French reconsidered the strength of the coincidences otherwise involved.
A disappearance at a certain time and place was required to account for the body in the crate. At that very time and place, and there only, a disappearance was known to have occurred. French could not bring himself to dismiss the possibility of a connection between the two facts.
He decided that he had not exhausted the possibilities. He must learn more about Berlyn and Pyke.
For preliminary enquiries Sergeant Daw seemed the most hopeful source of information, and he lost no time in walking down to the police station and asking his help.
“I want to know who everybody is, Sergeant. You know the local people and you might tell me something which would give me the hint I am looking for.”
The sergeant did not think this likely, but he was willing to do anything to oblige.
“Very good. Then I’ll ask questions. First of all, will you tell me what you can about Mr. Berlyn?”
Daw put on his best police-court manner and proceeded to deliver himself.
“Mr. Berlyn was junior partner at the works. I understand that some eight or nine years ago he and Colonel Domlio bought up nearly the whole of the stock between them. Mr. Berlyn dealt with the commercial side and attended the office every day as if he was an official, but the colonel looked on the business as a hobby. He acted as a sort of consulting engineer and only went to the works when it pleased him. I believe there are other directors, but in practice they don’t amount to anything.”
“Was Mr. Berlyn liked?”
“As a matter of fact, sir, he wasn’t altogether popular among the work people. From what I’ve heard, he wanted too much and he wouldn’t make allowances for people making mistakes. It was get on or get out with him, and you know yourself, Mr. French, that if that’s pushed too far it doesn’t always work. But he was straight enough and what he said he stuck to.”
“A man like that would make enemies. Do you know of anyone he was on bad terms with?”
“No, sir. No one.”
“He hadn’t his knife in Mr. Pyke, for instance?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Was Mr. Berlyn married?”
“Yes, four or five years ago. Very pleasant lady, Mrs. Berlyn.”
“Any children?”
“No, sir.”
“Where did they live?”
“Out along the Buckland road about ten minutes’ walk from the works. Place called Soller. They say it’s the name of some foreign town where he’d met the lady and popped the question, but of course I don’t know anything about that.”
“Then he was a traveller, Mr. Berlyn?”
“Yes; used to go away to France and such places when he had holidays.”
“Wise man,” French commented. “And how did the match turn out?”
For the first time the sergeant hesitated.
“There, Mr. French, you have me. I couldn’t really tell you. From all accounts they got on as well as most people whose tastes differ. He was quiet and liked sitting at home in the evenings, and she wanted a bit of life. There’s not much of what you might call gaiety in this town, as you may guess, but whatever there was Mrs. Berlyn was in the centre of it. At first he used to go out with her to Torquay and so on, but he gradually gave that up and she had to find someone else to go with or stay at home.”
“And she found someone?”
“Any number. The gentlemen up at the works, mostly. They were all glad to go with her! Colonel Domlio had been taking her about lately—I mean before Mr. Berlyn’s death—and before that it was Mr. Pyke and sometimes Mr. Cowls, the engineer. She was friends, too, with Dr. and Mrs. Lancaster, and I’ve often seen her out with people called Tucker that live close by.”
All this seemed suggestive to French and his facile brain was already building up tentative theories.
“Was there ever any suggestion of anything between Mrs. Berlyn and any of those men?”
“There was a bit of talk at one time, but I don’t believe there was anything in it.”
“But there was talk. Just tell me what was said.”
“She was talked about with Mr. Pyke. They certainly saw a deal of each other at one time. He was constantly at the house and they went out motoring together. She was a top-hole driver.”
“You say they saw a deal of each other at one time. Did that not continue?”
“It was supposed to come to an end about four months before the tragedy. But that’s only local gossip and I can’t vouch for it. All the same, I don’t remember seeing them motoring since, except once when Mr. Pyke’s cousin came for three or four days.”
“And you have no idea what happened?”
“No, sir. Some said the lady heard of the talk and thought she had gone far enough; others, that Mr. Berlyn got wise to it; and others again, that they got tired of each other. I don’t know. Whatever happened, it was all quite amicable, for I’ve seen them together different times since.”
“And was that the only time there was talk?”
“After that there was talk about her and Colonel Domlio. But you know, Mr. French, in a place this size they’re hard up for something to talk about. I don’t believe there was anything in either story.”
“Tell me what was said anyway.”
“Well, that she used to go out to see him in the afternoons. The colonel was believed to be very fond of her, but she was only supposed to be amusing herself with him.”
“You say this took place recently?”
“That was the rumour.”
French shrugged.
“Safety in numbers, Sergeant. I agree it doesn’t sound hopeful. Did Mr. Berlyn seem upset about it?”
“Not that I ever heard of.”
“No good for us, Sergeant. Now about these others. Mr. Pyke was not married, was he?”
“No, Mr. Pyke was not married, nor were Mr. Cowls nor Mr. Samuel nor Mr. Leacock, other young men about the works with whom
