Cecil piloted Froggatt back to his original post just as the Chief Constable rejoined them.
“I don’t want to talk here,” Sir Clinton said to Cecil. “Get a coat and walk with us down to the car. We’ve done our work for the night.”
The Chief Constable waited until they were well away from the house before beginning his explanation.
“That otophone is—as I expect you saw—simply a microphone for picking up sound, plus a two-valve amplifier for magnifying it. The sounds that reach the microphone are amplified by the valves set to any extent, within limits, that you like to set it for. You can make the crumpling of a piece of paper sound like a small thunderstorm if you choose; and it’s especially sensitive to clicks and sounds of that sort. The mere involuntary shifting of your feet on that parquet floor made a lot of disturbance.
“Now in the older type of combination locks, if the dial was carefully manipulated, a person with sharp hearing might just be able to detect a faint click when a tumbler fell into place in the course of a circuit; and by making a note of the state of the dial corresponding to each click the combination could finally be discovered. In the modern patterns of locks this has been got round. They’ve introduced a thing called a balanced fence arbour, which is lifted away from the tumblers as soon as the lock spindle is revolved; so in this new pattern there’s no clicking such as the older locks give.”
“I see now,” said the Inspector. “That’s an old pattern lock; and you were using the otophone to magnify the sound of the clicks?”
“Exactly,” Sir Clinton agreed. “It made the thing mere child’s play. Each click sounded like a whip-crack, almost.”
“So that’s why Foss brought the otophone along? He meant to pick the lock of the safe and get the medallions out of it?”
“That was one possibility, of course,” Sir Clinton said, with a grave face. “But I shouldn’t like to say that it was the only possibility.”
He smoked for a few moments in silence, then he turned to Cecil.
“Now I’ve a piece of work for you to do; and I want you to do it convincingly. First thing tomorrow morning you’re to find some way of spreading the news that you’ve recovered all the genuine medallions and that they’re in the safe. Don’t give any details; but see that the yarn gets well abroad.”
“But all the real medallions are gone!” said Cecil in disgust. “And whoever’s got them must know they’re gone.”
“There’s nothing like a good authoritative lie for shaking confidence,” Sir Clinton observed, mildly. “That’s your share in the business. You’d better mention it at breakfast time to as many people as you can; and you can telephone the glad news to me, with the door of the telephone box open so that anyone can hear it. Yell as loud as you please, or louder if possible. It won’t hurt me at the other end. In any case, see that the happy tidings wash the most distant shores.”
“Well, since you say so, I’ll do it. But it’s sure to be found out, you know, sooner or later.”
“All I want is a single day’s run of it. My impression is that, if things go well, I’ll have the whole Ravensthorpe affair cleared up by this time tomorrow. But I don’t promise that as a certainty.”
“And this yarn is part of your scheme?”
“I’m setting a trap,” Sir Clinton assured them. “And that lie is the bait I’m offering.”
As they reached the car, he added:
“See that your constable doesn’t say a word about this affair tonight—to anyone. That’s important, Inspector.”
XIV
The Second Chase in the Woods
“I’ve made all the necessary arrangements, sir,” Inspector Armadale reported to the Chief Constable on the following evening. “A dozen constables—two with rubber-soled shoes—and a couple of sergeants. They’re to be at the Ravensthorpe gate immediately it’s dark enough. The sergeants have the instructions; the constables don’t even know where they’re going when they leave here.”
“That’s correct,” Sir Clinton confirmed. “Let’s see. That’s fourteen altogether. Less two, twelve. Plus you and myself, fourteen. I think we’ll add to our number. Nothing like being on the safe side. Mr. Chacewater’s personally interested in the affair; I think we’ll take him in also. And Mr. Clifton might reasonably claim some share in the business. That makes sixteen. You’re detaching two constables to watch that lakelet. Well, surely fourteen of us ought to be able to pick up the scoundrel without difficulty.”
“You’re sure that he’ll make for the terrace over the pool, sir?”
“Nothing’s sure in this world, Inspector. But I think there’s a fair chance that he’ll make in that direction. And if he doesn’t, why, then, we can run him down wherever he goes.”
“If he goes up there, we’ll have him,” the Inspector affirmed. “There’ll be no amateur bungling this time, like the last affair. I’ll see to that myself. He won’t slip through a constabulary cordon as he did when he’d only a lot of excited youngsters to deal with.”
“I leave that part of the business entirely in your hands, Inspector,” the Chief Constable assured him.
“What I can’t see,” the Inspector continued, with a faint querulousness in his tone, “is why you’re going about the thing in this elaborate way. Why not arrest him straight off and be done with it?”
“Because there’s one little party you’ve omitted to take into your calculations, Inspector—and that’s the jury. Suspicion’s not good enough for us at this stage. Criminal trials aren’t conducted on romantic lines. Everything’s got to be proved up to the hilt. Frankly, in this case, you’ve been scattering your suspicions over a fairly wide field, haven’t you?”
“It’s our business to be suspicious of everybody,” the Inspector pleaded in extenuation.
“Oh, within limits, within limits, Inspector. You started by suspecting Foxton Polegate; then you branched off to Marden; after that you hovered a bit round Maurice Chacewater; and at
