A Javelin for Jonah

“Yes, indeed,” said Gascoigne. “This is a most terrible business. Could there be any connection between this and Davy’s death, do you suppose? The youth was in his squad.”

“Oh, I am convinced that there is a connection.”

“We cannot be harbouring a maniac, can we?”

“I do not know. There is certainly a ruthless killer in the neighbourhood. It is too early, perhaps, to theorize, but is it possible that Kirk knew something about Mr. Jones’s death which he did not disclose?”

“I could not say. As I remarked just now, he was a member of Davy’s gymnastics squad, but that would hardly entitle him to be cognizant of all Davy’s affairs.”

“How many students are accommodated in each hall of residence?”

“There are nine huts. Each holds nine men except for Drake Hall, which houses ten.”

“I know that Mr. Richard was a member of Kirk’s hall…”

Before the conversation could continue, a maid announced the arrival of the police.

“You reported a missing student, sir,” said the inspector.

“His body has been found since first I telephoned,” said Gascoigne.

“His body? Where, sir?”

“I will send for Miss Yale. She was present when it was discovered. The Dean is on guard at the spot, and Miss Yale will guide us to it. I waited for you to get here, so I have no details to give you. The assumption is that the boy was hit over the head. We have reason to think that a sixteen-pound shot was the weapon. One is known to be missing from our store and one has been found not far from the body.”

“Well, there’s one thing,” said the inspector, “if ever we had any doubts about Mr. Jones—not that we had— there doesn’t seem any doubt about this one being culpable homicide, I take it.”

“To drop a heavy weight—our shots are of turned bronze of the kind which were first introduced at the Commonwealth Games—on one’s own head, seems a bizarre way of committing suicide, Inspector, I must admit.”

“May I use your telephone, sir? I had not realized that I should need a photographer and a doctor, to say nothing of a finger-print man. Turned bronze, you say? It ought to yield some useful evidence unless the chap wore gloves, as I expect he did.”

Gascoigne led him to the telephone and in a very few minutes he joined them again.

“Will you wait, or shall we go over to the woods?” asked Gascoigne. “I have sent for Miss Yale.”

“I’d like to take a look, sir. Perhaps you would post Miss Yale, after she has guided us, at some convenient spot where she can flag down the police-car and bring my men along. Was the young chap known to have any enemies, sir?”

“He was not popular, but I can think of nobody who would go to the length of killing him, Inspector.”

Miss Yale materialized and guided the small party into the woods and up to the clearing. The dead boy was still seated with his back against the only tree and, except that the top of his head was grievously misshapen, he might have been deeply asleep.

“I can’t do anything until the doctor gets here,” said the inspector. He squatted down and looked closely at the dead face. “Looks as though he’d been given a good crack on the jaw as well,” he said, “a boxer’s knock-out, or something of that sort. I’d say he was killed somewhere else and carried here and positioned before he could stiffen, but that’s only theory. Where did you say you found the weapon?”

“We could do with some help from you, Dame Beatrice,” said the inspector, on the following morning. “Is there anywhere we could talk?”

“Come to my sitting-room, Inspector. I’m sure Mr. Medlar will excuse us.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” said Gascoigne, with whom she had been talking. “I have much to do. I am expecting poor Kirk’s stepfather, and must prepare myself for the interview. It is bound to be difficult. He will have expected me to take better care of the boy. How could I have known, though? How could I have known that a terrible thing like this would happen to him? And what are other parents going to think? This could be the ruin of Joynings, the end of all my work.”

“I wouldn’t take too gloomy a view, sir,” said the inspector. “There must be a reason for the young gentleman’s death which would not apply, I daresay, to the majority of your students. All the same, sir, I shall have to question you and your staff as soon as I have had a talk with Dame Beatrice.”

“Yes, of course, Inspector. I am sure that any help any of us can give will be vouchsafed to you freely and willingly.”

“I hope so, sir, I’m sure.” With this not altogether optimistic remark, he opened the door for Dame Beatrice and they repaired to what had been Jones’s sitting-room. “Well, now, ma’am,” he said, when they were seated, “you’ve been acquainted with all the circumstances here as long as I have, and you’ve had the advantage of living among these people since Mr. Jones’s body was discovered. Is it any good asking whether you’ve come to any conclusions or got any pointers for me?”

“I think one might begin by asking some questions of the eight young men who shared a hut with Kirk.”

“Oh, yes, I agree about that. Before I leave here today I’ll put them through the usual routine. If they don’t come up with anything which helps me, perhaps you’d have a go at them. Any other suggestions?”

“Well, I am convinced, Inspector, that both the deaths were concerned with the staff, not with any of the students except the dead boy.”

“You don’t think he killed Jones, ma’am?”

“I am sure he did not, but I think he brought about his own death because he knew—or thought he knew— the identity of Jones’s murderer. I mentioned the staff because, so far, all my enquiries lead me to the conclusion that nobody except a member of the faculty could have obtained access to the store where the javelin and the shot were