“That will do,” French said as soon as he had taken bearings. “That’s all I want. We may haul it up and get ashore.”
They followed the example set by Mr. Morgan, and pulling up the crate until the top was showing beneath the surface, made the rope fast to the after-thwart and pulled for the Burry Port harbour. There they beached their burden, the sergeant undertaking to salve it when the tide fell.
French, delighted with the result of his experiment, hurried to the hotel and plotted their course on his map. And then he was more delighted still. The crate had passed within fifty yards of its previous resting-place.
It was true it had gone nearly half a mile further, but that was to be expected and was attributable to the greater fall of the tide.
That the crate had been thrown from the Loughor bridge on the night of the , , or French had now no doubt. The first problem of the investigation had therefore been solved and he congratulated himself on having made so brilliant a start in his new case.
But as was usual in criminal investigations, the solution of one problem merely led to another: How had the crate been transported to the bridge?
There were three possibilities: by means of a handcart, a horse cart or a motor lorry. All, however, had the serious objection that it would take at least three men to lift the crate over the parapet. Murders, of course, were sometimes the work of gangs, but much more frequently they were carried out by individuals, and French would have preferred a theory which involved only one man. However, there was nothing for it but to follow the theory which he had.
As far as he could see, the only factor differentiating between the three vehicles was that of radius of operation. If a hand cart had been used the body must have been brought from Loughor, Bynea, or some other place in the immediate vicinity. The same remarks applied to a horse vehicle, though to a lesser extent. With a motor the distance travelled might have been almost anything.
French did not believe that the body could have come from anywhere near by. Had anyone disappeared or left the neighbourhood under suspicious circumstances, the police would have known about it. The motor lorry was, therefore, the more likely of the three.
He began to see the outlines of an enquiry stretching out before him. Had anyone seen a motor, loaded with something which might have been the crate, in any part of the surrounding country on the night of the , , or ?
Going to the police station, French rang up the chief constable, reported the result of the experiment, and asked him to see that his question was circulated, not only among the Carmarthenshire police, but also among those of adjoining counties. Then, thinking he had not done so badly for one day, he returned to the hotel for lunch.
A good deal of the afternoon he employed in speculating as to what he should do if there were no answer to his circular, but next morning he was delighted to find that his labour had not been in vain. Sergeant Nield appeared to say that there had just been a message from the police at Neath, saying that a lorry answering to the description had been seen on the evening of . It was fitted with a breakdown crane and carried a large package covered with a tarpaulin which might easily have been the crate. A constable had seen it about , standing in a lane some two miles north of the town. The driver was working at the engine, which he said had been giving trouble.
“That’s a bit of good news, Sergeant,” French said, heartily. “How can I get to this Neath quickest?”
“Direct train via Swansea. It’s on the main line to London.”
“Right. Look up the trains, will you, while I get ready?”
French had little doubt that he was on a hot scent. He had not thought of a portable crane, but now he saw that nothing more suitable for the purpose could be obtained. There were, he knew, cranes—auto-cranes, he believed they were called—which were fixed on lorries and used for towing disabled cars. In certain types the jibs could be raised or lowered under load. With the jib down a load could be picked up from the ground behind the lorry. The jib could then be raised to its highest position, and if the load was right up at the pulley it would clear the tail end of the lorry. When the load was lowered it would come down on the lorry. And all this could be done by one man.
As French closed his eyes he seemed to see the reverse process being carried out—a crane-lorry arriving on the Loughor bridge, stopping, backing at right angles to the road until its tail was up against the parapet—the road was wide enough to allow of it; the driver getting down, taking a tarpaulin off a crate, swinging the crate up to the pulley of his crane, lowering the jib until the crate swung suspended over the rushing flood beneath, then striking out some type of slip shackle which allowed the crate to fall clear. It was all not only possible but easy, and French had not the slightest doubt that it
