EBONY TORSO

Wairarapa Times-Age, 23 August 1939, Page 10

EBONY TORSO

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. COPYRIGHT

(By

JOHN C. WOODIWISS.)

CHAPTER IT. (Continued). "Nothing in itself." agreed Hopton readily. “But it’s a loose end from which to begin the unravelling process. No. I want you both to take this glass and examine the screw that has remained in position in the door. You 11 see at once that the lacquer on its head is chipped pretty extensively round the ridge into which the blade of the screwdriver fits.” The two officers did as they were asked: Carlingford with rather a bad grace.

“Well,” asked the detective, “is that correct, or isn’t it?”

“I must admit you’re right,” replied the Inspector. . “But ” “One moment, before you start making any objections," Hopton interrupted. "Do you notice anything else?” Carlingford subjected the screw-head to another long stare, for he was anxious not to appear less observant than his brother-officer, but was at lasi forced to admit he could see nothing “Well, the uncovered portion of the metal is very rusty,” Hopton pointed cut, "proving pretty conclusively that the screw has been in place for some time.”

“And your contention is that the one which the officer picked up had never been in the door?”'Carlingford inquired, after taking another look at the object in question, and finding what the other said to be undeniable.

“Exactly,” agreed the Detective. “And I’ll go even further. I wouldn't mind taking a sporting bet that if you cut the entire piece of wood out ol the door, and carefully saw it in two. so that the screw hole can be examined in section, you'll find one or two other things to interest you.” “Such as?” Carlingford’s question was put in an acid tone. “Well, when you drive a screw into a door, its thread leaves a corresponding spiral impression in the wood, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose so.” “But, if it’s torn out, as this one was alleged to have been, it tears away the corresponding spiral in the wood, doesn't it?”

“I supposse so.” “Very well. Now, I may as well tell you right away that I suspect the footprint on the sill was a mere blind, and that Scutt was murdered by an ordinary flesh and blood person with an extremely acute brain. This job has been planned with the most devilish cunning ...”

“One moment, Hopton," broke in Carlingford sharply. “This Sherlock Holmes’s business is all very well, old man: but deduction won’t satisfy a judge or jury, you know. You were talking about this screw . . .” “Give me a chance!” cried the detective. holding up a silencing hand. "What I’m telling you isn’t deduction, it's fact. You'll find the screw which held the bottom of this socket in place was cut off; so that very little effort would be needed from anyone to force it out, and enable the intruder to get at his victim easily, and, above all, without much noise." "You mean, someone removed the proper screw and substituted a cut off one?" questioned Carlingford.

"I do," nodded Hopton decidedly. "And if you want proof, you'll find that a sectional view of the hole it was imbedded in will show that the corresponding spirals in the wood will only be torn away quite near the opening." "By George! That's a brainy theory!" agreed Carlingford grudgingly. “I’ll have a carpenter in at once and see if it works out. But what about this screw the constable’s picked up, in the meantime?”

"That’s very simple,” Hopton assured him. "This criminal we’re after is a pretty cute fish. It must have been quite clear to him that we should examine the broken lock and that the missing screw would possibly set us on the right scent; so he brought a new screw altogether, and dropped it so that it would be found as soon as the room was searched but, like most clever criminals, Carlingford, he made a little slip and dropped a brand new one, which could obviously have never been used, and. furthermore, he made a second bloomer.”

"I didn’t notice anything." objected his brother officer.

"Well, look where the thing was picked up. Right over on the far side of the room, against the skirting. If it had been forced out'legitimately, by someone violently breaking open the door, it would have fallen . . . well, certainly not more than two feet from the entrance; and yet, it's picked up right over on the other side of the room. That fact alone’s distinctly suspicious."

"It might easily have got kicked over there by anyone coining in." suggested Carlingford. “Possible, but most unlikely." objected Hcpton.

"And this cut-off screw was. of course, picked up and taken away by the murderer?”

"So I suspect." replied the Detective confidently.

"Um. that looks rather black against Galesbourne. doesn't it?" r'emarked C.ulingford. "He was the person who burst open the door, and he stated lie didn t leave the room again until the police arrived."

‘ Well, he’s definitely under suspicion. ’ agreed Hopton. "And what about a motive?" inquired the Divisional Inspector sarcastically. “It certainly wasn't robbery, this fellow Scutt was as poor as a church mouse: then, there’s the foot mark on the sill, and the talon wounds on the dead man’s throat to explain away. How did they get there?” "Everything will fall into its proper place as soon as we begin to thin the facts down,” Hopton assured him confidently. "I don’t think there’s much

more to be found here. You'd better have the body removed while I take a look at the backyard and have a chat to Mrs Scutt.”

"Very good,” agreed Carlingford, and began to instruct the officer as Hopton. left the room and went downstairs.

He found Mrs Scutt, the dead man's wife, in the kitchen. She vias a little dark woman, and seemed very upset by the tragic events, she had gone through.

“Good morning. Mrs Scutt,” began the Detective politely. “Sorry to intrude. but I'd like to ask one or two questions about this tragedy'. I’m Detective-Inspector Hopton, of Scotland Yard.”

"Certainly, Inspector.” she replied readily. “Won't you come in and sit down by the fire. It's terribly cold, today.”

“Thanks," he nodded, taking the proffered chair. "I'm sorry to worry you with questions in connection with this tragic affair, but I'll try to make them as few as possible.” “That’s very kind of you. Inspector.” she said, sitting opposite him. "It's upset me a good deal.”

“Must have," agreed Hopton sympathetically. "Well. I understand your husband was rather a difficult man to live with?”

■ ' “Yes, Inspector, he was a bit eccentric, and then latterly he began to drink . . since we left Brighton, that is.”

"Oh. you lived in Brighton?” “Yes, for a good many years. We were living there until my husband took up this Spiritualism business, and thought he’d do better in London.” “And that was ?” “Just over ten years ago, Inspector.” “I see,” nodded the Detective. “He was a fortune teller, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, sir, he did quite well at it, too. He had some really distinguished clients until this dreadful business of Mrs Abershaw started.”

“That was the lady who had been in Hong Kong, and was supposed to be in the power of an evil spirit, I believe?”

“It was evil, too, Inspector!” she assured him with 'a shudder. “My husband was never the same after the sittings he had with Mrs Abershaw . . .

he was quite a different man.” “In what way?” “Oh. he became morose, terrified of the dark, and he had bad drinking bouts.” “Was he often drunk?” asked the Detective.

“Yes,” replied Mrs Scutt. “Often violently drunk too.” “You don’t know what he drank?” “Always whisky or brandy.” “To drown his terror, I suppose?” “Thai’s it. Inspector. It was awful, at times,” answered the woman with an earnestness that defied all suspicion of acting. “Rather an expensive hobby, Mrs Scutt,” commented Hopton. “Where did he get the money for all this drink?”

“I'm sure I couldn’t say, sir,” she replied promptly. "I only know he got it.” “He wasn't earning much money at that time?” the detective enquired. "No, sir. He daren't do any more sittings with clients after the Incubus came. So he earned nothing.”

There was an awful horror in the woman's voice as she pronounced the fatal name of the curse that had descended on her unfortunate husband.

“But surely, Mrs Scutt, you don’t believe in this evil spirit nonsense?” asked the detective sceptically. “Oh, yes, sir, I do indeed!” she answered. fixing a pair of terrified eyes on his face. "I didn’t at first; but I had to after a while. It .was horrible! Fred often said the Incubus'd finish him. and, you see, he was right. He’d never let me even go near the Torso." “Docs this spooky lady. Mrs Abershaw, live in London?” inquired Hopton. “Yes. Somewhere in West Kensington," she replied. “I don't know the exact address, Out she' has a flat near West Kensington Tube Station, and her Christian name’s Clara.” Hopton noted the points in his book. “Well. I won't ask you for any unnecessary details.” he went on. “But you're sure your late husband wasn’t earning any money as a clairvoyant at the time of his death?” "No. sir. I'm sure he wasn't."

“Then, that brings me to rather a painful question, I'm afraid. You. of course, know that he had served two terms of imprisonment?”

"I do!" The woman’s manner changed to one of defiant aggression as she shot back her reply. "Very well," persisted Hopion. "Do you think he was raising money by ihat sort of game?" "Blackmail, d’you mean?" "Yes." nodded the Inspector, keeping a close watch on her reactions.

"Good gracious, no! Whatever put such an idea into your head?" Mrs Scutl's eyes fairly blazed as she made the emphatic denial; but the detective was not to be side-tracked from motives of sentiment.

"You state that he drank heavily prior to his death." he pointed out "Everyone knows what drink cost:

. . . it's very expensive, and I'm trying to find out where the money came from to pay for it." "I've already told you, I don't know." snapped the woman. "But I'm absolutely certain Fred had done with blackmailing years ago. You police can never let a poor devil rest. I think it's a disgusting thing to say of a dead man.” "I merely asked a perfectly legitimate question. Mrs Scutt," Hoptbn assured her calmly. "Your husband has been murdered, and it's my job to hunt for a motive that'll eventually lead us to his rnurderc-r.” (To be Continued.)