“But what about the other boy?” asked Ferdinand.
“Kirk? Well, I suppose, whoever the murderer was, if Kirk was blackmailing him and making him bring those drinks to the College under threat of exposing him to the police, well, there’s as good a motive as any.”
“Yes, that’s obvious, of course, but I still don’t know who the murderer is.”
“I’d also wondered about Miss Yale,” went on Laura. “Hamish said in one of his letters that he’d asked Miss Yale why she was content to look after a few wretched little maladjusted females at Joynings instead of taking on what he considered would be a worthwhile job for a woman of her capabilities. Of course we know the answer to that now, but I didn’t at the time.”
“But why should she murder Jones?” asked Ferdinand. “There would have to be a reason.”
“There could have been, as I saw it. Jones was known to be a pest with women. I think that if Miss Yale had thought Jones was making a set at any of her wretched chicks she would have murdered him quite cheerfully.”
“I think she might have been inhibited, you know, so far as causing the death of another person was concerned,” said Dame Beatrice. “She already had two deaths on her conscience.”
“Yes, it turned out that she had been warned, before she set out on that mountain scramble, about unfavourable weather conditions,” said Ferdinand, “but decided she knew better and so refused to change her plans and took a calculated risk which ended in tragedy and also ended her chosen career.”
“I did just toy with the thought of Lesley, too,” said Laura, “because Jones probably tried to make himself a nuisance there as well.”
“Dear me!” said Ferdinand, laughing. “In your opinion, the female of the species is indeed deadlier than the male! However, you argued pretty logically, I would say, except that, as my mother has pointed out, it was not to any of these people’s advantage to bring scandal and, no doubt, subsequent ruin on the College.”
“People don’t always think about things like that,” retorted Laura, “when they really get desperate.”
“Very true,” said Dame Beatrice. “Well, let us sleep on it. We may need to be up betimes in the morning. Meanwhile, my dear boy, I should like to use your telephone, if I may.”
“The inspector has arrested a man on suspicion of having removed property from enclosed premises with the intention of converting it to his own use?” asked Henry. “The police wish to have a confrontation in the presence of the whole staff? But why, Dame Beatrice? Nobody, so far as I know, has reported anything missing.”
“Perhaps not, Mr. Henry. Nevertheless, concerning this arrest, the inspector and I both feel that we shall be in a stronger position if any of the staff can supply corroborative evidence.”
“I think you will find we shall be loyal to one another, Dame Beatrice”
“But disloyal to the truth, and disloyal to the innocent?” asked Dame Beatrice. “I think you should realize, Mr. Henry, that, since the deaths of Mr. Jones and the lad Kirk, everybody here, whether student or lecturer, has been, to some extent, under suspicion.”
“I don’t care, all the same, for the criminal to be unmasked in public.”
“His trial will take place in public.”
“Well, I’ll see what Gassie has to say, but I don’t think he will be any keener on a staff-meeting show-down than I am.”
“Your scruples do you infinite credit, and I share your sentiments, Mr. Henry. Nevertheless, justice must be seen to be done, and, when it is done, I am sure that you and Mr. Gascoigne will be the last to regret it.”
“Anything which touches the good name of Joynings is a matter for regret, Dame Beatrice, and enough harm has been done to the College already by the reports—exaggerated, in many cases—of these terrible murders.”
“Suppose I told you that the College will benefit from what you call this show-down?”
“I hardly see how that can be, unless it proves that none of us was involved.”
“Well, that may be possible, up to a point. You have had your failures as well as your more numerous successes with your students, I take it?”
Henry looked perplexed.
“I thought you had decided that the murderer was not a student,” he said. “I thought the fact that no student could get at a key to the steel-fronted store-cupboard which houses some of the apparatus for the field events proved that.”
“The murderer was already in possession of a key, Mr. Henry.”
“Jonah’s key, do you mean? Oh, no, that’s impossible. He might have got hold of it for the shot which killed Kirk, but not for the javelin, surely!”
“You are right. Forgive me for not enlightening you further, but the inspector and I have an agreement that nothing beyond what I have told you is to be disclosed until the meeting.”
“Where am I to ask Gassie to hold it? In the senior common room? In one of the lecture rooms? In his office or his sitting-room?”
“Well, as the inspector will already have made his arrest, we think that the only place is the local police station. We shall not require the presence of Hamish, Martin, Celia and Jerry, but everybody else should put in an appearance.”
“Including Miss Yale and Lesley? A police station is hardly the place for ladies!”
“I shall be there in the role of duenna,” said Dame Beatrice solemnly.
It was a subdued and somewhat apprehensive group of two women and three men who, given seats, awaited the confrontation which they had been warned to expect.
“Have you any idea of what is going to happen, sir?” asked Barry. Gascoigne coughed.
“Gassie, my dear fellow,” he said. “Not ‘sir’ but ‘Gassie.’ We are all friends here until the criminal is unmasked. That is what we have been promised—that the criminal will be unmasked. Needless to say, I have the utmost confidence in all of you.”
“That’s as well,” said Miss Yale, who was seated next to him, “because I don’t think I ever in my life felt less confidence in myself.”
At this moment there was a slight but mysterious interruption. A uniformed policeman opened the door and ushered in Jerry.
“Hullo,” said Henry. “To what are we indebted?”
“We thought you were one of those without a stain on your character,” said Lesley. “Why have you been thrust in with all of us gaolbirds?”
Jerry found a vacant chair and sat down.
“I’ve no idea why I’ve been sent for,” he said. “I had a phone call, about ten minutes after you lot had started for the town, telling me to get my car out and join you here. I say, what’s on? Does anybody know?”
The inspector came in and counted heads.
“Everybody present?” he asked. “Right.” He turned his head towards the open doorway. “Very good, Ryder. You can bring him in.” As a police constable and a tall young man entered, Gascoigne exclaimed, in a startled, incredulous tone,
“Good heavens, Merve! What are you doing here?”
“You recognize this man, then, do you, Mr. Medlar?” asked the inspector.
“Certainly. This is Mervyn, who was once one of my students and, later on, joined my staff.”
“Quite so, sir. Now, does anybody recognize this?” The inspector laid on the table a pistol.
“Looks like one of my starting-guns,” said Jerry, bending forward to inspect it.
“You may handle it,” said the inspector. “We’d better be quite sure.”
“Oh, yes, it’s mine all right,” said Jerry. He handed it to Henry. “What do you think?” he asked.
“It’s the Webley Conversion .38, of course,” said Henry. “We’ve got a fire-arms certificate for it,” he added. “Where did you get it, Inspector?”
“From Mervyn Sharp, alias Harper, here, when we frisked him.”
“But where did he get it?” asked Jerry.