“It is very possible, milord. In that case, both the jewels and the murderer are in England — or wherever this Cranton may be. You think, then, that the other dead man, the servant, communicated the hiding-place of the necklace — to whom?”
“Perhaps to some fellow-prisoner who was only in gaol for a short term.”
“And why should he do that?”
“In order that this fellow-prisoner should provide him with a means to escape. And the proof is that the servant did break prison and escape, and afterwards his dead body was found in a pit many miles from the prison.”
“Aha! the affair begins to outline itself. And the servant — how did he come to be found dead? Eh?”
“He is supposed to have fallen over the edge of the pit in the dark. But I begin to think that he was killed by Legros.”
“Milord, our thoughts chime together. Because, voyez-vous, this story of desertion and military authorities will not hold water. There is more than a desertion behind this change of name and this fear of the British police. But if the man was an old gaol-bird, and had committed a murder into the bargain, the thing understands itself. Twice he changes his name, so that he shall not be traced even to France, because he, Legros, under his English name, had enlisted after his release from prison and the records of your Army might reveal him. Only, if he was in the Army, it is strange that he should have found the leisure to plan a prison-breaking for his comrade and commit murder. No, there are still difficulties, but the outline of the plot is clear and will develop itself more clearly still as we proceed. In the meanwhile, I will undertake inquiries here and in Belgium. I think, milord, we must not confine ourselves to the ordinary passenger-routes, or even to the ports. A motorboat might well make the journey to the coast of Laincollone. Your police, also, will make inquiries on their part. And when we have shown the progress of Legros from the front door of his house to his grave in England, then, I think, Mme. Suzanne will speak a little more. And now, milord, I beg you will honour us by sharing our dinner to-night. My wife is an excellent cook, if you will condescend to a cuisine bourgeoise garnished with a tolerable vin de Bourgogne. Monsieur Delavigne of the Sûreté informs me that you have the reputation of a gourmet, and it is only with a certain diffidence that I make the suggestion, but it would give Mme. Rozier unheard-of delight if you would give her the pleasure of making your acquaintance.”
“Monsieur,” said Lord Peter, “I am infinitely obliged to you both.”
THE SEVENTH PART
PLAIN HUNTING
First, Lucus Mortis; then Terra Tenebrosa; next, Tartarus; after that. Terra Oblivionis; then Herebus; then Barathrum; then Gehenna; and then Stagnum Ignis.
SHERIDAN LEFANU: Wylder’s Hand.
“Well,” said Superintendent Blundell, “if that’s how it is, we’ve got to find Cranton. But it’s a funny thing to me. From what they tell me, I wouldn’t have thought Cranton was the man for that sort of job. He’s never been suspected of killing anyone, and he never looked to me like a killer. And you know, my lord, that it’s very rare for one of them sort of smart burglars to go all off the rails and take to violence. What I mean, it isn’t in them, as a rule, if you get my meaning. It’s true he went for Deacon in the dock but that was more of a scrimmage, as you might say, and I don’t think he meant much harm. Supposing as it was the other chap that killed Cranton? He might have changed clothes with him to prevent identification.”
“So he might. But what becomes of that old scar on the head? That seems to fit in with the body being this fellow they call Jean Legros. Unless Cranton had a scar too.”
“He’d no scar up to last September,” said the Superintendent, thoughtfully. “No, I reckon you’re right, and that won’t work. Some of the measurements seem a bit different, too — though of course, it’s not easy to be as accurate as all that when you’re comparing a live man with a four-months-old corpse. And there were so many teeth gone and busted from the corpse that we’ve not got much out of that, either. No, we’ve got to find Cranton. If he’s alive, he’s lying uncommon low. Looks as though he’d done something pretty bad — I give you that.”
The conversation took place in the churchyard, where Mr. Blundell had been undertaking an exhaustive search for unspecified clues. The Superintendent thoughtfully decapitated a nettle, and resumed:
“Then there’s that chap Will Thoday. I can’t make him out at all. I’ll swear he knows something — but what can he know? It’s as certain as anything can be that he was sick in bed when it all happened. He sticks to that, and says he knows nothing. What can you do with a man who says he knows nothing? Why, nothing. And as for his wife, she couldn’t have tied a man up and buried him. She’s not a powerful sort of woman by any means. And I’ve got hold of the children. It went against me to do it, but I did it all the same. And they say their Mother and Dad were both in the house all night. There’s one other person might know something, and that’s James Thoday. Look here, my lord, here’s a queer thing. James Thoday left Fenchurch St. Paul on January 4th, early in the morning, to join his ship. He was seen to go, all right — the station-master saw him. But he never got to Hull that day. I’ve been on to Lampson & Blake, and they say they had a wire from him to say he couldn’t get back in time, but would arrive on the Sunday night — which he did. Had some story of being taken suddenly ill — and they say he looked ill enough when he did arrive. I’ve told them to get in touch with him as quick as they can.”
“Where was the wire sent from?”
“London. From a post-office near Liverpool Street. About the time when the train Jim Thoday took at Dykesey would get up there. Looks as though he’d been taken queer on the way up.”
“He might have picked up influenza from his brother.”
“So he might. Still, he was fit to sail the next day, and it looks funny, don’t you think? He’d have had plenty of time to go up to London and come down here again. He wouldn’t come to Dykesey, of course, but he might have come part of the way by train and done the rest by car or motor-bike or whatnot.”
Wimsey whistled. “You think he was in with Will over the thing. Yes, I see. Will is in a conspiracy with Legros to set the emeralds — is that it? And he gets ’flu and can’t do the job himself, so he arranges with Brother Jim to do it for him. Then Jim meets Legros and kills him and buries him and vamooses with the emeralds to Hong Kong. Well, that would explain one thing, and that is, why those infernal stones haven’t been put on the European market. He could easily get rid of them over in the East. But look here, Super — how did Will Thoday get into touch with Legros in the first place? It was easy enough when we put it all on Cranton, because he could have got the papers and things made out for Legros by one of his pals in Town. But you can’t imagine that Thoday produced forged papers and provided Legros with his passage facilities and all that. How would a fellow like that know how to set about it?”