The Place of Dragons: A Mystery

  CHAPTER II

  IS MAINLY ASTONISHING

  In virtue of the facts that I was well known in Cromer, on friendlyterms with the local superintendent of police, and what was more to thepurpose, known to be a close friend of the Chief Constable atNorwich--also that I was a recognized writer of some authority uponproblems of crime--Inspector Treeton, of the Norfolk Constabulary,greeted me affably when, after a very hasty breakfast, I called at thepolice station.

  Treeton was a thin, grey-haired man, usually very quiet and thoughtfulin manner, but this staggering affair had quite upset his normalcoolness.

  "I expect the detectives over from Norwich in half an hour," he said,with a distinct trace of excitement in his tones, as we stood in hisbare little office discussing the morning's discovery. "You being such aclose friend of the Chief Constable, I don't suppose there'll be anyobjection whatever to your being present during our investigations."

  All the same, his tone was somewhat dubious as he added cautiously, "Youwon't, of course, give anything to the Press?"

  "Certainly not," I replied. "You can rely upon my discretion. This isn'tthe first mystery I have assisted the police to investigate. This sortof thing is, so to speak, part of my profession."

  "Yes," said Treeton, still with some hesitation, "so I understand, Mr.Vidal. But our people are terribly particular, as you know, aboutadmitting unofficial persons into police work. No offence. But we arebound to be very careful."

  "If you like, I'll 'phone to the Chief Constable," I suggested.

  "No, sir. No need for that," he said hastily. "When the plain-clothesmen arrive, I don't think any difficulty will be made as to youraccompanying them." Then he added, as if to give the conversation aturn, "It's a very queer business, very. But I mustn't talk about it atpresent. No doubt you'll soon see for yourself what a strange affair itis."

  "What is the curious feature, then?" I inquired anxiously.

  "No," said Treeton, with a deprecatory gesture. "No. Mr. Vidal. Don'task me. You must wait till the officers come from Norwich. They'll havea surprise, I can assure you they will. That's all I can say. I've takencare to have everything kept as it was found so as not to interfere withany clues, finger-prints, or things of that sort."

  "Ah," I said. "Then you suspect foul play, eh?"

  Treeton flushed slightly, as if annoyed with himself at having let slipthe words that prompted my query.

  Then he said slowly: "Well, at present we can't tell. But there'scertainly something very mysterious about the whole business."

  "Where is the body?"

  "They've put it in the life-boat house."

  "And that young fellow, Craig? I hear he's missing."

  The Inspector looked at me with a strange expression on his face.

  "Ah," he said briefly, "that isn't the only remarkable feature of thisaffair by any manner of means." Then impatiently: "I wish they'd come. I'phoned to Norwich at six o'clock this morning, and now it's nearly ten.They might have come over in a car, instead of waiting for the train."

  "Yes," I responded. "That is how so many inquiries are bungled. Red tapeand delay. In the meantime a criminal often gets away hours ahead of thesleuths of the law and eventually may escape altogether. I've known adozen cases where, because of the delay in making expert investigation,the culprit has never been caught."

  As I spoke the telephone bell tinkled and Treeton answered the call. TheSuperintendent at Holt was asking for information, but my companioncould give him but very little.

  "I am watching the railway-station, sir," said Treeton over the 'phone,"and I've sent word to all the fishermen in my district not to take outany strangers. I've also warned all the garages to let me know if anystranger hires a car. The party we fancy may be wanted won't be able toget away if he's still in the district."

  "Which is not very likely," I murmured in a low voice so that my wordsshould not be heard over the wire.

  When the conversation over the phone was ended, I sat chatting withTreeton, until, some twenty minutes later, three men, bearingunmistakably the cut of police-officers in plain clothes, entered thestation.

  Two of them were tall, dark-haired young fellows, dressed in neatnavy-blue serge and wearing bowler hats. The third man, InspectorFrayne, as I learnt afterwards, was in dark grey, with a soft grey felthat with the brim turned down in front.

  "Well Treeton," said the Inspector briskly, "what's all the fuss aboutdown here?"

  "A case--a very funny case. That's all," replied the local inspector. "Itold you over the 'phone all I know about it."

  Then followed a brief, low-pitched conversation between the twoofficers. I saw Frayne look over at me inquisitively, and caught a fewsnatches of Treeton's words to him. "Great personal friend of the ChiefConstable.... Yes, quite all right.... Writes about crime.... No, no,nothing to do with newspapers ... amateur, of course ... decent sort."

  I gathered from this that there was going to be no difficulty about myjoining the party of police investigators. I was right. In a few momentsTreeton brought Inspector Frayne over to me and we were introduced.Then, after a few friendly words, we started for the scene of thestartling discovery of the morning.

  We slipped out of the station in pairs, so as to avoid attractingattention, which might have led to our being followed and hampered inour movements by a crowd of idle and curious inhabitants.

  Proceeding by way of the path which wound round the back of the high-upcoast-guard station and so up over the cliff, we soon came to the seatwhere the body of old Mr. Gregory had been found.

  The seat, a green-painted one with a curved back, that had more thanonce afforded me a comfortable resting-place, was the first out of thetown towards the links. It was situate a little way from the footpathamid the rough grass of the cliff-top. Around it the herbage never grewon account of the constant tread from the feet of many daily visitors,so that clear about it was a small patch of bare sand.

  On the right, upon the next point of the cliff, was another similarseat, while on the left the path leading back to the town was railedoff because it was dangerous to approach too near the crumbling edge.

  At the seat stood a very tall, thin, fair-haired young constable whohad, since the discovery of old Gregory's body, remained on duty at thespot to prevent any one approaching it. This was done by Treeton'sorders, who hoped, and very logically, that if the sand about the seatwas not disturbed some tell-tale mark or footprint might be found by thedetectives that would give a clue to the person or persons who hadvisited the seat with old Gregory in the early hours of that fatalmorning.

  Near the constable were two men with cameras, and at a little distance asmall knot of curious idlers, all that remained of the many inquisitivefolks who were at first attracted to the spot, but who, finding nothingto satisfy their curiosity, had soon returned to the town.

  The morning was bright and calm, the sunlight reflected from a glassysea, upon the surface of which were a dozen or so fishing-boats liftingtheir crab-pots, for the crabs of Cromer are far-famed amongst epicuresfor their excellencies. It was a peaceful, happy scene, that none couldhave suspected was the setting of a ghastly tragedy.

  On arrival, Inspector Frayne, tall, grey-haired, with aquiline,clean-shaven face, assumed an attitude of ubiquitous importance thatamused me.

  "The body was found lying face downwards six feet beyond the south endof the seat," Treeton explained. "You see this mark in the grass?"

  Looking, we all saw distinctly the impression that marked the spot wherethe unfortunate man had lain.

  "No doubt," said the detective inspector, "the old gentleman was sittingon the seat when he was attacked from behind by somebody who sneakedquietly across the footpath, and he fell sideways from the seat. Haveyou looked for footprints?"

  "There are a number of them, as you see," was Treeton's reply. "Nothinghas been disturbed. I left all to you."

  Gazing around, I saw that there were many prints of soles and heels inthe soft sand about the seat. Many peopl
e had evidently sat there on theprevious day. In the sand, too, some one had traced with a stick, insprawly capitals, the word "Alice."

  Frayne and his two provincial assistants bent and closely examined theprints in question.

  "Women's mostly, I should say," remarked the detective inspector after apause. "That's plain from the French heels, flat golf-shoe soles, andnarrow rubber-pads, that have left their marks behind them. Better takesome casts of these, Phelps," he said, addressing the elder of hissubordinates.

  "Forgive me for making a remark," I ventured. "I'm not a detective, butit strikes me that if anybody did creep across the grass from the path,as the Inspector rightly suggested, to attack the old man, he, or she,may have left some prints in the rear there. In the front here thefootprints we have been examining are obviously those of people who hadbeen sitting upon the seat long prior to the arrival of the victim."

  "I quite agree, Mr. Vidal," exclaimed Treeton, and at this I thought theexpert from Norwich seemed somewhat annoyed. "Yes," continued the localinspector, "it's quite possible, as Mr. Frayne said, that somebody didcreep across the grass behind the old man. But unfortunately, there havebeen dozens of people over that very same spot this morning."

  "Hopeless then!" grunted Frayne. "Why on earth, Treeton, did you letthem swarm over there?" he queried testily. "Their doing so has renderedour inquiry a hundred per cent. more difficult. In all such cases thepublic ought to be rigorously kept from the immediate neighbourhood ofthe crime."

  "At least we can make a search," I suggested.

  "My dear Mr. Vidal, what is the use if half Cromer has been up hereprying about?" asked the detective impatiently. "No, those femininefootprints in front of the seat are much more likely to help us. There'sbound to be a woman in such a case as this. My motto in regard to crimemysteries is, first find the woman, and the rest is easy. In every greatproblem the 'eternal feminine,' as you writers put it, is ever present.She is in this one somewhere, you may depend upon it."

  I did not answer him, judging that he merely emitted these sentiments inorder to impress his listening subordinates with a due sense of hissuperior knowledge. But the search went on.

  From the footpath across the grass to the seat was about thirty feet,and over the whole area all of us made diligent investigation. In one ofthe patches where the sand was bare of herbage I found the print of awoman's shoe--a smart little shoe--size 3, I judged it to be. The solewas well shaped and pointed, the heel was of the latest fashionablemodel--rather American than French.

  I at once pointed it out to Frayne, but though he had so stronglyexpressed the opinion that there was a woman in the case, he dismissedit with a glance.

  "Some woman came here yesterday evening with her sweetheart, I suppose,"he said with a laugh.

  But to me that footprint was distinctly instructive, for among the manyimpressed on the sand before the seat, I had not detected one that boreany resemblance to it. The owner of that American shoe had walked fromthe path to the back of the seat, but had certainly not sat down there.

  I carefully marked the spot, and telling an old fisherman of myacquaintance, who stood by, to allow no one to obliterate it, continuedmy investigations.

  Three feet behind the seat, in the midst of the trodden grass, I cameupon two hairpins lying close together. Picking them up, I found theywere rather thick, crinkled in the middle, and both of the same palebronze shade.

  Was it possible there had been a struggle there--a struggle with thewoman who wore those American shoes--who was, moreover, a fair woman, ifthose pins had fallen from her hair in the encounter?

  I showed the hairpins to Frayne who was busy taking a measurement of thedistance from the seat to where the body had been found.

  To my surprise, he seemed impatient and annoyed.

  "My dear Mr. Vidal," he exclaimed, "you novelists are, I fear, far tooimaginative. I dare say there are hundreds of hairpins about here in thegrass if we choose to search for them. This seat is a popular resort forvisitors by day and a trysting place for lovers after sundown. In thevicinity of any such seat you will always find hairpins, cigarette ends,wrappings from chocolates, and tinfoil. Look around you and see."

  "But these pins have not been here more than a day," I expostulated."They are bright and were lying lightly on the grass. Besides, are wenot looking for a woman?"

  "I'll admit that they may perhaps have belonged to somebody who was herelast evening," he said. "But I can assure you they are no good to us."With this he turned away with rather a contemptuous smile.

  I began to suspect that I had in some way antagonized Frayne, who atthat moment seemed more intent upon working up formal evidence to givebefore the coroner, rather than in pushing forward the investigation ofthe crime, and so finding a clue to the culprit.

  I could see that he regarded the minute investigations I was making withundisguised and contemptuous amusement. Of course, he was polite to me,for was I not the friend of the Chief Constable? But, all the same, Iwas an amateur investigator, therefore, in his eyes, a blunderer. He, ofcourse, did not know at how many investigations of crime I had assistedin Paris, in Brussels, and in Rome--investigations conducted by thegreatest detectives in Europe.

  It was not to be expected that an officer of the Norfolk Constabulary,more used to petty larceny than to murder, would be so alert or sothorough in his methods as an officer from Scotland Yard, or of the_Surete_ in Paris.

  Arguing thus, I felt that I could cheerfully disregard the covert sneersand glances of my companions; and plunged with renewed interest into thework I had undertaken.

  In the sand before the seat, I saw two long, wide marks which told methat old Mr. Gregory must have slipped from his position in a totallyhelpless condition. That being so, how was it that his body was foundseveral feet away?

  Had it been dragged to that spot in the grass? Or, had he crawled therein his death agony?

  In the little knot of people who had gathered I noticed a youngfisherman in his brown blouse--a tall youth, with fair curly hair, whomI knew well and could trust. Calling him over, I despatched him to thetown for a couple of pounds of plaster of Paris, a bucket, some water,and a trowel.

  Then I went on methodically with my investigations.

  Presently the coast-guard, George Simmonds, a middle-aged, dark-hairedman, who was a well-known figure in Cromer, came up and was introducedto Frayne as the man who, returning from duty as night patrol along thecliffs, early that morning, had discovered the body.

  I stood by listening as he described the incident to the detectiveinspector.

  "You see, sir," he said saluting, "I'd been along the cuffs toTrimingham, and was on my way back about a quarter past three, when Inoticed a man lying yonder on the grass. It was a fine morning, quitelight, and at first I thought it was a tramp, for they often sleep onthe cliffs in the warm weather. But on going nearer I saw, to mysurprise, that the man was old Mr. Gregory. I thought he was asleep, andbent down and shook him, his face being downwards on the grass and hisarms stretched out. He didn't wake up, so I turned him over, and thecolour of his face fair startled me. I opened his coat, put my hand onhis heart, and found he was quite dead. I then ran along to our stationand told Mr. Day, the Chief Officer, and he sent me off sharp to thepolice."

  "You saw nobody about?" Frayne asked sharply. "Nobody passed you?"

  "I didn't see a soul all the way from Trimingham."

  "Constable Baxter was along there somewhere keeping a point," remarkedTreeton. "Didn't you meet him?"

  "Going out I met him, just beyond Overstrand, at about one o'clock, andwished him good morning," was the coast-guard's reply.

  "But where is Craig, the young nephew of the dead man?" I asked Treeton."Surely he may know something! He must have missed his uncle, who,apparently, was out all night."

  "Ah! That's just the mystery, Mr. Vidal," replied the Inspector. "Let usgo down to the life-boat house," he added, addressing the detective.

  As they were moving away, and I was abou
t to follow, the tallfisher-youth arrived with the plaster of Paris and a pail of water.

  Promising to be with them quickly, I remained behind, mixed the plasterinto a paste and within a few minutes had secured casts of the imprintof the woman's American shoe, and those of several other footmarks,which, with his superior knowledge, the expert from Norwich hadconsidered beneath his notice.

  Then, placing my casts carefully in the empty pail, I sent them along tothe _Hotel de Paris_ by the same fisher-youth. Afterwards, I walkedalong the path, passed behind the lawn of the coast-guard station, wherethe White Ensign was flying on the flagstaff, and then descending, atlast entered the life-boat house, where the officers and three doctorshad assembled.

  One of the doctors, named Sladen, a grey-headed practitioner who hadbeen many years in Cromer, recognized me as I entered.

  "Hulloa, Mr. Vidal! This is a very curious case, isn't it? Interestsyou, of course. All mysteries do, no doubt. But this case is astounding.In making our examination, do you know we've discovered a most amazingfact?" and he pointed to the plank whereon lay the body, covered withone of the brown sails from the life-boat.

  "No. What?" I asked eagerly.

  "Well--though we all at first, naturally, took the body to be that ofold Vernon Gregory, it isn't his at all!"

  "Not Gregory's?" I gasped.

  "No. He has white hair and a beard, and he is wearing old Gregory's capeand hat, but it certainly is not Gregory's body."

  "Who, then, is the dead man?" I gasped.

  "His nephew, Edward Craig!"