‘Yes. In my experience, though, heightened police activity directed towards one purpose sometimes uncovers other criminals along the way. Give me more details of your affair this evening when we are snug in the bosom of your family. The murder of this Eustace Flask might after all be connected with the arrival of Doctor Smight.’
‘Which you have already called coincidence.’
‘A coincidence is only so until it is proved otherwise.’
He is quite the police philosopher, this William Traynor, thought Harcourt as they strolled through the old town and across the river to the County Hotel. But naturally he said nothing of his annoyance and contented himself with pointing out some more of the sights of Durham.
By good fortune they encountered Tom and Helen in the lobby of the hotel as they were leaving after their meeting with Major Marmont. Neither of the Ansells was exactly pleased to see Superintendent Harcourt again but he was quick to reassure Helen that their call was nothing to do with the Flask business. He introduced Inspector Traynor, explaining that the detective from Great Scotland Yard had significant information which concerned the couple.
William Traynor spoke to the hotel porter. He required somewhere quiet where they might chat. The four were directed to an empty snug next to the hotel dining room. Tom and Helen sat together on an old ottoman, the two policemen in armchairs opposite with a low table between them. The smell of food together with the distant chink of plates and cutlery reminded Harcourt that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. The London detective seemed tireless, unaffected by hunger. Fuelled only by the meat pie from Derby station, he had already spent a lengthy period in the police-house, visited Miss Howlett’s house and questioned a chemist, besides suggesting a couple of investigative lines. Harcourt thought this must be the pace at which police business was conducted in a big city. He wondered whether to send a message to Rhoda that he and his special guest would be late for supper.
It took some time for even an abbreviated form of the story which Inspector Traynor had to tell. First, he checked that the Ansells had indeed attended the seance in Tullis Street at which Seldon, a policeman in civilian clothes, exposed Ernest Smight.
‘But Mr and Mrs Seldon are dead,’ interrupted Helen. ‘I saw it in the paper. I mentioned it to you, Tom. An accidental gas leak, wasn’t it, Inspector?’
‘It was no accident, Mrs Ansell,’ said Traynor, observing the I-told-you-so look which passed between wife and husband. Swiftly he outlined his reasons for concluding that the death of the Seldons was an ill-disguised murder. He explained the part played by Doctor Anthony Smight, his motive being revenge for the suicide of his brother, Ernest. He said he believed that the Ansells were next on Smight’s list.
‘That is hard to believe,’ said Tom. ‘I admit I would have been ready to testify against Ernest Smight if I had been summoned, and I can’t say I had any sympathy with the man in the first place. But I — we — were sorry to hear of his death, even if it was by his own hand. Surely this involvement of ours is too small and insignificant for his brother to want to… harm us as you’ve described? It’s not rational.’
‘Mr Ansell,’ said Inspector Traynor, allowing the smallest of smiles to creep across his face, ‘you’re a lawyer, as I understand it. You are surely aware of just how irrational people can be. That is why the law was invented.’
Then, as he had at the chemist’s, he produced the police artist’s sketch of Doctor Tony. A less impassive man than Traynor might have been gratified by the effect the picture produced on the couple.
‘My God,’ said Tom. ‘It is the man on the riverbank.’
‘Which man is that, Mr Ansell?’
‘A few days ago we were out for a walk and the person in this picture tried to return a handkerchief which he said my wife had dropped.’
‘It wasn’t my handkerchief,’ said Helen. ‘I told him so quite clearly. At the time I thought he was being very insistent. It was as if he wanted to find some excuse to speak with us, to see us face to face.’
‘That’s probably what he did want,’ said Traynor.
‘There is more,’ said Helen, taking the picture from Tom and studying it carefully. ‘I knew that this individual reminded me of someone. There is a likeness between him and the unfortunate medium, the one from Tullis Street. See, Tom.’
‘I do now,’ said Tom. ‘Something about the eyes and forehead. Not surprising if they are brothers.’
‘In one way, this is good news,’ said Traynor. ‘It confirms, Harcourt, that the man we are seeking is in Durham. But it also underlines the threat facing Mr and Mrs Ansell. Doctor Anthony Smight is on your trail. Do not be afraid, though, for we are on his.’
Despite the reassurance, Tom and Helen automatically glanced round as if the murderer might be lurking in a corner of the oak-panelled snug.
‘I cannot help being a little afraid,’ said Helen. ‘Fear seems justified on this occasion.’
‘You really think we are in danger, Inspector?’ said Tom.
‘We shall act as if the danger to you and your wife is real, Mr Ansell,’ said Traynor.
‘It is real,’ said Helen firmly. ‘Before we left London there was a person keeping watch on our house. Remember, Tom, I told you that as well. He was asking questions about us at the grocer’s.’
‘That was most likely George Forester,’ said Traynor. ‘It was lucky that the two of you left London for Durham when you did. You might have ended up like the Seldons otherwise.’
Tom put his hand over Helen’s. He said. ‘We will be all right. At least we know the danger now.’
He spoke with more confidence than he felt. He was conscious of the need to keep his voice steady. He was conscious, too, that Helen had been correct in every one of her fears and forebodings. She thought they were partly responsible for the suicide of Smight, although she had nothing to do with it. She’d been alerted by the snooper asking questions about them and uneasy over the deaths of the Seldons. She sensed something odd about the man on the riverbank — Doctor Anthony Smight — and now she was being proved right on all counts.
‘I will have my men keep watch over you,’ said Harcourt. ‘A discreet watch when you are out and about in the city and there will be a police presence in your aunt’s house too.’
‘Could not this man Smight have been responsible for the murder of Eustace Flask also?’ said Helen. ‘Or are there two murderers at large in Durham?’
‘Either of those things is possible,’ said Traynor. ‘The Superintendent here has given me an outline of the local murder. I understand from him, Mrs Ansell, that you were unlucky enough to discover Flask’s body and even more unlucky to be held in custody for several hours, although anyone meeting you could see that you were no more capable of committing a murder than Harcourt or I.’
Frank Harcourt looked shamefaced, and Helen let him stew in his own discomfort for a few moments before saying, ‘I saw the man in the picture on a second occasion. He was walking on the riverbank at around the time Mr Flask was killed. I even saw him near the scene of the murder.’
‘Why didn’t you say so before, Mrs Ansell?’ said Traynor. He spoke mildly.
‘The circumstances were not… propitious. At the time I was more concerned with establishing my own innocence.’
‘Of course,’ said Traynor, with a glance at Harcourt who refused to meet his eye. ‘I’d have reacted in the same way myself.’
‘But what would be Smight’s motive for killing Eustace Flask?’ said Tom. ‘Flask was a medium, like Smight’s brother.’
‘Who can tell? We won’t know until we have Anthony Smight safely under lock and key. But it is my view that this doctor is unhinged. He has gone bad, and when a doctor goes bad he is more dangerous than almost anybody else. He has nerve and experience. Furthermore Smight is an opium addict, a habit which we believe he first acquired in the East. Prolonged indulgence in the drug quite saps the moral sense and sweeps away all inhibitions. Once embarked on a course of murder, such a man will find it very hard to stop.’
‘There is another mystery,’ said Helen. ‘According to you, Inspector, this Anthony Smight is determined to do us harm because we were present at the seance after which his brother killed himself. If that was the case, he ought to have been pleased when I was under suspicion for the death of Eustace Flask. He might have been happy if things had gone much further and I had been put on trial-’
‘That never would have happened, dear lady,’ said Traynor.
‘I am glad to hear it. But, if you accept what I’ve just said, then explain why Smight took the extraordinary step of sending the murder weapon and a note to the police announcing that I did not do it.’
Tom wondered why Helen was so troubled by this question. She’d already raised it with him. What did it
