Dale nodded his head slowly.
“I admit that too,” he said sorrowfully. “I most bitterly regret it, but I must admit it. I do not want to make any excuses for that, but here again the facts are not quite so black as they look. When I had been out there about thirty years I got a longing for the old country. I had made a little money in the States, and I left my job and came over to England. I was afraid to go back to Gateshead, so I looked around and took that cottage in Devonshire. Then one day in London I met Ponson—I didn’t know he had a handle to his name then. He recognised me, and there was a scene. I thought he would have killed me in the street. Then I got him into a bar, and we took a private room and had it out. I understood he had a right to have a down on me for deserting Ethel, but at first I couldn’t understand why he was so absolutely mad. Then I learnt. I hadn’t known what had happened to Ethel, for I was too much afraid of arousing suspicion as to who I was, to go back to Gateshead or make any inquiries. He threatened me so wildly I got afraid for my life, and then I saw how I could turn the tables on him. I told him that so far from me being in his power, he was in mine. I told him I would make the affair public myself, and that if I could be punished I would take it, and he could have the scandal. He blustered at first, then gradually he saw his position, and then he crawled. He offered to make the thing a business proposition. He would pay for my silence. He pressed his offer on me, and I accepted it at last. And I have at least kept my word. Not a whisper of the affair has passed my lips. But I admit taking the money. I was very hard up, and it meant a lot to me. You don’t understand, gentlemen, how much a few pounds means to a poor man. And with all his thousands he didn’t miss it. Not any more than you would miss a penny if you dropped it. I took it and I admit I pressed him for more.”
“Was that what you went to the Luce Manor boathouse for on the night of the murder?”
Chief Inspector Edgar moved suddenly.
“Come, Tanner, that won’t do,” he advised, and then to Dale: “You needn’t answer that unless you like.”
Dale hesitated. To the others it seemed as if he was on the verge of a confession. Then he bowed to Edgar.
“Thank you,” he said. “I had perhaps better consult my solicitor first.”
Tanner looked annoyed, but he controlled himself and again addressed the prisoner.
“Then you don’t wish to make any statement?”
“No. Not at present, at any rate.”
Tanner nodded and rang his bell. The same sergeant reentered and signed to Dale to follow him. Then, including the whole party in a slight bow, the latter rose from his chair and the two men left the room.
The silence which fell when the door was closed lasted a full thirty seconds, and then Daunt broke it.
“Well, Inspector, this has been very interesting, but I’m hanged if I can make head or tail of it. Maybe you’d explain to Miss Drew and me what it’s all about.”
Chief Inspector Edgar rose.
“I think that’s all I’m concerned in,” he said, and turning to Mr. Clayton, he invited him to smoke a cigar in his room.
When Tanner was left alone with the cousins, he realised that he had an extremely unpleasant task to perform. Miss Drew, as the affianced wife of Austin Ponson, was personally interested in the story. Though from his knowledge of her he thought she would not place so great importance on the unfortunate occurrence as might a shallower and more conventional woman, yet the news could not be otherwise than a shock to her. He wished someone else had the telling of it.
But no purpose would be saved by delay. The sooner he began, the sooner the unwelcome job would be over.
Asking Miss Drew’s permission, he passed his cigar case to Daunt, then drew forward his chair and began to speak.
“I am afraid the story I have to tell you will come rather as a shock to you,” he said, as he examined the end of his cigar. “This man Dale had been blackmailing Sir William Ponson for the last four years. There was an exceedingly unfortunate secret in Sir William’s life—unknown to him until he learnt it from Dale at that time, four years ago. Sir William was in no wise to blame for what had taken place. So far as I can learn, he had acted with scrupulous honour all through. The fault was Dale’s and Dale’s only. But to make it clear I must tell you from the beginning.”
The cousins remained almost motionless while the Inspector related the details of his journey north, and the facts he had there learnt; the family history of the Dales; how the brothers came across Sir William in the Eagle Ironworks; the rivalry between Ponson and Tom Dale for the hand of the pretty Ethel Osborne; Tom’s success in the contest; the unhappy married life of the young couple; Tom’s mission to Canada; the loss of the Numidian, and his presumed death; Sir William’s marriage with Mrs. Dale, and the birth of Austin and Enid; Tom Dale’s return to England; and finally the blackmailing, culminating in the presumed negotiations for the purchase of the annuity.
“But the murder?” asked Daunt when at last the Inspector paused. “What about that?”
“The murder unfortunately remains as great a mystery as ever,” Tanner answered slowly; “indeed, even more so,” and he explained his difficulty about, as he expressed it, the wrong man having been killed.
The two men discussed
