The Hand in the Dark
"Merrington has sent me round for the copy of the depositions he lent
you yesterday." It was thus he announced the object of his visit. "Have
you finished with it?"
It was apparent from this statement that Superintendent Merrington's
gratitude for information received might now be considered as past
history. Colwyn, reflecting that it had lasted as long as that feeling
usually does, congratulated himself on his forethought in having made a
copy of the report. He handed the copy before him to his visitor.
"I am obliged for the loan of it," he said. "It makes interesting
reading. You're own share in the original investigations has some
excellent touches, if you'll permit me to say so. That trap for the
owner of the brooch was a neat idea."
Caldew's resentment waned under this compliment to his professional
skill.
"The trick would have worked, too, if I hadn't been called downstairs,"
he said. "The girl was quick enough to get into the room while I was out
of it. Not that it mattered much, as things turned out, but it is a
strange thing about this necklace, isn't it?"
"Very. Has Merrington told you all about it?"
"Yes, and he gave me a rare wigging for not discovering the loss.
Between ourselves, I do not think that I was treated quite fairly about
it. Miss Heredith never said a word to me about a jewel-case being in
the room. She took it downstairs before I arrived, and never mentioned
it when I asked her if anything had been stolen. If she had told me I
should have had the case opened. But that didn't weigh with Merrington.
He's beastly unfair, and never loses a chance to put the blame on to
somebody else when anything goes wrong."
"I am sorry if you got into trouble through my action in informing him,"
said Colwyn. "But of course you must realize that a discovery of such
importance could not be kept secret."
"That's quite true," replied Caldew, in a softened voice. "Fortunately,
it does not affect the issue, one way or another. Mr. Heredith believes
that Hazel Rath is innocent, and I suppose that is why he has called you
into the case. But she is guilty, right enough. I tried to make that
clear to Mr. Heredith, but he appears to be a man of fixed ideas. The
question is, what has become of the necklace? My own impression is that
she has hidden it somewhere. She had no opportunity to dispose of it
before she was arrested."
"That means that you think she has stolen it."
"Why, of course--" Caldew's confident tone died away at the expression
of his companion's face. "Don't you?"
"I do not."
"Why not?"
"For one thing, the jewel-case was locked. How did the girl know where
the key was kept?"
"She might have got the knowledge from her mother. Mrs. Rath, as the
housekeeper, would probably know all about the keys of the household."
"Of the ordinary keys--yes. But that knowledge was hardly likely to
extend to Mrs. Heredith's private keys, unless Miss Heredith told her.
Even if Hazel Rath did know where the key was kept, it is difficult to
believe that she searched for it after committing the murder, and then
restored it to the drawer where it was kept. That argues too much
cold-blooded deliberation even in a murderer, and more especially when
the murderer is supposed to be a young girl."
"I am not so sure of that," responded Caldew, with a shake of the head.
"Murder is a cold-blooded crime."
"On the contrary, murders are almost invariably committed under the
influence of the strongest excitement, even when the incentive is gain,
and the murder has been deeply premeditated. That is a remarkable truth
in the psychology of murder. But the important fact about the theft of
the necklace is that even if Hazel Rath knew where the key of the
jewel-case was kept she had not time to obtain it from the drawer on the
other side of the bed, steal the necklace, restore the key to its place,
and escape from the room before the guests from downstairs entered the
bedroom. If Hazel Rath was indeed the murderess, time was of paramount
importance to her. She must have realized that the scream of her victim
would alarm the household downstairs, and that some of the men must have
started upstairs before the subsequent shot was fired."
Caldew was silent for a space, cogitating over these points with a
troubled look which contrasted with his previous confident expressions
of opinion about the case. His inward perturbation was made manifest in
the question:
"Do you also share Mr. Heredith's view that Hazel Rath is innocent?"
"I cannot say. The facts against her are very strong."
"Of course they are strong!" exclaimed Caldew eagerly, as though
clutching this guarded expression of opinion as a buoy for his own
sinking conviction. "They are so strong that it is quite certain she
committed the murder."
Colwyn remained silent. A statement which was merely an expression of
opinion did not call for words.
Caldew, always impressionable, became uneasy under his companion's
silence, and that uneasiness was tinctured in his mind with such a dread
of the possibility of mistake that it flowed forth in impulsive words:
"I wish you would tell me what you really think of the case, Mr. Colwyn.
I have been waiting for years for the chance of handling a big murder
like this, and now that it has come my way I should like to pull it off.
It means a lot to me," he added simply.
Colwyn reflected that he had already given away more information about
the Heredith case than his judgment approved or his conscience dictated.
But his kindly nature prompted him to help the anxious young man seated
in front of him, who had so much more than he to gain by success.
"I think there is more in this case than you and Merrington have yet
brought to light," he said.
"I suppose there is, if it is proved that Hazel Rath did not steal the
necklace. But have you found out anything else besides the loss of the
necklace?"
Colwyn did not directly reply. He was glancing over the depositions
again.
"There are one or two curious points here," he remarked, as he turned
over the leaves. "In the first place, the ammunition expert who was
called at the inquest to give evidence about the bullet extracted from
the body testified that in weight and in length it corresponded with the
seven millimetre bullet made for a pinfire revolver. The bullet had
undoubtedly been fired from the revolver which you found in Mrs. Rath's
rooms. Bullets for English revolvers are not graded in millimetres, but
there appears to be sufficient demand for this size to cause British
firms to manufacture them. The nearest size in central-fire cartridge to
seven millimetres is called the 300, which is .3 of an inch. Seven
millimetres is .276 of an inch. The point to which I want to draw your
attention is the extreme slightness and smallness of the revolver with
which Mrs. Heredith was killed. As Captain Nepcote told Merrington
yesterday, it is little more than a toy."
"That struck me as soon as I saw it," said Caldew. "But I do not see
what bearing the fact has on the case, one way or another."
"Nevertheless, it is a point not without importance, when it is
considered in conjunction with the other circumstances of the case. The
evidence of the Government pathologist is also of interest. After
stating the cause of death to be heart failure due to haemorrhage
consequent upon the passage of the bullet through the lung, he mentions
that there was a large scorched hole through the rest-gown and
undergarment which Mrs. Heredith was wearing at the time she was
murdered."
"I noticed that when I was examining the body."
"Was the dress-stuff smouldering when you saw the body?"
"No; but there was a smell of a burning fabric in the room."
"The Government pathologist says that the burnt hole was nearly two
inches across, but he also states that the punctured wound made by the
bullet was about the size of a threepenny piece. The disparity suggests
two facts. In the first place, the shot must have been fired at very
close range--very close indeed, considering the smallness of the
revolver and the largeness of the burnt hole. In the next place,
somebody must have extinguished the burning fabric before you arrived,
otherwise it would have smouldered in an ever-widening ring until the
whole of the dead woman's garments were destroyed."
"Mrs. Heredith may have extinguished it herself in her dying moments,"
said Caldew, who had been following his companion's deductions with the
closest attention.
"That is unlikely, in view of the nature of her injuries. The bullet,
after traversing the left lung, lodged in the spinal column. After such
a wound Mrs. Heredith was not likely to be conscious of her actions."
"It may have been extinguished by Musard, who tried to stop the flow of
blood while Mrs. Heredith was dying."
"He would have mentioned it to you. It is my intention to ask him, but
my own opinion is that we are faced with a different explanation."
"What is that?"
"The presence of another person in the room."
"Somebody who escaped through the window!" exclaimed Caldew, placing his
own interpretation on the deduction. "Do you suspect anybody?"
"Not exactly. But I intend to investigate Captain Nepcote's actions on
the night of the murder."
Caldew, who lacked some of the information possessed by his companion,
found this jump too great for his mind to follow.
"For what purpose?" he asked. "Nepcote returned to France before the
murder was committed."
"He did not. He stayed in London that night, and did not return to
France until the following day. He explained that yesterday by stating
that when he reached London after leaving the moat-house he found
another telegram from the War Office extending his leave for twenty-four
hours."
"Merrington said nothing of this to me. All he told me was that you and
he had seen Nepcote, who identified the revolver as his property, and
said that he had left it behind at the moat-house by accident."
"Merrington is a man of fixed ideas, to use your phrase. He insisted on
trying to fit in the loss of the necklace with his own theory of Hazel
Rath's guilt. It was his obstinacy which led him to commit the folly of
going to see Captain Nepcote before endeavouring to trace the missing
necklace. It is only fair to Nepcote to add that he volunteered the
information that he did not return to France on the night of the
murder."
"That does not seem like the action of a man with anything to hide,"
commented Caldew thoughtfully.
"Unless he was facing a dangerous situation. In that case, frankness
would be his best course to remove Merrington's suspicions. The fact
that the murder was committed with his revolver is in itself a
suspicious circumstance, in spite of the apparently plausible
explanation. I have realized that all along. I had also previously
acquainted Merrington with the fact that Nepcote did not return to
France on the night of the murder, as was supposed. Merrington led up to
that point skilfully enough, but it struck me that Nepcote saw the trap,
and took the boldest course. It gave him time, at all events."
"Time for what?"
"Time to profit by Merrington's folly in putting him on his guard. Time
to permit him to make his escape, if he is actually implicated in the
crime."
"Surely you are reading too much into this," exclaimed Caldew in a
protesting voice. "Nepcote's story seems to me quite consistent with
what we know of his movements. Miss Heredith, when giving us the names
of the guests who had been staying at the moat-house, mentioned that
Captain Nepcote had been recalled to France on the afternoon of the
murder by a telegram from the War Office. Nepcote tells you that when he
reached London he found another telegram awaiting him extending his
leave. Surely that is consistent?"