March 5th 1910. 14.25.
From: Inspector Devereux, Metropolitan Police.
To: Inspector Paul Roos, Durban Borough Police, South Africa.
Request info on type of ticket, first or second class, and route, single or return, held by the following passengers Union Castle Cape Town or Durban — Southampton — Durban or Cape Town in the two sailings last December 1909, and first sailing Jan 1910: Allen, Bell, Fish, Hughes, King, Kruger, Matfield. Smit, Steyn, Strauss, Vincent, Winder.
March 5th 1910 15.10.
From: Charles Hagberg Wright, Librarian, London Library.
To: Lord Francis Powerscourt.
Re: Place Names ending in be.
Many place names ending in ‘be’ across West Country, mainly Devon and Dorset, virtually none in Cornwall. Many too small to be good hiding places. Have four for preliminary consideration. Boscombe, next to Bournemouth. Railway station, mineral water, pier, hotels. Ilfracombe, North Devon coast. Tourist town fed by ferries along Bristol Channel. Many hotels, houses owned by naval personnel. Railway station. Babbacombe Bay, smaller than others. Tourist area with many hotels. On coast near Torquay. Served by buses not by trains. Salcombe on its own estuary leading to Kingsbridge. Growing in importance as holiday centre with hotels, large villas for rent, etc. Sailing town, GWR bus serving Kingsbridge railway station. If these don’t work, come back for more. Regards. Good Luck, Hagberg Wright.
March 5th 1910. 15.50.
From: Inspector Devereux. Metropolitan Police.
To: HQ Devon Constabulary, HQ Dorset Constabulary.
Re: Triple Murder Inquiry.
Am looking for party of two or three foreigners, probably South African, who may be staying in one of the following resorts in your jurisdiction, Boscombe, Babbacombe Bay, Ilfracombe, Salcombe. Principal suspect over fifty years old, others probably younger. They could be staying in hotel or rented house. Probably arrived mid to late December. All extremely dangerous. Do not approach unless it can’t be avoided. Regards.
March 5th 1910. 18.15.
From Inspector Paul Roos, Durban Borough Police.
To: Inspector Devereux, Metropolitan Police.
Re: Triple Murder.
Results so far. All tickets except Bell and Fish, purchased Durban. Bell, Fish singles ex Cape Town. Families related, believed to be going to family function in Oxfordshire and tour of England. Durban passengers Hughes, King, return tickets originating London. All businessmen, known to South African authorities. Smit, Steyn, travelling return Durban Southampton Durban. Pastors with Dutch Reformed Church going to conference in Holland. Information on rest later. Regards.
March 5th 1910. 19.05.
From Inspector Galway, Torquay Police Station.
To: Inspector Devereux, Metropolitan Police.
Re: Triple Murder:
Babbacombe Bay part of our beat. No trace in hotels or guest houses there of your suspects. Regards, Galway.
March 5th 1910. 19.40.
From: Inspector Harkness, Boscombe Police Station.
To: Inspector Devereux, Metropolitan Police.
Re: Triple Murder.
All Boscombe hotels and guest houses checked. No trace of your suspects here. Sorry. Good luck.
‘I don’t think we’re going to get any more cables today,’ said Inspector Devereux, fresh from the Metropolitan Police telegraph room. ‘You should have had copies of all them,’ he went on, stretching his legs out in front of the fire in Markham Square. ‘What do you think of the news so far?’
‘Normally,’ said Lady Lucy, ‘I’m a hopeful sort of person. But here we are. We’ve eliminated most of the people travelling Durban or Cape Town to Southampton. There’s absolutely no sign of the people we’re interested in, or might be interested in if we knew who they are. Half of the place names in Devon and Dorset have reported back and there’s no sign of the suspects there either. The field is contracting all the time. What happens if we’ve got it all wrong? What happens if they’re not South African at all, if they didn’t need to come here on a great liner because they lived here already? What happens if the strange mark on the dead bodies is just a decoy, a red herring designed to throw us off the scent? What happens if we’ve got everything wrong?’
‘You’re very pessimistic this evening, Lucy,’ said Powerscourt. ‘I think it’s too soon to give up the ghost. We’re not out of the hunt yet. Let’s wait and see what news tomorrow brings.’
‘But what happens if I’m right and we’ve got everything wrong?’
‘I don’t believe we have got everything wrong, Lucy, my love. But I tell you what I would do if we were wrong.’
‘What’s that, Francis?’
‘I should present my compliments to the Honourable Company of Silkworkers and resign from this case with apologies for failure. And then I should retire completely from all investigations of every sort. Like the man in Candide, I should cultivate my garden.’
21
‘How many more of these calls do we have to make, Sarge? We did about fifty yesterday.’ James Robertson was the newest recruit to the Devon Constabulary, currently being inducted into the skills required in the force by an experienced sergeant, John Pickles, based at Ilfracombe police station in the county of Devon.
‘Calm down, young man, you’ll never get on if you’re too excitable, that’s what I was always told at your age.’ Pickles glanced round the little harbour where many of the hotels and guest houses were located. ‘We did most of the work yesterday evening. Not long to go now.’
‘We had to work until after eight o’clock last night as you well remember,’ said the young man. ‘My tea was cold and my mother was just about to go down the police station and ask what had happened to me. What are these people supposed to have done, anyway? Lifted the Crown jewels? Tried to assassinate Mr Lloyd George?’
‘Never you mind what they’re supposed to have done. They’re dangerous criminals. That’s all we need to know. Now then, why don’t you stop complaining and go and make inquiries in the Hotel Bristol across the road. I’ll take the Wellington just here. Off you go now.’
Just over a hundred miles to the south another sergeant was making his way into the heart of Salcombe. He had lived here all his life, Sergeant Mark Vaughan, apart from an unhappy year on loan as a junior constable in the Met. The local Inspector, based in the mother ship at Kingsbridge, knew at once he was the man for the job. ‘Pop into Salcombe in the morning, Sergeant Vaughan, and see if there’s anything in this,’ he said the previous afternoon, handing over the wire from London. ‘I can’t imagine a more unlikely place than Salcombe for a party of villains to hide, but we’d better check.’
Inspector Devereux was back at his command post with the telegraph machines. The first message came from Ilfracombe and it reported that there was nobody of the descriptions given to be found in the town. A thorough search had been carried out and no strange persons discovered apart from a couple of Greek sailors who appeared to have jumped ship. Even the Inspector was growing worried now. There were only a couple messages more to come. Had they made an enormous mistake? He resolved not to tell Powerscourt yet about the news from Ilfracombe. He took comfort, very small comfort, from the fact that a reference book in the police library said that both Boscombe and Ilfracombe had much greater populations than Salcombe, which had yet to report. Maybe they had found something down there among the shrimp nets and the fishing boats.
Salcombe, close to Plymouth on the Devon side, is surrounded by the sea. Through the centre of the little town runs the harbour, part of the estuary which ebbs and flows each day as the tide travels the six miles back and forth from the larger town of Kingsbridge and then out into the English Channel. Tiny, perfect beaches line the sides. A ferry runs every day in summer, taking passengers up and down from Kingsbridge. As it reaches the open sea, the waters are guarded by Bolt Head on the Plymouth side and by Prawle Point on the Dartmouth side. The sea is in Salcombe’s blood. Over the years the men of Salcombe have sailed against Philip of Spain’s Armada, smuggled brandy and tobacco to be hidden in secret caves in the cliffs, and sent fast sailing ships, fruit schooners, to bring in fresh oranges and other exotic fruit from Spain and the Azores. In recent years its beauty and the mild climate had been bringing in more and more visitors.