"DEATH GOES BY 'BUS"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 29 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 XVII. Continued. “Well, the Winslow business is disposed of. It was a complication that looked a bit awkward at first. Now you can devote all your attention to the murder.” “Good lord, Mr Sharpe, isn’t that what I have been doing. As soon as we were satisfied about the clear case of suicide we didn’t bother any more. “Quite right, Superintendent! Personally I think it a great pity the second man removed himself so efficaciously from the scene.” Maxley stopped dead in his tracks. "What bee is this in your bonnet?” he; snarled. “Surely you don’t suggest —" j His companion waited for the rest i of the sentence. “Suggest what?” he 1 prompted, when it was not forthcom- ■ ing. “That Winslow had a hand in the: shooting?” ' “Did I give you that impression?” i “Then what’in the name of wonder are you driving at?” “Only that our banking runaway might have been able to throw more light on what happened than most of those present without actually being the guilty party. It’s only an idea of mine, founded on the knowledge that out of all the travellers he was the only one we could not interview —with the exception also of Wainwright.” “Go on!" “Imagine what would happen if he had noticed anything suspicious. Don’t you think that would have made him more desperate? I do. Already implicated in one crime, he would find himself the object of especial interesteven of gravei- suspicion." “Not of murder?” “Why not? I could invent a nice hypothesis on which you could build an explanation far more satisfactorily than the one you are trying to pin on John Smith.” “For instance?” “How’s this on the spur of the moment? Winslow leaves Woolham by train carrying the—er—swag. Naturally, he must throw off the pursuit, and instinct always prompts the same sort of procedure. So he doubles across country, changing vehicles as often as possible until he arrives in Colborough. There ihe comes face to face with a man he knows . . .” “Wainwright?" “Exactly—and as unwelcome a recognition as could be imagined. Being crooked himself, that individual is suspicious, but says nothing for the time being. Winslow would try to stall — pretending mistaken identity or something of that kind, thus making an even bigger mistake. On board the bus. the runaway, with his pricking conscience, interprets glances as menacing, so takes advantage of unexpected circumstances to kill.” “Drastic measures, eh!” “Born of desperation, like most murders. After the crime the gun is planted and Winslow gets away to the thicket, becomes panic-stricken, and takes poison. Any flaws in that?" “Plenty,” Maxley retorted. “But one could work on those lines. What about the ownership of the weapon?" "That might be a weak spot. Up to now you haven't tried to make it a strong one, as it might very well be. Remember the killing was done with what you now call ‘Exhibit A.’ and you haven’t traced the owner. Taking too much for granted seems to be a common police fault. Because you want it to belong to Smith it is accepted as his property. If Withers really found it in his ticket box my theory is as good as anything else,” “I'm not denying that. Unfortunately you can make out a case that sounds feasible a darned sight too easily. Why, if 1 asked you to. 1 honestly believe you could fix the guilt on that young schoolboy." “Easiest thing in the world, old man. ' Or on the farmer and his wife.’ j “Then what am I expected to make of your latest invention?” , “Anything you like. Circumstantial evidence is the trickiest thing imaginable. You've managed to turn it nicely against your prisoner. How about the Hanson confession?” "Nothing doing.” “As I expected. I've been, wondering when you were going to tell me about that further statement that doesn't tally with the facts as you know them." “Another masterpiece of deduction!" Maxley commented. The intended sneer failed to take effect. "Deduction," Mr Sharpe murmured. 1 “is a process of drawing out one truth from untruths. Detection would have been a better word. Quibbling like this is wasting time. Does your official mind quail from presenting rne with the complete new facts?" “As you've guessed something, you ■ may as well know the rest. Miss Hanson kept repeating that she had shot Wainwright, but was not able to cx--1 plain how it had been done. As for knowing anything about planting the • gun in Withers’ box—well, she never even thought of it." J “Motive?" } “Can’t get a line on that, except that in her estimation he was all sorts of a dirty dog. But you don’t go round bumping off people merely because ■ they’re objectionable characters.” “Fortunately not, otherwise there’d 1 be no further need for a police force." "Eh? Surely you mean we’d have to treble 'em.”

Mr Sharpe smiled cynically. “No, humanity would wipe itself out in three generations. Returning to our muttons, there’s that remark of the Hanson woman about knowing Wainwright more years that she cared to count.

How does that tit in?" “You know as much as I do. Her statement throws no further light on it. She positively could not. have shot Wainwright. “Oh yes she could.” "How?" "Find out why and perhaps 1 could answer that. Providing there is a perfectly good reason, the rest follows. Do you know, Maxley, there is a very strange series of coincidences attending that bus trip from Colborough to Netherton.” “No need to go in for chess or crosswords to know that." “Naturally you’ve noticed it. The biggest puzzle of all is how such a strange crowd came to be together. Local services are patronised almost exclusively by the natives as a rule, and yet we find the queerest collection of strangers to the neighbourhood mixed up in it." “Which makes the tangle more difficult to unravel.” "Up to a point," agreed Sharpe. “Slip the right end through the right loop and it will all straighten out with perfect smoothness, so that we shall be amazed at not getting it right from the beginning." "Smith's going to slip out of his noose," the Superintendent said, with grim humour, Morrison Sharpe pulled a propelling pencil from his pocket, twirled the lead into position, and then seemed uncertain what to do with it. “I wonder," he remarked. Maxley was watching the little silver rod with a fascinated stare. “Not changing your mind about the prisoner’s innocence?” he inquired. The pencil point reached its maximum of protrusion. “I might,” came the retore. “After all it is a masculine privilege now we have equality of the sexes. Dear me, I wish I had a sheet of paper!” "Will this do?” A notebook was handed over and the police officer waited anxiously to see what bearing was to be brought to bear on the case. Craning his neck he was able to see a large square, crisscrossed to make smaller squares. Mr Sharpe had just conceived a new idea in puzzles. CHAPTER XIX. Major Martinshawe, looking about as hot as a holly bush in midsummer sunshine—and twice as prickly—gathered the elite of his Criminal Investigation Department together for one of his famous conferences. Occasionally a modicum of good emerged from these "pow-wows,” as they were dubbed at headquarters. More often they were quite abortive, except tor the opportunity of enabling the Major to let off steam in an entirely impersonal way. It was, after all, much better than dealing individually with his officers. Unfortunately, as Maxley admitted to himself, the presence of Morrison Sharpe was quite out of the question. Martinshawe would have been in danger of an apoplectic seizure at the bare suggestion, however valuable the little man might be. From the commencement it was clear that this was to be no mere'give and take of desultory conversation. From his seat at the head of the table the Chief opened the attack, declaiming against the conduct of the case with a total disregard for the feelings of everybody concerned. “I blame myself for not calling in Scotland Yard," was the remark that brought Maxley io the defensive. “Surely, sir,” he exclaimed, “nobody could have done more than we have." “The trouble is that you seem to have done too much,” came the tart reply. "Look at the public attitude towards this man Smith. Why, even the Bench are inclined to sympathise. If it was possible to withdraw' the charges without looking like a collection of idiots, I’d even recommend that course." “Wait another two or three days before you apportion the blame, sir,” “Wait, Superintendent! Good gad! I've been doing nothing else. Where is the evidence you promised? Not forthcoming. Nice business when lawyers in a murder charge begin to talk about bail!" “Smith’s a crook, after all." “So I'm told. Only he doesn't happen to be accused of any ordinary crime, but of the capital offence. What we should have done was to have kept him in custody for being a suspected person in possession of housebreaking tools. Then the main case could have been built up in comfort—providing that, is to say, his association with the crime can be proved.” "There were no such tools, sir!” "Didn't he carry plans of Luston Manor and Dallas Towers?" "No Bench would have acted on such flimsy evidence—or on a sort of confession which would have been immediately denied in open court. No, sir. it wouldn’t have done. We acted, as we thought, for the gest." “Try that on Elleslie. I daren't. My reputation would be blasted for ever—if that isn’t already accomplished. "How about making a bold move? Withdraw against Smith.' “Your resignation would be coincidental. Public opinion would demand it." Maxley pushed his cup and saucer aside, “if you request it. I can take the rap," he said with dignity. The Chief Constable was immediately, contrite. "No, no, Superintendent,” he exclaimed hurriedly. "Far be it j from me to jettison a good officer beI cause of momentary panic. As head of | this force 1 hold myself personally re- , sponsible if a mistake has been made.’ ] It was this element of fairness that endeared him to his men in spite of every fault. (To be Continued.)