The Mystery of Ryehurn Manor

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 924, 18 March 1930, Page 5

The Mystery of Ryehurn Manor

By

JOHN LAURENCE

Author of "The Sigpa of the Double Cross Inn,” etc.

OH AFTER XLVll. —(Continued) “I didn’t know what you would do,” confessed Sheila. “I thought you would be sure to arrest Mr. Thornton. I knew he and Mr. Simmonds had quarrelled. I knew that he had been in Ditchling Road that night when Mr. Simmonds was killed, and I thought you'd be clever enough to trace the duplicate key of the safe to him. I—l was frightened of the police. I hardly knew what to do when you and Mr. Harding suddenly appeared the day after, down here.” “1 knew then you were the girl on the roof,” said Vidler. “Well, you two run away. I’ve got a busy day in front of me. You've cleared up a good many things for me. Miss Sunderland, and for that I will forgive you.” “You are very generous, Mr. Vidler.” “D.V.’s a good sort,” cried Harding, happily, linking his arm in Sheila’s. “You haven’t always thought so,” retorted the inspector with a smile.

HOW THORNTON DIED. He walked thoughtfully toward the house, and saw Lee standing on the lawn in front of it. “How are you feeling?” asked the inspector. “Not as bad as I thought I should,” admitted Lee. “Been waiting for you to come along. Find out anything?” “Yes, I saw Luding this morning at Hastings. He’d just finished a preliminary examination of Thornton. You were right. He'd been shot!” “By heavens! And this is a civilised country!” cried Lee, shaking his fist in the air. “We re not safe on our own roads now, without running the risk of some thieving poacher—” “We’ve got the poacher,” interrupted Vidler. Lee looked hard at the inspector, his thick lips pursed together. Ho did not speak for a moment. “Good, that settles that. When did you get him?” “But he didn’t fire the shot which killed Thornton,” continued the inspector. Lee paused for a moment to light a cigarette before he spoke. "What's the idea, Vidler?” “The poacher, a man named Perrings. readily acknowledged he’d been shooting in the wood that night, hut he'd been using a shotgun. Thornton was killed by a bullet.” Lee stared at the detective with a puzzled look on his face. “That complicates things rather, doesn’t it?” “The local police are making inquiries,” replied Vidler. “Have you sent in the claim for your pearls yet?” “Posted it off yesterday,” said Lee promptly. “Well, you'd better cancel it,” said the inspector. “I’ve got them.” His companion swung round with a startled look. “Got them,” he echoed incredulously. "Where?” “Here.” Vidler tapped his pocket, and then told a deliberate lie. “Thornton stole them, and I found them.” The implication was that they had been found on Thornton’s body, and Lee had to accept it. “I always told you he was a wrong un,” ho said quickly. “And I’d have sacked him only you were against it. He might have been alive now if I bad I reckon he did Simmonds in.”

I Vidler made no direct reply. I “I’ve got to report to the Yard. i Would you lend me the saloon?” | “Of course. I’ll get Johnstone to drive you up if you like.” I “I'd rather drive myself,” replied j Vidler. “1 want to get away as soon I as possible.” | Lee half turned away toward the [ house.

“I’ll telephone the insurance company,” he said. Damn glad you’ve got that necklace, Vidler. I think the wife was counting on getting the money.” He grinned maliciously, and the inspector walked away quickly to the garage. He did not drive direct to London, as he had implied he was going to do, but first of all he paid a visit to Hastings, where he spent the greater part of the afternoon making inquiries and interviewing a number of people. And when at last he turned the saloon in the direction of London he was humming softly to himself. And when Vidler began humming the popular tunes of the day it meant that he had begun to see daylight. He arrived in London just before seven and drove straight to Scotland Yard. Neither the Commissioner nor Superintendent Markham was there, and he left word that he would return between half-past nine and ten. “D.V. seems cheerful,” remarked the sergeant, who had been instructed to get in touch with his chiefs. “I reckon the murderer of Simmonds is for it tonight.” “He always hums the ‘Soldiers’ Chorus’ when he’s going to hang anybody,” replied bSs companion. “Watch the papers tomorrow: 'Sensational Arrest in the Ditchling Road Murder!” Inspector Vidler was In his own room at the moment, changing into evening dress. The “Soldiers’ Chorus” was going strong, and as he only knew a few bars it was being repeated with a monotonous regularity which would have maddened any !i.steHer. He drove to a well-known restaurant in Piccadilly and there nined as though he had no cares in the world. A few minutes before nine he rose leisurely, with the air of a man who had dined well. A policeman standing beside the saloon, with an open notebook, taking particulars for obstruction, suddenly stiffened at the sight of him and saluted.

“Sorry, sir, didn’t know it was your car,” he apologised. Vidler smiled as he drove off. He was feeling happy with the world. He believed in his bones that the experiment he was going to try would come off. It was only a link in the chain he had been definitely forging the last 24 hours, but it was an important link. The saloon had been garaged at Strudland Garage on the night of the murder between the hours of 9.15 and 11.15. The garage attendant had not remembered who had driven it, but he would probably remember the car. And if he remembered that, something might come back to him, some little incident, which would make him lecall the owner. It was an experiment in psychology and mnemonics as it were, one thing recalling another. The big blue Forrest saloon swung into the garage precisely at nine-fif-teen. THE EXPERIMENT “How long do you want to leave it. sir?” asked the attendant, looking at the number and beginning to enter it on a counterfoil. “Name, sir?” “About a couple of hours. Robinson.” replied Vidler briefly. “That valve given no further trouble, sir?” said the attendant, tearing out the counterfoil. Vidler smiled grimly. The attendant had spoken half-unconsciously, quite unaware of the psychological process which had brought back to his mind the last time the ~saloon hail been garaged there. Vidler noticed that he was looking at the car, not at himself. Like most people who deal day and night with cars, it is the car and its idiosyncrasies which are remembered, more than the owner. “Didn’t know it had given any trouble,” replied Vidler frankly. “I wasn't driving when it was last here.”

“Sorry, sir, of course not. It was another gentleman.” “In evening dress?” asked Vidler. “Yes, sir." j “Do you think you’d know him again?” “Yes, sir.” The attendant was answering readily enough now. “Rather a thick-set gentleman.” “That the man?” The inspector held out a photograph. “That’s him, sir. Remember now, he gave me rather a ’andsome tip.” “Here’s another,” said Vidler. “I’ve changed my mind.” Before the attendant could say anything further the saloon was being backed out of the garage. “And that’s that,” said Vidler to himself. “A.nd one in the eye for John’s routine methods of investigation.” He grinned cheerfully as he thought of the expression which would show on the superintendent’s face when the latter learned - how the identification had been made. He found both Markham and the Commissioner waiting his arrival. “Fine time of night to start business,” grumbled the superintendent

good-humouredly. “Office hours ten to four, only the wrong ten and the wrong four as far as I am concerned.” “Your chief business in life. John,” said Vidler cheerfully, “is watching other people work. Sorry to tear you away from the little woman and the yapping children, but after all you are a superintendent of New Scotland Yard, though it must have been favouritism.” Markham stroked his beard, and his eyes twinkled as he looked at the Commissioner. “The laddie's going to be funny. That comes of dining out. Has the fair Lilian de Hava been honouring you? Why the boiled shirt and the white tie and the lovely swallow-tails?

You haven’t got the orders and decorations, D.V.”

“I have dined alone,” replied Vidler. “I find it helps me to think. I’ve done my thinking when I come to talk to you two. You put me off.” “And what have your thoughts led you to?” asked the Commissioner quietly. He knew the inspector’s japing hid something important, and he was not surprised at the answer he received. “The person who murdered Simmonds,” replied Vidler. VIDLER EXPOUNDS “You found out who killed Simmonds,” boomed Markham, his eyes lighting up. “Excellent fellow! I was saying to the Commissioner today I believed you’d got brains. You’ve got a good friend in me, D.V.” Vidler lighted a cigarette and settled back in his chair. “How will you have it?” he asked. “From the beginning or the name first and details after?” "Better work up to the dramatic climax,” suggested Sir Arthur. “It will give you practice when you retire and begin writing your reminiscences.” The inspector watched a smoke ring curl upward in a slowly-expand-ing circle. “I eliminated Harding because he wasn’t the type, because he was in no need of money, and because he had no motive. I kept an eye on him at first, till I was really satisfied. Jennings I checked up and found to be 0.K., though he is a Uriah Heep. Miss Sunderland was my first string. That bit of paper with her writing on it was rather damning evidence that she was mixed up in it, but the two keys were rather a facer. One made for Simmonds and one for Thornton. After that Thornton came rapidly into the picture.” CHAPTER XLSTIL “The evidence against Thornton seemed strong enough to justify his arrest, I thought,” observed Sir Arthur. “It was touch and go, only I couldn’t reconcile certain facts with his guilt,” admitted Vidler. "Why didn’t he open the safe and take the pearls, if he had killed Simmonds? Who was the man who shook his fist at him and Miss Sunderland when they left the summer-house? Who was the man who shot at Harding and myself. Although Thornton had a revolver in his room I was certain it hadn’t been fired. And who was the man who tampered with Harding’s airplane? The answer, Thornton, didn’t seem to fit in somehow.

“He’d got a motive, apart from the robbery of the pearls, in that he and Simmonds had quarrelled. He wanted the pearls in order to get rid of Lilian de Hava, but didn’t take them. The burglar alarm does not work from the safe, and Simmonds was dead when Miss Sunderland found him. That was before the alarm went oif. It looked to me Thornton had missed an opportunity. A man -who had committed a murder wouldn’t have hesitated to carry out a robbery. I had my doubts.”

“Miss Sunderland was there, then?” Vidler briefly outlined what Sheiia had told him.

“I suspected, of course, some time ago that she was shielding Thornton, and if she had told her story in the beginning, X think it would only have confirmed my opinion that he wasn't the murderer. Thornton was obviouslv out to make money, and he didn’t care very much how he made it. The murder of Simmonds gave him a golden opportunity and offered him a chance of getting far more than the pearls were worth, for he'd seen the person who killed Simmonds.” . ‘Thornton was a nasty piece of " observed the Commissioner. “Very,” agreed Vidler. “He’d have come to a bad end if he hadn’t been killed. He was the type that can’t keep straight where money is concerned. At Winchelsea I made my first interesting discovery, the remarkable mileage to the gallon of the Lee’s saloon car. It had done 150 miles and used no petrol and no oil. That’s the kind of car I want. A hundred and flftv miles is roughly the distance between Hastings and London and back. And the journey had beert done on the night of the murder.”

“I found out who used the car that evening, and from that moment everything began to fit in.” “Lee, of course,” said Sir Arthur.

* £ ~ “Lee,” nodded the inspector. “No one thought of Lee in the first place because he had apparently a perfectly good alibi, whereas Thornton had not, nor had Miss Sunderland. Lee had been to a dinner and dance at Hast-

ings given by a society to which he belonged. I spent most of today interviewing the guests at that dinner. Many of them remembered Lee being present at the dance, which went on till 3 o’clock in the morning, but none of them could swear positively that they had seen him at the dinner, and none could say when he appeared at the dance. Luckily the secretary had kept a rough copy of the plan of the tables, and the positions of people. I found out where Lee was supposed to be sitting, and interviewed the diners on each side of him. Lee’s place was vacant.”

“Good work,” commented Markham. “Pity the garage man in London wasn’t able to' give a description of him.”

“Pity you don’t study the human mind, John,” jeered Vidler, complacently. He has identified him tonight. I drove up in the saloon at the same time as Lee must have done. He recognised the car and confused me with Lee at once. The car brought Lee back to his mind more definitely, however, when I explained. I showed him Lee’s photograph, and he recognised it instantly as the man who called himself Robinson, “What motive had Lee?”

“I’m not sure yet,” confessed the inspector. “But I fancy it was something to do with Simmonds’s father. Simmonds didn’t get employment at Ryeburn Manor by accident. Everything points to the fact that he entered the house to find some paper which would prove Lee had ruined his father.”

“That’s a good guess, D.V.,” said the Commissioner. “We’ve been inquiring about Simmonds for you. His father’s business was turned into a company during the war, and began to make huge profits.—- But the powergot into the hands of Lee and his associates, and they froze Simmonds out, so he lost all his money.” “That supplies motive,” said Vidler. “One at any rate. Another, I fancy, was a misplaced affection for Miss Sunderland and the discovery that Thornton was after her. When he saw her writing on that paper he must have put two, and two together pretty quickly. It was clever, knocking the inkpot all over it, though I didn’t realise the importance of it at the time.”

“Is that your case against him?” asked Markham. “It’s not over strong.”

“Agreed,” replied Vidler, cheerfully. “But I’m not going to charge liiin with the murder of Simmonds. I’m charging him with killing Thornton. Simmonds will do as a second string.” “I thought Thornton had gone out too much at the right time,” said Markham.

“Lee’s story is that a. bullet struck the windscreen, went through it, and killed Thornton, who pitched against him and made him lose control. First of all, a bullet striking -the windscreen couldn’t have gone Into Thornton’s head by his ear. Try to imagine it. It must have caught him in the front of liis head, not toward the back. Secondly, the car was in bottom gear and there was no earthly reason for it to be so, unless the car had been stopped. Thirdly, the fast-running control was so set that if the gear was put in the car would have leaped forward. Fourthly, Thornton’s ribs were smashed as though the wheel had struck him, •though Lee admitted he was driving. Fifthly, all Lee’s cuts are superficial. I liad a long chat with Luding, and it is a queer thing that the cuts were on his left hand and arm and on his face only. Those on his face were hardly more than grazes, though they bled a lot. And lastly, I have examined every bit of the broken glass, and there’s no sign of a bullet hole.” “You think Lee shot him, put him over the wheel, and then let the gear in while the engine was running fast?” asked the Commissioner. “I’ve no doubt about it,” said Vidler. “Nor have T,” agreed the superintendent. “You’ve made out your case. D.V.” “Agreed,” said Sir Arthur. When the triumvirate agreed there was nothing more to be said. The case was complete, except for details. “He's a pretty bad hat,” said the superintendent. “Telephone.” “Yes, Sir Arthur Hamblen speaking,” said the Commissioner. “Who? The manager of the Western Bank, Studland Road. . . . Yes. . . . All right. . . . Yes, most important. I’ll be here.”

I-Ie replaced the receiver with a chuckle. “That was the manager of the Western Bank. He explained that he had only just read in his evening paper of the accident to Lee and Thornton. Thornton banks with him and gave him a sealed envelope only two days ago and made the manager promise that the instant he heard of his customer’s death he would bring the envelope straight to me. Thornton told him that he went in fear of his life.” “When, an hour later, the bank manager arrived, it was to Vidler that the Commissioner handed the letter. “I think you should have it first,” he said. “It is the corner-stone of your efforts. Read it aloud.” It was addressed to the Chief Commissioner, and ran: “In case I die suddenly from any cause whatever, though it may appear •an accident, this is to state that I have been murdered by James Lee, who murdered Simmonds. On the night of the murder of the latter I was in Ditchling Road, waiting for Miss Sunderland to appear. I was hidden behind the curtains in the dining room when Simmonds entered. He began feeling along the wall, searching for the safe when Lee found him. Lee walked across the room in an apparent fury, calling Simmonds by all the vile names he could.

“Simmonds stood by the safe laughing and Lee snatched up a poker and struck him. It was all over before I could intervene. Lee wiped the handle of the poker with the corner of the rug and went out of the room. I was “just about to etep out when Miss Sunderland came in. She didn’t see Simmonds until she was nearly up to him, and then she turned and ran. I came out at once, fearing she would met Lee. I heard her go upstairs, and then the burglar alarm went off. Lee had gone out through one of the back window's, and shut it down after him. I was standing beside It when the policeman passed in the garden. When he went round to the front I got out through the window and made my way home.—Charles Thornton.” “You’ll make the arrest - yourself?” asked Markham. Vidler nodded. “I should have liked to have got Thornton as well,” he said angriiy. “You notice he dragged Miss Sunderland’s name in, and he left her to face the music that night to save his own skin.” On his way to Ryeburn Manor, Vidler called at Rye and enlisted the services of Inspector Lester. They found Lee in the library, and they entered unannounced. He looked up from his papers in front of him with an angry expression on his face, which instantly changed when he saw* Vidler. The latter was curt. His eye had caught sight of the open safe, and he had no doubt that the papers through which Lee was poring contained one which might prove the final link in the chain. (To be Concluded Tomorrow.)