The Shot in the Dell

Waikato Times, Volume 113, Issue 18855, 27 January 1933, Page 4

The Shot in the Dell

BY H. L. Deakin. (Author of “The Secret of the Cove," etc.)

SYNOPBI9. SuppYlntendent. Clegg, of Scotland A ard, Is investigating Hie murder or Graeme An drewe, who has been round dead on a .e In the dell, with a revolver Beside, mm. The shot had been heard by various P®®} at tho Plough and Daisy inn, inc'nct n„ Mrs Hadley; MaJor"Foster, who tells e story; Joscelyn Sanders, daughter or ulocal doctor; Ingram, the ex-lUib.v Wo national; Clegg hlmseir, who Is staying a the Inn on holiday; and by Major J,.' 1 ' 7 ;®’ a bachelor, who should have dined at the Andrewes’ on the night or the murder, mi Andrewe had gone out somewhere, an Marguerite, his wife, had such a mm headache that she was unable to see mnu The Plough and Daisy Irtti was Kept ; by Mrs Hadley’s twin nephews, Dan and Cecil. But Graeme Andrews liad recently Flven the boys notice to quit, and they Bad deckled to try their luck in South Alrlca. But now comes news that their P assa K® s had been cancelled the day berore Andrewe’s death, without a word to anyone, not oven to Joscelyn, who is engaged to Dan. Clegg Interviews Mrs Andrewe, to break the news to her, and comes away convinced that she already knew or her husband’s death. . , ~ „ Andrewe’s car Is found hogged In the sand, with the spare tyro badly ripped. Dr. Sanders’ boat disappears on tne night or the murder. . Gigantic rootprlnts are round In the sand, also the imprint of a revolver. Part or a letter Is found on Andrewe s body, referring to a meeting place by some steps. The footprints are traced to Andrewe s garage. A pistol belonging to Dan, which lie usually keeps in his desk, is missing. Dan refuses to say where he was at eight o’clock on the night or tho murder. Joscelyn volunteers the Information that she Cycled passed Andrewc’s car that night, near the beach at six o’clock. He had evidently had a had burst, and was changing a wheel. She didn’t stop to speak to him, being sore about his turning Cecil and Dan out. She admits hearing the report of the bursting tyre before overtaking him.

CHAPTER XlV.— (Continued.) “That worried me,” Ingram began diffidently, “and then I thought, perhaps he didn’t walk up these steps. If he’d been carried up them over someone’s shoulder, his overcoat might have caught in that nail, and lorn just as it was, about three inches from the hem. The idea’s very far-i'etched, 1 daresay you’ll think ’’ “It’s a very interesting suggestion indeed,” Clegg broke in warmly. “\ou mean that lie was carried up these steps after lie was shot?" “Ingram 'hesitated! “Vos,” he said at last. “It must have been after lie was shot." “But lie was shot in the dell," I protested. “The sound came from there, you remember?" Clegg shook his head. “No, we certainly thought "ic shot came from there; hut all our ideas were coloured by the finding of the body there. As far as sound goes, the shot may have been fired from the beach; Andrewe may have been murdered here, and then carried up into the dell.” “Then Mrs Andrewe didn't do it," I cried. “Site couldn’t have carried him a yard, let alone up those steps." ‘‘Exactly," Ingram acknowledged my point quickly. “It proves iter innocence.” llis glance at Tonkin was a challenge, which the inspector immediately took up. “The whole thing’s nonsense," he exploded. “I grant you that those 1 strands of wool may come from Andrewe’s coat, but they prove nothing, lie may have gone up and down these steps a dozen times that evening, for all we know. And how do we know that he wasn't carrying his coat over his arm? If he was doing that it might have got torn anywhere. Put this piece of evidence, if you call it such, against tho evidence we've got to show that Mrs Andrewe shot her husband while was sitting on that seat in the dell, and it amounts to nothing." I thought there was sound commonsense in this argument, and it surprised me to see that Clegg was not at all convinced by it. “It amounts to this," he announced didactically, “either Andrewe was carrying his overcoat —and it was one the coldest nights we’d had litis winter —or lie was carried tip these steps over someone’s shoulder." “I don’t see it at ail,” Tonkin persisted. “How do you know lie was being carried? I wouldn’t like to swear, simply on Ihc height of that nail, that lie wasn’t walking. His coat may have blown back.” “There was no wind,” Ingram broke in. “When 1 came out here I wits struck by the stillness of the night. Bitterly cold, but no wind." "Well, grant that lie was being carried for the sake of argument. But wity up the steps? Why not down them?” pursued Tonkin. “Consider the tear, said Clegg. “What we call a three-corned one, wasn’t it? The stuff of the coat catches in this nail, and as the wearer moves on a triangular tear results, with its apex pointing to tho direction in which the wearer is moving, to Hie front of the coat, that Is, supposing the wearer to be moving in a normal manner. But the apex or startingpoint of 'this tear was towards Hie back of Andrewc’s coat. Therefore, if Andrewe was walking, lie must have gone up these steps backwards, and fast enough for his coat to tear when it caught on that nail. Of the two hypotheses—the one that lie went up the stops backwards, and that in some strange way, seeing there was no wind that night, his coat hie' open and lore on Ibis nail; and Hie other, that lie was carried up the steps over someone’s shoulder —I prefer the latter.” “That’s a clever bit of work, sir," Tonkin acknowledged. “The tear did face backwards. Then lie was shot on the beach here. But it’s queer we should have found no Idood —unless, of course, the tide washed the marks away. Damn Ibis •soft sand, it tells no tales. J suppose Andrewe came along Ibis beach, and was shot. just, aloud, here, possibly by someone up behind that wall. And then 1 lie ear's brought down here wild Ihc idea of taking him away in it. But. whoever was driving it mine a hit 100 far and got shirk in I lie sand, and so lie bad In think of something rise. And Hie only Ihing lie could lliink of was to lake Ihe body up into Hie dell and plan! il on 1 lie seat lliere." “Hut. whal adtanlagr was lliere in Dial I objected. “Why not have lakcn ii away by boal, presuming Dial, lie wauled il away?” added Clegg. “The lido was up. To commandeer a dinghy was surely safer Ilian to bring a ear down hero. Think of Hie risk he intisl have run in gelling it out from Ilie garage." “Why, hr did lake a loml, so lie did!" cried Tonkin. “Vos." said Clegg sweclly. •‘lie did borrow a boat —at about six o'clock Ilial. evening. The doclor’s dinghy." The change iu Tonkin’s face from

An outstanding detective story, full of thrilling incidents.

its look of satisfaction to one of chagrin was comical, but in aa instant he brightened again. “He may have taken the boat then,” lie said, “but we don’t know how long it was before lie finished with it.” "Oil, I’ve a very good idea—about fifteen to twenty minutes, I should say." Tonkin lost 'his temper. “You know too much. You know what he did with the body, and you know what lie did with the boat I Personally, I shouldn’t care to place too much reliance on this clue. He took the body up into the wood, did he, and what’s the evidence for it? Why, two strands of wool, which may have been here for weeks. You rely upon this absurd clue, when we’ve ample evidence that he was shot on that seat in the wood. I don’t believe for a moment that he was carried up these steps " “Oh, but be was," Clegg broke in with great earnestness. “You won’t get me to believe It! Two strands of wool ” “The strands of wool merely provide corroborative evidence," rejoined Clegg placidly, “i was pleased to be shown them, but I’ve known for some days past that Andrewe. was carried up from the beach into the dell after he’d been murdered."

CHAPTER XV. “So Mrs Andrewe did not kill him,” said Ingram, with another glance of triumph at Tonkin. “You’ll have to fix the guilt on someone else. She could never have carried him up those steps.” Tonkin was staring at Clegg. “Will you tell us just what you do know, sir?" he asked respectfully; but Clegg was In a brown study, obviously deeply engrossed by his own thoughts. We stood silent, waiting for him to speak. When at last he did, it was only to say, as a tired child might, “I can’t stand any longer. 1 must sit down.” “We’ll go back to the inn," suggested Tonkin. “No, we won’t do that,” said Clegg. “This sunshine’s lovely. It would be a pity to go indoors; there’s that seat in the deli, beautifully sheltered warm—• —” “What a place to choose," I protested. “Well, I’ve no nerves," Ingram characteristically declared, and even before Clegg had moved lie had turned to the steps, but In spite of his boast I fancied he paled a little. "Well, sir, I should call it unlucky to sit here,” Tonkin protested, as we reached the fateful scat. “But perhaps you're not wanting any more luck perhaps you’ve solved the case?” “I know how, when, and where the murder was committed,” Clegg announced contentedly, and as wo stared at him in astonishment., lie went on. “Let us consider our facts. I think we may begin with Mrs Andrewe’s explanation of those finger-prints of hers that we found on the barrel of the Webley "

A kind of smothered protest from Ingram brought Clegg to a stop. “Ah,” he exclaimed, “of course you will have heard nothing of them—prints of the four fingers of her right hand, nothing else —no print of the thumb — all on the side of the barrel. Naturally we asked her to explain these, and to do so she went Into the history of Monday afternoon. She and Andrewe, therefore, could not have alleged flirtation with Furze —and in the end It had come to Andrewc's threatening her with tho Webley, which he had apparently fetched from the inn. "Having Mrs Andrewe’s story of the events of tho day, we set to work to check it by what the state of the revolver told us. According to her story the pistol was first cocked, when site was threatened, and tlien some time later fired when Andrewe was killed. But the cylinder of the pistol told another story, it had first been fired and then cocked and uncocked. “Now, Mrs Andrewe was lolling Hie truth when site said tliul slic’d been threatened by Ihc Webley, and had grasped it by Ihc barrel to turn it aside. For in no other way could Ihc prints be accounted for. But she was not threatened with Ihc pistol until after Andrewe was killed. “1 next asked myself when this threat had been made, and by whom. Andrewe was scon alive by Miss Sanders, outside Trebarlhen churchyard, between six and half-past. Mrs Andrewe .therefore , could not have been subjected to that threat before that time. Let us consider her movements that evening after Andrewe had left iter. At about seven o’clock she went to bed, and she stated that she did not leave her room again that night. I believed the statement at the time il was made, for it was supported by the evidence of both Furze and Mrs Williams. “The incident, then, that brought her finger-prints to he on the barrel of the Webley must have taken place between six and seven o’clock. And what had Mrs Andrewe been doing during this time? Flic had bfcon in her room except for one short interval, when site had gone out to Hie garage. “The garage," Clegg resumed thoughtfully after a pause; “I think il alt turns upon what •happened in the garage. But let us go hack. When she was released from Dial lit lie room at half-past six she surprised .Mrs Williams by treating Hie whole affair of her imprisonment as a joke. She wont off to dress for dinner; and then, at about a quarter Id seven, we have her going out lo the garage for some petrol for her dress. And that changes everylliing. For when she comes hack lo Ihc house il is with a headache so had that she cannot see Furze. She must go to lied. She is upset, ill, Hie quarrel with her husband was m> joke after all. And mark, all llris is no prelenee; she really is ill. Mrs Williams, who knew her well, was quite worried about her. (To he Coniinued.)