The Sea Mystery · Chapter 12 (2/2)

“I ’eard wot they said when they were passing. ‘I tell you ’e knows,’ she said. ‘I’m frightened,’ she said. ‘You don’t know him. If ’e once thinks you’ve played ’im false ’e’ll make a ’ell of a trouble.’ An’ then Pyke says: ‘Nonsense!’ ’e said. ‘ ’E’s not that sort. Besides,’ ’e said, ‘ ’e don’t know anything. ’E knows we’re friends, but that’s all.’ ‘No,’ she said, ‘I’m sure ’e knows or ’e guesses, anyway. We’ll ’ave to separate,’ she said. ’E said they ’ad been careful enough, and then they went past an’ I didn’t ’ear no more.”

“That all?”

“That’s all,” said Beer, disgustedly. “Ain’t it enough?”

“Nothing to boast about,” French replied, absently. He remembered that the man had been dismissed by Berlyn and he wondered if this statement was merely the result of spite. He therefore questioned him closely. But he was unable to shake him and he formed the opinion that the story was true.

If so, it certainly had a pretty direct bearing on the theory he was trying to evolve, for there could be little doubt as to who “ ’e” was. As he considered the matter he was surprised to find how complete that theory was and how much of it had been definitely established. There were gaps, of course, but there was no doubt as to its general correctness.

As French now saw it, the affair stood as follows:

Stanley Pyke and Phyllis Berlyn, friends during childhood, find that they love each other when they renew their acquaintance in later years. But it is then too late for the course of true love to run smooth and a clandestine attachment follows. Berlyn learns of this some four months before the tragedy and as a result of his interference the two decide to discontinue their meetings⁠—in public, at all events. The flirtation with Colonel Domlio is possibly deliberately undertaken by Mrs. Berlyn to prove to her husband that her interest in Pyke is over.

But the two find that they cannot give each other up and the intrigue is continued secretly. Berlyn, however, is not hoodwinked. He sees his friend betraying him and he determines on vengeance.

His first move is to get an accomplice to assist in the details. Here French admitted to himself that he was out of his depth. He could not imagine who the accomplice was or why he should have been required. But if Berlyn were guilty, the murder was clearly a two-man job. Simultaneous activities in different places proved it.

The arrangements about the crate are next made. French was aware that these had not yet been properly followed up; other matters had been more urgent. But they represented a second string to his bow which he would develop if necessary.

Then comes the night of the crime. While Berlyn and Pyke are at Tavistock, the accomplice drugs the watchman’s food. He then waits for the car. Pyke is sandbagged and his body carried into the works. One of the men then unpacks the crate, and taking the duplicator to pieces, returns the larger parts to stock. He has already doctored the cards, as well, necessarily, as the corresponding books. He then strips the recognisable clothes off the body, puts the latter in the crate, smashes in the face, closes the crate, and leaves all as before. Finally he escapes with Berlyn’s outer clothes and the smaller parts of the duplicator. He has only to get rid of these and his part in the ghastly business is complete.

In the meantime his confederate has driven the car out to a lonely part of the moor, changed the magneto, and made the tracks leading from the road.

The facts which pointed to Berlyn’s guilt were sixfold:

1. Berlyn in all probability was consumed by jealousy, one of the strongest of human motives for crime.
2. Berlyn had an unparalleled opportunity for the deed, which only he could have arranged.
3. It was not easy to see how anyone but Berlyn could have handled the magneto affair.
4. Berlyn had the necessary position in the Veda Works to carry out the watchman and stock-card episodes.
5. Berlyn answered the description of the man who had called for the crate.
6. Berlyn had disappeared, an incomprehensible action if he were innocent.

As French thought again over the accomplice, he recognised that here was the snag in his theory. Motives of personal jealousy and private wrong leave no room for an accomplice. Moreover, it was incredible that a man who had shown such ingenuity could not have devised a scheme to carry out the crime single-handed.

But though French recognised that there were points in the case as yet unexplained, he saw that his own procedure was clear. He must start the search for Berlyn and he must learn the identity of the accomplice.

The first of these was easy. He had compiled a pretty accurate description of the junior partner and Daw had got hold of his photograph. A note in the Police Gazette would start every police officer in the country on the search.

The second problem he found more difficult. Rack his brains as he would, he could think of no one who might have helped Berlyn.

He thought his next plan would be an enquiry into the whereabouts at ten o’clock, on the night of the crime, of everyone whom it was possible to suspect. That, coupled with an investigation as to who was in London when the various letters were posted, should yield results.

The fact that a number of possible suspects had been at Mrs. Berlyn’s party from eight to eleven on the fatal evening seemed to rule them out. But French thought he should get some more definite information on the point. Accordingly, he went up to the works and asked for Mr. Fogden, one of those whom Lizzie Johnston had mentioned as being present.

“I heard a peculiar story about Mrs. Berlyn,” he said apropos of nothing special when they had talked for some time. “I was told she had a premonition of Mr. Berlyn’s death and was miserable and upset all that evening of the crime. A peculiar thing, if true, isn’t it?”

“Who told you that?” Mr. Fogden asked, sceptically.

“A chance remark in the bar of the Silver Tiger; I don’t know the speaker’s name nor, of course, do I know if his story was true.”

“Well, you may take it from me that it wasn’t. I was at Mrs. Berlyn’s that evening and there was nothing wrong with her that I saw.”

This gave French his lead. When he left the office he had obtained all the details of the party that he wanted. On the day before the crime Mr. Fogden had had a telephone call from Mrs. Berlyn saying that Berlyn was to be out on the following evening and that she would be alone, and asking if he and one or two of the others would come and keep her company. Eight people had turned up, including himself, Cowls and Leacock from the works, a Dr. Lancaster and his wife, and two Miss Pyms and a Miss Nesbitt from the town. All these people were very intimate and the party was quite informal. Some of them had played billiards, and the others bridge.

This information seemed to French to eliminate Fogden, Cowls, and Leacock, as well, of course, as Mrs. Berlyn herself. He spent the remainder of the day in racking his brains for other possible accomplices and in thinking out ways to learn their movements on the night in question.

Next morning he took up the matter of the whereabouts of all suspects when the incriminating letters were posted in London.

Fortunately, the enquiry presented but little difficulty. A further application to Mr. Fogden revealed the fact there was an attendance book at the works which all the officers signed, from Mr. Fogden himself down. This book showed that everyone concerned was in Ashburton on the dates of posting. Even Stanley Pyke, who was absent five days out of six on his rounds, had been there. Further, Mr. Fogden’s diary showed that he had had interviews with Colonel Domlio on the critical days. From Lizzie Johnston, French learned that Mrs. Berlyn had also been at home during the period.

French was more puzzled than ever. It looked as if someone must have been mixed up in the affair of whose existence he was still in ignorance.

Just as he was about to step into bed that night an idea struck him which gave him sharply to think. As he considered it he began to wonder if his whole view of the crime were not mistaken. He suddenly saw that the facts could bear a quite different interpretation from that which he had placed upon them, an interpretation, moreover, which would go far towards solving the problem of the accomplice.

Once again he swung from depression to optimism as, chuckling gently to himself, he decided that next morning he would embark on a line of enquiry which up to the present he had been stupid enough entirely to overlook.