They return at evening A book of ghost stories
had strolled out for an afternoon examination of the amazing nut-hatch
colony in Long Bottom, when, just as I reached the last turn in the
ride, there came that silence and that dimming, and I knew that round
the corner something was waiting to reveal itself to me. It was there.
Some eighty yards ahead of me a man was walking in the same direction
as myself. He had a gun under his arm. Suddenly he stopped, looked
first to his right and then to his left: as he did so a woman came out
a little way from the trees and raised her arm to the level of her
shoulder. The man turned to his right again, and then threw up his arms
and fell. Then the woman ran out, picked up his gun, held it poised for
a moment, dropped it again, and then stepped back to the shelter of the
trees. As she did so she paused for a moment and then disappeared. Then
the veil came down, rose again, and the birds were singing, the sun
shining, and it was over and all trace of it was gone.
I turned at once and went back to the house. These experiences always
distress me, and I feel nervous and depressed for some time afterwards.
But the period varies; sometimes their memory speedily becomes blurred;
sometimes the vividness lingers. It lingered on this occasion. I knew
that I had witnessed some tragedy of the past, for these records are
infallible, and in spite of my repulsion I felt a certain interest
concerning it. I have said that I hate these manifestations; at the
same time I must confess I sometimes feel a certain sense of curiosity.
I had never felt this curiosity so strongly on any previous appearance.
So I left Balland the next morning, and in the evening went round to
call upon a very old friend, Jim Myers, who, besides being an artist of
very considerable and growing repute, is a fanatical criminologist. He
greatly respects my singular gift.
“Hullo, Robert,” said he, “I can see you’ve had another attack. It’s
curious, but your personality seems to echo them for days after.”
“I believe,” I replied, “I have seen the ghost of a murder, and that’s
why I’ve come to you.”
“Tell me.”
When I had finished I could see he was highly excited.
“It sounds marvellously like--where did you see this?”
“At a place called Balland Manor, near----”
But Jim had leapt to his feet. “My God, it is! it’s the fifteenth
anniversary, too. You mean to say you didn’t remember and recognise it
at once?”
“Remember what? Recognise what?” I asked.
“You’re incredible, Robert. Do you mean to say you’ve never heard of
the Balland Mystery?”
“I don’t think so; I take no interest in those things.”
“Well, I’m damned! Let me tell you, you’ve had the amazing experience
of seeing solved before your eyes one of the greatest murder puzzles
of all time.” He went to a shelf and took down a book. “Here it is,
a classic of the _Great Trials_ series. I’ve read it a dozen times,
and puzzled and wondered. Now, partly for my own amusement--for I love
talking murder--and partly to show you what an absolutely marvellous
and mysterious person you are, I’ll tell you the story.
“Richard Eagles was at Univ. with me. He was a flabby animal of no
marked attractions, and lots too much money. He was an orphan, and at
twenty-one came into the Barton Estate, amongst a number of other very
pleasant things.
“He was by no means a genius where men were concerned, and about women
he was a complete ass. He wasn’t what we mean by a womaniser exactly,
but he had a mania for being seen about with female celebrities of
the lighter sort. Most of them spent his money avidly, but he had a
streak of caution inherited from his very able father, and, as he was
a bore into the bargain, he was forced to change his partner pretty
frequently. These ladies pretended to like him at first, but made him
realise that ‘that little more and what worlds away’ was only to be
obtained _via_ a Registrar’s Office; but Richard was not the marrying
sort; the streak of caution saved him, and he disappointed them one
by one. It used to be quite a joke in the old days, for these so
jealously guarded charms were often surprisingly surrendered by their
fair owners, and even I remember being present at a capitulation or
two. Acquit me of boasting. Like you, Robert, I have reached the age
when one is visited neither by pangs of conscience nor gusts of vanity
by the remembrance of successful indiscretion; at an age, in other
words, when emotions of that _genre_ are recollected with tranquility.
“Eventually, probably inevitably, however, he got caught, and one
ill-omened evening he was introduced to Miss Patty Golden at the Regent
Night Club, where she was the professional dancer.
“All that could be known about this young person’s antecedents and
mode of life came out at the trial. Both her mother and father, who
had kept a small shop at Luton, were dead. Apparently they had been
completely commonplace individuals, but by some Mendelian miracle they
had produced between them one of the most fascinating human animals on
whom it has been my, or anybody else’s, luck to cast an eye. I tell you
frankly that, if she had gone for me, I would have gone to the devil
for her myself.
“Her hair was a most shining auburn, her eyes large, violet sirens,
her figure delicious--at least by the standards of those times, and
they are still mine. But hosts of damsels can display such charms more
or less; what they don’t possess is the amazing vitality, sparkle and
‘devil’ which Patty had more than any woman I have ever known.
“That she was a completely immoral little ‘gold-digger’ was apparent
at a glance, but it was not generally realised till the trial that
she was utterly vicious, and perhaps something more; but her personal
fascination was such that men could not resist her, even though they
realised perfectly she was a soulless little tough, out for money and
for nothing else.
“When Richard met her she was living with a blackguard called Mason,
a man of good family, but born with a seed of evil in him which had
flowered freely. He was the leader and brains of a gang who made it
their highly lucrative business to complete the education of young
gentlemen with money. And brilliantly led as they were, they succeeded
in ruining more than one, fleecing dozens, and dodging Scotland
Yard. Patty was one of the cleverest and toughest of the bunch, and,
as a dancer at a fashionable night club, she occupied an admirable
strategic position. Richard was a rich prize. Patty, who had planned
the introduction, mobilised all her powers, and he was immediately
overwhelmed. They became inseparable. Richard’s infatuation made him
an abject, drivelling serf, and there is no doubt he bored her to
screaming point, and I am certain she resolved to make a quick job
of it. But while she could get plenty of small sums and unlimited
entertainment out of him, that saving streak of caution stopped him
from signing any big cheques, and it was the big cheques she was after.
Eventually, there is no doubt, though it was disputed at the trial,
she forced him to make a will leaving her £30,000. She claimed in the
box that he had done this unknown to her and that she was expecting to
marry him.
“By this time Richard’s friends--and he had a few decent ones--were
warning him very vigorously about the character of the object of his
devotion, and one of them at the trial stated that Richard had sworn
to him he would never marry her, and would do his best to conquer his
infatuation.
“Well, this will was signed on August 25th, and on September 2nd Patty
and her ‘chaperone,’ an elderly shark, also, of course, a member of
the gang, and Richard went down to Balland for the week-end. On the
Monday afternoon, the 4th, your day, Robert, the two went out, leaving
the shark to her ‘knitting,’ Richard carrying a gun, and walked in
the direction of Long Bottom. About half an hour after, a shot or two
shots--testimony at the trial differed--were heard, and a little later
Patty came running back to the house, apparently in a great state of
agitation, saying that Richard had stumbled and as he fell his gun had
gone off, and he was lying in the ride dead. According to her story
she had been walking behind him, and had not seen very clearly how the
tragedy occurred.
“At the inquest she repeated her story, and the local doctor, who
obviously and naturally believed her, gave evidence which decided the
jury unhesitatingly to bring in a verdict of ‘Accidental death.’ And
that might have been the end of the story but for the fact that Sir
Rex Moore, the greatest expert on head wounds in the world, had read
the very full description the local doctor had given of the injuries
to Richard’s head, and considered it his duty to write to Scotland
Yard, stating that in his opinion it was impossible for the injuries
described to have been caused by a gunshot wound, even if fired at the
closest range. About the same time it came to the knowledge of the Yard
that the only witness of the tragedy had been someone who was going
to benefit to the tune of £30,000 by it, and, moreover, that this
person was one to whom their attention had been drawn on more than
one occasion. By a coincidence, about the same time they succeeded at
last in running Mason to earth for an ingenious fraud, rather luckily
discovered. Amongst his papers was found a letter which, combined with
the other suspicious circumstances, led to the arrest of Patty for
murder. Incidentally the police relied enormously on the evidence of
Sir Rex, which he had formulated in great detail.
“Richard’s body was exhumed and examined by Sir Rex and the expert
medical witnesses for the defence.
“The trial began on November 10th at the Old Bailey, and stirred the
interest of the public more than any murder trial of the century. So
like you, Robert, not to have heard of it!
“The Attorney-General led for the Crown and Sir Leonard Venables, K.C.,
for the defence. As I don’t suppose you have heard of him either, I may
say he was the greatest verdict-getter who ever wore a wig. His florid,
fruity style exactly suited a jury. His voice was beautifully musical
and persuasive, and he used it like an artist. Altogether, he commanded
gifts as a pleader which more than one guilty murderer had cause to
bless.
“Patty’s sojourn in prison had not damaged her looks. She was more
beautiful than I had ever seen her, and seemed full of confidence and
fight.
“The two strongest cards the prosecution had to play were the evidence
of Sir Rex and the letter found in Mason’s flat.
“The surgeon was examined and cross-examined at great length. Most of
his evidence is meaningless to a layman, but he held unswervingly to
his opinion that the injuries to the head could not have been caused by
a gunshot, but were certainly the result of a rifle or revolver bullet
which had glanced off after striking. He stated that his examination
at the autopsy had more than supported his early suspicions. The
only admission useful to it which the defence could extract from him
was that decomposition had set in strongly by the time the body was
exhumed. With regard to the letter, the prosecution merely proved its
discovery at Mason’s flat and that it was in the handwriting of the
accused. It ran as follows:
Sept. 7th. Balland Manor,
Bucks.
“Dear Tim,
“The agreement all along was for you to get a third and I see no
reason to change it. It will be some time before I get anything, and
anyway practically the whole risk was mine. I have to stay here till
after the inquest. I believe everything will be O.K. But don’t ask
for more, you won’t get it.
‘P.’