"The Monday Night Murder"

Auckland Star, Volume LXI, Issue 217, 13 September 1930, Page 12 (Supplement)

"The Monday Night Murder"

By J. R. WILMOT,

CHAPTER I. At Breakfast. Beacliaven , is not a popular holiday resort. It does not cater for the multitude. Rather does it set itself out to attract those who prefer the distinguished solitude of long stretches of golden sands; the rugged grandeur of lonely rocks, grey and austere, far from the wild tumult of those overcrowded places where humanity's habits iirst led the philosopher to dub us gregarious. t No military band played en Beacliaven promenade, firstly because the promenade was not large enough, secondly because it would not have been appreciated. Likewise there were no pierrots to infuse the ozone with syncopated melodies. In short Beachaveu prided itself on being a "quiet" place. Apart from a few private houses on the '"front" which accommodated boarders, almost everyone who was anyone at all stayed at The Hydro. The Hydro at Beacliaven was architcctrally imposing and snobbishly"aloof. Like the lonely rocks below the yellow and white cliffs, it had an isolated grandeur, and while- it was open to the sea on its southern aspect, it was screened from the chilly north by a semi-circle of ' trees that fringed the wide lawn, the tennis courts and the putting green at the.back. The Hydro had been there long before an enterprising rural council had decided to build a short - length of promenade and advertise with careful discretion, emphasising how delightfully invigorating were the breezes that came ozone-laden from the wild Atlantic, and what, remarkable mineral properties were possessed by, the water- which came from a natural spring believed to have; been first discovered by the 'Romans, and as no Roman has ever had the temerity to doubt the foresight and "wisdom of his ancestors, Beacliaven •was permitted to continue to make use of the assertion. ■ ■ - • • There was certainly something restful about The Hydro at Beacliaven. The moment one entered it, one became conscious of its calm efficiency; its unhurried sense of well-being. There were no clangings of bells and hangings of doors. The hall porter was a Sphinx who' moved with ■ the reverence of one reared in a temple; even the lady in the office who assigned the rooms was a ( goddess in black eilk who bestowed smiles with the grace of a Victorian hostess of Berkeley Square. The Hydro had its own clientele culled from' those classes of society that believed in comfort,, exquisitely cooked food and regular: habits, graced with such modern distractions as bridge and golf. It had never set itself out seriously to cater for the younger generation and when, two or three years ago a number of tennis courts had been marked out and , equipped, some of the older and more seasoned of the habitues frowned 1 severely upon the innovation.

The ■week-end that had-just passed had been rather 'jolly and sunny. No rain had fallen. The promenade had looked quite gay. The.beach had'been dotted with clusters of ;happy : faced . children, most of them with their attendant nurses; while at- tide-time there had teen a fair sprinkling of bathers, and •when the chairman of the local council had. walked the promenade he had confidently prophesied , an excellent season for Beachaven, for it was as yet early June. At The Hydro Sir Gilbert Dyall had gathered about him a little party for the week-end. Sir Gilbert was well known at The Hydro and in Beachaven itself. He was a man renowned for his progressive ideas, and if he had his way, every member of the rural council would have- been- sent'into permanent and compulsory retirement,, and Beachaven would have found itself formed into a public company with registered offices in London and its shares quoted on the Stock Exchange. : r : He was a man of: commanding appearance, almost military-looking, with his dark grey hair, his small white moustache, ruddy complexion and deep grey eyes that looked at you from beneath a pair of I excessively shaggy eyebrows. At sixty he was quoted to be exceedingly wealthy. His interests in several public and private companies were considerable, and his name was :to be found in the list of directorates, of a dozen concerns. Sir Gilbert .Dyall , had discovered Beachaven many years ago. He had arrived at The' Hydro full of pomp and importance and ' decided - that the place appealed to him. he wanted a rest from his manifold cares,: and also whenever he wished to enjoy the company of his small but'select circle of friends. It suited Sir Gilbert, who .was a bachelor, to invite hie friends /down to Beachaven rather than entertain them at Maiden Lodge in the county of Kent. Most of them' had. arrived on the Friday night, and the three days at Beachaven had, to all .intents and purposes, been thoroughly enjoyable, and this morning, being Tuesday, would see them all on their way home again. The dining room at The Hydro was rectangular in shape. Its windows—eight of them in number—overlooked the fringe of the cliffs and gave a delightful view of the vast expanse of sea beyond. Breakfast was at nine, and everyone who did not indulge in the extravagant habit of breakfasting in bed was usually conveniently adjacent when the gong sounded, for it was said that Beachaven air was conducive to the prompt and hearty appetite and the management, while not stressing such a vulgar point in their attractively printed brochure, always believed in serving meals in strict accordance with the times laid down in the schedule. In the bow window at the end of the dining room two tables had been allotted to Sir Gilbert Dyall and his small party,

S and during the three days' stay it had 1% , become customary for everyone to await ;«> the arrival of Sir Gilbert before conimencing the meal.

:.:• This morning Sir Gilbert seemed some5J* what tardy in making Ms appearance, gj and though" he was only a few minutes n late, more than one member, of the '.',", party experienced an inward sense of ;- acute apprehension for which they would <'' lave found it difficult to explain, but '.'it perhaps it was because Sir Gilbert was ",; always the essence of promptness in j* everything. If ho made an appointment w lie would be there exactly to the minute, |J and expected the same virtue in others. The others had seated themselves. »* There was Roger Pleydell, a genial, 'h» prosperous city broker of fifty, or there*iX alwutfi. His tanned face looked, if any-

thing, a trifle paler than It usually did. His blue eyes shifted uneasily from his "Financial Times" to the door and back again to his quotations. Beside him sat his wife. Elsa Pleydell was quite twenty years younger than her husband. She was dark and singularly beautiful, not in the way of the exotic foreign beauty of Spain and the Mediterranean but of the pastel type associated more with the wilder parts of Britain. She had met and married Roger Pleydell twelve months ago and she never had occasion to regret the alliance. She was in love with Roger Pleydell just as much to-day as when she had married him. Opposite sat Carr Kleiner, a youngish man with quite a cosmopolitan flavour about him. He, too, was dark, but almost to the point of being swarthy, and his olive complexion and narrow almond eyes proclaimed a strain in him that, was'by no means definitely Nordic. He had travelled extensively; had met Sir Gilbert in the way of business in London, to- which .city he had recently returned from abroad.

At the table adjoining Avas Beruicc Dyall,-Sir Gilbert's niece and ward. She was typically English; fair as the dawn; cheeks like the June roses that were at their best in The Hydro grounds, and eves as blue as the sun-kissed sea. Bernice Avas twenty-four but didn't look a day older than eighteen; modern from the "neatness of her shingled head right down to-the abundant display of silken hose" that encased her shapely limbs. She Avas talking rather earnestly to the young man on the other side of tlio table—a'young-man who didii't seem in the least anxious that Sir Gilbert should "come down to breakfast at all, because he kneAV that Sir Gilbert Dyall did not look amicably on Anthony Page f.s a prospective husband for his niece. In fact, Sir Gilbert had been rather rude and quite brutally frank ou the subject, and Anthony Page Avas sensitive about it.

He Avas two years senior to Bernice, and he felt that he suffered under a sensie of injustice. After all he couldn't help having been sent up to Oxford by an indulgent parent; neither could he help his painfully slow progress with a firm of metal brokers in the city into which he had been dumped as soon as it Avas considered he ought to begin trying to earn a living; and neither could he help having a banking account that Avas perpetually in disgrace.

Anthony Page Avas an attractive-look-ing young man,, spare perhaps, but athletic. He felt that if only he had been uiven a real chance in life to show his ability he had the capacity for success, but that metal broking business in Avhich his father was financially interested Avas not in his line at all. He hated it, and if it hadn't been for the fact that he Avas overwhelmingly in Igve with Bernice Dyall he Avould have chucked it long ago. But being in lovo to such a depth had its responsibilities, and even though funds Avere loav, it Avas better that they; should be like that than non-existent.

At. one end of their table, to complete the little party, was Adela Trinim. Miss Trimm had not really been of the party in the sense that she had not travelled down expressly with a view to enjoying a week-end in the company of Sir Gilbert. She had been at The Hydro for three weeks, quietly enjoying herself in her own way, and when Sir Gilbert had invited her to partner him at bridge on the Saturady night, Miss Trimm had felt queerly excited, and after that she had been "one of the party" although, truth- to tell, hardly anyone ever said very much to her. |.

This did not hurt Miss Trimm. She was fifty and had had a considerable experience of hydros and the people who used them. At Beachaven she was well-known. A season without Miss Trimm would never have been complete.

"Bernice, ray dear, -what can have happened to your uncle?"

The girl turned her head as she heard Elsa Pleydell's rather musical voice. "It's really too -bad of him," said Bernice, incoiisequently. "I suppose he must have over-slept himself." And turning to Miss Trimm: "Did you keep him up late last. night at bridge ?"

"We finished ' the rubber "at" eleven o'clock," smiled that lady, looking up from a letter she was reading, "I wouldn't call that late for Sir Gilbert." ; "Weri, I'm going to begin," announced Kleiner, beckoning the waiter who had been Covering around. "I've got a train to catch at ten-thirty." "I think I'd better go and give him a call/' said Roger Pleydell, pushing back his chair. "I say, don't" disturb him," chuckled Anthony Page. "Beauty sleep's valuable when you get-to his age. I vote we break with precedent and have breakfast." •' ' "':]' ■ . ■ Roger Pleydell half rose from his chair but paused as he felt his wife's hand on his own.. Heistarted as he felt it. It was icily cold. "Can't you send one of the chambermaids, -Roger 1 . I ,agree with Anthony about breakfast." Roger looked -at Jiis wife curiously. Did she feel the'same as he did But that was absurd. How could she? And yet. . ..how cold her fingers were, and that look in her eyes . . . Roger Pleydell sank back into his chair. The waiter had brought Kleiner his porridge and was about to, attend to someone else when Pleydell motioned to him and asked him if he would send up to room number 37 and inquire whether Sir Gilbert Dyall would mind if they began breakfast.-,..-' But the errand was a futile one right, from the" ' beginning,"for Sir; Charles Dyall would never require breakfast. He, was lying across the floor of his room with a bullet through his heart. « ' CHAPTER 11. . .. ... Entering the Maze. Inspector John Willard, of Scotland Yard, prided himself on two things; one was that during the fifteen years lie had been an officer there had not been one case in' which'he'llad'been unsuccessful; the second was that ho did not look in the a policeman. He was of a medium height, slight build, fair hair inclined to sandiness and becoming disconcertingly thin on the , top. Then he had a pair of quiet brown eyes, a nose longer than the average and a serviceable looking, chin. In a crowd no one would ever have noticed Inspector Willard, which wae-just as it should have been, considering the profession he liad chosen quite early in life. There had been times in his chequered career when

he had mista'ken for a city clerk, a churchwarden, and a schoolmaster. Not once had the unitiated mistaken him for a police officer with an enviable record behind him and a well-earned pensioned retirement not so very far away.

Almost as soon as the mysterious affair up at The Hydro had been discovered by the chambermaid, the local chief of police had decided that it was clearly a .case for the assistance of Scotland Yard, and Inspector Willard thanked the gods that he had discovered a county policeman -who had some regard for the efficiency of the London experts, and had put through a telephone call as soon as he had made sure that Sir Gilbert Dyall was dead, and that in the absence of a weapon the theory of suicide could be Aviped out altogether.

Willard stood looking down at the dead man with a feeling of uneasiness. Though this was by no means the iirst occasion he had been called into the presence of death, he never quite rid himself of that sensation. He always felt that there was a, mockery of a smile on those cold lips—a smile that challenged, and John Willard was too human to pass it by.

Superintendent Bennion of the County Constabulary, in -whose area of jurisdiction tlic Beachaven. Hydro happened to he, and. who, in his wisdom had scut to London for guidance, stood by the door of the apartment. He was a man of about. Wi J lard's age —a man who had been content with the county which had jjiven him promotion^—and he knew, in his heart, that the men at the Yard knew far more about crime than lie ever would know, because crime was thoir business, while" his was merely the less attractive task of endeavouring to keep (ho county peace.

■ Sir Gilbert Dyall. Avas lying diagonally across the floor, his head in the direction of the bed —-his feet towards the door where the superintendent, stood. Willard continued his survey without speaking. His eyes travelled from the dead man to the door, from the door back again to the dead man and from there to the window, the long curtains of which came right down to the floor. For a fuli minute he gazed at the window, though he* knew that whoever had killed Sir Gilbert Dyall had not done it from that direction, for the window: was flush Avith the side of the building; it was prefaced by no balcony and was not made to open except by means of a ventilator in the upper half of the sash.

The Superintendent followed Willard's gaze. He, too, knew that the window would oiler no solution to the problem, lie knew Avhat Willard had not yet vouchsafed; that Sir Gilbert Dyall's assailant had entered by the door leading from the corridor, else why should the dead man haye been standing facing the door at the moment he had been killed, as indicated by the position of the body?

He watched Willard walk slowly across the bedroom towards the window; saw him stoop to the floor beside one of the curtains, insert a hand between the folds and withdraw something. Benn ion's face became more alert. Here was something he had not noticed when lw had first entered the room and made a preliminary search. . .

Willard turned towards his companion. "You didn't notice this when you looked around?"

The Superintendent saw that he held a bunch of blue violets, the stems- of which were fastened by a length of florist's wire.

"No, sir!" intimated the local, with due deference.despite his rank. "Though as you will understand my inspection was of the briefest. I had the door locked immediately and put a constable on guard outside. I can swear that no one entered after that." i

"Funny that a posy like this should bo tossed away in the folds of the curtain. Violets, too!" •

Willard did not address the remark to the other oflicer. Rather was it a quiet conversation with himself.

Glancing, around the room his eyes alighted on a ; small' writing-table on the far side of the bed. On it was a cigar box. Willard crossed the room and opened the box and,' turning out its cigar contents ■ and leaving them on the table, carefully placed the bunch of violets within and closed the lid.

"I suppose your medical man will he available should I want him?" was his next question!

The Superintendent said that Dr James Macfarlane would see the Inspec tor any time that was convenient.

"He said that he had been dead alioul nine hours eh?" • < .■

Again the Superintendent acquiesced. "That gives us somewhere around midnight. , Um! ■ Monday midnight. It's curious how attractive midnight is tor murders of this kind, Superintendent,' , went on Willard. "Come to think of it, very few take place •in the afternoon. "I suppose we're more charitable towards our fellow men after lunch and a cigar, and even by nine o'clock in the evening the well-fed effect, of dinner has not had time to evaporate. But midnight. ... ah. . ..there's something different; something indefinable about midnight." •

(To be continued daily.)