The Ponson Case

if anyone had touched them I would have known. Besides, there was no one about that could do it.”

“What state were they in when you cleaned them?”

“Muddy⁠—very wet and muddy. I couldn’t think where Mr. Austin had been to get them into such a condition.”

“One more question, Mr. Lewis. You tell me the shoes were not worn except on Wednesday evening. But could someone else not have worn them then? Suppose Mr. Austin went out wearing some other pair, and someone else slipped in and got hold of these and made the tracks, and then put back the shoes without your knowing?”

The butler looked at the other with an expression of pitying scorn.

“Why, Mr. Inspector, I’m not altogether a fool. I tell you I saw them on Mr. Austin’s feet when he was going out, and I saw them on his feet when he was coming in, so they weren’t in the house for anyone else to take. And what’s more, if that doesn’t convince you, every other pair of Mr. Austin’s boots and shoes were in the house that evening. I know because I happened to look over them to see if any wanted mending. So if anyone else had his new shoes he must have been going about himself in his socks.”

It was enough. This placed the affair beyond doubt, or it would if one other point were settled. Tanner rose.

“I am extremely obliged to you, Mr. Lewis, and now I must beg your pardon for having played a little trick on you. I have the shoes. Mr. Ponson gave them to me on Friday. Come with me to the hotel and have a drink, and tell me if the shoes I have are the ones you were speaking of, and that’ll be all I’ll ask you.”

That the butler was suspicious there was more in the questions than met the eye was obvious, but he made no remark, and on seeing the shoes, he identified them unhesitatingly as Austin’s.

Tanner was pleased with the result of his inquiries. As he summed up the situation it stood as follows:

Austin had left Halford and returned to it at such hours as would have just enabled him to reach the Abbey in the interval. Therefore, if he did reach it he could not have been at Luce Manor, and if he was not at Luce Manor he was innocent. Footprints were made at the Abbey by a certain pair of shoes. Those shoes were at Austin’s house every moment of the time from their purchase till they came into Tanner’s possession, except during the particular period in question. The tracks at the Abbey must therefore have been made during this period. Further, during this period Austin himself must have been wearing the shoes, as not only had he left his house and returned to it wearing them, but he had no others to put on⁠—the remainder were all at his house. If, therefore, Austin did not himself make the tracks at the Abbey, he must have had no shoes during the time this was being done, in which case he could hardly have been at Luce Manor committing the murder. To Tanner the alibi was complete. Short of seeing Austin at the Abbey, he could expect no stronger evidence.

Even if the truth of Austin’s story were unlikely, Tanner would have felt compelled to believe it. But, as he had seen from the start, it was by no means unlikely. On the contrary the whole thing was just the kind of plant the real murderer might probably enough devise to shift suspicion from himself to Austin. That it was such a plant Tanner now felt certain.

And if so, had it not one rather suggestive point? The man who made the plant was familiar with Austin and his affairs. Who, of those who knew the affairs of both Austin and Sir William, had an interest in the latter’s death?

The answer was not far to seek. One such at least was Cosgrove Ponson. He had both the knowledge and the motive. Tanner felt his next business must be with the cousin.

And then a more sinister idea entered the Inspector’s mind. What if there was more in the plant than a mere attempt to shift the suspicion off the murderer? What if the plan was to encompass Austin’s death as well? If Austin were convicted and executed it would make a great difference to Cosgrove apart from rendering his position safe. Tanner recalled the terms of the will. If Sir William died Cosgrove received £75,000, but if Austin also should lose his life his cousin would net another £30,000. Here was motive enough for anything.

Tanner recollected the woman who, Austin had stated, had handed him the note at the Old Ferry. As the latter’s story must now be taken as true, this must be a real woman, and if Cosgrove were the guilty man she must be his accomplice.

Here was a line of inquiry which might lead to something. Tanner decided he would return to town by the next train, and start this new phase of the case.

VI

What Cosgrove Had to Tell

At three o’clock that same afternoon Inspector Tanner stepped from the train at St. Pancras. He had telephoned to the Yard before leaving Halford, and, as a result, one of his men was awaiting him on the platform.

“Ah, Hilton,” the Inspector greeted him. “I want you to go over to Knightsbridge and look up a man for me⁠—a Mr. Cosgrove Ponson who has rooms at Number 174B. All you need find out is whether or not he is at home. I’ll follow you round in a couple of hours, and you can report to me there.”

This arranged, Tanner took a taxi and was driven to his house at Fulham.

Town was very hot. The sun poured down out of an almost brazen sky, taking the freshness from the air and turning the streets into canals of swimming