"The Monday Night Murder"

Auckland Star, Volume LXI, Issue 227, 25 September 1930, Page 26

"The Monday Night Murder"

=== By J. R. WILMOT. —

■ ■ CHAPTER XI. A Woman's Fears. The room at the Beachayen Hydro occupied by Roger "Pleydeir and his wife was. a pleasant one. It was a, cornei room. l r rom one ■window one could sew the majestic sweep of Beachaven Bay, and when visibility was good the thin line of the French shore, very grey anci very indistinct that might have been a wisp of- smoky mist low on the water. On this sunny afternoon, with the myriad coloured insects out in the garden, playing up and down invisible threads of gossamer, and with the low yet rhythmic booming of the sea in the distance byond the cliffs, Elsa Pleyilcll sat there with the door of the room locked on the inside. Ever since Tuesday morning, life had not been the same. She felt as if a net were being slowly and inexorably drawn around her—a net, be it said, from which escape was impossible. Like the h'sh of the sea, she stood little chance of evading it as it swept through the waters of life. Soon, now, the net would be drawn in and she. . . she would be caught. The thought chilled her. A week ago life had been more than tolerable. Last Friday, even before she and Roger had left London, life hadn't been such a had all'air. In fact she had felt happy. She had always felt happy when she remembered how secure she was in Roger's love. She had told herself that many times. Roger Pleydell was her bulwans against unhappiness, against the rough edges of life. They had been married twelve months, and Lisa had never known real happiness and contentment before. Even when Sir Roger had first introduced her to Sir Gilbert Dyall and she had seen immediately that the man was interested in her, she had not ceased to be happy. But on Sunday the crisis had come, although it had not been entirely unexpected. For some time shs. had been secretly alarmed at the way Sir Gilbert behaved to her. It appeared to KlsaJ that he had no respect for her married estate. At first when he had told her how much he admired her, Elsa merely thought that it was Sir Gilbert's way of expressing himself politely, but suddenly she had come to see him differently-. The veneered mask of convention hau fallen from him, and she sa.w revealed a man whose very soul had been bared by passion. To him the conventions were as nothing. Neither was it anything to him that she was another man's wife. He seemed utterly, purposelyblind to that fact. Klsa, keeping'nothing back from her husband had mentioned Sir Gilbert's curious conduct. At first. Roger had smiled, unbelievingly. Elsa must have been mistaken. Sir Gilbert' wasn't that sort of man at all. ■ • • There had been times when she had pleaded an excuse not to go down with Roger to Sir Gilbert,'a week-enti rendezvous, but at that Roger had seemed hurt. He didn't want to go down alone, lie hated to spend a week-end /away from her, and, after all, business being what it was, he looked forward to the woeKends in order to be with her. And when Roger had talked like that, Elsa felt that she was not playing .'fair with him and she had given in. Then there had been that scene with Sir Gilbert in the wood on Sunday afterneon. Elsa. had been'determined to make a definite stand against him. What she had once regarded as an old man's exercise in politeness had become a serious menance to her happiness and to Roger's happiness. • It. must end, and only she could end it. Sir Gilbert had to be tohl she thought of him and put back iutorhis place. 'But now Sir Gilbert Dyall was dead. Once' and for all time the menace to her happiness .was gone. Yet, no sense'of relief came to the woman's heart. For with tlie ' passing of one menace had come, another, more powerful,, more potent than "the - first—the cold, cruel menace of, the. Law.- To 'Elsa the Law was far more formidable than Sir 'Gilbert Dyall had been in life. In death th'e old man was.even.a-greater power, and during the hours that had passed'since' the discovery of the murder, Elsa Pleyrlell had known little peace of mind or henrt. ' Sometimes as she lay in her bed trying desperately to grasp the elusive hand of sleep, there would come to her out of the darkness of the night the white face and the smouldering, malevolent eyes of the dead man. It seemed to Elsa. as though, even death had net. robbed him of his power. He had been a - power in life, and now, when life had gone from him; some remnants of the power he had possessed in life still clung to him. And there was Roger. How terribly different Roger had become since, this man's death. ; He had once been "so cheerful, care-free, . but now he T had grown, older than his fifty years, and many a time Elsa had vainly tried to find an answer to her thoughts. She had tried to get Roger to talk — to talk "about the future. In September —their wedding anniversary—he had once suggested a little trip to Paris, and she had reminded him of it. But Roger had evaded her in his reply. It was too early, yet, perhaps to make definite arrangements. Matters in the city were none top good at present, and there was more than ever a need for caution. This new Roger troubled her. He seemed suddenly to have become possessed of a dread secret—a secret which he had no intention of 7 sharing with her. And how utterly unlike Roger that was. Roger who had told her everything for nearly twelve months. Roger who had brought all his little worries and laid them reverently before "her, knowing full well that she couldn't . always solve them. But now everything was changed. Since Tuesday morning Roger had looked hunted— haunted. The secret that possessed his soul seemed to be too heavy for him to bear alone. ' • _ '-Elsa had mentioned it to him m an oblique kind of way, but she had.been put off with t. thinly veiled excuse that the shock of Sir Gilbert's murder had upset him. It was a natural enough excuse, but there was always a terrible, dread in the woman's heart that she— and she alone—knew what his secret was.- ' Having made up her mind about that, Elsa realised her loyalty to her husband. If Roger had killed Sir Gilbert Dyall he had done so because—the icy fingers again tore at her heart— because her honour and her happiness had been threatened. For Elsa had not been blind to the realisation that Roger knew that Sir Gilbert had been pester-

ing her with unwelcome and equally ii«worthy attentions.* 'It was the 'only way out —Elsa/could see; that,, nowrSir Gilbert mu.st die.; The menace, must end. And she?, knew. r Roger • 'was' weighed, down with guilt. Every moment- now he was fighting for his, life. Half an hour ago Inspector Willard had sent for him. He said it was urgent, and Elsa felt somehow or other the Inspector had guessed the truth. If only Roger could keep a cool head and a steady tongue! A man fighting for his life as Roger was could not be too careful, especially with such a man as Inspector Willard. But even if Willard had guessed, what of that? He had no proof; could not possibly have proof. There was only one person in the whole of Beachaven. who could supply that proof—supply the missing link in the chain .of evidence that obviously Inspector Willard had forged—and that person was herself. She and she alone had seen Roger coming stealthily along the carpeted corridor from the direction of Sir Gilbert's room at the hour at which, so it Ava's said, the murder had been committed. In Inspector Willard's little room below, Roger Pleydell faced the Inspector. He had had several interviews previously with the policeman, but he had not feared them half so much as he feared the present one. It seemed to Roger Pleydell as if the crisis had come —that inevitable crisis which hourly he had dreaded since, that fateful night. He felt, too, that he was woefully inadequate for the battle that lay before him. Willard, on the other hand, seemed uncannily quiet in the realisation of his own strength—a strength which, no .doubt, had been fortified by a considerable addition to his knowledge of the crime since last they had met. Willard sat behind his little table with the documents spread out in front of him. For once his pipe lay idly cold beside the papers. Roger Pleydell slumped down into the chair that the Inspector indicated, and for a moment that seemed more like an hour there was a silence. "Mr. Pleydell," 1-gan Willard, with a note of directness in his voice. "I feel that I am encroaching rather much on your good nature in asking you to come here pice'more before I release all, of you from the restraint of the law, but since, last we met certain new facts have come to light, and I warn you that what I have to say may appear some-, what unpleasant. I want to warn you also that your answers to the questions I am about to put before you may be of considerable importance to your future peace, of mind and your happiness." Roger Pleyrlell's hands twitched nervously. His face, already pale, seemed to. have grown whiter. So Willard suspected., too. What was he to dp? What was he to say? Never should/it be said that any word of his was the means of condemning the one woman in the world he loved more than his own honour,'position or wealth. "I think I adequately appreciate .the importance' of the situation Inspector, but I want you to remember that this terrible thing has been on . my , nerves now for forty-ciglit hours, and I feel that nothing short of a long holiday will restore my sense of proportion, and mend , the ' shattered shreds of iny nerves." . "I scarcely .realised , that Sir Gilbert Dyall meant so much to .you, Pleydell!" Inspector Willard's voice was menacingly calm and as he heard it, Roger Pleydell cursed himself for the verbose fool that he, was. Foolishly he. had imagined that a little preliminary conversation would soothe his tortured mind before the fire of questions'began. Now, it seemed, he had .played straight into the detective's hand. ■ , ' "X fear . you misunderstand me, Inspector',"' he endeavoured to explain. "Wiiile' Sir Gilbert and I were both very old friends and-the shock of his death in such circumstances, was very severe, what I meant was the uncertainty of everything—the waiting. Here we are literally restrained from going, each hio own way, because —because we are under suspicion. That's what it amounts to, doesn't it, Inspector. For myself, I am naturally of a rather nervous temperament and the strain —the awful strain of waiting for release —has simply playei havoc with me." •. '• ' «; ; Inspector Willard made no comment. His private views Were.-not at'tljat moment for ■circulation. , "Well,,to begin with, I should like you to tell me ■ what yoii did on Sunday afternoon ?"' ; •'• /■■>- ? The, sudden question" caused Pleydell tp-start. He;would have,;to be careful? He did not know how much the detective' krifiw. He. may possibly;.know a great deal and merely; required 'corroboration.' On the other hand he might not know very much at all. The situation was .difficult. It. bristled, with. difficulties— and dangers. ~ ' v ' "Let me see," began Pleydell, reflestively, "I walked over the golf links. Yes, that's right, over the golf,-links.r Itwas a rather hot afternoon, if I remember rightly. The flies were biting like cannibals and I looked around me for some shady spot." "And you found one?" There was a note of impatience in the Inspector's voice. "You found ono in the woods at the foot of the rising ground, eh?" For a fraction of a second Roger Pleydell hesitated. He no longer felt, that the Inspector was seeking . information. He knew. , . . . >• - "Yes,"that's right. There's not another patch , of;shade .for a.mile-or more. 1 went into the woods. It was deliriously cool." : : ' ■ ". ; • - - , "And what did you do there?" "I'm afraid I don't remember precisely what I did," a thin smile broke upon the man's dry lips, but it was-not a convincing smile, as Willard knew. "I think I sat down at the foot of a tree for a while." "See anyone—anyone you knew?" "Not that I remember. I might have done, of course," Pleydell countered as cleverely as , he could. "I'm afraid my mind's none too clear." "Then let me refresh it, Mr. Pleydell!" Willard's voice was ■ menacingly cold and sternly official. "You saw your wife there with Sir Gilbert Dyall. You had been watching them, had you not? Spying on them, perhaps. I shall, be grateful if you will not interrupt, Pleyde'l,'' added the Inspector swiftly as the man half rose to his feet. "You also met one of the chambermaids from here. Do you remember giving her money so thn't she would iiot talk about ™hat she had seen? I take it tha'. Mrs. Pleydell had bt-.u hi-

suited by. Sir Gilbert Dyall .and that you— you had been a witness. Am l right or am I wrong, Pleydell?" There was nothing more to be said now. If would be unutterably stupid to deny that what Willard had outlined was true. Swiftly, however, he- reminded himself -that- there was- nothing were which was likely to implicate Elsa—even supposing she had quarrelled with Dyall. ■Md wasn't it natural that if the girl had overheard that quarrel he, Pleydell, must do something to suppress the scandal? ' • His heart felt suddenly lighter. "What you have ' told me is, to the best of my knowledge, a faithful account of what occurred on Sunday afternoon." "I take it, then, that your present condition of mind is in no way due to tna fact that you haye lost a clear friend by the death oLSir Gilbert Dyall?" The Inspector's words were like so many thrusts of- a , rapier. < "Knowing what you do, or what you- have deduced, Inspector, I shall leave you to answer that question yourself." "Don't think I'm blaming you, Pleydell. I'm not here to adjudicate on a question of morals but murder, and jusi at the moment I want very badly -to lay my hands on the murderer —or murderess. As Willard spoke he was watching the man opposite him with curious iiitentness, and he thought that he started slightly at the last word. "There's : another question, Ploydeli/' pursued Willard, "You've already given me a fairly complete resume of your movements between the time it was known Sir Gilbert Dya'.i left the lounge, where he had been playing cards, until the time you went iu> to your room. Fortunately I have verified your former, statement in almost every particular. What I want to know is, when you found that your wife had not gone to her room as you supposed, what did you do?"

. "I think I told you that I weut in, search of her," answered Pleydell, quietly, feeling that the questioning had once again taken an ominous turn. "Where did you search ?" "Everywhere," vaguely. "How long were you absent ?_ Ten minutes or a quarter of an hour?" "It is difficult to remember." "Why? Were you apprehensive? If you. were, what did you fear?" "I thought, perhaps, that we had missed one another. You see, sometimes Elsa used the side staircase, and'sometimes the main one. As I went down to tlic main hall, I argued that it was quite likely that- she, had she been reading in the lounge, might have gone the other way." "You did not, by any chance, go to Sir Gilbert's room, Pleydell?" "Good God! "Why should Ido that?" Willard was puzzled to know whether it was fear he instantly detected in the man's voice. "If you suspect that Sir Gilbert was annoying your wife, and that she resented his attentions, she might have gone to his room for a very definite purpose." Roger Pleydell sprang from his chair, his face livid and his hands clenched. "How dare you suggest such a thing," he cried hoarsely. "I'll make you apologise for that, Willard you—swine!" Inspector Willard sat immovable as the Sphinx, gazing as coldly on the outraged man before him. He knew that lie had taken a desperate chance in suggesting what he had done; knew that he had In id himself open to severe reprimand. All the same, he felt himself justified. "We must not forget that someone went to Sir Gilbert Dyall's room almost immediately after he had retired on Monday night," Willard told him, coolly. "Perhaps it was yourself—Pleydell."

For answer Kpger Pleydell sank down again into the chair. Inspector Willard had guessed rightly, but he must not admit it. From now onwards lie must say nothing. "Have I to take silence ior an answer?" . . "That is for you to decide," said Pleydell. "Is there anything else you want to know?" . '■ . "There are a great many things I want to know," replied the- inspector, '•and I shall tell you this, Pleydell, if the people in this Hydro who arc intimately connected with this affair had been perfectly straightforward and frank with me from the beginning, I should, most likely, have cleaned the job. up before this. . But I've been obstructed—you've obstructed me. You're ebstructir.g me even now, Pleydell. You won't answer my questions and 1 can't com pell you to answer them, but there is one question I should like you to answer, and it is this: Was Mrs. Pleydell fond of violets, and had she any at all during the week-end ?" " "Violets?" A sudden note of amazement had leapt into Eoger Pleydell's voice. "Yes—that is I believe she had a bunch of violets on Monday. I remember seeing them pinned on her dress; - But what have violets got to do with this?' . Inspector Willard did not reply to the latter question. Instead; he asked: "Did you notice whether she had them on-.Tuesday morning?" Pleydell thought for a moment. "I can't remember having seen them. But why?— For God's sake, man, why arc you*fencing with me like this?" "Because - the person who killed Sir Gilbert Dyall had violets on Monday," said Willard, significantly. And a groan escaped the lips of the white-faced man opposite him. (To be continued daily.)