But whether principal or accomplice, it was at least certain that the man who had drugged Gurney’s food knew the works intimately and had access to the key in the office. Only a comparatively small number of persons could fill these requirements and he should, therefore, be quickly found.
Well pleased with his day’s work, French returned to the hotel and spent the remainder of the evening in writing up his diary.
XII
The Duplicator
The saying “it never rains but what it pours” is a popular expression of the unhappy fact that misfortunes never come singly. Fortunately for suffering humanity, the phrase expresses only half the truth. Runs of good luck occur as well as runs of bad.
As French was smoking his after-breakfast pipe in the lounge next morning it was borne in on him that he was at that time experiencing one of the most phenomenal runs of good luck that had ever fallen to his lot. Four days ago he had proved that the dead man was Pyke. Two days later he had learned how the breakdown of the car had been faked. Yesterday he had found the explanation of the watchman’s inaction, and today, just at that very moment, an idea had occurred to him which bade fair to solve the problem of the disposal of the duplicator! Unfortunately, nothing could be done towards putting it to the test until the evening. He spent the day, therefore, in a long tramp on the moor, then about walked for the second time to Gurney’s house.
“I want to have another chat with you,” he explained. “I haven’t time to wait now, but I shall come up to the works later in the evening. Listen out for my ring.”
He strolled back to the town, had a leisurely dinner, visited the local picture house, and killed time until after . Then when the little town was asleep he went up to the works. Five minutes later he was seated with Gurney in the boiler-house.
“I have been thinking over this affair, Gurney,” he began, “and I am more than ever certain that some terrible deeds were done here on that night when you were drugged. I want to have another look around. But you must not under any circumstances let it be known that I was here.”
“That’s all right, guv’nor. I ain’t goin’ to say nothing.”
French nodded.
“You told me that you had been a mechanic in the works before your rheumatism got bad. Have you worked at any of those duplicators like what was packed in the crate?”
“I worked at all kinds of erecting works—duplicators an’ files an’ indexes an’ addressing machines an’ all the rest o’ them. I knows them all.”
“Good! Now I want you to come round to the store and show me the different parts of a duplicator.”
Gurney led the way from the boiler-house.
“Don’t switch on the light,” French directed. “I don’t want the windows to show lit up. I have a torch.”
They passed through the packing-shed and into the completed-machine store adjoining. Here French called a halt.
“Just let’s look at one of these duplicators again,” he said. “Suppose you wanted to take one of them to pieces, let me see how you would set about it. Should I be correct in saying that if five or six of the larger pieces were got rid of, all the rest could be carried in a handbag?”
“That’s right, sir.”
“Now show me the bins where these larger parts are stocked.”
They passed on to the part store and across it to a line of bins labelled “Duplicators.” In the first bin were rows of leg castings. French ran his eye along them.
“There must be fifty or sixty here,” he said, slowly. “Let’s see if that is a good guess.”
On every bin was a stock card in a metal holder. French lifted down that in question. It was divided into three sets of columns, one set showing incomes, the second outgoes, and the third the existing stock. The date of each transaction was given, and for each entry the stock was adjusted.
“Not such a bad guess,” French remarked, slowly, as he scrutinised the entries. “There are just fifty-four.”
The card was large and was nearly full. French noticed that it went back for some weeks before the tragedy. He stood gazing at it in the light of his torch while a feeling of bitter disappointment grew in his mind. Then suddenly he thought he saw what he was looking for, and whipping out a lens, he examined one of the entries more closely. “Got it, by Jove! I’ve actually got it!” he thought, delightedly. His luck had held.
One of the entries had been altered. A loop had been skilfully added to a six to make it an eight. The card showed that two castings had been taken out which either had never been taken out at all or, more probably, which had been taken out and afterwards replaced.
Convinced that he had solved the last of his four test problems, French examined the cards of the other bins. In all of those referring to large parts he noticed the same peculiarity; the entries had been tampered with to show that one more duplicator had been sent out than really was the case. The cards for the small parts were unaltered and French could understand the reason. It was easier to get rid of the parts themselves than to falsify their records. The fraud was necessary only in the case of objects too big and heavy to carry away.
French was highly pleased. His discovery was not only valuable in itself, but he had reached it in the way which most appealed to his vanity—from his own imagination. He had imagined that the fraud might have been worked in this way. He had tested it and found that it had been. Pure brains! Such things were soothing to his self-respect.
He stood considering the matter.
