CHAPTER XII
THE SALMON GAFF
I gave such a jump on hearing this that Chisholm himself started, andhe stared at me with a question in his eyes. But I was quick enough tolet him know that he was giving me news that I hadn't heard until heopened his lips.
"You don't tell me that!" I exclaimed. "What!--more of it?"
"Aye!" he said. "You'll be thinking that this is all of a piece with theother affair. And to be sure, they found Crone's body close by where youfound yon other man--Phillips."
"Where, then?" I asked. "And when?"
"I tell you, not an hour ago," he replied. "The news just came in. I wasgoing down here to see if any of the neighbours at the shop saw Crone inany strange company last night."
I hesitated for a second or two, and then spoke out.
"I saw him myself last night," said I. "I went to his shop--maybe it wasnine o'clock--to buy some bits of stuff to make Tom Dunlop a door to hisrabbit-hutch, and I was there talking to him ten minutes or so. He wasall right then--and I saw nobody else with him."
"Aye, well, he never went home to his house last night," observedChisholm. "I called in there on my way down--he lived, you know, in acottage by the police-station, and I dropped in and asked the woman thatkeeps house for him had she seen him this morning, and she said he nevercame home last night at all. And no wonder--as things are!"
"But you were saying where it happened," I said.
"Where he was found?" said he. "Well, and it was where Till runs intoTweed--leastways, a bit up the Till. Do you know John McIlwraith'slad--yon youngster that they've had such a bother with about theschool--always running away to his play, and stopping out at nights, andthe like--there was the question of sending him to a reformatory, you'llremember? Aye, well, it turns out the young waster was out last night inthose woods below Twizel, and early this morning--though he didn't let onat it till some time after--he saw the body of a man lying in one of themdeep pools in Till. And when he himself was caught by Turndale, who wason the look out for him, he told of what he'd seen, and Turndale and someother men went there, and they found--Crone!"
"You were saying there were marks of violence," said I.
"I haven't seen them myself," he answered. "But by Turndale's account--itwas him brought in the news--there is queer marks on the body. Like asif--as near as Turndale could describe it--as if the man had been struckdown before he was drowned. Bruises, you understand."
"Where is he?" I asked.
"He's where they took Phillips," replied Chisholm. "Dod!--that's two of'em that's been taken there within--aye, nearly within the week!"
"What are you going to do, now?" I inquired.
"I was just going, as I said, to ask a question or two down here--didanybody hear Crone say anything last night about going out that way?" heanswered. "But, there, I don't see the good of it. Between you and me,Crone was a bit of a night-bird--I've suspected him of poaching, time andagain. Well, he'll do no more of that! You'll be on your way to theoffice, likely?"
"Straight there," said I. "I'll tell Mr. Lindsey of this."
But when I reached the office, Mr. Lindsey, who had been out to get hislunch, knew all about it. He was standing outside the door, talking toMr. Murray, and as I went up the superintendent turned away to the policestation, and Mr. Lindsey took a step or two towards me.
"Have you heard this about that man Crone?" he asked.
"I've heard just now," I answered. "Chisholm told me."
He looked at me, and I at him; there were questions in the eyes of bothof us. But between parting from the police-sergeant and meeting Mr.Lindsey, I had made up my mind, by a bit of sharp thinking andreflection, on what my own plan of action was going to be about all this,once and for all, and I spoke before he could ask anything.
"Chisholm," said I, "was down that way, wondering could he hear word ofCrone's being seen with anybody last night. I saw Crone last night. Iwent to his shop, buying some bits of old stuff. He was all right then--Isaw nothing. Chisholm--he says Crone was a poacher. That would account,likely, for his being out there."
"Aye!" said Mr. Lindsey. "But--they say there's marks of violence on thebody. And--the long and short of it is, my lad!" he went on, firstinterrupting himself, and then giving me an odd look; "the long and shortof it is, it's a queer thing that Crone should have come by his deathclose to the spot where you found yon man Phillips! There may be nothingbut coincidence in it--but there's no denying it's a queer thing. Go andorder a conveyance, and we'll drive out yonder."
In pursuance of the determination I had come to, I said no more aboutCrone to Mr. Lindsey. I had made up my mind on a certain course, anduntil it was taken I could not let out a word of what was by that timenobody's secret but mine to him, nor to any one--not even to MaisieDunlop, to whom, purposely, I had not as yet said anything about myseeing Sir Gilbert Carstairs on the night of Phillips's murder. And allthe way out to the inn there was silence between Mr. Lindsey and me, andthe event of the morning, about Gilverthwaite's will, and the oddcircumstance of its attestation by Michael Carstairs, was not oncementioned. We kept silence, indeed, until we were in the place to whichthey had carried Crone's dead body. Mr. Murray and Sergeant Chisholm hadgot there before us, and with them was a doctor--the same that had beenfetched to Phillips--and they were all talking together quietly when wewent in. The superintendent came up to Mr. Lindsey.
"According to what the doctor here says," he whispered, jerking his headat the body, which lay on a table with a sheet thrown over it, "there's aquestion as to whether the man met his death by drowning. Look here!"
He led us up to the table, drew back the sheet from the head and face,and motioning the doctor to come up, pointed to a mark that was justbetween the left temple and the top of the ear, where the hair waswearing thin.
"D'ye see that, now?" he murmured. "You'll notice there's some sort of aweapon penetrated there--penetrated! But the doctor can say more than Ican on that point."
"The man was struck--felled--by some sort of a weapon," said the doctor."It's penetrated, I should say from mere superficial examination, to thebrain. You'll observe there's a bruise outwardly--aye, but this has beena sharp weapon as well, something with a point, and there's thepuncture--how far it may extend I can't tell yet. But on the surface ofthings, Mr. Lindsey, I should incline to the opinion that the poorfellow was dead, or dying, when he was thrown into yon pool. Anyway,after a blow like that, he'd be unconscious. But I'm thinking he was deadbefore the water closed on him."
Mr. Lindsey looked closer at the mark, and at the hole in thecentre of it.
"Has it struck any of you how that could be caused?" he asked suddenly."It hasn't? Then I'll suggest something to you. There's an implement inpretty constant use hereabouts that would do just that--a salmon gaff!"
The two police officials started--the doctor nodded his head.
"Aye, and that's a sensible remark," said he. "A salmon gaff would justdo it." He turned to Chisholm with a sharp look. "You were saying thisman was suspected of poaching?" he asked. "Likely it'll have been somepoaching affair he was after last night--him and others. And they mayhave quarrelled and come to blows--and there you are!"
"Were there any signs of an affray close by--or near, on the bank?" askedMr. Lindsey.
"We're going down there now ourselves to have a look round," answered Mr.Murray. "But according to Turndale, the body was lying in a deep pool inthe Till, under the trees on the bank--it might have lain there for manya month if it hadn't been for yon young McIlwraith that has a turn forprying into dark and out-of-the-way corners. Well, here's more matter forthe coroner."
Mr. Lindsey and I went back to Berwick after that. And, once more, hesaid little on the journey, except that it would be well if it came outthat this was but a poaching affair in which Crone had got across withsome companion of his; and for the rest of the afternoon he made nofurther remark to me about the matter, nor about the discovery of themorning. But as I was leaving the office at night,
he gave me a word.
"Say nothing about that will, to anybody," said he. "I'll think thatmatter over to-night, and see what'll come of my thinking. It's as I saidbefore, Hugh--to get at the bottom of all this, we'll have to goback--maybe a far way."
I said nothing and went home. For now I had work of my own--I was goingto what I had resolved on after Chisholm told me the news about Crone. Iwould not tell my secret to Mr. Lindsey, nor to the police, nor even toMaisie. I would go straight and tell it to the one man whom itconcerned--Sir Gilbert Carstairs. I would speak plainly to him, and bedone with it. And as soon as I had eaten my supper, I mounted my bicycle,and, as the dusk was coming on, rode off to Hathercleugh House.