A Javelin for Jonah

successes with your students, I take it?”

Henry looked perplexed.

“I thought you had decided that the murderer was not a student,” he said. “I thought the fact that no student could get at a key to the steel-fronted store-cupboard which houses some of the apparatus for the field events proved that.”

“The murderer was already in possession of a key, Mr. Henry.”

“Jonah’s key, do you mean? Oh, no, that’s impossible. He might have got hold of it for the shot which killed Kirk, but not for the javelin, surely!”

“You are right. Forgive me for not enlightening you further, but the inspector and I have an agreement that nothing beyond what I have told you is to be disclosed until the meeting.”

“Where am I to ask Gassie to hold it? In the senior common room? In one of the lecture rooms? In his office or his sitting-room?”

“Well, as the inspector will already have made his arrest, we think that the only place is the local police station. We shall not require the presence of Hamish, Martin, Celia and Jerry, but everybody else should put in an appearance.”

“Including Miss Yale and Lesley? A police station is hardly the place for ladies!”

“I shall be there in the role of duenna,” said Dame Beatrice solemnly.

It was a subdued and somewhat apprehensive group of two women and three men who, given seats, awaited the confrontation which they had been warned to expect.

“Have you any idea of what is going to happen, sir?” asked Barry. Gascoigne coughed.

“Gassie, my dear fellow,” he said. “Not ‘sir’ but ‘Gassie.’ We are all friends here until the criminal is unmasked. That is what we have been promised—that the criminal will be unmasked. Needless to say, I have the utmost confidence in all of you.”

“That’s as well,” said Miss Yale, who was seated next to him, “because I don’t think I ever in my life felt less confidence in myself.”

At this moment there was a slight but mysterious interruption. A uniformed policeman opened the door and ushered in Jerry.

“Hullo,” said Henry. “To what are we indebted?”

“We thought you were one of those without a stain on your character,” said Lesley. “Why have you been thrust in with all of us gaolbirds?”

Jerry found a vacant chair and sat down.

“I’ve no idea why I’ve been sent for,” he said. “I had a phone call, about ten minutes after you lot had started for the town, telling me to get my car out and join you here. I say, what’s on? Does anybody know?”

The inspector came in and counted heads.

“Everybody present?” he asked. “Right.” He turned his head towards the open doorway. “Very good, Ryder. You can bring him in.” As a police constable and a tall young man entered, Gascoigne exclaimed, in a startled, incredulous tone,

“Good heavens, Merve! What are you doing here?”

“You recognize this man, then, do you, Mr. Medlar?” asked the inspector.

“Certainly. This is Mervyn, who was once one of my students and, later on, joined my staff.”

“Quite so, sir. Now, does anybody recognize this?” The inspector laid on the table a pistol.

“Looks like one of my starting-guns,” said Jerry, bending forward to inspect it.

“You may handle it,” said the inspector. “We’d better be quite sure.”

“Oh, yes, it’s mine all right,” said Jerry. He handed it to Henry. “What do you think?” he asked.

“It’s the Webley Conversion .38, of course,” said Henry. “We’ve got a fire-arms certificate for it,” he added. “Where did you get it, Inspector?”

“From Mervyn Sharp, alias Harper, here, when we frisked him.”

“But where did he get it?” asked Jerry.

“From the same cupboard as he got the javelin and the shot, sir.”

“You’re a liar!” snarled the prisoner, speaking for the first time. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ryder?” said the inspector, turning to the impassive young constable.

“Taken from Sharp when Police Constable Bellairs and I frisked him upon arrest, sir.”

“Well, why shouldn’t I have a starting-gun?” demanded the prisoner. “It isn’t loaded.”

“Neither is it yours,” the inspector pointed out. “These two gentlemen have declared that it is the property of Mr. Jerry Wicks here.”

“The property of Joynings College, as a matter of fact,” said Gascoigne primly. “Jerry is not the owner.”

“Ah, yes,” said the inspector. “That means that the charge on which I’m holding Sharp is of being on enclosed premises with intent to rob and, further, with intent to murder, both of which intents he has carried out. I shall now formally…”