The Merafield Mystery

Evening Star, Issue 19782, 4 February 1928, Page 19

The Merafield Mystery

By R. A. J. Walling

(Author of ‘The Third Degree,’ ‘Fatal Glove,’ etc.).

Special Note.—-All the names, characters, _ and incidents in this story are entirely fictitious.,.

CHAPTER XI. Of course, Greene JWld all the cards, as I alone in the court knew. He was aware that he could not possibly get either, of the prisoners discharged that day, but he was going to set up a current of feeling in their favor—create the impression that ultimately they must get off. Having removed from his path the suspicion with which Eossiter had surrounded Quance, he turned his attention to Lady Merafield. I was curious to know how he would deal with that side of his case, which was far more, obscure. Actually he dealt with it in precisely the same way. He asked that Grainger should be recalled, and his evidence read over, and then proceeded to cross-examine him. “I am' not going to ask you, Mr Grainger, what your theory of ■ this crime is. I merely want to pat to you the grounds of this charge against Lady Merafield. You arrested her on the charge of complicity because you found in her room a revolver with which the murder, if it was murder, may have been committed?” “Yes,” said Grainger, “for that and other reasons.” “And the other reasons ” “Chiefly Lady Merafield’s lack of candor in neglecting to tell us of she relations which had formerly existed between her and s Overbury ; Overbury’s disappearance- in these circumstances was not to be explained except oy the complicity of Lady Merafield.” “Well,” Greene countered, “that’s only an opinion, Mr Grainger. Let us stick to facts. The one fact against Lady Merafield is this weapon. Whose property is it?” “I do not know,” replied Grainger. “Do you suggest that it is Lady Merafield’s?” “No, I don’t know.” “Or Major Overhury’s?” “ T don’t know.” “In fact, it’s a very common revolver, and apparently almost and it might have belonged to anybody, eh?” “Yes,” said Grainger. “Now, what makes you think that there was some collusion between Lady Merafield and Major Overbury ?” “I should think,” said Grainger, “ that was obvious from the evidence that they had known each other before the marriage of Sir Charles and- Lady Merafield, that they had, in fact, been engaged, and that they were both up and dressed and talking together just before the crime was committed.” “So that, if the defence _ put forward some adequate explanation of the presence of Lady Merafield and Major Overbury in the gallery at this time, and you accept it, then there is no evidence of collusion?” “ I should not say that. There is the fact that Major Overbury, a former fiance of Lady Merafield, am ’ed at the house one day, and that two days later Sir Charles was shot. _ I ought to have intervened in tins discussion long before, and I expected every moment a protest from the piosecution. But it did not come, and, as the magistrates made no objection, and I was myself eager to- see where Greene was leading, I allowed it to go on. . .. .„ ~ “ But that would also disappear it it conld be shown by the defence that Lady Merafield was absolutely ignorant of the fact that Overbury was coming to Merafield Tower until the visit was almost due, and that she protested most earnestly to her husband again so the action he had taken in inviting Overbury?” . , “Yes—if,” said Grainger, with the emphasis on the “if.” , ~ Greene smiled. If, of course, said he. “ Well, we sjiall see.” _ At the end of the hearing Greene urged the court to say that there was no evidence against either of the prisoners to justify either a committal or another remand. , I had to advise the bench that they would not be justified in dischaiTgmg the prisoners if the police desired a turthor remand for inquiries. The superintendent asked ior a week’s remand. By that time, he said, the case might have assumed quite a different aspect, and the prosecution might be in a position to bring homo the crime to the culprits. So it was arranged. Lady Merafield and Quance were taken away, ine court went on with other business, and Greene left by taxi for Westport and took the first train back to London, i thought he purposely avoided the chance of communication with me. Now I come to the most remarkable part of the chain of circumstances in the Merafield case. After the court was over I remarked signs of excitement among the police, whispered, consultations between Rossiter and Grainger, a general atmosphere of impending events. “.Smart man, Mr Greene, said Grainger to mo when Rossiter had gone out and I and my clerk were clearing up books and documents. “ But I think w© shall be a bit smarter this time, Mr Franks.” “ Well, don’t be too hard on him, Grainger,” said 1. “He’s only a poor lawyer, you know, doing his best for his clients.” - “ 1 wish I was poor like that, said Grainger. , “ Well, if you bring this off it’ll be a feather in your cap. Anything moving?” said I, with a fine assumption of indifference. “It looks”—lie spoke behind his hand and into my ear—“ as if we shall have Overbury with ’em in the dock next time.” I could not feign indifference at this. It made me jump. But Grainger took my gesture for a quite natural expression of surprise. “ Oh, yes,” said he, “ we’re on his track. You’ll be astonished, Mr Franks —really astonished. It’s the most amazing thing. I can’t say any more. You just wait.” Just to wait was the last thing 1 meant to do. Seeing what my .real intention was, I could not catechise Grainger, but I did venture one remark. “ Under our very noses all the time, I suppose,” I said. “You’re not very far out, Mr Franks.” “Trying for him to-night?” I asked, as nonchalantly as I could. Grainger nodded. Rossiter missed him by inches last time. There’ll be no mistake now. He hasn’t got his precious chauffeur to help him.” I did not go to Westport afteij the court. I walked home to Rosebank, and telephoned to the office to'say that I was not particularly well, and must not be expected again that day. My wife, who overheard the message, looked curiously at me. I was the picture of health, and she hoped I had no secret complaint which I was hiding from her. She spoke in a tone of amusement, and did not, pursue the subject. “I want a few hours’ rest,” I said. “ I’m going to take advantage of a fine afternoon and have a laze qn Highcliff.” “Oh, very well,” said she. “If anybody comes for you shall I send them Hi"hcliff to look dor you?”

“ On no account,” I answered, emphatically. “ It anybody calls for me, say I’m in bed with neuralgia, or sciatica, or anything you like. I simply won’t be bothered with anything this afternoon.” » “And that applies to everybody?” “Yes, absolutely.” My wife is a woman of great perspicuity, and if she has the usual infusion of curiosity in her composition ' she knows when not to accent it. Therefore, after lunch I went out on the cliff path, with confidence that nobody would he sent after me. Grainger’s hint served only to confirm an opinion I had held from the beginning, which . had been .confirmed by all that had happened. It was that Overbury had never taken flight, but was lying “ perdu,” perhaps within shouting distance of us all the time. I have said that the peninsula on which the Merafield estate stands has a mere bottle-neck entrance, and that in the time at his disposal after the murder Overbury could not have got out that way without the help of a car. which was not then available—unless, as was unlikely, he had accomplices waiting for him, I did not believe in accomplices, because I did not believe in the guilt of Overhury. This conviction'was from time to time firmly corroborated—first hy the attitude of Quance in his character of chauffeur, by the fact that he had brought Mrs Briscoe to Highcliff Farm, and by Mrs Briscoe’s remarkable proceedings on the evening when I drove her down to this very cliff path in my own car. Possibly that visit to Highcliff Farm, when the second man whom I could not identify stood in the garden, was a mistake. I could not tell. But it was apparently what put Rossitcr on to the theory of a local hiding place. I did not think Rossiter was likely to make a second mistake. Overhury had not now the assistance of the chauffeur, as Grainger had said. But there was another person whose assistance he would have, and of h ir Rossiter seemed to be unconscious.. There was Mrs Briscoe. I had taken mv biggest field-glass with me on my walk. When I reached the point at which Mrs Briscoe and I had parted company that night I sat down on § boulder of shale and trained the glass' over every acre of_ visible country. The creek at this point was about a mile wide. Opposite, the slopes were grass clad, divided by low stone walls and spotted with clumps of furze. There was no building in sight and no wood. It was possible to examine through the glass every yard of the ground. Not a soul was in sight. Away to the south-west, between the point and the Cormorant Rock, old Bill Newberry’s crab pots bobbed about on the swell. But there was not a boat to be seen. My glass brought up the slender tower of the lighthouse far out in the Channel. That was all. ' I trained it on my own side of the creek, which was more difficult country. Here the cliffs were very high and very steep. I was at least a hundred and fifty feet above the water. The precipitous sides of the cliffs were clothed right down to the creek with trees, beeches, and ash, which had rooted in the detritus of the soft rock and made a dense mass .of green. A, little' clearing here and there was', empty. , J 1 satisfied myself that nobody else was within a mile of me, then I pocketed the glass and rose. What I no\j- meant to do was rough? work, and it might last a long time. At any rate, I tnoipht, with a smile, it was no job for a man badly afflicted with sciatica. I was going to test a theory. I turned off the path into the hanging wood, and scrambled with as little fuss as I could down and down, hanging on by sapling trunks and boughs, until I could go no further. The wood’s -shelter ceased. Its great branches hung out over the green water, deep here, for the cliff plunged straight down, and the tide swirled by ceaselessly without ever uncovering the bed of the creek. It was on this side that the little river ran, keeping the bank clear of silt and for ever deepening the • channel. I began to test my theory. In places the view from the edge was clear into the creek, but for the most part the trees overhung it, stretching far out, ten and even twenty feet, so that between the bank and the open water there was a screen of branches, now thickly clothed with foliage, and the water close in ran through a green tunnel. It was here that I hoped to prove my theory. I walked along the edge, clinging and slipping, for about four hundred yards towards the mouth of the creek, and there I proved it. Under a huge tree, whose outermost branches dipped into the stream, catching seaweed on their tips, lay a boat, tied stem and stern to stumps on the bank. She was invisible at a distance of ten yards on shore, and must have been quite concealed from the water. There was a twelve-foot rise and fall of tide, but even that was not enough to make her visible at low water, for 4he ends of the great branches evidently rose and fell with_ the tide, as was evidenced by the thick fringe of weed hanging on them. What I saw was the Belle Rose, for which somebody had paid a hundred pounds in bank notes to Joe Lillicrap. I had no doubt about it, though the name had been scraped off her bow on the starboard side, wdiich I could see, and doubtless of the port side and off her stern as well, if ever it was painted there. Secrecy was just a precaution. Nobody knew of the Belle Rose in connection with the Merafield case, even if anybody had had the luck to discover her hiding place. I stood looking at her for a minute or two. She had a big cuddy, with a wooden slide and a substantial door, which was closed. / She lay close in to the bank, but to board her it was necessary to hang on to a branch of the tree and drop on deck I did so with as little noise as I might. The engine, just forward of the stern sheets, was covered with a tarpaulin. The cuddy door was padlocked on the outside. Nobody was on board. This surprised me. I had expected to find somebody on board to help me prove my theory. I sat on the roof of the cuddy, and lit a cigarette, trying to guess where the person mignt be who ought to have been on board. I had not taken three whiffs before I heard a voice say: “Defense de fumerl” And there was Mrs Briscoe above me, looking between the branches on shore; i It was rather clever of me to find her out, she said, though against the rules. But really, there was nothing very clever about it. Knowing what I did about the Belle Rose, I started on my theory with a great advantage. Knowing as I did that within miles of the. place where I left her that night there was no shelter for a human being except Rosebapk and Highcliff Farm,

not very difficult to divine a “You remember,” said I, “ that when I left you I remarked that your plan was bound to put suggestions into 1 my mind.” “Yes,” she replied, “and I told you not to take any notice of them unless I ’called on you for help.” f , , x plrined that I should have been faithful _ to my promise unless exceptional circumstances had arisen, and I told her what they were. She nodded. “1 know, in fact, I have been to call on you for help. My friend, Mrs Franks told me you were hero.” . , > . She made this astonishing observation in the most matter-of-fact fashion. “Your friend?” I cried. “Yes. Didn’t you know? Mrs Pranks and I have become- excellent friends. She’s a woman in a, thousand. A little Victorian, though I do speak to her adventurous husband, but really a fine, discriminating .woman.” My astonishment grew as she spoke. “ It’s unfair to mystify you. I wanted help badly when Bernard was pinched by that insufferable man Rossiter, and I went to you for it. But you had gone off to London o" some fly-hy-night expedition. Why can’t respectable lawyers stay home and be there when they’re wanted? It didn’t matter in this case, because you’ve got such a superior wife. She helped me a lot more than you would have done, I’ll bet you a pony.” My wife! I recalled the amusement in her tone when she asked if she should send any inquirer after me. Really, this was a ivery rapid young woman, and her pace was infectious. “But now I/want your help, too. What’s got to be done to-night is a man’s job. and not a woman’s.” ‘‘This,” said I, “is an excellent hLing place. But I warn you that the insufferable man Rossiter is getting specially busy to-day. I should not he surprised to see him break in upon us at any moment.” “I should,” she said, with great composure. “ He’s had a tip about another hiding place far more important than this. That’s what he’s watching, And it’s about that I want to speak to you. Don’t you think wo may as well go to Rosebank and talk it over? ” “You aren’t afraid to be seen?” “ Mr Pranks! It’s the first time in my life that any man has ever suggested to my face that I’m not presentable. Seriously, not even the insufferable Rossiter has any suspicion of me. This is only a precaution down here, in case of a risk that isn’t likely to happen now. I’ve been walking about quite openly all the time. In fact, I’ve been staying in the same hotel ns Rossiter at Westport.” I had lost my capacity for astonishment. It was just as well, seeing what followed. “I may say, indeed, Mr Franks, that Mr Rossiter has developed quite a fondness for me—such a fondness that he wanted to kiss me last night, and only consented to postpone the ordeal on condition that I kissed him when he had found Major Overbury. I don’t want to be kissed hy Mr Ro« siter, and_ therefore it is imperative to prevent him from finding Major Overbury,” A gallant girl, but overwhelming. That was the only word for Jier. How gallant and how overwhelming ]. was to discover very soon. Women are extraordinary. If a man has lived with one for thirty years he generally prides himself on knowing what there is to be known about her Vain fool! When Mrs Briscoe and I walked into Rosebank that afternoon ray wife received us as though I had brought a casual acquaintance in to take afternoon tea. She called Mrs Briscoe “ My clear,” and remarked upon the beauty of the weather, the salubrity of the air on Highcliff Creek, and the derirability of having a cup of tea, and ihe shape of Mrs Briscoe’s hat, and this and this and that. She behaved < as though Mrs Briscoe were an old friend of the family. When wo came to business, Mrs Briscoe insisted that, my wife should remain ..and- share the conference. ' “ Tljree ’l\eads were better than one,” khe said,', and the head of Mrs Franks was bette* - than the other two put together. Mrs Briscoe, it seemed, knew everything that I had learnt about the proceedings of Mr Rossiter and his plans, and a great deal more. Mr Rossiter had made up his mind to take Major Overhury that night, and it was the most unfortunate night he could have chosen, because it was exactly the night when Major Overbury would have been for ever beyond the reach of all the Rossiters in Scotland Yard or anywhere else. And there were circumstances which made it impossible to postpone the enterprise and cheat Mr Rossiter of his chance. ‘■‘Overbury,” said I, “has been safely hidden for weeks. Why is it that his hiding place has been suddenly .discovered?” “ It'ffias not been discovered. They suspect, that’s all, and they are going to try for him to-night.” “If I may give a guess, Over bury has never escaped from Merafield Tower at all, but has been there all the time/’ “Good guess,” said Mrs Briscoe. “It"was all Very easy while Bertram was there—ho could feed them and look after them. Bit of a doctor as well as a chemist, Bertram. But when Rossiter got him there was no way of doing it. The situation got very difficult. I saw that I should have to do it myself, and that, was the reason of the plan you were so doubtful about that night at Highcliff Farm. I would have as’ked you to help, but seeing what your position was I recognised that it would be unfair. However, old Mason’s a dear, a perfect dear, and we did it. If you guessed that there bad been no escape, doubtless you guessed the rest, Mr Franks?” “You moan where Overhury hid? Yes. It was a mere guess. I had often noticed that the top story of the tower had no windows. But I’ve no notion, even now, how it is reached.” “Happily, nobody else had any notion either, except Mason. He had been in the house many years. You get at it by a stairway in the wall from the study on the ground floor—very ingenious. If you can’t find the entrance in the study, you can’t get at it any other way. It’s lit fipm the top, sort of skylights, or more like clerestories. They tell me the tower was there long before the Tudor house was built. That would have been all right for ever, so long as Bertram was there. But then Major Overhury had to come out one night, and one of the servants—-it was the •, footman—saw somebody crossing the front of the house by the fountain, and made a song about it. That was what eventually came to Rossitcr’s ears, and he put two and two together and came to the same conclusion as you, except that he knows nothing about ihe tower.” “Then why can’t Overhury stay there until Rossiter’s attention has been diverted in another direction?” “ He could, but he won’t. He insists on seeing the thing through.” Plainly Mrs Briscoe, and I were talking at cross purposes. But it was not for me to attempt to penetrate any matter she wished to keep intact. “It,seems to me to be folly to try an escape on the very night when the police will be watching.” That was all I could say. . “ On the whole, I think it is myself,’ said Mrs Briscoe. “I feel certain Bertram would find another way, but I can’t think of one; and. the chance may not occur again till heaven knows when. You can’t imagine what’ Major Overbury is like after all these weeks of horror.” ' , “ Very well,” I replied. “ Then what is the plan?” ._ _ ; “This is,it: Tepsichore is timed l for midnight exactly. . She left at noon. She does twelve knots. She will hang off oat of sight of shore till eleven, and

then creep in. If it had not been for • Rossiter., they would _ have got away I without trouble. As it is, Major Overbury’s. job is going to be the very devil.” Still at cross-purposes. Who were “they”? Mrs Briscoe thought I knew, or had deduced more than I had, in fact. Yet I did not put it "to her. I was afraid, literally panic-stricken, at the idea of what I might hear. If I was to take any effective part in this adventure it was better that the clerk to the justices should not know more. I looked at my wife. She sat placidly knitting; she gave no sign of per- I turbation; we might have been discuss- j ing the prospects of the harvest. I de- j cided to take Terpsichore and “them” j for granted. “How can I help Major Overhury to get over his devil of a job?” I asked. “ By being Major Overhury for one night only,” said this surprising young woman. “How ?” I began. “ Just a minute,” said Mrs Briscoe. “Mrs Franks and I have talked about it, and we think wo see a way. Rossiter and his men will not put in an appearance till dark—if anybody can be,, ■ said to appear in the dark. They suspect that somebody is likely to ‘ give the office ’ —that was the phrase Rossiter used last night. He did not know how right his suspicions were. Therefore, Mrs Franks can go down the road at seven o’clock, when it will be dusk, to mept an old friend of hers who is walking up from the station. Halfway down the hill she will encounter Mr Smith—or is it Jones?” “Robertson,” said my surprising wife: “a much more convincing name.” “Mr Robertson, then, and will bring him along here to supper. But as to Major Overhury, he simply'can’t risk getting away before dark. I want you to go over to Merafield Tower before dark and spend a pleasant evening with Mason. Haven’t you got something you can do in the library, look up something—law, or archeology, or something—that would enable you to ask for Mason’s assistance in finding a book every half-hour or so, and to give you the tip that Rossiter and his men are on the spot? I know it won’t be till well after dark. Mason will give the word at the. very last moment, when they are closing in. .“Then he will let you out through the yard or throhgh the conservatory, whichever ’may bo less closely watched, and you will walk quietly away through the garden, keeping out of sight as much as you can. ’You’ll probably be challenged before you reach the gate into the park, but either then, or immediately after, there will be a shot from the woods. “ You will start to run towards the woods—if you are alone—after the imaginary person you have seen dodging in that direction. If you happen to be talking to a policeman at the moment you will still imagine that you have seen a man dodging in that direction. Within three minutes all Eossiteris men will be after him. How does it strike yon?” “It doesn’t,” said I. “There are about twenty ways it may break down.” She looked disappointed. “I thought it a lovely plan,” she said. “Is Mason entirely in your confidence?” I asked. “Yes, and, as I said, he’s been a dear.” “ Then, if you’ll leave it to me, I’ll create a diversion without so much risk or noise,” said I. “I suppose all Overhury wants is a dear field for five minutes between half-past eleven and twelve? Rossiter will have no hint about the boat?” “Not a whisper.” “Then Overhury shall be at the appointed spot at the appointed time.” (To he continued.)