The night was cloudy, and they had to use their flash-lamps from time to time.
“What I wanted to note is the exact time when the stream just touches the cairns on each side. Just now, as you can see, the cairns are in the water; but the level of the stream’s sinking as the head of water falls in the pool behind. Watch till the stream runs between the two piles of stone and then note the time.”
Slowly the flow diminished as the water emptied itself from the pool behind; and at last they saw the rivulet confined to a channel between the two cairns.
“I make it five past twelve,” Sir Clinton said, lifting his eyes from his watch. “Now I’m going over to Neptune’s Seat. You stay here, inspector; and when you see my flash-lamp, run your hardest to the rock and join me.”
He disappeared in the darkness, leaving the others rather puzzled as to the meaning of these manoeuvres. At last Wendover thought he saw the point.
“I see what he’s getting at.”
But just as he was about to explain the matter to the inspector, they saw the flash of Sir Clinton’s lamp and Armadale set off at a lumbering trot across the sands with Wendover hurrying after him.
“It’s simple enough,” Sir Clinton explained when all three had gathered at Neptune’s Seat. “You remember that Billingford’s track was broken where the cairns are—no footprints visible for several yards. That was the place where he crossed the runnel last night. All we need to do is to note when the runnel is the same breadth at that point tonight—which we’ve just done—and then make a correction of about forty minutes for the tide being later this evening. It’s not exact, of course; but it’s near enough, perhaps.”
“I thought you were after something of the sort,” Wendover interjected. “Once I got as far as the runnel I tumbled to the idea.”
“Well, let’s take the results,” Sir Clinton went on. “The runnel was in the right state tonight at five past twelve. Make the forty-one minute deduction—since the tide’s forty-one minutes later tonight than it was last night—and you get 11:25 p.m. as the time when Billingford crossed that rivulet last night. Now the inspector took over seven minutes to run from the cairns to Neptune’s Seat, for I timed him. Therefore, even if Billingford had run the whole distance, he couldn’t have reached Neptune’s Seat before 11:32 at the earliest. As a matter of fact, his track showed that he walked most of the way, which makes the possible time of his arrival a bit later than 11:32 p.m.”
“So he couldn’t have fired a shot at 11:19 when Staveley’s watch stopped?” Wendover inferred.
“Obviously he couldn’t. There’s more in it than that; though I needn’t worry you with that at present, perhaps. But this bit of evidence eliminates another possibility I’d had my eye on. Billingford might have walked into the runnel and then waded down the rivulet into the sea, leaving no traces. Then he might have come along the beach, wading in the waves, and shot Staveley from the water. After that, if he’d returned the way he came, he could have emerged from the runnel at the same point, only on this bank of the channel, and left his single track up to Neptune’s Seat, just as we found it. But that won’t fit in with the shot fired at 11:19 p.m., obviously. If he’d done this, then his last footmark on the far side would have been made when the runnel was full, and his first footmark on this side would have been made later, when the runnel had shrunk a bit; and the two wouldn’t have fitted the banks neatly as we found tonight that they did.”
“I see all that, clear enough, sir,” said Armadale briskly. “That means the circle’s narrowed a bit further. If Billingford didn’t fire that shot, then you’re left with only three other people on the list: the two Fleetwoods and the woman with the 3½ shoe. If she can be eliminated like Billingford, then the case against the Fleetwoods is conclusive.”
“Don’t be in too much of a hurry, inspector. How are you getting along with the shoe question?” Sir Clinton inquired a trifle maliciously.
“To tell you the truth,” the inspector replied guardedly, “I haven’t been able to get at the root of it yet, sir. Only two of the village girls take that size of shoe. One of them’s only a kiddie; the other’s away on a visit just now. It doesn’t look like either of them.”
“And the Hay case?” the chief constable demanded.
The inspector made an inarticulate sound which suggested that he had nothing fresh to recount on this subject.
“And the P.M. on Staveley’s body?” pursued Sir Clinton.
Here the inspector had something to report, though not much.
“Dr. Rafford’s gone into it, sir. The contused wound on the back of the head’s nothing to speak of. The base of the skull’s intact. That blow had nothing to do with his death. At the most, it might have stunned him for a minute or two. According to the doctor, Staveley was killed by the shot; and he thinks that the shot wasn’t fired at absolutely close quarters. That fits in with the fact that I could find no singeing of the cloth of his raincoat or his jacket round about the bullet-hole. Dr. Rafford found the bullet, all correct. Death must have been practically instantaneous, according to the doctor’s view. These are the main results. He’s written a detailed report for reference, of course.”
Sir Clinton made no direct comment.
“I think that’ll do for tonight, inspector. Come up to the car and I’ll run you into the village. By the way, I want some of your constables tomorrow morning for a bit of work; and you’d better hire some labourers as well—say a dozen men altogether.
