‘What does it seem like, doctor?’ French returned, having met this attitude before.
The doctor straightened up from his work. ‘It seems like a crack on the back of his head with something blunt but heavy. The skin’s not broken, but the skull’s fractured. Enough to kill him instantaneously.’
‘That sounds clear enough. What more do you want?’
‘That’s unofficial, as you know very well. If I’m to say there’s no poison there, for example, I must have the P-M.’ He grinned.
‘Well, it’s not suicide and it’s not accident, at all events, I take it?’
‘It’s not suicide,’ agreed the doctor, ‘but how you know it’s not accident beats me.’
‘I think we may take it it’s murder,’ said French.
‘Only unofficially.’ The doctor gave the suspicion of a wink. ‘Officially you can’t say what hit him.’
‘I’ll take the risk.’ French grinned in his turn. ‘Where’d you leave the clothes, doctor?’
With a nod of his head Dr Caldwell indicated an adjoining room, and French, passing through, set to work on his examination.
First he took the objects in the pockets. With one exception all the objects were there which a man in Sutton’s position might naturally be expected to carry. There was a wristwatch, money, keys, fountain pen, pencil, rubber, and such like. The exception was paper. There was not one scrap of paper anywhere. The notebook which a detective would certainly have carried was gone, and so were all letters or other documents which the man might have had at the time of his death. Quite obviously the body had been searched, and as a safeguard these had been removed.
French swore. The hope of finding out from the notebook what Sutton had learnt, upon which he, French, had been building, was now dashed. He was as far from solving his problem as ever.
Nor did he, again with one exception, learn anything from the clothes. But, though he didn’t realize it at the time, that exception was to prove one of the most vital discoveries of the case. With his accustomed thoroughness he subjected each garment to the severest scrutiny, but without result. There were no marks, tears, stains or other helpful indications.
Until he came to the shoes.
The shoes, he found, were quite new. Moreover, the insides of both, particularly at the heels, were clean and free from clay. The feet, he remembered, were close together in the grave, and where they had touched each had protected the other from the earth.
It occurred to French that to lift the body into the grave and place the feet as they had been placed, would probably have involved lifting the feet together. He went through the movements in imagination. Was there a chance that, if this had been done, the actual shoes might have been held and fingerprints might remain on the smooth and hard surface of the heels?
It was unlikely, he thought, but it was worth a test. He got out his grey powder and dusted it over the leather. And then to his delight he found that this very long shot had reached a bull’s eye.
Both heels bore fingerprints. They were on the inside edges and pointed towards the toes. They looked, and French was certain they were, prints of the little fingers of a right and a left hand.
Of course, in a way and at the moment, they were no use to him. He had no prints of little fingers with which to compare them. But they might become quite invaluable if he were lucky enough to arrest a suspect. With the utmost care he packed the shoes for transport to Scotland Yard.
Presently he returned to Leman Street and told Nairn of his find. The superintendent was impressed, and they discussed the affair for some time. Then French said he must go. ‘You’ve arranged the inquest, I suppose?’ he asked as he stood up.
‘Tomorrow at half past ten. Will you let everything come out, or do you want an adjournment?’
French considered. The finding of the body could not be kept a secret, and the murderer would therefore be warned that to this extent the police were on his track. The further particulars gained were so trifling that he did not see how they could give anything away.
‘I don’t want an adjournment. The only thing that I should like kept dark is the possible connection with the loss of the
Jane
Vosper
,
and as that’s only theory it won’t be mentioned.’
Nairn nodded. ‘I’ll warn the coroner, in any case.’
Leaving the police station, French returned to Redliff Lane. There he found that his men had completed their detailed examination of the clay, unfortunately without finding anything of interest.
French was more than ever disappointed. A profoundly important discovery had been made, and yet the solution of his problem seemed no nearer than before. Of course, from one point of view he was further on. Without a corpse there could have been no charge of murder. Things were to the good in so far that if and when evidence came he would be able to use it to make an arrest. But he was afraid that the question of an arrest was one for the far distant future.
Next morning he attended the inquest. The proceedings were formal and dull. French was the first witness. In reply to the coroner’s questions he said that, acting on information received, he proceeded to a shed at 29 Redliff Lane, and there made a search of the floor. He saw that a certain area looked as if it had been recently taken up, and this he had opened. He there found the remains on which the inquest was being held.
The coroner had been impressed by Nairn’s warning and accepted this statement as adequate. Briefly asking his jurors if any of them wished to put a question, he gave them little opportunity to do so, adding immediately, ‘Thank you, chief-inspector, that’s all. Now, Dr Caldwell, if you please.’
The doctor had but little to add to the statement he had already made to French. The cause of death was the blow on the back of the head, delivered, he was of opinion, with some soft, heavy, yielding object, such as a sandbag. He had made a post mortem and had found no other cause of death. The organs were all healthy and there was nothing deleterious in the stomach.
Mrs Sutton was the next witness. She formally identified the remains as those of her husband, and told of his business affairs and of the last time she had seen him alive. Her evidence was skilfully extracted, for it did not suggest that her husband’s death was connected with his cases.
Hislop, the assistant in the export department of the Weaver Bannister Company, described his journey with the deceased from Watford to Baker Street, and repeated the latter’s remark that he must now part company, as he had business at Waterloo.
Jeffrey was called, as the deceased’s principal employer, to give evidence as to the man’s professional position. Here also the questions were so framed that no question of his having been on a dangerous job was raised. Jeffrey spoke warmly of Sutton’s industry and capability, and said the firm held him in high esteem.
If all this left the position somewhat obscure, it did not seem to worry the coroner. In his short address to the jury he pointed out that their duty was to find the cause of death, not to conduct criminal proceedings against any person or persons. In this case two outstanding facts seemed to give them all the information they could possibly require to reach a conclusion. First there was the evidence of the doctor that death had been caused by a blow on the back of the head, and his further professional opinion that that blow could not have been self-inflicted. Secondly, they had the fact that the body had been buried with every evidence of a desire to keep the death secret. Here was, in his opinion, overwhelming evidence of premeditation. He thought the conclusion that wilful murder had been committed was unavoidable, but, of course, this was a question for the jury, and for them alone. He thought, also, the jury would agree that no evidence as to the identity of a possible criminal had been put before them. But, as he had pointed out, the question of responsibility for the crime was not a matter with which they had to do. If they agreed with him they would return a verdict of wilful murder by some person or persons unknown. But, of course, as he had said, this was entirely a matter for themselves.
Needless to say, the suggested verdict was returned, and that without a retirement.
That afternoon French gave orders that he was not to be disturbed, and settled down to struggle very seriously with his case. It was now no vague instance of disappearance, which, however unlikely, might always have been deliberate. Now it was murder, and murder must be followed up with all the energy and all the resources at the investigating officer’s command. He, French,
must
succeed! The case was too important to permit of failure. Apart from the fact that the murdered man was a friend of his own, apart from the sympathy he felt for the widow, apart from all his feelings on the matter, his professional existence was to a considerable extent at stake. A chief-inspector who failed in his cases wouldn’t be a chief-inspector long.
For the hundredth time he got out his notes and worked slowly through them. At each item he stopped and thought. Had this fact no bearing that he had missed? Could no deduction be made from it which up to now he had over-looked? He had obtained an immense amount of material. Surely he should be able to make more of it than he had?
He sat pondering, comparing, sifting his facts, trying to reconstruct his theories. But he could get no further. Every avenue he tried seemed to lead to a dead end. Sutton had been on to what Rice was doing. How did he get on to it? What was Rice doing? Both questions seemed to be unanswerable.
How tired he, French, was of the whole business! Not only mentally tired, but actually physically weary. He had gone over the facts, over them again and again, till he was sick of the thought of them. He had gone stale to the whole problem. He would put the blessed thing aside and do some other work. When he came back to it fresh he might do better. A wave of discouragement flowed over him.
But it happened that as he thus luxuriated in pessimism he was automatically fingering the two scraps of burnt paper whose origin had up to the present eluded him. That ‘arm c’, he thought dully. What could armchairs have to do with the affair? Did it really refer to armchairs?
Then suddenly an idea flashed into his mind. ‘Arm c’ didn’t only stand for armchairs! What about alarm clocks?
Alarm clocks! And the
Jane
Vosper
was blown up – must have been blown up – by time bombs! Alarm clocks! Most time bombs were operated by clocks.
And of all kinds of clocks, alarm clocks were the most suitable for the purpose. Alarm clocks! Yes, that was something to think about.
Instantaneously French’s weariness vanished. He was suddenly fresh and rested, optimistic, capable and as energetic as ever. Alarm clocks! Yes, it was an idea. He would follow it up without any loss of time.
If the ‘WC2’ scrap were part of the same sheet as the ‘arm c’ piece, as from their quality seemed not unlikely, the enquiry should be short. He had only to send to all the watchmakers in the area and show them the ‘WC2’ and the ‘T
EL
’ printing and spacing to find the one in question. And, of course, lest the ‘WC2’ scrap did not apply, enquiries as to the sale of alarm clocks would be made at the same time. He decided to concentrate on the WC2 area first. If he got nothing there he could try elsewhere.
Late though it was, he began work immediately. He sent for a number of men, explained what was required, furnished them with photographs of the lettering, and started them off on their rounds. They were to work till the shops closed and begin again as soon as they reopened next morning.
French was more impressed by this alarm clock idea than he had been by any other of his theories of the case. For this, if it proved true, would bring the investigation back to what it had been long divorced from: the connection between Sutton’s death and the blowing up of the
Jane
Vosper
. French was satisfied that in that direction and no other lay the solution of his problem. If Rice had bought alarm clocks it would not prove that he had caused the explosions, but it would make it much more likely.
In bed that night his thoughts reverted to the subject. There had been four explosions. If four alarm clocks had been purchased, the presumption of a connection would be strengthened. How he wished he could prove it!
Then a devastating consideration flashed into his mind. Was he not on the wrong track altogether? Would alarm clocks have been any use for the
Jane
Vosper
outrage?
An alarm clock went off within, at latest, about ten hours of its being set. Under no circumstances could the functioning of the alarm mechanism be delayed beyond this period. But in the case of the
Jane
Vosper
the mechanism didn’t operate for more than a week. Alarm clocks would have been no use here. If they had been used, they would have blown the ship up before she left the dock.
Here was a bitter disappointment. The first really hopeful idea he had reached had proved a washout! His depression suddenly returned. Again he felt physically weary. Thoughts of failure filled his mind. His comfortable satisfied feeling passed and he grew restless and on edge. Once again he began to go over the evidence…
When he reached the Yard next morning he considered calling off the men who were working the watchmakers’ shops. They had, however, gone out, and for the moment he was out of touch with them. As they rang up to report progress he would recall them.
He was, therefore, the more astonished when shortly before eleven he had a telephone message from one of them. Messrs Attenborough of Dentite Street, off the Strand, who specialized in alarm clocks, had invoices lettered as was the burnt scrap. The constable suggested that perhaps French could see his way to call over.
French, though still sceptical of result, felt he must do so. He told the man to wait for him in Dentite Street, put aside his correspondence and left the Yard.
Though the purchase of an alarm clock by Rice no longer greatly interested him, French felt that if the man really had had dealings with the Attenborough firm he, French, should know all about it. He was glad, therefore, when shown into Mr Attenborough’s private office, to find that gentleman ready to do anything in his power to assist.