French next turned to the subject of Colonel Domlio, but here Mrs. Berlyn had as good as laughed. It appeared that the man had tried to flirt with her, but her opinion was evidently that there was no fool like an old fool. French had no doubt that any lovemaking that might have taken place was not serious, on the lady’s side, at all events.
Thinking that he had obtained all the information that he was likely to get, French at last rose to go. But Mrs. Berlyn signed to him to sit down again and said, gravely:
“If that is all, Mr. French, I want to ask you a question. I never think there is any use in pretending about things, and from your questions I cannot but guess what is in your mind. You think my late husband may have murdered Mr. Pyke?”
“I take it from that, Mrs. Berlyn, that you want a perfectly straight answer? Well, I shall give it to you. The idea, of course, occurred to me, as it would to anyone in my position. I am bound to investigate it and I am going to do so. But I can say without reservation that so far it remains an idea.”
Mrs. Berlyn bowed.
“Thank you for that. Of course I recognise that you must investigate all possibilities, and I recognise, too, that you will not give any weight to what I am going to say. But I must tell you that if you suspect Mr. Berlyn you are making a mistake. Though he was not perfect, he was utterly incapable of a crime like that—utterly. If you had ever met him you would have known that. I wish I could say or do something to convince you. Besides, if he were alive, why did he disappear? If he were guilty, would he not have come forward with a story that Mr. Pyke had gone alone across the moor and been lost in the mires?”
French had already noted the point as the chief difficulty in his theory, and he admitted it fully. He added that Mrs. Berlyn’s statement had made an impression on him and that he would not fail to bear it in mind. Then promising to let her know the result of his enquiry, he took his leave.
He had not lied when he said her statement had impressed him. That it represented her firm conviction he had not the least doubt. And it certainly was a point in Berlyn’s favour that such testimony should be forthcoming from his wife, when it was evident that their married life had been an indifferent success. Of course it might be simply that the woman did not wish to be involved in the misery and disgrace which would come with proof of Berlyn’s guilt. But French did not think it was this. Her thought had seemed to be for her husband rather than herself.
It was still fairly early in the afternoon and French thought he would have time to make another call. He therefore walked up the Fulham Road and took an eastbound district train at South Kensington. Half an hour later he was at the headquarters of the Ardlo Magneto Company in Queen Elizabeth Street.
When the managing director heard French’s business he touched a bell.
“You had better see Mr. Illingworth, our chief electrical engineer,” he said. “I am afraid I could not help you in these technical matters.”
Mr. Illingworth was a pleasant young man with a quiet, efficient manner. He took French to his office, supplied him with cigarettes, and asked what he could do for him.
French put his problem, recounting the enquiries he had already made.
“Those people told you quite correctly,” was Mr. Illingworth’s answer. “Your question is this: Could a man drive a car up to a certain place and then short circuit the magneto armature so that the car couldn’t be started again? The answer is, Yes, but not without leaving marks.”
“But that’s just my puzzle,” French returned. “That’s exactly what seems to have been done.”
“Well,” Mr. Illingworth answered with a smile, “you may take it from me that it wasn’t.”
“Then in the case that I have described, the breakdown must have been a pure accident?”
“I should say, absolutely. Mind you, I don’t say that a breakdown couldn’t be faked without leaving traces. It could be. But not so as to stop the car then and there. The concealed injury would take time to develop.”
“That’s a bit cryptic, isn’t it? Can you make it clearer to a lay intelligence?”
“Well, it is possible to damage the insulation by jamming a needle into the armature winding between the wire and the iron core, and if you’re careful it’ll leave no mark. But it won’t disable the magneto straight away. In fact, the car will run as usual and it may be a considerable time before any defect shows. But sparking takes place at the injury, perhaps at first only when the engine is working specially hard. This causes carbonisation of the insulation, leading eventually to complete breakdown. The car begins to misfire and it gradually grows worse until it won’t run at all.”
“I follow you. I may take it, then, that it is possible to cause a breakdown without leaving a mark, but that this is a comparatively lengthy process and cannot be done at a given time.”
“That’s right.”
“Suppose the winding was short-circuited as you describe, could an electrician afterwards tell what had been done?”
“No. It might have happened through some carelessness in the original winding.”
“That seems pretty clear. Now, just one other point, Mr. Illingworth. Those people, Makepeace, in Ashburton, sent the actual magneto up here to be overhauled. Can you trace it and let me know just what was wrong?”
“Certainly. We have records of every machine which passes through our hands.” He consulted an index, finally withdrawing a card. “This is it. Sent in from John Makepeace, Ashburton, on . Would that date work in?”
“Yes, that’s all right.”
“We’ve not had another from Makepeace
