Although I was half prepared for what he said, the announcement left me momentarily dumb.
"Dead!" I repeated at last. "Bascomb dead! How in God's name was he killed?"
The Sergeant looked at me with a certain sympathy in his stolid features.
"We reckon he must have run into the jetty in the fog last night, and upset his boat. As like as not he stunned himself at the same time; anyhow, he was found lying on the mud this morning with a gash in his head that you could shove a couple of fingers into."
"We got the dinghy all right," put in the landlord. "It was floatin' about the estuary bottom upwards."
I caught Bobby's eyes fixed upon my face, and I knew that the same thought was in both our minds.
"This is pretty bad news, Sergeant," I said. "What do you think I ought to do?"
The man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, sir, I take it the first thing's for you to come ashore with us and identify the body. There'll have to be an inquest, of course, but seein' as the Coroner's away at Ipswich I don't suppose it will be until the day after to-morrow." He paused. "Per'aps you know where the poor fellow belonged, mister? If so we shall have to write and tell his relatives."
I shook my head. "I haven't the slightest notion," I said. "He had been with my uncle for some time, and I re-engaged him on the lawyer's recommendation. He wasn't the sort of man to talk about his own affairs."
"That's a fact," added the landlord emphatically. "If ever there was a bloke who kept his mouth shut——"
"It ain't of no real consequence," interrupted the Sergeant with some dignity. "The police can always find out what they want sooner or later." He turned to me. "If it's convenient to you, mister, I reckon we'd better get across at once. The doctor's examinin' the corpse, and mebbe 'e'd like to have a talk with you."
"The doctor?" I repeated. "What doctor?"
"Doctor 'Ayward of Torrington," was the answer. "He came over in the car with me as soon as we got the message."
I remained silent for a moment, thinking rapidly.
"Very well, Sergeant," I said. "I will be ready almost at once. I must have a word with Commander Dean first; we are just settling up some rather important business." I crossed to the sideboard and fetched a couple of glasses. "Help yourselves to a whisky," I added. "I shan't keep you more than two or three minutes."
They both murmured their thanks, and, motioning Bobby to follow me, I walked into the dining-room and closed the door behind me.
I couldn't have controlled myself much longer.
"The devils!" I said hoarsely. "The infernal devils! They've murdered him, just as they murdered Satan."
Bobby laid his hand on my shoulder. "It's a rotten business, but we mustn't lose our heads, Jack. We've got to decide what we're going to do."
"I feel as if it were all my fault," I muttered. "I ought to have killed Manning yesterday when I had the chance."
"What the hell would have been the good of that?" demanded Bobby impatiently. He thrust his hands into his pockets and took a couple of rapid turns up and down the room. "Look here, old son," he went on quietly. "We haven't any time to spare, so the sooner we fix things up the better. In the first place, what are you going to tell the police?"
"Nothing," I said curtly. "There's only one other person in this beside ourselves, and that's Inspector Campbell. I shall go up to London as soon as I can and put the whole thing in front of him."
He nodded his approval "Just what I was about to propose. There'll be the very devil to pay if these local people get hold of the faintest idea of the truth." He paused. "You must lie to them for all you're worth," he added. "You must make them believe that no suspicion of foul play has ever entered your head. I'll stop here and look after the place until you get back."
"You're sure you can manage it?" I asked.
"Easily," was the comforting rejoinder. "There's next to nothing doing in our line at present. I must run over to Martlesea some time to-morrow; otherwise I'm at your disposal for the next three days."
Considerably cheered by this assurance, I led the way back into the hall where I found our two visitors in the act of wiping their moustaches.
"Very good whisky that, sir," observed the landlord approvingly. "'Tain't often you get a taste of the pre-war stuff nowadays."
"Well, I'm ready if you are, gentlemen," I said.
With a regretful glance at the decanter the Sergeant picked up his helmet, and, leaving Bobby standing in the window, we all three set out across the lawn.
We found the motor-launch lying about twenty yards out in the estuary, and a dilapidated dinghy tied up alongside the landing-stage.
"I had to bring one of me own boats," explained the landlord as he unfastened the painter. "We got yours all right, sir, same as I told you; but the rudder's broke and two of her planks stove in."
"She must have been smashed up pretty badly," I remarked. "It seems to me as if she'd been run down."
"I should have said the same," put in the Sergeant, "but accordin' to what they told me at Pen Mill there wasn't a craft afloat yesterday. That's so, ain't it, Mr. Robinson?"
The landlord nodded. "None of our folks was out, at all events," he observed. "Might 'a' bin a stranger goin' up to the lock, but it don't seem likely—not in a fog like that."
"Well, we can find out, I suppose," I said, taking my place in the boat. "The point is sure to be raised at the inquest, anyhow."
We sculled rapidly across to the opposite shore, and disembarked on the jetty, close in front of the inn. It was easy to see that something unusual had happened, for the whole population of the village had apparently collected on the hard, and were hanging about in small groups eagerly watching our arrival.
Through a fire of curious glances we marched up to the stable, outside which a solemn-looking constable was standing on guard.
Lifting the latch, the Sergeant opened the door just wide enough for us to enter; and then, following on our heels, closed it carefully behind him.
We found ourselves in a large, dimly lit coach-house, which had evidently been emptied for its present tragic purpose.
Stretched out on a bundle of straw was the dead body of Bascomb, and stooping over it a tall, grey-haired man who bore the unmistakable stamp of a country doctor.
In a businesslike fashion the Sergeant stepped forward.
"Well, here we are, doctor," he said. "This is the gentleman I was speaking about. Mr. Dryden—Dr. 'Ayward."
The doctor straightened himself, and, having surveyed me for a moment through a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles, came up to where I was standing.
"I am pleased to meet you, sir," he said. "I only wish it was under less distressing circumstances."
We shook hands.
"It's a very sudden and shocking business," I said. "Bascomb was the sort of man who ought to have lived to be a hundred." I paused. "Have you any idea how it happened?" I asked.
Dr. Hayward pursed up his lips and looked at me a little queerly.
"I am quite certain of one thing at least," he answered, "and that is that the poor fellow didn't meet his death by drowning. He was dead before he ever reached the water."
There was a brief silence.
"Then the idea about his having run into the jetty—" I began.
The doctor shook his head. "He was killed by a violent blow on the back of the skull. If you think you can stand a rather unpleasant sight, I'll show you the actual injury."
I contented myself with a nod, and, moving forward, followed him across the stone floor.
Bascomb's body was lying on the straw, face downwards. It had been stripped to the waist, and in the grey light which filtered in through the glass roof the enormous muscular development of his back and shoulders was plainly visible.
My companion took out an electric torch from his pocket, and, bending down, switched on the current.
"See that?" he enquired briefly.
Hardened as I was by my experiences in the war, I was unable to repress a shudder of horror. Right in the middle of the close-cropped hair the bone had been smashed in like the top of an eggshell.
"Not much doubt about the cause of death—eh?" The doctor switched off his torch, and stood up facing me. "One doesn't do that sort of thing without a little assistance," he added grimly. "He may have been struck by the prow of a boat or the screw of a steamer; the only other explanation I can offer is that he was deliberately murdered."
"Murdered!" The Sergeant strode forward, and then, suddenly pulling up, stared incredulously from one to the other of us.
"We must at least consider the possibility," I remarked.
The Sergeant rubbed his chin in the same thoughtful fashion as before.
"It's a startlin' notion," he observed at last. "There's never been a murder in Pen Mill yet—at least not in my time."
"I don't say there has now," interrupted the doctor, with a slight touch of impatience. "It all depends upon whether any vessel went up the estuary last night in the fog."
"We can find that out easy enough," chimed in the landlord. "Only a matter of enquiries at the lock. She couldn't 'ave got no farther—not till this mornin'."
The Sergeant looked at him with a certain severity. "I know my business, thank ye, Mr. Robinson. When I want any help I'll ask you for it." He turned to me. "What's your opinion, sir? Any party in your knowledge as had a grudge against the deceased?"
I shook my head. "I am absolutely ignorant about his private affairs," I answered. "As I told you before, he was one of the most reserved men who ever lived. For all I know he might have been at daggers drawn with the entire neighbourhood."
"Was he violent tempered or quarrelsome?" asked the doctor.
"I never saw any sign of it," I replied. "We were alone together for a month, and I couldn't have wished for a better servant."
"I reckon our first idea was the right one," announced the Sergeant. "It must have been some craft coming up in the fog that did it. The odds are they thought it was an empty boat they had run down, and, seeing as they'd be liable for damages, they made up their minds to say nothing about it." He took out his note-book and sucked the stump of a pencil. "What time was it when the deceased left the island?" he enquired.
"I couldn't say exactly," I replied. "It was probably between five and six."
"Just about high tide," he observed, in a satisfied voice. "That more or less settles it to my way of thinking."
He asked me one or two other questions, to all of which he noted down the answers; then, with the air of a man who has efficiently discharged a difficult duty, he snapped together his book and replaced it in his pocket.
"I don't think we need detain you any longer, Mr. Dryden. If the Head Constable comes over he'll probably wish to speak to you, but as like as not he'll leave the case to me. I'm going along to the lock straight away now, and it's my belief that before to-night we'll have our hands on the party that's wanted."
"I shouldn't be surprised, Sergeant," I said untruthfully. "All the same, it will be a smart bit of work if you do."
The doctor, who appeared to have lost interest in our conversation, picked up a piece of sacking and spread it across Bascomb's body. I had an idea that he was very far from satisfied, and the moment we left the coach-house my suspicions were confirmed.
Drawing me slightly to one side, he glanced impatiently at the Sergeant, who was engaged in giving some instructions to his subordinate.
"The man's a fool," he said in a low voice, "but there's nothing more to be done at present. We must wait until the Head Constable comes over."
Before I could make any reply we were joined by Mr. Robinson, the landlord.
"Excuse me, sir," he began apologetically, "but if you 'appen to be wantin' a boat while that dinghy o' yours is under repair, you're welcome to the use o' the one we came across in."
"That's uncommonly good of you," I said, "and, what's more, I should like to thank you for all you've done this morning. I am very sorry you should have been put to so much trouble and inconvenience."
"There ain't nothing that calls for mention," he objected. "You and me are neighbours in a manner o' speakin', and quite apart from that, sir, I'm always ready to do me duty by a corpse."
I was still searching for a suitable rejoinder to this sentiment when I was released from my embarrassment by the Sergeant.
"I'll wish you good morning, Mr. Dryden," he remarked, coming across to where we were collected. "Don't you get upsetting yourself over this business; you leave it to me, and I'll see that it's brought home to the right quarter."
I shook hands all round, and, followed by the fascinated glances of the public, made my way down to the jetty, where I proceeded to re-embark. On the whole, in spite of Dr. Hayward's suspicions, the affair had gone off as well as I could possibly have hoped, and it was with feelings of considerable relief that I ran in alongside the landing-stage and stepped out once more on to my own territory.
I found Bobby lying in a deck chair on the verandah awaiting my return. He jumped up as I appeared and came forward across the lawn to meet me.
"Welcome home, my lad," he observed. "I was just beginning to be afraid they'd clapped you into the local dungeon."
"Anything fresh happened while I've been away?" I asked.
He shook his head. "It's been positively dull. I've spent the time sitting in the sunshine, brooding over your family affairs."
He led the way back to the verandah, and, taking the chair alongside of him, I plunged straight away into an account of my experiences at Pen Mill.
"I hope I handled the thing right, Bobby," I concluded. "The doctor was evidently inclined to think it might be a case of murder, and to have set myself up against him would have been simply asking for trouble. If he felt the least suspicious about me, he'd probably have wired bang off to the Head Constable. As it is, thanks to that fool of a Sergeant, we ought to have at least twenty-four hours' breathing space."
Bobby patted me approvingly on the back. "You displayed a surprising amount of tact," he remarked. "It looks to me as if falling in love had considerably sharpened your wits."
"I think it was falling into the dock," I retorted. "Anyhow, the question is, What are we going to do now? According to the Sergeant the inquest will probably be on Friday morning, and unless we make pretty good use of our time——"
"We shall," interrupted Bobby. "I've been chewing the whole thing over while you were ashore, and I've come to one or two highly intelligent conclusions." He leaned across the arm of his chair, and knocked out his pipe against the side railing. "In the first place," he continued, in a rather more serious tone, "we've got to face the fact that Bascomb's death puts us into a devilish awkward position. I'm not very strong on law, but there's such a thing as being an accessory to murder. If we suspect Manning and de Roda we've no right to keep the fact from the police merely because we don't want to get your girl into trouble."
"But it was your advice," I protested. "Besides, I don't believe that de Roda had anything to do with it. I'm almost certain that Bascomb went over to the barge with some mad idea of revenging himself upon Manning. He probably found Craill there as well, and between the pair of them——"
"Exactly my idea," broke in Bobby. "All the same, we've got to be precious careful what we do or the police will end by nabbing the whole damned lot of us."
"Well, what do you suggest?" I asked.
"I think your notion's the right one. You must cruise up to town first thing to-morrow morning and get hold of this detective Johnnie. Tell him everything, just as you have told it to me. He is evidently a long-headed sort of bird, and he'll probably see some way out of the difficulty. Even if he can't we shall have put ourselves on the right side of the fence."
"Hadn't I better go at once?" I proposed.
Bobby glanced at his watch. "You may as well wait till the morning. He would most likely have left his office by the time you got there, and it's quite on the cards you might be missing all sorts of fun down here."
"Not much chance of that," I said regretfully. "They'll give us a fairly wide berth as long as your motor-boat's lying off the jetty."
"One never can tell," observed Bobby philosophically. "If Manning has found out all he wants to, and if he and Craill really did Bascomb in, you can bet your boots they won't hang about any longer than they can possibly help."
"I wish I could guess where the diamonds are hidden," I remarked.
Bobby looked at me with that queer provoking grin of his.
"Well?" I demanded.
"You're not very good at riddles, are you, Jack?" he said slowly. "I suppose it's never occurred to you that your uncle must have had some damned good reason for putting in a new fireplace?"
"By God!" I cried, jumping up from my chair; "I believe you've hit it." I paused for a moment, as a whole stream of significant memories rushed back into my mind. "It explains everything," I almost shouted. "Bascomb told me he had workmen over from Holland to put it in, and——"
"Why the devil didn't you say so before?" interrupted Bobby. "Of course, if that's the case, it absolutely settles the matter. I was merely going on the fact that directly Manning thought you were asleep he made a bee-line for the hall."
"I'm an ass, Robert," I admitted humbly. "Manning told me so yesterday, and I'm hanged if for once in his life he wasn't speaking the truth." I glanced in through the open window in the direction of the hearth. "Have you got as far as making a search?" I asked.
He nodded. "I went over every inch of it while you were away. It's my belief they're bricked up behind one of the tiles. You don't want much space to hide a packet of diamonds in."
"Well, come along then," I exclaimed. "There's a good hefty chisel in the kitchen, and if we can't——"
"Don't be in such a hurry," drawled Bobby. "We've an uncommonly tricky course to navigate, and we can't afford to run aground."
"But where's the harm?" I objected. "It's my property. I've every right to hack it about if I want to."
"I'm not questioning your title deeds," returned Bobby languidly. "What we've got to consider is how it will look in a Court of Law. If there's any trouble we shall be more or less dependent on this detective merchant of yours to get us out of it, and that being so, I don't propose to do any treasure-hunting until he's actually on the spot."
"I suppose you're right," I said after a short pause. "I only hope Campbell will be able to come."
"Hoping's no good; unless you find him and bring him back with you to-morrow night we shall have to tell the Head Constable the whole truth. If the Coroner knows his job something's sure to come out at the inquest, and you don't want to see your girl stuck up in the dock alongside Manning and Craill."
"It's the one idea that's been haunting me all through this ghastly business," I exclaimed. "I'm not talking rot, Bobby, but I'd hand in my ticket without a kick as long as I could keep Christine out of it."
"Of course you would," he replied. "Otherwise I shouldn't be wasting my time trying to help you." He hoisted himself out of his chair and put his hand on my shoulder. "You have my blessing for what it's worth, Jack," he added. "I don't know much about girls—not what you call nice girls; all the same, I'm absolutely certain that you've struck a regular prize-packet."
Compliments were so rare in Robert's vocabulary that I appreciated his effort at its proper value. We shook hands solemnly, and then, with a little grunt of satisfaction, he reseated himself on the arm of his chair.
"Well, that's that," he observed; "all we've got to do now is to carry on till to-morrow morning. You'll trot up to town by the first train, and I'll stop here and look after the treasure."
"I don't quite know how we shall manage about the housekeeping," I said. "There's tons of liquor, but the grub's running devilish short."
"It doesn't really matter," replied Bobby cheerfully. "Drink's very sustaining, provided one has enough of it."
As things turned out, I think we should have contrived to get through the rest of the day successfully, even without the help of Uncle Richard's well-stocked cellar. Although Bobby had heard my story from start to finish, there were still so many points on which he was anxious for further enlightenment that it took me all my time to answer his innumerable questions. He cross-examined me with a dogged persistence that would have done credit to a prosecuting counsel, and in more than one instance I was extraordinarily impressed by the shrewdness and insight of his comments.
At seven o'clock we adjourned the discussion in favour of a scratch meal, which consisted chiefly of champagne and biscuits. The former being Pol Roget of a particularly good vintage, we were able to give Bobby's nutriment theory a really convincing test. It worked out most successfully, for resuming our conversation over a couple of cigars, we talked on for the next two hours without the faintest feeling of exhaustion.
About ten Bobby glanced at his watch. "You'd better turn in now," he remarked firmly. "You've got a long day ahead of you, and the more sleep you have the better."
"Hang it all!" I protested. "I'm not going to dodge my share of the work. Somebody's got to keep awake."
"That will be all right," he interrupted. "I shall have nothing to do to-morrow after you're gone. If I want to I can sleep the whole blessed morning."
"But how about to-night?" I persisted. "Suppose Manning and Craill pay us a visit?"
Bobby smiled grimly, and, putting his hand in his hip pocket, pulled out a vicious-looking Mauser pistol.
"You'll probably hear the shooting," he replied. "You can come down in your pyjamas and help me throw out the bodies."
I saw that it would be a waste of time to argue any further, so, having made sure that he was provided with plenty of smokes and drinks, I assisted him to close the shutters and lock up the house. This done, I wished him a pleasant vigil, and, retiring upstairs to my own room, I was soon safely between the sheets, with Manning's Smith and Wesson tucked away under the pillow beneath my head.
I must have dropped off on the spot, for the next thing I remember is suddenly sitting up in bed and finding Bobby standing beside me with a cup of tea in his hand. He had drawn back the curtain, and the grey light of early day was coming in through the open window.
"Here you are, my son," he remarked cheerfully. "You shove this down your neck and tumble out at once. It's getting on for six o'clock."
"Anything happened?" I enquired. "I've been sleeping like a log."
"The champagne's finished," he announced with a grin. "There's no other news that I can think of at the moment."
I gulped down the tea, and, scrambling out of bed, proceeded to commence a hasty toilet, while Bobby, who looked very unshaven and disreputable, seated himself on the window sill and puffed contentedly at a cigarette.
"I've never spent a more peaceful night in my life," he continued. "If we can't find the diamonds you might do worse than turn the place into a rest cure. I believe you'd make a pot of money."
"It's not a bad notion," I admitted. "We could have Manning as a resident physician."
I ducked my head into a basin of water, and emerged from the process feeling considerably refreshed.
"How's the weather?" I enquired, seeing that he was looking out of the window.
"Better than it was. There's still a lot of mist hanging about the estuary, but the wind's south-east, and it will probably get up later in the day." He turned back into the room. "What time are you due in town?" he demanded.
"Just after nine," I said. "I ought to be in Fleet Street by half past."
He sat there swinging his foot and meditating while I rapidly pulled on my trousers and laced up my boots.
"It all depends whether the sleuth-hound's in his kennel," he observed. "If he is you'll be through by about ten-thirty. Send me a wire directly you've fixed up your arrangements. I want to let them know when to expect me at Martlesea."
"You couldn't put off the trip till to-morrow?" I suggested.
He shook his head. "I must look in for an hour. It doesn't matter what time though; there's always someone there till eight o'clock."
"I shall try and bring Campbell back with me by the mid-day train," I said. "Then we can have a hunt for the diamonds before you start."
"That's the idea," he replied approvingly. "With any luck it ought to be a very interesting and profitable afternoon."
He hoisted himself off the sill, and, coming up to where I was standing, helped me on with my coat.
"I'll row you ashore now," he added, "and if you'll let me know when to expect you I'll be waiting for you at Pen Mill."
"But how about the house?" I objected. "We oughtn't to leave it empty."
"I've only got to tip the word to my man Jenkins," he replied. "He'll take damned good care that nobody lands on the island."
We made our way downstairs, and, shutting the front door behind us, we set off at a brisk pace for the landing-stage.
The motor-boat, which had slewed round with the tide, was now lying with her nose towards the island, and Jenkins himself—a stalwart figure in white slops—was leaning pensively over the iron railing. As soon as he saw us he drew himself up and saluted.
We paddled alongside, where Bobby gave his instructions; and then, pulling straight across the estuary, ran in under the end of the jetty. Except for an aged fisherman mending his nets the place was entirely deserted.
With an encouraging "Good luck" from my companion I jumped ashore. I expected any moment that the landlord would appear at his door and waylay me before I could pass the inn, but by the mercy of providence his attention must have been otherwise occupied. Anyway I reached the village green unchallenged, and a few minutes later I was half way up the hill and safely beyond the reach of any such unfortunate encounter.
It was a full hour's tramp to Torrington, even for a quick walker like myself. Bobby had timed things perfectly, however, and just as I arrived at my destination the train came steaming in alongside the platform.
I made a rapid inspection of my fellow-passengers, and, having discovered that to the best of my knowledge they were all complete strangers, I took my seat in the corner of an empty smoker. The doors banged, the guard waved his flag, and with a triumphant whistle we slid slowly forward on our fifty mile journey to London.
I don't know whether the Great Eastern is generally punctual, but on this occasion its performance was beyond criticism. The hands of the big timepiece at Liverpool Street were pointing to exactly nine o'clock as I stepped out of the carriage and, hailing a taxi, instructed the man to drive me to Angel Court. He put me down outside the entrance, and with a queer feeling of excitement at my heart I walked up the narrow passage and pressed the bell of the Inspector's office.
My ring was answered by an alert-looking youth in his shirt-sleeves.
"Mr. Campbell hasn't come yet, sir," he said, in answer to my enquiry. "I'm not expecting him till half past ten this morning."
I suppose he saw my disappointment, for he added civilly: "Was it something important you wished to see him about, sir?"
"It was important enough to get me out of bed at six o'clock this morning," I explained.
"Well, perhaps you could look in again, sir," he suggested "If you like to leave your name I'll give it to him directly he arrives. He'll be here for certain by ten-thirty."
"I'll come back in an hour then," I replied. "If he turns up before tell him that Mr. John Dryden wants to see him."
I had met with the first hitch in my programme, but as I walked back into Fleet Street I consoled myself by reflecting that things might very easily have been much worse. Even if we missed the earlier train there was another, an equally good one, at two-fifteen. This would get us to Pen Mill shortly after four, which would still give Bobby plenty of time for his trip to Martlesea.
It occurred to me that the best thing I could do while I was waiting was to lay in a stock of fresh provisions. I could hardly expect Campbell to subsist entirely upon a diet of dry biscuits and champagne, so summoning another taxi, I told the driver to take me to Fortnum and Mason's. Here I purchased a number of delicacies, including a couple of cold chickens and a fresh tongue. I gave instructions that they should be packed in a hamper and sent off to the cloak-room at Liverpool Street to await my arrival, and then, still having half an hour to spare, I strolled across to the Piccadilly Hotel and treated myself to a glass of sherry and two or three caviare sandwiches.
At ten-thirty exactly I was back once more in Angel Court with my finger on the Inspector's bell. It had scarcely rung before the door was pulled open and the burly figure of Campbell himself appeared in the passage.
"Glad to see you, Mr. Dryden," he exclaimed, giving me a hearty grip. "My clerk told me you'd be along in a minute. I'm sorry I wasn't in when you called before."
"It was my fault," I said, following him into the office. "If people will come at such unholy hours they can hardly expect to find you at home."
"We're used to early visitors in this line of business," he replied with a laugh. "Besides, you couldn't have come at a more convenient time anyhow. As a matter of fact I was just going to write to you."
He pulled forward a tattered arm-chair, and, relieving me of my coat an