Only seven were hanged
A few minutes later Williams, the manservant, opened the door of the
library, after knocking once, and saw his employer dead in the chair.
He did not lose his head. He went out to the hall and telephoned for
the police. After this he aroused the guests and servants, but did
not allow them to enter the room.
The police headquarters for the village were situated about a mile
from the house. The arrival of an inspector and a constable was
heralded by the growling of the watch-dog. Williams and the
inspector knew each other quite well.
The inspector was a large man, slow of movement and heavy of frame.
He first of all cleared the servants from the hall and stationed his
constable there. He then invited Williams into the library and
closed the door. Mr. Goff was finished with money-lending forever,
and it was now the business of the police to find his murderer.
There was, of course, no sign of a struggle in the room. On a side
table were four empty glasses besides a pack of cards. The guests
had been playing before they retired. Mr. Goff's empty glass lay on
his desk in a pool of slipped liquor. The door of the safe, which
was built into the wall next the bookcase, was open.
The inspector took in these details rapidly. He noted that the
French window was ajar, allowing anyone to pass out or in. The
rustle of the wind among the trees in the garden whispered through
the room.
The inspector bent over the dead man for a moment, then sat down and
took out a notebook and pencil.
"Sit down, Williams, and tell me about it. Where were you when you
heard the shot?"
"I didn't hear a shot, Inspector; that is the funny thing. I had
been clearing up after supper. The guests were upstairs. I came in
to see if Mr. Goff wanted me any more, and he said he didn't. Then I
went upstairs. But I had forgotten to mention a detail to him--a
trivial matter about my usual holiday. I get off usually for
Saturday and I wanted to have a little extra this week-end. When I
opened the door I found him--like this. That was just before
midnight, just on the stroke."
"How many guests are there?"
"Four gentlemen from London."
"Has anybody been in this room since you made the discovery?"
"No. I awakened the guests, of course, but I did not allow anybody
to come into the room. I knew you wouldn't want that. But they
looked in. I could not prevent them. It is a terrible business."
"Go on. You did not hear a shot?"
"Not a sound. The French window was open as it has been all evening.
They were smoking a lot."
The inspector glanced at the dead man and then toward the window.
"Had Mr. Goff any enemies that you know of, Williams?"
"Well, I couldn't name any, but what moneylender hasn't?"
"That is true. The murderer, it seems, shot him from the open
window. Let us look."
The inspector took an electric torch from his pocket and went round
the room, flashing the light into dim corners and under the
furniture. He bent down to the carpet several times. He went out to
the garden and spent some time searching along the path and among the
flower-beds. Presently he uttered an exclamation and dragged
something from under a rhododendron bush. It was a revolver. He
brought it into the room and examined it before putting it into his
pocket. Then he turned to Williams, who had remained seated all this
time.
"There is a silencer on this gun, John. That is why you did not hear
the shot."
"Ah, that's the reason, is it?" exclaimed Williams. "I wondered
about that."
The inspector walked back to the window and faced the dead man.
After a few moments he spoke again.
"The man who killed Mr. Goff fired from about where I stand. He came
in from the garden through this open window. He must have fired at
once or Goff would have made some resistance and raised an alarm.
The reason Goff's head is thrown back as you see is because he looked
up from his desk just in time to receive the bullet in his forehead.
The smack drove his head backward. That is why his face is turned
toward the ceiling and his neck on the back of his chair."
"I see," answered the manservant.
"Then the criminal threw away this gun----"
"In his flight?"
"Perhaps."
The inspector went round the room again, looking at the walls and the
floor. He came to the card-table and sat down beside it, leaning his
elbow on the table, and fingering his chin thoughtfully.
"Was there much money in the safe, John?"
"I don't know how much, but I should say a tidy bit. You see, the
four visitors came here to arrange the details of loans, so I
understood. It was an idea of Mr. Goff to ask regular borrowers down
to talk over terms--I mean big borrowers, of course; his customers,
one might call them."
"Robbery and murder!" murmured the inspector. "It is a big case,
John. Bigger than we've had hereabouts since I can remember. I'll
have to question everybody in the house. Somebody may have heard a
suspicious sound."
"They've all told me that they didn't hear anything. We talked it
out before you came, but the guests are in the morning-room. They'll
be glad to tell you all they know."
"I'll have a word with them later. Pure formality, but rules are
rules, you know. This will mean a long report."
He glanced round the room once more, rubbing his chin and shaking his
head dismally.
"You see, Williams, to find the criminal we ought to reconstruct the
crime. We know that Mr. Goff was a wealthy money-lender. He kept a
safe in this room. It is there, with the door open. There has not
been any struggle. Mr. Goff was at his desk, writing. The pen he
was using is on the blotter. The sheets of paper in front of him are
forms to be filled up for loans----"
"Which the guests were to sign in the morning," said Williams.
"Of course, that's it; and the terms had been arranged, or Mr. Goff
would not have been in the act of filling up the forms. Along comes
the murderer, looks in at the window, sees Mr. Goff and the open
safe--and shoots him! It's hard on the four visitors who had come
for loans. What are they saying about it?"
"They're a bit upset, naturally. Will you have a word with them now?"
"Before I go in to see them, John, tell me who they are."
"Oh, I know very little about them--as little as a man in my position
knows about guests."
"Tell me what that amounts to."
"Well, there is Mr. Ralph Brunner. He is a bookmaker and tipster.
He has a house at Epsom, but he goes all over the country. You know
what some racing men are--loud-voiced, bragging. He lives and talks
without reserve. He has been here often."
"Yes. And the next?"
"Mr. Jacob Finn. He is one of the nicest gentlemen I have ever
served. He was a doctor at one time, but got into trouble over a
wrong diagnosis and it broke him. He has acted as medical friend to
the boss."
"The next?"
"Mr. Roger Cass, who has had many business deals with Mr. Goff. The
two were great friends. He was the only one who talked openly at
supper about the loan he was needing."
"The next?"
"Mr. Philip Oakland, a friend of Mr. Brunner's. I don't know what
his business is, but he is always complaining of being hard up and
how difficult it is to make ends meet these days. That's all I know
about the guests."
"Any new servants?"
"Oh, no. We have only the cook, and the gardener who is her husband,
as you know well enough. There is the maid to help the cook. They
are in the kitchen now. I told them you would want to see everybody."
"That was right."
"You see, Inspector, I lost no time before calling you. You could
not be expected to get the murderer if you didn't get a quick start
on his trail. And then, I have the guests to consider. They are
going back to town."
"When are they intending to go?"
"I had my orders to see to them. I was told at supper that they were
going back by the midday train tomorrow--I mean today, since it is
now morning."
"Have you seen anybody hanging about here lately--any
suspicious-looking person?"
"Well, the visitors took up all my time since they came the other
day. It was one call, call, call, from morning until night. Four
gentlemen take a lot of looking after."
The inspector remained silent for some time; so long, indeed, that
Williams became irritated at the slowness of the man's mind.
"Hadn't we better be getting on with it?" he ventured. "You'll
report this to Scotland Yard, I suppose, Inspector?"
"Not yet, Williams. If I report and ask their help they'll send an
investigator down. He can't arrive before the afternoon or evening.
Maybe I'll send a call to the county headquarters, however. You'll
help me all you can, won't you?"
"Certainly, Inspector. Well, what about seeing the guests? They're
anxious to tell you anything and then get off to their business."
"Williams, have you ever snared rabbits?"
"No."
"Or trapped hares?"
"No."
"Or hunted otter?"
"No."
"Or dug for badgers, or went after moles?
"No. What has all this to do with----"
"If you had done any of these things you'd appreciate the value of
patience. You're a townsman. I'm not going into your past, for we
know each other. We in the country need patience and we acquire it.
After all, the man who committed this crime was patient, so why
shouldn't we be? He came here meaning to do it."
"You think so?"
The inspector took from his pocket the revolver he had found in the
garden and laid it flat on his broad palm.
"The number plate has been filed off to keep us from tracing where it
was bought. That was cunning."
"I see."
"The murderer wore gloves so that there would not be
fingerprints--proof that the crime was not spasmodic and
uncontrollable impulse. He has not left a trail. He is more cunning
than any otter or badger I ever hunted. I think I'll send a call to
county headquarters."
"You mean for them to keep a lookout for strangers?"
"Well, they look after the details of the prosecution at trials----"
"But you haven't got a clue yet and the man you want may be well on
his road anywhere. If he goes to the city you'll never find him.
This looks like a case of town _versus_ country!"
"It is crime _versus_ justice," corrected the inspector, gravely.
"Well, what are you going to do?"
The inspector took a sheet of paper from the desk and began to write
rapidly. Williams watched him contemptuously. When the inspector
finished writing he took an envelope from the stationery rack and
addressed it carefully.
"I'm going to ask you to do something for me, Williams. The police
doctor must see the body and give his certificate. Will you please
go to my office in the village and deliver this note to the sergeant
in charge? He will be expecting to hear from me."
"Why not send the policeman who is in the hall?"
"I'll need him to corroborate my report. Two of us are necessary
here."
"Or telephone?"
"The doctor must have written instructions."
Williams took the envelope and went out of the room, the inspector at
his heels. In the hall he turned.
"What if I meet the murderer?"
"Take the dog with you if you're afraid, but I hardly think you'll
meet anyone. Come, I'll see you off."
He went into the yard, where the manservant released the dog and put
him on a leash. The inspector accompanied him to the front gate and
watched him go toward the village. Then the inspector returned to
the room where the dead man was still in his chair.
He examined the floor again, but could not find any footprints of
special interest, for there had been quite a lot of walking about the
room and there were marks of people having come in from the garden in
plenty.
The inspector next went upstairs, where he remained some time. At