"May I ask what those reasons were?"
"I was within a very short distance of where the murder was committed, and though I was not an actual witness, I heard. A moment afterwards I saw Mr Morice come running from--the place where it was done, as if for his life. Then--by the dead man I found the knife with which he had been killed. It was Mr Morice"s knife; a few minutes before I had seen him with it in his hand."
"You found Hugh Morice"s knife? What did you do with it?"
"It is still in my possession. You see, I thought that he was guilty, and--for reasons of my own--I did not wish to have the fact made public."
"This is a curious tangle into which you have managed to get things between you. Have you any idea of what it is Mrs Darcy Sutherland has just been telling me?"
"I can guess. She has probably told you that the dead man was my husband--Robert Champion."
"Your husband! My dear young lady!"
This was Mr Stacey.
"Yes, my husband, who had that morning been released from gaol." Mr Stacey would, probably, have pursued the subject further, but with a gesture Mr Gilbert prevented him. The girl went on. "Mr Morice knew he was my husband. I thought he had killed him to save me from him; he thought I had done so to save myself. It is a puzzle. There is only one thing that seems clear."
"And that is?"
"That it was a woman who killed my husband."
"I see what you mean. I have been trying to splice the threads. That person who has just been here--Mrs Darcy Sutherland--do you think it possible that she could have been that woman?"
"I should say that it was impossible."
CHAPTER x.x.xI
THE TWO POLICEMEN
Mr William Granger, of the County Police, was just finishing tea in his official residence when there came a rap at the door leading into the street. Mr Granger was not in the best of tempers. The county policeman has not quite such a rosy time as his urban colleague is apt to suppose. Theoretically he is never off duty; his armlet is never off his sleeve. It is true that he has not so much to do as his city brother in the way of placing law-breakers under lock and key; but then he has to do a deal of walking exercise. For instance, Mr Granger had a twelve-mile beat to go over every day of his life, hot or cold, rain or shine, besides various local perambulations before or after his main round was finished. Not infrequently he walked twenty miles a day, occasionally more.
One would have thought that so much pedestrianism would have kept Mr Granger thin; he himself sincerely wished that it had had that effect.
As a matter of fact he was the stoutest man in the village, which was galling. First, because he was conscious that his bulk did not tend to an increase of personal dignity. Second, because, when the inspector came from the neighbouring town, he was apt to make unpleasant remarks about his getting plumper every time he saw him; hinting that it was a very snug and easy billet for which he drew his pay; adding a hope that it was not because he was neglecting his duty that he was putting on weight so fast. Third, because when one is fat walking is apt to result in considerable physical discomfort, and twenty miles on a hot summer"s day for a man under five foot ten who turns the scale at seventeen stone!
Mr Granger, who had come back hot and tired, had scarcely flung his helmet into one corner of the room, and his tunic into the other, when his inspector entered. That inspector was fond of paying surprise visits; he surprised Mr Granger very much just then. The policeman had a bad time. His official superior more than hinted that not only had he cut his round unduly short on that particular day, but that he was in the habit of curtailing it, owing to physical incapacity. Then he took him for another little stroll, insisting on his accompanying him to the station and seeing him off in the train which took him back to headquarters, which entailed another walk of a good six miles--three there and three back--along the glaring, dusty road.
By the time Mr Granger was home again he was as bad-tempered a policeman as you would have cared to encounter. Tea, which had been postponed to an unholy hour, did but little to improve either his temper or his spirits. He scarcely opened his mouth except to swallow his food and snap at his wife; and when, just as she was clearing away the tea-things, there came that rap at the door, there proceeded from his lips certain expletives which were very unbecoming to a constable, as his wife was not slow to point out.
"William! what are you saying? I will not have you use such language in my presence. I should like to know what Mr Giles would say if he heard you."
Mr Giles was the inspector with whom Mr Granger had just such an agreeable interview; the allusion was unfortunate.
"Mr Giles be----"
"William!"
"Then you shouldn"t exasperate me; you only do it on purpose; as if I hadn"t enough to put up with as it is. Don"t stand there trying to put me in a bad temper, but just open that door and see who"s knocking."
Possibly Mr Granger spoke in louder tones than he supposed, because before his helpmate could reach the door in question it was opened and someone put his head inside.
"All right, Mr Granger, I"m sure that good lady of yours has enough to do without bothering about opening doors; it"s only yours very truly."
The newcomer spoke in a tone of voice which suggested complete confidence that he would be welcome; a confidence, however, which was by no means justified by the manner of his reception. The constable stared at him as if he would almost sooner have seen Inspector Giles again.
"You! What brings you here at this time of day? I thought you were in London."
"Ah, that"s where you thought wrong. Mrs Granger, what"s that you"ve got there--tea? I"m just about feeling equal to a sup of tea, if it"s only what"s left at the bottom of the pot."
The speaker was a tall, loose-limbed man with a red face, and hair just turning grey. From his appearance he might have been a grazier, or a farmer, or something to do with cattle; only it happened that he was Mr Thomas Nunn, the detective from London who had been specially detailed for duty in connection with the murder in Cooper"s Spinney. As Mr Granger had learned to a.s.sociate his presence with worries of more kinds than one, it was small wonder--especially in the frame of mind in which he then was--that he did not receive him with open arms. Mr Nunn seemed to notice nothing, not even the doubtful glances with which Mrs Granger looked into her teapot.
"There isn"t a drop in here, and I don"t know that it will bear more water."
"Put in another half-spoonful and fill it up out of the kettle; anything"ll do for me so long as there"s plenty of it and it"s moist, as you"d know if you saw the inside of my throat. Talk about dust!"
Mr Granger was eyeing him askance.
"You never come down from London. I saw the train come in, and you weren"t in it."
"No, I haven"t come from London."
"The last train back to London"s gone--how are you going to manage?"
"Well, if it does come to the pinch I thought that you might give me a shake-down somewhere."
The policeman glanced at his wife.
"I don"t know about that. I ain"t been paid for the last time you were here. They don"t seem too anxious to pay your bills--your people don"t."
"That"s their red tape. You"ll get your money. This time, however, I"m going to pay for what I have down on the nail."
"What"s brought you? You know, Mr Nunn, this ain"t an inn. My wife and me don"t pretend to find quarters for all the members of the force."
"Of course you don"t. But I think you"ll be interested when you hear what has brought me. I may be wrong, but I think you will. I"ve come from Winchester."
"From Winchester?"
Husband and wife both started.
"Yes, from Winchester. I"ve been to see that chap Baker. By the way, I hear he"s a relation of yours."
"Most of the people is related hereabouts, somehow; but he"s only distant. He"s only a sort of a cousin, and I"ve never had much truck with him though I ain"t saying he"s not a relation. What"s up with him now?"
"He made a communication to the governor, and the governor made a communication to headquarters, and headquarters made a communication to me. In consequence of that communication I"ve been paying him a call."
"What"s the last thing he"s been saying?"