adequate. In the face of Austin’s story of his visit to the Abbey ruins, the evidence of Lucy Penrose and young Potts was almost overwhelmingly damaging. But when Daunt read of the purchase of the two identical pairs of shoes, and grasped the theory of the faked alibi which this seemed to support he was genuinely aghast. “Heavens!” he thought, “if the fellow hasn’t an explanation of this, he’s as guilty as sin!”

Accordingly, Daunt lost no time in again seeing his client, and at his interview he did not mince matters.

“Look here, Mr. Ponson,” he said. “There are two bad bits of evidence against you and I want to hear what you have to say about them. About 9:30 that night you tell me you were halfway to the Abbey. Is that so?”

“Certainly. I was on the path between the Abbey and the road.”

Daunt leant forward and watched the other keenly, as he spoke slowly and deliberately.

“Then how do you account for the fact that you were seen rowing a boat up to the Luce Manor boathouse at just that hour?”

Austin Ponson started and his face grew dead white. He sat motionless for several seconds gazing with terrified eyes, at his questioner, and apparently unable to speak.

“What’s that you say?” he gasped at last, licking his dry lips. “Impossible! I⁠—I wasn’t there.” He dropped his head into his hands while the sweat stood in drops on his forehead. Daunt waited silently. His doubts were becoming confirmed. The man surely was guilty.

Presently Austin raised his head.

“This is awful news,” he said hoarsely. “I can only say I wasn’t there. I swear it. There is a mistake. There must be. Who is supposed to have seen me? And from where?”

In Daunt’s opinion the answer was unconvincing. The man’s manner was shifty. Unless Jimmy was greatly mistaken he was lying. He replied somewhat coldly:

“Two people in Dr. Graham’s wood at the other side of the river are prepared to swear to it.”

“Two?” Austin groaned. “My God! How can they? They must have seen someone else, and mistaken him for me.”

“Suppose it was proved there was no other boat down the river that night but yours. What will you say then?”

“What can I say? I don’t understand it. That could not be proved⁠—unless someone took my boat from the Old Ferry.” He sat up eagerly and a gleam came into his eye. “Could that be it, Mr. Daunt? Could whoever worked the trick on me have been watching at the Old Ferry, and have taken my boat when I went ashore? What do you think?”

This was an idea which had not occurred to Daunt, and he instantly saw that it might account for the whole thing. Suppose the real murderer, knowing of Austin’s financial relations with his father, had seen how that fact could be used as the basis of a case against the son, and had added details to strengthen it. Suppose he had forged notes, getting Austin to bring a boat to the Old Ferry, and, leaving it there, go to the Abbey. Meanwhile he himself, made up to represent Austin, might have taken the boat to the boathouse, committed the murder and returned the boat to the Old Ferry before Austin arrived back? Daunt felt that this was a possibility which must not be overlooked. It might at any rate be a line of defence.

Then he remembered the shoes. No. If Austin had deliberately made a fake with the shoes, he must be guilty. He spoke again.

“Unfortunately, there is another very serious point. Your alibi depends on the fact that the prints made at the Abbey were made by shoes which it can be proved you were wearing on that Wednesday night and at no other time. Isn’t that so?”

“That is so.”

“How many pairs of that kind of shoe had you?”

“One pair.”

“Then how do you explain the fact that you bought two pairs on the Monday before the murder?”

This time Austin showed no signs of embarrassment.

“I bought two⁠—yes,” he answered readily, “but I only brought one home. I lost the other.”

“Lost the other? Just how?”

“Very simply. I went that Monday to Hunt’s shoe shop in Piccadilly and there I bought a pair of shoes. I had them carefully fitted, and was pleased with them. The shopman gave me a card with their number, in case I should want to replace them. I took them with me, as I was hurrying to catch the 3:25 train from St. Pancras. I had to call at a shop in Regent Street, and I walked there. But as I stepped off the footpath to cross the street, a lorry I hadn’t seen came quickly up, and I had to jump back out of its way. I was startled, and I unfortunately dropped the shoes. As luck would have it they were run over by the lorry. A hawker picked them up and returned them, but one was badly torn, so, as they were no further use to me, I made him a present of them. That left me without any, so I decided to replace them. I noticed another of Messrs. Hunt’s shops close by, and I went in and asked for shoes of the number on the card. That saved me from a troublesome refitting. By the time my purchase was complete I was late for my train. I therefore waited till the 5:15. Does that make the matter clear?”

Daunt was relieved, but somewhat puzzled by what he had heard. Unquestionably, Austin’s explanation was plausible, and he could see no reason why it should not be true. If the hawker who got the shoes could be found it would set this part of the matter at rest, but Daunt feared he would be untraceable. He felt doubtful and dissatisfied in his mind about the whole affair, but he saw that Austin’s statements provided a line of defence, though whether the best available he was not yet certain.

Still turning the idea over in his mind he went down the next Saturday to Halford, to spend, on the earnest invitation of Lois, the weekend with the Drews.