"DEATH GOES BY 'BUS"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 20 November 1939, Page 10

"DEATH GOES BY 'BUS"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. COPYRIGHT.

BY

LESLIE CARGILL

(Author of “The Yellow Phantom,” “The Arrow by Night,” etc.)

CHAPTER XI. I Continued. “It’ll get it. Mr Sharpe.” On the way to Netherton the little man busied himself with a sheet of paper, covering it with queer words, figures and symbols. They were understandable only to himself. Resolving a murder into a mathematical equation is a nice little hobby, but hardly a practical one. However, he did arrive at certain conclusions. Harry Carter was wiped off. So were the farming couple and the boy. But there still remained Agatha Hanson, Huntley Young, John Smith, and Jeremy Withers. One of them was guilty. Which? There were far too many unresolvable symbols to arrive at the final answer. Mr Sharpe carefully folded up his paper, stowed it away, and looked up into the quizzical eyes of Superintendent Maxley. “Another puzzle,” sir?” he asked. “Yes, rather a novel one. It goes ‘lf “A” murders “B,” and so on.’ ” Maxley smiled a superior smile. “Neat, if I may say so. But you can’t work real mysteries out on paper." “Don’t be too sure. One of these days I’ll tell you what X equals.” “Come into the department when we arrive, sir, and I'll show you a much better method than fiddling about with sums.” “Thank you, I accept with pleasure.” So, for the first time, a layman was present when tests were made with the revolver. He saw the finger-prints materialise under a succession of powders, watched them compared with those of Jeremy Withers, and shared the general satisfaction when it was discovered that one part of the conductor's story was true. Then came the measuring of the bullet, its peculiarities being charted one by one. Withers may have been unable to acquire bullets, but the police had no such difficulty. A shot was fired into a dummy, and this was afterwards placed alongside the missile that had taken the life of Caleb Wainwright.

Microscopes, calipers, photographs and other scientific apparatus were brought into use. Finally the findings were complete. Maxley received the written report. "This,” he pronounced, “puts young Withers in bad.” For, according to the information, which was beyond dispute, the fatal bullet had been fired from the Belgian revolver which had been picked up in the coppice.

“And I still say he hadn’t anything to do with the crime," observed Mr Morrison Sharpe sturdily. “But look at these bullets,” remonstrated the Superintendent, almost pitiful in his defence of the official findings. "Mark for mark they are twins. No other gun could duplicate them.” Mr Sharpe did not dispute it. “I haven’t the least doubt but that you’re right," he concluded. "Then it must be Withers. There is an admission of possession, and subsequent disposal. Men have been sent to the gallows on far less circumstantial evidence.” “Lots of them. Sometimes you find out the truth before it is too late. I wonder how many victims have been sacrificed to the idol of scientific jurisprudence?" "Now, sir. that isn’t fair Young Withers has told us he bought the revolver on the Continent. Dozens are smuggled in every year in a similar way. I was very dubious about that yarn of getting rid of it because he had the wind-up.” "So was I.” "There you are then. The case is simple now . . unless the murderer decides to run away.” “By the ‘murderer’ you mean Withers, of course. Personally I don’t think he’ll do anything desperate.” “We shall see. Anyway I’m taking no chances. Orders have already been given to bring him in.” “Under arrest?” “Not exactly. Technically it is for the purpose of making a statement. If these is enough information forthcoming he will be detained." “Presumably my presence would be out of order on that interesting occasion?” “Absolutely impossible,” said the Superintendent, shocked at the very idea. Mr Sharpe did not seem taken aback. "Well, it can’t be helped,’ he said regretfully. "I might have saved you making a fool of yourself.” “Sir!” "Sounds harsh, doesn’t it. Truth often does. If you were to ask me I could submit a thesis worth consideration . . ." “Go on!” "Merely this. Withers did buy a revolver. of sorts, in Belgium, last year. But not this one. After the murder he found the fatal one stuffed down between the back of a chair and the seat. Being scared, he kept it on one side until the search was resumed, taking his chance that we should accept it as being left after the tragedy. When the subterfuge was uncovered he spun his story on the spur of the moment. Does that hang together?” “Perfectly," admitted Maxley. "Withers couldn't think up a better excuse for himself.” “Unless I’m mistaken he’ll recount the same one when his back is to the wall. Even confirmed prevaricators fall back on strict accuracy as a last resource ..." i He was going to point the moral when two plain clothes men came in/ accompanied by Jeremy Withers, look-1 ing very sorry for himself. I "Sit still. Mr Sharpe," invited rhe

Superintendent. “I’m risking my job but —but—'

“You’d like to prove I'm mistaken for once,” retorted the little man maliciously. e “What is the meaning of this?” Jer--1 cmy Withers was saying indignantly. “I’m supposed to be on duty and two of your men yank me away as if I = was a criminal.” 7 “Don’t get excited, young man. Proa bably the difficult angles will be straightened out in a few minutes. a This is your revolver?” I “Yes, it is. I told you that when it I was picked up in the woods.” 1 “According to you there was never i any ammunition?” f “Not a single round . . except a ? small packet I had abroad. But that > was used up almost immediately." “Then you would be surprised to know s that this particular weapon was the ) one used to shoot Caleb Wainwright?" "Not a bit." It was Maxley who got the shock. This was the last thing in the world he expected to hear. Indirectly he noticed the ironic smile on the face of . Morrison Sharpe. "Don’t trifle," the superintendent snapped. “Far from in. I’m going to tell you the real facts. My own gun was the dead spit of this fellow. Wouldn't you have gone all over goosey if you’d found the second poked away in the ,Hickel box?" "Where?” i “The box where we keep the spares. I found it there when I went to check : up that night." "Why didn’t you report it?” Withers scowled. “And get told off

for being a liar. Who’d have believed me?” “Anybody, so long as you produced your own revolver." “That was out of my possession at the time. I’d given it to somebody." “Who?” Withers remained obstinately silent. “Come along, man! Without it your defence is pretty thin.” “Oh, I've got it.” With a dramatic gesture the young man plunged nis hand into his pocket and brought out a vicious little handful of blue steel. Beside the weapon that had previously been under examination it was practically impossible to tell one from the other. Both bore the same trade mark and were the products of the same factory. But the first was inscribed with the agent’s name “Jules Lefitte, Rue du Bois” and the other was simply identified by “Anton, Place Verte.” “You must say where it was on the day of the murder,” pressed Maxley. For nearly an hour he kept harping on that string until the wretched youngster was unable to stand out any longer. "If you. must know," he snarled, "it was John Smith —the man who was sitting just behind Mr Sharpe on die bus.” “Whew-w!’ whistled the little puzzlesolver involuntarily. I hadn’t thought of that!” Maxley silenced him with a look. “What made you loan it to him?” he went on inexorably. Jeremy Withers flared up. “Ask him yourself," he snapped. "I’m fed up with all this. Not another word will you get out of me. Put me in the cells if you like, but I'm not talking." And neither persuasion nor those half-threats which are supposed to be outside the rules of evidence would move him from this decision. Half-an-hour later saw him walking out of the

police station a free man. much to the disappointment of Superintendent Maxley, who had felt sure that only a few extra bricks had been required to complete the edifice he had been so carefully erecting. Instead of that Withers had blown it down like a head of cards. Patiently and carefully they would have to start all over again from the very foundations. CHAPTER XXII. ' Jeremy Withei’s was not surprised to find that he had been left behind. His place as conductor had been filled by a relief hand, and there was no doubt a lot of scandalous talk already goinground the neighbourhood. Reporting at the office it seemed that the clerks were regarding him suspiciously. "So they've let him out.' whispered one bright young typist to her companion. “Isn't he lucky?" “It’s an old trick," said the other girl sagely. “When the evidence isn't enough they give them rope to hang themselves.” Curiously enough this rather obvious device hadn't occurred to Jeremy. He was unaware that two plain-clothes men were shadowing him from the moment Maxley said: "You may go." A more observant, individual might have recognised the shadows from what they were. Ancient jokes have handed down the tradition of heavyfooted detectives and one might have thought that this would have resulted in the disappearance of the typical sleuth. Departures from typo are rare. These two earnest watchers were each attired in loosely-cut blue-serge suits and sported bowler hats. Theis feet were encased in square-toed boots without toe-caps. Half Netherton knew that Jeremy Withers was being followed by the police and the populace got their little thrill out of it. (To be Continued) .