At the same time the coincidence of the dates was remarkable and French felt that he could not dismiss the matter from his mind until he had satisfied himself that it really was the accident for which it had been taken.
He wondered if any tests were possible, and gradually four considerations occurred to him.
First, there was the breakdown of the car. If the breakdown had been an accident the whole affair was almost certainly an accident, for he did not think it possible that advantage could have been taken of an unexpected incident to commit the murder. The details of the disposal of the crate had been too well worked out to have been improvised. But if the breakdown had been faked it meant foul play.
Secondly, a valuable check in all such investigations was the making of a timetable. French felt sure that if murder had been committed the car must have gone from Tavistock to the works and back to where it was found. If not, he did not see how the body could have been taken to the works. Probably, also, it had waited at the works while the murderer was substituting the body for the duplicator. Then the radiator must have been hot when the car was abandoned, and it was cold when Sergeant Daw arrived on the scene. If French could find out how long all these operations would have taken he might find that they could not have been carried out in the time available.
Thirdly, French wondered if in a place of the size of the Veda Works there was no night watchman, and if there was, how the contents of the crate could have been changed without his knowledge.
Lastly, there was the question of the disposal of the duplicator. Assuming that murder had been done, it was extremely probable that the murderer had found the duplicator packed in the crate. How could he have got rid of so heavy and cumbrous an object?
If these four points were investigated French thought he would obtain sufficient information to settle the main question. It was, therefore, with a second line of enquiries in his mind that he returned to Ashburton and walked out to the Veda Works.
These stood a short distance beyond the town at the end of North Street, and formed a rather imposing collection of buildings, small but modern and well designed. The principal block was of five stories, showing narrow pilasters of cream-coloured concrete separating wide glazed panels. The remaining buildings were single-storey sheds. The place seemed spotlessly clean and tidy.
French entered a door labelled “Office,” and sending in his private card, asked for Mr. Fogden. He was shown into a comfortably furnished room in which a youngish man with a pleasant face sat at a table desk.
“Good afternoon, Mr. French. Won’t you sit down? What can I do for you, sir?”
“I should explain first who I am, Mr. Fogden.” French handed over his official card. “I have called on business which has already been brought to your notice by the local sergeant. It is about the crate which was sent by your firm to Mr. James B. Stephenson at the G. W. Goods Station at Swansea.”
“I saw the sergeant when he called,” Mr. Fogden answered, a trifle shortly. “That was yesterday, and I gave him all the information at my disposal.”
“So he told me, sir.” French’s manner was very suave. “My troubling you on the same business, therefore, requires a little explanation. I must ask you, however, to consider what I have to tell you confidential. That crate which you sent to Swansea was duly called for. It eventually reached Burry Port. There it was opened—by the police. And do you know what was found in it?”
Mr. Fogden stared at the other with a rapidly growing interest.
“Good Heavens!” he cried. “You surely don’t mean to say that it contained that body that we have been reading so much about in the papers recently?”
French nodded.
“That’s it, Mr. Fogden. So you will see now that it’s not idle curiosity which brings me here. The matter is so serious that I must go into it personally. I shall have to investigate the entire history of that crate.”
“By Jove! I should think so. You don’t imagine, I take it, that the body was in it when it left the works?”
“I don’t, but of course I can’t be sure. I must investigate all the possibilities.”
“That is reasonable.” Mr. Fogden paused, then continued: “Now tell me what you want me to do and I will carry out your wishes as well as I can. I have already explained to the sergeant that the crate contained a Veda Number Three duplicator, a special product of the firm’s, and that it was ordered by this Mr. Stephenson in a letter written from the Euston Hotel. I can turn up the letter for you.”
“Thank you, I should like to see the letter, but as a matter of fact I should like a good deal more. I am afraid I must follow the whole transaction right through and interview everyone who dealt with it.”
“I get you. Right. I’ll arrange it. Now first as to the letter.”
He touched the bell and ordered a certain file to be brought him. From this he took out a letter and passed it to French.
VI
The Despatch of the Crate
The letter was written on a single sheet of cream-laid, court-sized paper and bore the legend “Euston Hotel, London. NW1.” in blue type on its right corner. It was typed in black, and French could see that the machine used was not new and that some of
