“You think not, sir?” he asked, a shade apprehensively.
Sir Clinton shook his head.
“I think it would be a mistake to act immediately, inspector. But, of course, I’ll take the responsibility off your shoulders. I’ll put it in writing for you now if you wish it.”
Armadale in turn shook his head.
“No need for that, sir. You never let any of us down. But what’s your objection?”
Sir Clinton seemed undecided for a moment.
“For one thing, inspector,” he said at last, “there’s a flaw in that case of yours. You may be right in essentials; but you’ve left a loose end. And that brings me to another thing. There are far too many loose ends in the business, so far as it’s gone. Before we do anything irrevocable in the way of bringing definite charges, we must get these loose ends fixed up.”
“You mean, sir?”
“I mean we’ll have to eliminate other possibilities. Billingford is one. I hope to throw some light on that point tonight, inspector, about midnight. And that reminds me, you might get the light ready to throw—a couple of good flash-lamps will be enough, I think. Bring them along here about 11:30 p.m. and ask for me. Then there’s the dame with the neat shoe. She’s a loose end in the tangle. …”
“I’ve been looking into that, sir.”
Sir Clinton’s approval was obviously genuine.
“Really, inspector, you’ve done remarkably well in the short time you’ve had. That’s good work indeed. And what are the results?”
The inspector’s face showed they had not been altogether satisfactory.
“Well, sir, that footprint wasn’t made by any of the hotel visitors. I’ve gone into it fully. Only three ladies here wear 3½’s: Miss Hamilton, Mrs. Rivel, and Miss Staunton. The footprint in the mud up at the cottage was made between nine and ten o’clock last night. Between those hours, Miss Hamilton was dancing—I’ve even a note of her partner’s name. She’s the best dancer, it seems; and a lot of people were watching her for the pleasure of it. So she’s cleared. Mrs. Rivel was playing bridge from immediately after dinner until half-past eleven; so it couldn’t be her. And Miss Staunton twisted her ankle on the links yesterday and had Dr. Rafford up to look at it. She’s hobbling about with a stick, sir; and as there was no sign of a limp on the tracks, that clears her.”
Sir Clinton considered the evidence without vocal comment. The inspector, anxious to prove his zeal, continued:
“Just to make sure, I went over all the small-sized shoes. About half a dozen ladies wear 4’s: Miss Auston, Mrs. Wickham, Mrs. Fleetwood, Miss Fairford, that foreign lady with the double-barrelled name, Miss Leighton, and Miss Stanmore—the younger Miss Stanmore, I mean. But as it’s a 3½ shoe by the measurements I took, they’re all out of it. I’m making some quiet inquiries in the village, sir. It looks as if it might have been some local girl, from what we heard about Staveley’s habits. I’ll report as soon as anything turns up.”
Sir Clinton had listened patiently to the inspector’s recital, but his next speech seemed to suggest that his attention had been wandering.
“I think you’d better get some more constables over, inspector. Let ’em come in plain clothes and don’t advertise them. And you can turn Sapcote on to watch that crowd at Flatt’s cottage. I’ve just developed an interest in the fourth man—‘who would answer to “Hi!” or to any loud cry,’ as it says in The Hunting of the Snark. It’s the merest try-on; but I shouldn’t be surprised to learn that he’s back again at the cottage. And, by the way, the two fishermen must have seen him when they went to borrow the boat. You might get a description of him from them.”
“Very good, sir.”
“And there’s a final point, inspector. I don’t want to overburden you, but what about the Peter Hay case? Anything further?”
Armadale’s face showed that he thought he was being over-driven.
“Well, sir,” he protested, “I really haven’t had much time.”
“I wasn’t blaming you, inspector. It was a mere inquiry—not a criticism.”
Armadale’s face cleared.
“I’ve been to the sweet-shop, sir. Peter Hay hadn’t bought pear-drops there for a long while. In fact, they haven’t any in stock just now.”
“That’s interesting, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir. And Dr. Rafford says that undoubtedly the body contains amyl nitrite. He seemed a bit taken aback when I put it to him. I don’t think he’d spotted it off his own bat. But when I suggested it, he did some tests and found the stuff.”
Sir Clinton rose to his feet as though to indicate that business was over. Armadale busied himself with the repacking of his bag. When he had finished, he moved over towards the door and began to unlock it. Before he got it open, Sir Clinton added a final remark.
“Don’t you think it’s a bit curious, inspector, that the Fordingbridge family should be mixed up, directly or indirectly, in these two affairs? Think it over, will you?”
IX
The Second Cartridge-Case
The chief constable had a fresh task on his hands as soon as Armadale took his leave. It seemed to him essential to get the body of the dead man identified by someone in addition to the group at Flatt’s cottage. Stanley Fleetwood was unable to move, even if he had wished to do so; and Sir Clinton had no particular desire to confront Cressida with her late husband’s corpse. Paul Fordingbridge had known Staveley well; and it was to him that the chief constable turned in this difficulty.
To his relief, Paul Fordingbridge showed no annoyance at the state of affairs. He consented at once to go with the chief constable to inspect the body and give his evidence as to its identity. Wendover accompanied them in the car; and in Lynden Sands village the formalities were soon over. Fordingbridge had no hesitation in the matter; he recognised
