sat on the other side of the table. Between the two men, on the table, was a black sodden mass. Inspector Bland poked at it with a cautious forefinger.
'That's her hat all right,' he said. 'I'm sure of it, though I don't suppose I could swear to it. She fancied that shape, it seems. So her maid told me. She'd got one or two of them. A pale pink and a sort of puce colour, but yesterday she was wearing the black one. Yes, this is it. And you fished it out of the river? That makes it look as though it's the way we think it is.'
'No certainty yet,' said Baldwin. 'After all,' he added, 'anyone could throw a hat into the river.'
'Yes,' said Bland, 'they could throw it in from the boathouse, or they could throw it in off a yacht.'
'The yacht's sewed up, all right,' said Baldwin. 'If she's there, alive or dead, she's still there.'
'He hasn't been ashore today?'
'Not so far. He's on board. He's been sitting out in a deck-chair smoking a cigar.'
Inspector Bland glanced at the clock.
'Almost time to go aboard,' he said.
'Think you'll find her?' asked Baldwin.
'I wouldn't bank on it,' said Bland. 'I've got the feeling, you know, that he's a clever devil.' He was lost in thought for a moment, poking again at the hat. Then he said, 'What about the body – if there was a body? Any ideas about that?'
'Yes,' said Baldwin, 'I talked to Otterweight this morning. Ex-coastguard man. I always consult him in anything to do with tides and currents. About the time the lady went into the Helm, if she did go into the Helm, the tide was just on the ebb. There is a full moon now and it would be flowing swiftly. Reckon she'd be carried out to sea and the current would take her towards the Cornish coast. There's no certainty where the body would fetch up or if it would fetch up at all. One or two drownings we've had here, we've never recovered the body. It gets broken up, too, on the rocks. Here, by Start Point. On the other hand, it might fetch up any day.'
'If it doesn't, it's going to be difficult,' said Bland.
'You're certain in your own mind that she did go into the river?'
'I don't see what else it can be,' said Inspector Bland sombrely. 'We've checked up, you know, on the buses and the trains. This place is a cul-de-sac. She was wearing conspicuous clothes and she didn't take any others with her. So I should say she never left Nasse. Either her body's in the sea or else it's hidden somewhere on the property. What I want now,' he went on heavily, 'is motive. And the body of course,' he added, as an afterthought. 'Can't get anywhere until I find the body.'
'What about the other girl?'
'She saw it – or she saw something. We'll get at the facts in the end, but it won't be easy.'
Baldwin in his turn looked up at the clock.
'Time to go,' he said.
The two police officers were received on board the Esperance with all De Sousa's charming courtesy. He offered them drinks which they refused, and went on to express a kindly interest in their activities.
'You are farther forward with your inquiries regarding the death of this young girl?'
'We're progressing,' Inspector Bland told him.
The superintendent took up the running and expressed very delicately the object of their visit.
'You would like to search the Esperance?' De Sousa did not seem annoyed. Instead he seemed rather amused. 'But why? You think I conceal the murderer or do you think perhaps that I am the murderer myself?'
'It's necessary, Mr De Sousa, as I'm sure you'll understand. A search warrant…'
De Sousa raised his hands.
'But I am anxious to co-operate – eager! Let this be all among friends. You are welcome to search where you will in my boat. Ah, perhaps you think that I have here my cousin, Lady Stubbs? You think, perhaps, she has run away from her husband and taken shelter with me? But search, gentlemen, by all means search.'
The search was duly undertaken. It was a thorough one. In the end, striving to conceal their chagrin, the two police officers took leave of Mr De Sousa.
'You have found nothing? How disappointing. But I told you that was so. You will perhaps have some refreshment now. No?'
He accompanied them to where their boat lay alongside.
'And for myself?' he asked. 'I am free to depart? You understand it becomes a little boring here. The weather is good. I should like very much to proceed to Plymouth.'
'If you would be kind enough, sir, to remain here for the inquest – that is tomorrow – in case the Coroner should wish to ask you anything.'
'Why, certainly. I want to do all that I can. But after that?'
'After that, sir,' said Superintendent Baldwin, his face wooden, 'you are, of course, at liberty to proceed where you will.'
The last thing they saw as the launch moved away from the yacht, was De Sousa's smiling face looking down on them.
II
The inquest was almost painfully devoid of interest.
Apart from the medical evidence and evidence of identity, there was little to feed the curiosity of the spectators. An adjournment was asked for and granted. The whole proceedings had been purely formal.
What followed the inquest, however, was not quite so formal. Inspector Bland spent the afternoon taking a trip in that well-known pleasure steamer, The Devon Belle. Leaving Brixwell at about three o'clock, it rounded the headland, proceeded around the coast, entered the mouth of the Helm and went up the river. There were about two hundred and thirty people on board besides Inspector Bland. He sat on the starboard side of the boat, scanning the wooded shore. They came round a bend in the river and passed the isolated grey tiled boathouse that belonged to Hoodown Park. Inspector Bland looked surreptitiously at his watch. It was just quarter-past four. They were coming now close beside the Nasse boathouse. It nestled remote in its trees with its little balcony and its small quay below. There was no sign apparent that there was anyone inside the boathouse, though as a matter of fact, to Inspector Bland's certain knowledge, there was someone inside. P.C. Hoskins, in accordance with orders, was on duty there.
Not far from the boathouse steps was a small launch. In the launch were a man and girl in holiday kit. They were indulging in what seemed like some rather rough horse-play. The girl was screaming, the man was playfully pretending he was going to duck her overboard. At that same moment a stentorian voice spoke through a megaphone.
'Ladies and gentlemen,' it boomed, 'you are now approaching the famous village of Gitcham where we shall remain for three-quarters of an hour and where you can have a crab or lobster tea, as well as Devonshire cream. On your right are the grounds of Nasse House. You will pass the house itself in two or three minutes, it is just visible through the trees. Originally the home of Sir Gervase Folliat, a contemporary of Sir Francis Drake who sailed with him in his voyage to the new world, it is now the property of Sir George Stubbs. On your left is the famous Gooseacre Rock. There, ladies and gentlemen, it was the habit to deposit scolding wives at low tide and to leave them there until the water came up to their necks.'
Everybody on the Devon Belle stared with fascinated interest at the Gooseacre Rock. Jokes were made and there were many shrill giggles and guffaws.
While this was happening, the holidaymaker in the boat, with a final scuffle, did push his lady friend overboard. Leaning over, he held her in the water, laughing and saying, 'No, I don't pull you out till you've promised to behave.'
Nobody, however, observed this with the exception of Inspector Bland. They had all been listening to the megaphone, staring for the first sight of Nasse House through the trees, and gazing with fascinated interest at the Gooseacre Rock.
The holidaymaker released the girl, she sank under water and a few moments later reappeared on the other side of the boat. She swam to it and got in, heaving herself ever the side with practised skill. Policewoman Alice
