The Sea Mystery

he was unable to shake him and he formed the opinion that the story was true.

If so, it certainly had a pretty direct bearing on the theory he was trying to evolve, for there could be little doubt as to who “ ’e” was. As he considered the matter he was surprised to find how complete that theory was and how much of it had been definitely established. There were gaps, of course, but there was no doubt as to its general correctness.

As French now saw it, the affair stood as follows:

Stanley Pyke and Phyllis Berlyn, friends during childhood, find that they love each other when they renew their acquaintance in later years. But it is then too late for the course of true love to run smooth and a clandestine attachment follows. Berlyn learns of this some four months before the tragedy and as a result of his interference the two decide to discontinue their meetings⁠—in public, at all events. The flirtation with Colonel Domlio is possibly deliberately undertaken by Mrs. Berlyn to prove to her husband that her interest in Pyke is over.

But the two find that they cannot give each other up and the intrigue is continued secretly. Berlyn, however, is not hoodwinked. He sees his friend betraying him and he determines on vengeance.

His first move is to get an accomplice to assist in the details. Here French admitted to himself that he was out of his depth. He could not imagine who the accomplice was or why he should have been required. But if Berlyn were guilty, the murder was clearly a two-man job. Simultaneous activities in different places proved it.

The arrangements about the crate are next made. French was aware that these had not yet been properly followed up; other matters had been more urgent. But they represented a second string to his bow which he would develop if necessary.

Then comes the night of the crime. While Berlyn and Pyke are at Tavistock, the accomplice drugs the watchman’s food. He then waits for the car. Pyke is sandbagged and his body carried into the works. One of the men then unpacks the crate, and taking the duplicator to pieces, returns the larger parts to stock. He has already doctored the cards, as well, necessarily, as the corresponding books. He then strips the recognisable clothes off the body, puts the latter in the crate, smashes in the face, closes the crate, and leaves all as before. Finally he escapes with Berlyn’s outer clothes and the smaller parts of the duplicator. He has only to get rid of these and his part in the ghastly business is complete.

In the meantime his confederate has driven the car out to a lonely part of the moor, changed the magneto, and made the tracks leading from the road.

The facts which pointed to Berlyn’s guilt were sixfold:

1. Berlyn in all probability was consumed by jealousy, one of the strongest of human motives for crime.

2. Berlyn had an unparalleled opportunity for the deed, which only he could have arranged.

3. It was not easy to see how anyone but Berlyn could have handled the magneto affair.

4. Berlyn had the necessary position in the Veda Works to carry out the watchman and stock-card episodes.

5. Berlyn answered the description of the man who had called for the crate.

6. Berlyn had disappeared, an incomprehensible action if he were innocent.

As French thought again over the accomplice, he recognised that here was the snag in his theory. Motives of personal jealousy and private wrong leave no room for an accomplice. Moreover, it was incredible that a man who had shown such ingenuity could not have devised a scheme to carry out the crime single-handed.

But though French recognised that there were points in the case as yet unexplained, he saw that his own procedure was clear. He must start the search for Berlyn and he must learn the identity of the accomplice.

The first of these was easy. He had compiled a pretty accurate description of the junior partner and Daw had got hold of his photograph. A note in the Police Gazette would start every police officer in the country on the search.

The second problem he found more difficult. Rack his brains as he would, he could think of no one who might have helped Berlyn.

He thought his next plan would be an enquiry into the whereabouts at ten o’clock, on the night of the crime, of everyone whom it was possible to suspect. That, coupled with an investigation as to who was in London when the various letters were posted, should yield results.

The fact that a number of possible suspects had been at Mrs. Berlyn’s party from eight to eleven on the fatal evening seemed to rule them out. But French thought he should get some more definite information on the point. Accordingly, he went up to the works and asked for Mr. Fogden, one of those whom Lizzie Johnston had mentioned as being present.

“I heard a peculiar story about Mrs. Berlyn,” he said apropos of nothing special when they had talked for some time. “I was told she had a premonition of Mr. Berlyn’s death and was miserable and upset all that evening of the crime. A peculiar thing, if true, isn’t it?”

“Who told you that?” Mr. Fogden asked, sceptically.

“A chance remark in the bar of the Silver Tiger; I don’t know the speaker’s name nor, of course, do I know if his story was true.”

“Well, you may take it from me that it wasn’t. I was at Mrs. Berlyn’s that evening and there was nothing wrong with her that I saw.”

This gave French his lead. When he left the office he had obtained all the details of the party that he wanted. On the day before the crime Mr. Fogden had had a telephone call from Mrs. Berlyn saying that Berlyn was to be out on the following evening and that she would be alone, and asking if he and one or two of the others would come