"Yes,"he said, "he's foreign to these parts. We've followed up the usual routine, Mr. Alleyn, but we haven't found much. He says he came here for his health. He's opened a small banking account at Illington, threfc hundred and fifty pounds. He came to the Feathers ten months ago. He gets a big lot of letters, and writes a lot to all parts of the West Country and sends away a number of small packages. Seems he's agent for some stamp collecting affair. I got the name, ' Phillips Philatelic Society,' and got one of our chaps to look up the headquarters in London. Sure enough, this chap Legge's the forwarding agent for the west of England.
Well, he chummed up with young Will, and about three months ago they gave him this job with the Coombe Left business. I don't mind saying I don't like the looks of the man. He's a funny chap. Unhealthy, I'd say. Something the matter with his ears. We've searched all their rooms and I found a chemist's bottle and a bit of a squirt in his.
Had it tested, you bet, but it's only some muck he squirts into his beastly lug. So I returned it. Cubitt's room was full of his painting gear. We found oil, and turpentine and varnish. Went through the lot. Of course we didn't expect to find anything. Parish,"said Harper in disgust, "uses scent. Well, not to say scent, but some sort of toilet water. No, I don't mind saying I don't like the looks of Legge, but there again Miss Moore says Mr. Watchman told her he'd never set eyes on the man before." "Well,"said Alleyn, "let's go through the list while we're at it. What about young Pomeroy? " "Will? Yes. Yes. there's young Will."Harper opened the file and stared at the first page, but it seemed to Alleyn that he was not reading it. "Will Pomeroy," said Harper, "says he didn't like Mr. Watchman. He makes no bones about it. Mr. Parish says they quarrelled on account of this chap Legge. Will didn't like the way Mr. Watchman got at Legge, you see, and being a hotheaded loyalist kind of fellow, he tackled Mr. Watchman.
It wasn't much of an argument, but it was obvious Will Pomeroy had taken a scunner on Mr. Watchman." "And--what is the lady's name? Miss Decima Moore. What about her? " "Nothing. Keeps company with Will. She's a farmer's daughter. Old Jim Moore up to Cary Edge. Her mother's a bit on the classy side. Foreigner to these parts and can't forget she came down in society when she married Farmer Moore. Miss Decima was educated at Oxford and came home a red leftist. She and deceased used to argufy a bit about politics, but that's all." Alleyn counted on his long thin fingers.
"That's five,"he said, "six counting old Pomeroy.
We're left with the Honourable Violet Darragh and Mr.
George Nark." "You can forget 'em,"rejoined Harper. "The Honourable Violet's a rum old girl from Ireland, who takes views in paints. She was theie writing letters when it happened. I've checked up on her and she's the genuine article. She'll talk the hind leg off a donkey. So'll George Nark. He's no murderer. He's too damned silly to kill a woodlouse except he treads on it accidental." "How many of these people are still at Ottercombe?" "All of 'em." "Good Lord! "Alleyn exclaimed, "didn't they want to get away when it was all over? I'd have thought——" "So would anybody,"agreed Harper. "But it seems Mr. Cubitt had started off on several pictures down there and wants to finish them. One's a likeness of Mr. Parish so he's stayed down-along too. They waited for the funeral which was here. Deceased had no relatives nearer than Mr. Parish and Mr. Parish said he thought his cousin would have liked to be put away in the country. Several legal gentlemen came down from London and the flowers were a masterpiece. Well, they just stopped on, Mr.
Cubitt painting as quiet as you please. He's a cool customer, is Mr. Cubitt." "How much longer will they be here? " "Reckon another week. They came for three. Did the same thing last year. It's a fortnight to-night since this case cropped up. We've kept the private bar shut up.
Everything was photographed and printed. There was nothing of interest in deceased's pockets. He smoked some outlandish kind of cigarettes. Daha—something, but that's no use. We've got his movements taped out.
Arrived on Thursday night and didn't go put. Friday morning, went for a walk, but don't know exactly where, except it was through the tunnel. Friday afternoon, went upstairs after lunch and was in his room writing letters. Seen in his room by Mrs. Ives, the housekeeper, who went up at 3.30 to shut windows and found him asleep on-his bed. Also seen at four o'clock by Mr. Cubitt who looked in on his way back from painting down on the wharf. Came downstairs at 5.15 or thereabouts and was in the private bar from then onwards till he died.
I don't think I missed anything." "I'm sure you didn't." "You know,"said Harper warming a little, "it's a proper mystery, this case. Know what I mean, most cases depend on routine. Boil 'em down and it's routine that does the trick as a general rule. May do it here, but all the same this is a teaser. I'm satisfied it wasn't accident but I can't prove it. When I'm told on good authority that there was cyanide on that dart, and that Mr. Watchman died of cyanide in his blood, I say ' well, there's your weapon,' but alongside of this there's six people, let alone my own investigation, that prove to my satisfaction nobody could have tampered with the dart.
But the dart was poisoned. Now, the stuff in the rat hole was in a little china jar. I've left it there for you to see.
I got another jar of the same brand. They sell some sort of zinc ointment in them and Abel had several ; he's mad on that sort of thing. Now the amount that's gone from the bottle, which Noggins says was full, is a quarter of an ounce more than the amount the jar holds and Abel swears he filled the jar. The jar was full when we saw it." "Full? "said Alleyn sharply. "When did you see it? " "The next morning." "Was the stuff in the jar analysed? " Harper turned brick-red.
"No,"he said. "Abel swore he'd filled it and the jar't only got his prints on it. And, I tell you, it was full.
"Have you got the stun? " "Yes. I poured it off and kept it. Seeing there's a shortage the stuff on the dart must have come from the bottle." "For how long was the bottle uncorked? " "What? Oh, he said that when he used it he uncorked the bottle and put it on the shelf above the hole, with the cork beside it. He was very anxious we should know he'd been careful, and he said he didn't want to handle the cork more than was necessary. He said he was just going to pour the stuff in the jar when he thought he'd put the jar m position first. He did that and then filled it, holding the torch in his other hand. He swears he didn't spill any and he swears nobody touched the bottle. The others were standing in the doorway." "So the bottle may have been uncorked for a minute or two? " "I suppose so. He plugged up the hole with rag before he did anything else. He had the bottle on the floor beside him." "And then? " "Well, then he took up the bottle and corked it.
I suppose,"said Harper, "I should have had the stuff analysed but we've no call to suspect Abel Pomeroy.
There was none missing from the jar and there are only his prints on it, and there's the extra quarter ounce missing from the bottle. No, it's gone from the bottle. Must have." And, see, here Mr. Alleyn, the stuff was found on the dart and nowhere else.- What's more, if it was the dart that did the trick and it's murder, then Legge's our bird because only Legge controlled the flight of the dart." "Silly sort of way to kill a man,"said Fox, suddenly.
"It'd be asking for a conviction. Super, now wouldn't it?" "Maybe he reckoned he'd get a chance to wipe the dart,"said Harper.
"He had his chance,"said Alleyn quickly. "Wasn't it brought out that Legge helped the constable--Oates isn't it?--to find the dart? He had his chance, then, to wipe it." "And if he was guilty, why didn't he? "ended. Fox.
"You're asking me,"said Superintendent Harper.
"Here's the colonel."
Ill
The chief constable was an old acquaintance of Alleyn's. Alleyn liked Colonel Brammington. He was a character, an oddity, full of mannerisms that amused rather than irritated Alieyn. He was so unlike the usual county-minded chief constable that it was a matter for conjecture how he ever got the appointment, for he spent half his life in giving offence and was amazingly indiscreet.
He arrived at Illington Police Station in a powerful racing car that
was as scarred as a veteran. It could be heard from the moment it entered the street and Harper exclaimed agitatedly: "Here he comes I He knows that engine's an offence within tlie meaning of the Act and he doesn't care. He'U get us all into trouble one of these days. There are complaints on all sides. On all sides I " Tlie screech of heavy tyres and violent braking announced Colonel Brammington's arrival and in a moment he came in. He was a vast red man with untidy hair, prominent eyes, and a loud voice. The state of his clothes suggested that he'd been dragged by the lieels through some major disaster.
He shouted an apology at Harper, touched Alleyn's hand as if it was a bomb, stared at Fox, and then hurled himself into a seagrass chair with such abandon that he was like to break it.
"I should have been here half an hour ago,"shouted Colonel Brammington. "but for my car, my detestable, my abominable car." "What was the matter, sir? "asked Harper.
"My good Harper, I have no notion. Fortunately I was becalmed near a garage. The fellow thrust his head among her smoking entrails, uttered some mumbo jumbo, performed suitable rites with oil and water, and 1 was enabled to continue." He twisted his bulk in the creaking chair and stared at Alleyn.
"Perfectly splendid that you have responded with such magnificent celerity to our cri du cceur, Alleyn.
We shall now resume, thankfully, the upholstered leisure of the not too front, front stall." "Don't be too sure of that, sir,"said Alleyn. "It looks as if there's a weary grind ahead of us." "0 God, how insupportably dreary I What, hasn't the solution been borne in upon you in a single penetrating flash? Pray expect no help from me. Have you got a cigarette. Harper? " Alleyn offered his case.
"Thank you. I haven't even a match, I'm afraid.
Ah, thank you."Colonel Brammington lit his cigarette and goggled at Alleyn. "I suppose Harper's given you the whole tedious rigmarole,"he said.
"He's given me the file. I suggest that Fox and I take it with us to Ottercombe and digest it." "0 Lord 1 Yes, do. Yes, of course. But you've discussed the case? " "Yes, sir. Mr. Harper has given me an excellent survey of the country." "It's damned difficult country. Now, on the face of it, what's your opinion, accident or not? " "On the face of it,"said Alleyn, "not." "0 Lord I "repeated Colonel Brammington. He got up with surprising agility from his tortured chair, and moved restlessly about the room. "Yes,"he said, "I agree with you. The fellow was murdered. And of all the damned unconscionable methods of despatching a man I An envenom'd stuck, by God I How will you hunt it home to this fellow? " "Which fellow, sir? " "The murderer, my dear man. Legge I A prating soapbox orator of a fellow, I understand ; some squalid little trouble-hatclier. Good God, my little Alleyn, of course he's your man I I've said so from the beginning.
There was cyanide on the dart. He threw the dart. He deliberately pinked his victim." "Harper,"said Alleyn with a glance at the superintendent's shocked countenance, "tells me that several of the others agree that Legge had no opportunity to anoint the dart with cyanide or anything else." "Drunk I "cried Colonel Brammington. "Soaked in a damn' good brandy, the lot of 'em. My opinion." "It's possible, of course." "It's the only answer. My advice, for what it's worth is, haul him in for manslaughter. Ought to have been done at first only that drooling old pedagogue Mordant didn't put it to the jury. However, you must do as you think best." "Thank you, sir,"said Alleyn gravely. Brammington grinned.
"The very pine-apple of politeness,"he quoted.
"Come and dine with me to-morrow. Both of you." "May I ring up? " "Yes, yes,"said Colonel Brammington impatiently.
"Certainly." He hurried to the door as if overcome by an intolerable urge to move on somewhere. In the doorway he turned.
"You'll come round to my view,"he said, "I'll be bound you will." "At the moment, sir,"said Alleyn, "I have no view of my own." "Run him in on the minor charge,"added Colonel Brammington, raising his voice to a penetrating shout as he disappeared into the street, "and the major charge will follow as the night the day." A door slammed and in a moment the violence of hit engines was reawakened.
"Well now,"said Alleyn. "I wonder."
CHAPTER NINE ALLEYN AT THE FEATHERS
the sun had nearly set when Alleyn and Fox drove down Ottercombe Road towards the tunnel. As the car mounted a last rise they could see Coombe Head, a quarter of a mile away across open hills. So clear was the evening that they caught a glint of gold where the surf broke into jets of foam against the sunny rocks.
Alleyn slowed down and they saw the road sign at the tunnel entrance.
"Ottercombe. Dangerous corner. Change down." "So I should think,"muttered Alleyn, as the sheer drop appeared on the far side. He negotiated the corner and there, at the bottom of the steep descent, was the Plume of Feathers and Ottercombe.
"By George,"said Alleyn, "I don't wonder Cubitt comes here to paint. It's really charming. Fox, isn't it?
A concentric design with the pub as its axis. And there, I fancy, is our friend Pomeroy." "On the lookout, seemingly,"said Fox.
"Yes. Look at the colour of the sea, you old devil.
Smell that jetty-tar-and-iodine smell, blast your eyes. Fox, murder or no murder, I'm glad we came.""As long as you're pleased, sir,"said Fox, dryly.
"Don't snub my ecstasies, Br'er Fox. Good-evening, Mr. Pomeroy." Abel hurried forward and opened the door.
"Good-evening, Mr. Alleyn, sir. We'm glad to see you. Welcome to the Feathers, sir." He used the same gestures, almost the same words as those with which he had greeted Watchman fourteen days ago. And Alleyn, if he had realised it, answered as Watchman had answered.
"We're glad to get here,"he said.
"Will! "shouted old Abel. "Will t " And Will, tall, fox-coloured, his eyes screwed up in the sunlight, came out and opened the back of the car.
He was followed by a man whom Alleyn recognised instantly. He was nearly as striking off the stage as on it.
The walk was unmistakable ; the left shoulder raised very slightly, the long graceful stride, imitated, with more ardour than discretion, by half the young actors in London.
The newcomer glanced at Alleyn and Fox and walked past the car.
"Another marvellous evening, Mr. Pomeroy,"he said airily.
"So 'tis, then, Mr. Parish,"said Abel.
Alleyn and Fox followed Will Pomeroy into the Feathers. Abel brought up the rear.
"Show the rooms, sonny. These are the gentlemen we're expecting. They're from London. From Scotland Yard,"said Abel.
Will Pomeroy gave them a startled glance.
"Move along, sonny,"said Abel. "This way, sir.
Us'U keep parlour for your private use, Mr. Alleyn, in case so be you fancy a bit of an office like." "That sounds an excellent arrangement,"said Alleyn.
"Have you had supper, sir? " "Yes, thank you, Mr. Pomeroy. We had it with Mr.
Harper." "I wonder,"said Abel unexpectedly, "that it didn't turn your stomachs back on you, then.' "This way, please,"said Will.
They followed Will up the steep staircase. Abel stood in the hall looking after them.
The Feathers, like all old buildings, had its own smell. It smelt of wallpaper, driftwood smoke, and very slightly of beer. Through the door came the tang of the waterfront to mix with the house-smell. The general impression was of coolness and seclusion. Will showed them two small bedrooms whose windows looked over Ottercombe Steps and the chimney-tops of Fish Lane, to the sea. Alleyn took the first of these rooms and Fox the second.
"The bathroom's at the end of the passage,"said Will from Alleyn's doorway. "Will that be all? " "We shall be very comfortable,"said Alleyn, and as Will moved away he added: "You're Mr. Pomeroy's son? " "Yes,"said Will stolidly.
"I expect Mr. Harper has explained wliy we are here." Will nodded and said nothing.
"I'd be very glad,"added Alleyn, "if you could spare me a minute or two later on." Will said, "I'll be serving in the bar all the evening." "I'll see you there, then. Thank you." But Will didn't move. He stared at the window and said, "This affair's upset my father. He takes it to h
eart, like ; the talk that goes on." ' I know." ' I reckon he's right about it being no accident." ' Do you? " ' Yes. Nobody touched the bottle by mistake— 'tisn t likely." ' Look here,"said Alleyn, "can you spare a moment now to show me the rat-hole in the garage? " Will's eyelashes flickered.
"Yes,"he said, "reckon I can do that."He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and added with a kind of truculence. "Reckon when the police come in, there's not much use in refusing. Not unless you've got a pull somewhere." "Oh come,"Alleyn said mildly, "we're not as corrupt as all that, you know." Will's face turned scarlet but he said doggedly, "It's not the men, it's the system. It's the way everything is in this country." "One law,"suggested Alleyn amiably, "for the rich, and so on? " "It's true enough." "Well, yes. In many ways I suppose it is. However, I'm not open to any bribery at the moment. We always try to be honest for the first few days, it engenders confidence.
Shall we go down to the garage? " "It's easy enough,"Will said, "to make the truth look silly. A man never seems more foolish-like than he does when he's speaking his whole mind and heart. I know that." "Yes,"agreed Alleyn, "that's quite true. I dare say the apostles were as embarrassing in their day, as the street-orator with no audience is in ours." "I don't know anything about that. They were only setting up a superstition. I'm dealing with the sober truth." "That's what I hope to do myself,"said Alleyn.