The Sea Mystery · Chapter 15 (2/2)

After half an hour of close questioning on the lines of the American third degree, French had to admit that the affair had either happened as Domlio had said or that it had been rehearsed with great care. On no point was he able to trip the colonel up, and knowing the difficulty of inventing a story in which every detail is foreseen and accounted for, he began to think the tale true. At all events, with the mass of detail he now possessed, a similar examination of Mrs. Berlyn should set the matter at rest.

French was in a thoughtful mood as they drove back to Torview. He was up against the same old question which had troubled him so many times in the past. Was his suspect guilty or was he the victim of a plot?

The evidence against the man was certainly strong. Seven separate facts pointed to his guilt. French ran over them in his mind:

1. Domlio had the necessary qualifications for partnership in the crime. He knew the dramatis personae and he was acquainted with the works. He could have ordered the duplicator, and arranged for Berlyn and Pyke to visit Tavistock on the night in question.
2. He was out in his car on that night at the time and for the distance required.
3. He had denied this.
4. When cornered he had told a false story of a search for a lost locket.
5. The clothes of the dead man had been found in the very place where French imagined Domlio would have hidden them.
6. There was a quite adequate motive if, as might well be, Domlio was really attached to Mrs. Berlyn.
7. There was no other person whom French knew of who could have been Berlyn’s confederate.

Many and many a man had been hanged on far less evidence than there was here. With this mass of incriminating facts an arrest was amply justifiable. Indeed, a conviction was almost assured.

On the other hand, every bit of this evidence was circumstantial and could be explained on the assumption of Domlio’s innocence, by supposing him to be the victim of a conspiracy on the part of the real murderer.

French wondered if he could make the man reveal his own outlook on the affair.

“Tell me, Colonel,” he said, “did it not strike you as a strange thing that Mrs. Berlyn should stumble at just the point which ensured her falling into your arms?”

Domlio slackened speed and looked around aggressively.

“Just what do you mean by that?”

“As a matter of fact,” French answered, sweetly, “what I mean is, was the accident genuine or faked?”

The colonel squared his shoulders indignantly.

“I consider that a most unwarrantable remark,” he said, hotly, “and I shall not answer it. I can only suppose your abominable calling has warped your mind and made suspicion a disease with you.”

French glanced at him keenly. The man was genuinely angry. And if so, it tended in his favour. Real indignation is difficult to simulate and would not be called forth by an imaginary insult.

“If you think my remark unwarrantable, I shall withdraw it,” French said, with his pleasant smile. “I simply wanted to know whether you yourself believed in it. I think you do. Well, Colonel, I think that’s all we can do tonight. I’m sorry to have given you all this annoyance, but you can see I had no option.”

They had reached the gate of Torview. Domlio stopped the car.

“Then you are not going to arrest me?” he asked, with barely concealed anxiety.

“No. Why should I? You have accounted in a reasonable way for the suspicious circumstances. So far as I can see, your explanation is satisfactory. I can’t expect any more.”

The colonel gave a sigh of relief.

“To be quite candid,” he admitted, “I scarcely hoped that you would accept it. After what has occurred, I can’t expect you to believe me, but for what it’s worth I give you my word of honour that what I have told you this time is the truth. I may tell you that I have been afraid of this very development ever since the tragedy. How are you getting to Ashburton? Shall I run you in?”

“It would be very good of you.”

It was with considerable uneasiness that French saw Colonel Domlio drive off from the hotel in Ashburton. He had backed his judgment that the man was innocent, but he recognised that he might easily have made a mistake. At the same time Domlio could scarcely escape otherwise than by suicide, and he felt sure that his mind had been so much eased that he would not attempt anything so drastic. As soon, however, as the car was out of sight he walked to the police station and asked Daw to have a watch kept on the man’s movements.