“THE SHOT IN THE DELL”

Manawatu Times, Volume 60, Issue 68, 22 March 1935, Page 9

“THE SHOT IN THE DELL”

% ■ 1 ♦ | (By EL L. Dealkm) » | | Instalment 21. I t *

declared the cause of death to have been a gunshot wound in the body, the coroner remarked that he would adjourn until evidence could be taken with regard to the deceased’s lousiness affairs. He understood that his lawyer was in Franoe, but he was on his way home, and the Inquest would therefore he resumed in a week’s time, when His evidence could be heard.

and 'Cecil, and they're very dear to me. That was why my husband was packing them off, out of Trescobeas. Can vou understand jealousy, Clegg? If you can, perhaps you can understand Graeme. I must admit couldn't. He did not care for me, ne could not bear me even lo think oi anyone else. I must have no friends. 1-Ie was even jealous of my interests. I’ve known him send a book back to the library simply because I was engrossed in it ” ~ . “Come to the quarrel, Mrs Andrewe,” Clegg interrupted. I think i understand the temperaments concerned. The quarrel was about tne boys, you say?” “No, not the actual quarrel. But if l hadn’t been so angry because or Graeme’s treatment of the boys, I should have given in. The quarre* was about my friendship with Major Furze. My husband accused me or flirting with him! He wanted me to have "nothing more to do with him. Can you imagine anything more ridiculous? Major Furze! Wc are old friends, of course. I have a great respect for him. We are close friends, I may say. But he is emphatically not a man ” “Quite,” Clegg put in impassively. “But your husband was. jealous of him as of everybody else?” “Yes, lliat was it. And at any other time I should have reasoned with him and got him to realise how unfounded his suspicions were. But then, as I’ve said, I was angry not in the mood for patience or submission or any -other wifely virtue, and when he wouldn’t .listen to me I laughed at him. He swore he would go over to Trebarthen then and there and horsewhip Major Furze, and lie actually locked me into the little room so that I shouldn’t telephone to him and give him warning. That made me laugh all the more. You sec, Major Furze was coming over here to dine with us, but Graeme didn’t know this. So I let him go, thinking what a joke it was, for by the time he got to Trebarlhen Major Furze would have started to walk over here.”

“Very neat, Tonkin —just what I wanted," Clegg commented. “And now what next?” Tonkin announced that as far as he was concerned he wouldn’t be able to come to Trescobeas for a day or two; there was that Mortimer case coming on, and he was all in arrears with his reports, but, he supposed that as Mrs Andrewe couldn’t be interviewed “Mrs Andrewe is seeing us tills afternoon,” ■ Clegg interposed placidly at this point.. “What I” Tonkin stared in disbelief. “How’s that?”

Clegg smiled. “I wrote direct to Mrs Andrewe to ask for an interview, and she kindly grants one.” “I’d like to know what you said,” grumbled Tonkin, lugubriously suspicious. “You won’t tell me, I suppOS ?” “Of course I’ll tell you,” Clegg protested. “I merely informed her that a set of finger-prints were found on the pistol with which her husband had been shot, and I added that her account of how they came to bo there would greatly assist us in our search for his murderer.. She sent a reply to say that she’d see us this afternoon. Having had time, you see, to think over her Story, she is only too anxious now to tell.it." “I shouldn’t have told her of the finger-prints,” Tonkins burst out in alarm. “Now you’ve put her on her guard.” “Thus making it the more difficult for her to lie naturally.” “Perhaps there’s a perfectly innocent explanation,” 1 suggested. Tonkin grinned. “You’ve a nice mind, sir. Sony’ I can’t think so well of the. lady as you do. She’s up to her neck in it —take my word for that. But you’ll see this afternoon; I suppose you’ll he going along with Clegg?” “Yes,” Clegg answered for me. “We may get important evidence, and 1 shall be glad of a witness.” I already had no great taste for my role, and by the time we set out for the bungalow (in the early dusk), I’d worked myself up into quite an uncomfortable frame of mind. For it was easier to remember the appeal of Andrewo’s widow, piteous in her frail beauty, than those logical arguments by which Clegg had proved her not to be innocent, of complicity in her husband’s death.

“Werent’ you afraid they might meet on the road?”

“Oil no, because he would come by the field path.” “Well, and then?” Clegg prompted,

“I tried to attract Airs Williams’ attention, but she was in her kitchen with the door shut. And then, just as I was resigning myself to the little room, back comes Graeme and bursts in on me and starts the whole argument again. Would 1 have nothing more to do with Major Furze? Would I promise never to have him to the house again? That, of course, was out of the question when I knew that lie was coming to dinner that evening. So naturally I stood my ground. 1 would give up none of my old friends, and 1 would have whom I liked to the bungalow. I stuck to that.

I became aware that Clegg was subjecting me to a long look. “You’re not anticipating an enjoyable hour with Mrs Andrewe?” he remarked.

“I’m not quite so oold-bloodedly antagonistic to her as you and Tonkin seem to he,” I answered. “Make allowances for us. i: wonder how the lady will receive us today? Look, she is up and ready, and we have kept her waiting.” The only light the bungalow showed was behind the curtains of the sit-ting-room window, and in this room we found Marguerite Andrewe awaiting us. Gltgg’s manner, as he inquired after her health, was both stolid and formal; hut with a gesture she dismissed a subject so unimportant. “You tell me I can be of help lo you?" she suggested a little wearily, as if the prospect of this interview had already tired her. “You can,” Clegg assented gravely, and he sat clown at a small table in the middle of the room, ancl curtly motioned to her to take the chair opposite to him. I slipped away out of the circle of light shed by the .lamp on the table and took a chair by the fire. I was puzzled; for I was seeing a new Clegg. All his suavity was gone; his kindness, his patience, his exquisite knack of putting people at their ease, was gone: the sympathy that brought forth the ready confidence—this, too, was gone. For the first time 1 was seeing the official. He oven drew out a thick black notebook from his pocket and, opening it. Happed back the leaves noisily until he found the page he wanted.

"To tell you the truth, I never took ray husband seriously in these jealous rages of his. There was always something absurd to mo in them —as if be could hope to gain my love, my affection, or even respect, by storming at me! Well, he stormed now; but even when he took the pistol from his coat-pocket and threatened me with it, I didn’t really take him seriously. I still laughed at him, and Just pushed it aside. That was how my fingerprints came to be on the barrel —it was on the barrel that you found them, wasn’t it?" "I don’t quite follow,” said Clegg, with the point of his pencil on his notebook, as if be would take down her words just as she spoke them. “You pushed the pistol aside, you say?” "Yes. He pointed 'it at, me. Quite suddenly, you know. I said, ‘Graeme, don’t be absurd,’ and I took hold of the barrel —like this, and pushed it away.” A gesture illustrated the explanation. “To the right or .’eft?” “To the left,” was the unhesitating answer. Methodically Clegg made a note, then inquired brusquely, “And what next?” For the first time Marguerite seemed at a loss. She stared at him in silence, but lie refused to help her out. “What next?” she repeated. “Why, that was the end. I wouldn’t give in, so off he went to Trebarlhen to have it out with poor Major Furze.” “And did he take the pistol with him?” "I don't know. I suppose lie must have done. Y'ou found it, you say—<4 beside him.” “We found it beside him.” There was silence . while Clegg studied his notes. Marguerite stared down at the tabic as if lost in a brown study. “Did your husband cock the pistol when be threatened you with it?" Clegg asked at last. Marguerite’s eyes narrowed a little as if she were putting her memory to an effort. “I don’t know,” she muw mured. “Was there no sound —no click?” She looked relieved. “Oh yes, there was a click.”

“You already know in what way you can help me,” he, remarked. Watching him, Marguerite smiled uneasily. “You’re so terribly official,” she complained. “We’re investigating a terribly serious matter, madam. You know, ot course, that your husband was shot by a Wcbley pistol belonging to Dan Hadley? On this weapon a set. of your finger-prints were found. Can you explain to us how they came to be there?” .Marguerite's composure was perfect. “I am only too glad to explain,” she answered readily, “if i’d only known that I had it in my power to help you I would have persuaded Dr. Sanders to let me see you before. But in the stale of utter prostration “You can explain the finger-prints, then?” Clegg broke in abruptly. “Why, naturally, I can, since they aro mine. But I’m afraid I must tell you a good deal—you are prepared to be patient if I seem a little slow in coming to my explanation?” “1 promise you to listen most patiently.” Marguerite sighed. “I suppose you ■have heard something of the kind of a man my husband was?” She leant across the table, looking into Clegg’s face with pathetio enquiry. “Quarrelsome?” he suggested, his eyes fixed dispassionately on the beautiful face as if he would study every minute change -of expression in It. “He was indeed,” she agreed. “I don’t think lie could have lived without quarrelling. We we had a quarrel on Monday,” she added ingeniously. “Indeed! A serious one?”

The faintest sigh escaped Clegg as he made a note in his book. “And you can tell me where your husband got this pistol?’’ “I can’t, I’m afraid. It’s Dan’s pistol, you say?”

“Yes. He’s admitted it.” “Then I suppose he got it from Dan.”

“I doubt it. Had he got it .on him when you began quarrelling?” “Oh no, I don’t think so. He hadn't his overcoat on then, and I don’t believe any pocket in his suit was large enough to hold a pistol.” “DO you know where he went when he first left you locked in the little room?” ■Mrs Andrewe shook her head. “I haven’t an idea. I supposed he had started for . Trebarthen and then thought better of it.” Clegg did not correct her, He went on. slightly raising his voice as if he had got a fresh interest in a subject that had begun to bore him: “And after all this Major Furze came to dine here?”

“It should not have been. It was a silly quarrel, but it was serious to him. I think .” She hesitated. then . burst out “Mr Clegg, I’ll tell you everything. I’ll be quite candid with you. It wasn’t altogether sudden, our quarrel on Monday; it was the outcome, really, of a misunderstanding that had been growing up between us for some time. I could not brook bis unkindness to the boys. You see, I was brought up -with Dan

“He came, yes. But I was not well enough to see him. It had been a trying evening, as you can understand, and the slight headache I'd had ail day got so bad while I was dressing