Collected works of j s f.., p.820
Collected Works of J S Fletcher, page 820
He stood, silent, staring at me for a full moment. Then he shook his head and a look of sheer obstinacy came over his face.
‘I shall not say! You’ll not get one word out of me, Henderson — not a damned word!’
‘Were you in Hagsdene Wood at ten o’clock last night?’ I asked. ‘Will you say?’
‘I’ll say! I was!’
‘Why? For what purpose?’
‘My business! And now not a word more! Do what you like! I see what you’re after. But I didn’t kill Maidment, nor rob him, either. Be damned to you!’
Then with a swift movement he was outside the room and had slammed the door on us.
7
The violent banging of that door prefaced a moment’s silence; then Mr Radford turned on me and snapped out a question.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘It can’t rest where it is, Mr Mayor,’ I replied. ‘It’ll have to be investigated — fully. You see in what mood your son is! If he’s innocent — —’
‘He’s told you he knows nothing about either murder or robbery,’ he interrupted. ‘He’s not a liar!’
‘He didn’t tell you the truth, sir, about his supposed visit to Mr Verrill,’ I retorted. ‘If he’s absolutely innocent why doesn’t he tell us where he was last night, and why he was in the wood about ten o’clock, and where he got that marked sovereign? Why —— ?’
‘I asked you — what are you going to do?’ he said. ‘That’s what I want to know — at present.’
‘I shall have to consult my superiors, Mr Mayor,’ I answered. ‘I suppose I ought to arrest your son now! But — will you try to get some explanation out of him? And will you give me your word that you’ll keep an eye on him until to-morrow morning?’
He looked at me for a time as if pondering over what I had said. Then he began to walk up and down the room again. Several minutes passed; he seemed to be thinking hard. At last he turned to me, and I noticed that his face had grown stern — and stubborn.
‘No!’ he said. ‘I won’t give you any word, or any promise. You must do what you please. But I’ll say this — you’ll make a mistake if you fix on him as either murderer or thief in this case. Of course he’s innocent! Do what you please. And now, will you go away? I told you I could only give you a few minutes.’
I went away, sorely upset and puzzled, and walked slowly back to my office. My clerk met me at the door.
‘There’s that young man that came with the young woman waiting for you, sir,’ he said. ‘James Collier. He wants to see you again. He’s in your room — I told him you wouldn’t be long.’
I went into my room — Collier sat on the edge of a chair, twiddling his cap and staring about him. At sight of me he rose, grinning sheepishly.
‘Well, Jim?’ I said. ‘What now?’
He dropped into his chair again, and making an effort spoke.
‘Ellen,’ he said. ‘Ellen, she didn’t tell all there was to tell. Left a bit out, like. So I thought — —’
‘What did she leave out?’ I asked.
‘Come to think of it, I did, after we’d been here,’ he continued. ‘But she’d gone, then. So I concluded to come myself. Thinking it might be important.’
‘Quite right, Jim; much obliged to you,’ I said. ‘And what is it?’
It required a minute or two of severe mental effort on Jim’s part to bring himself to the arduous task of accurate statement. As Ellen had remarked, he was not a great hand with his tongue. His memory, however, seemed to be in excellent condition.
‘It was like this here,’ he began. ‘Ellen, she forgot to tell about something else we saw. About — him, you know.’
‘Young Mr Richard?’ I suggested.
‘That’s it! Him!’ he assented. ‘When he come into the wood, through the gate, and shoved his bike atween the hedge and them shrubs — I can show you the place — there was something that Ellen didn’t tell about.’
‘Yes?’ I said, patiently. ‘What was it, Jim?’
‘He took a stick off his bicycle — strapped along the centre bar, it was,’ he continued. ‘A walking-stick! Thick ‘un — I saw it plain.’
‘How could you see it?’ I asked. ‘It was ten o’clock at night and dark.’
‘Aye, but he’d a bit o’ difficulty with the strap or cord it was fastened on with,’ he answered. ‘He took the lamp off the front of the bike to look at it. I saw the stick, plain enough. And the parcel.’
‘What parcel?’ I asked.
‘He’d a parcel, tied on behind,’ he replied. ‘He took that off too.’
‘Big parcel?’ I inquired.
He held out his hands.
‘About that square,’ he said. ‘Brown paper parcel.’
‘Well?’ I went on. ‘What did he do then? With the stick and the parcel?’
‘Carried ’em off with him into the wood, after he’d turned his lamp off,’ he answered.
‘What did there seem to be in the parcel?’ I asked. ‘Any idea?’
‘No, I’ve no idea,’ he said. ‘Squarish sort o’ parcel. In brown paper.’
‘You’re certain about this — especially about the stick?’
‘I’m certain! It was a strong lamp, that. Saw everything.’
‘Do you think you’d know that stick if you saw it again, Jim?’ I asked.
But he shook his head at that.
‘Ah, I dunno as I would!’ he answered. ‘Good thick ‘un, it was. But one stick’s uncommon like another. ’Twasn’t one o’ your fancy walking-sticks. Plain stick.’
‘Heavy enough to stun anybody, eh?’
‘Oh, aye, it ‘ud be strong enough for that,’ he said. ‘As I said, a thick ‘un. Tied on to the bike it was. Likewise the parcel. Ellen, she forgot that bit.’
I sent him away, again bidding him to hold his tongue, and looked at my watch. It was not yet half-past two and there were several hours of daylight left. I already had a whole posse of men searching in and about Hagsdene Wood, but now I gathered together some more, all that I had available, and, going there with them myself, set to work on a thorough search of the undergrowth, the rabbit-warrens, the banks and hedgerows. For it seemed to me that the murderer would, in all probability, have thrown away his weapon (in the opinion of the doctors, a blunt one of some sort) as soon as he had made use of it.
At half-past five that afternoon one of my men, searching near Hebb’s cottage, found a stick thrust into a rabbit’s burrow. It was a plain, very heavy oak walking-stick, formidable enough — as my sergeant observed, you could have felled an ox with it. He and I returned to the town with it wrapped in his cape. Near the entrance to the wood we met Mr Radford’s managing clerk, Hebb, returning to his home and his wife at the conclusion of his day’s labours. A sudden impulse prompted me to show him the stick, and to ask him if he’d ever seen it before. I saw at once that he recognized it.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It’s a stick that I gave to Dick Radford last year, when he and I went on a bit of a walking tour. Certain of that. Dead certain!’
8
I had telephoned the news of Maidment’s murder to our Chief Constable, Colonel Patterson, earlier in the day, and when I got back from my afternoon’s lengthy visit to Hagsdene Wood he had just arrived in Ullathwaite and was at my office. At his suggestion I sent over for Mr Murwood, the solicitor, who was clerk to the local magistrates, and the three of us sat down and discussed the evidence I had collected during the day. The Chief Constable’s face grew graver and graver as he listened to all I had to tell.
‘It looks bad!’ he muttered, as I came to the end of the story. ‘It looks very bad! What do you make of it, Murwood?’
Murwood had been making notes of what I told them. He took up a sheet of paper.
‘Summarized, it comes to just this,’ he replied. ‘I’ll put it in sequence:
(i)
Maidment is found dead in Hagsdene Wood early in the morning of October 18. Medical examination shows that he has been killed by blows on the head from some blunt weapon — any one of which blows was sufficient to cause instantaneous death.
(ii)
Maidment, who was a rent-collector, is known to have collected about £112 in rents from tenants at Hagsdene Park during the evening of October 17. Some of this money was in gold, and one of the gold coins was a sovereign through which a very small hole had been bored.
(iii)
Maidment is known to have left Hagsdene Park about a quarter past ten o’clock. He would be in Hagsdene Wood about twenty minutes later.
(iv)
There is dependable evidence from two credible witnesses that Richard Radford entered Hagsdene Wood from the east side about ten o’clock on the evening in question. After hiding his bicycle and taking from it a parcel and a heavy stick he was seen to go across the wood in the direction of Mr Hebb’s cottage, near which, next morning, Maidment’s dead body was found.
(v)
At ten-thirty on the morning of October 18 Richard Radford paid to Fardale, a well-known bookmaker of Ullathwaite, the sum of fifty-one pounds, of which six pounds was paid in sovereigns. Among these was the perforated sovereign which had been handed to Maidment the previous evening.
(vi)
Mr John Radford, interviewed by Superintendent Henderson, declared that his son was not in or near Ullathwaite from six o’clock in the evening of October 17 until about ten o’clock on the morning of October 18. This, on inquiry, proved to be not true.
(vii)
Richard Radford, asked for an explanation, admitted that he did not go to Lowsthorpe, where his father had said he had gone, but refused to say where he had been during the night. He also admitted that he had paid fifty-one pounds to Fardale, but refused to say how the gold, among which was the marked sovereign, came into his possession. He further admitted that he was in Hagsdene Wood at ten o’clock on the evening of October 17, but declined to say for what purpose. He declared emphatically that he neither murdered nor robbed Maidment, and refused to say more.
(viii)
During the afternoon of October 18 a stick, a heavy oak walking-stick, which, in the opinion of the doctors, was probably the weapon used by Maidment’s assailant, was discovered by a constable in Hagsdene Wood, where it had been concealed in a rabbit-burrow. This has been identified by Mr Ralph Hebb, managing clerk to Mr John Radford, as a stick which he presented to Mr Richard Radford last year.
That’s all — so far,’ concluded Murwood. ‘And — enough!’
The three of us sat for a moment in silence.
‘What’s to be done?’ asked the Chief Constable at last. ‘Miserable affair! Isn’t Mr Radford senior Mayor of Ullathwaite? And very much respected?’
‘Both, sir,’ I replied. ‘And he’s just about to be re-elected Mayor for another term of office.’
‘And this lad?’ he went on. ‘What do you know of him, Henderson?’
‘He has the reputation of being a bit wild,’ I answered. ‘A rather rackety youngster. But murder! — that’s a very different thing.’
‘Mayn’t have ever meant murder,’ remarked Murwood. ‘He may have meant only to stun him, so that he could get the money. Do you know if Fardale had been putting the screw on him pretty tight?’
‘Fardale,’ I replied, ‘had certainly given him an ultimatum. He’d told him that if he didn’t pay up by eleven o’clock this morning he would tell Mr Radford senior all about it, and would refuse any further business with him, Richard. I don’t suppose the second threat bothered Richard a scrap — there are half a dozen bookmakers in Ullathwaite he could bet with. But I think he’d be frightened about the other threat.’
‘Ever been in any trouble before?’ asked the Chief Constable. ‘Ever been in your hands, for instance, for anything?’
‘Mine, no!’ I answered. ‘Certainly not! Nor with the borough police, either, as far as I’m aware.’
‘No, no!’ said Murwood. ‘There’s nothing of that sort against him. Just a wild young shaver — that’s about all.’
‘Well, what’s to be done?’ repeated the Chief Constable. ‘Is there, on this evidence, a prima facie case; one that would justify his arrest?’
‘Decidedly there is,’ replied Murwood. ‘Circumstantial evidence, of course, but it’s pretty strong.’
‘What do you think, Henderson?’ asked the Chief Constable. ‘You’ve seen him already. What’s your honest opinion?’
That was a stiff question. It was also one that I had been putting to myself over and over again, all the afternoon, ever since the moment in which Dick Radford had stormed angrily out of the Mayor’s Parlour, slamming the door on me and his father.
‘I don’t know what to think, sir,’ I replied. ‘I’m undecided and uneasy. I suppose that what I do really think is this — I can’t bring myself to believe the lad guilty of murder. But — I think he knows something; something that he will not and cannot be made to tell.’
‘Shielding somebody?’ suggested Murwood.
‘Maybe!’ I said. ‘He’s as stubborn and obstinate as ever they make ’em. I could see that his father would get nothing out of him. Perhaps his mother — —’
The Chief Constable’s face brightened.
‘Good idea!’ he exclaimed. ‘Now look here! What do you say if the three of us call at Mr Radford’s private residence and see if we can’t bring some family influence to bear on this lad? Of course, if he won’t speak — —’
‘I don’t think he will, sir, unless his mother has more influence over him than his father has,’ I said. ‘But we can try. It’s not far to the Mayor’s house.’
‘Let’s go, then,’ said the Chief Constable. ‘Nasty business! But we may as well get on with it.’
We went off, there and then, to Mr Radford’s. He lived in a big house, standing in its own grounds, on the outskirts of the town. The smart parlourmaid who opened the door to us looked doubtful.
‘Mr Radford’s at dinner, sir,’ she replied to the Chief Constable’s inquiry.
‘No matter; we must see him at once,’ said the Chief Constable. ‘Tell him that Colonel Patterson is here and wishes to see him without delay.’
A moment or two later we were shown into Mr Radford’s study; he came to us without any further waiting on our part. He was outwardly cool and collected — and he said nothing. Closing the door behind him, he turned and looked at Patterson.
‘Mr Radford,’ began the Chief Constable, ‘you will know already why we have called on you. Superintendent Henderson has put you in possession of certain facts. Have you persuaded your son to speak?’
Mr Radford looked slowly from one to the other of us.
‘No!’ he answered.
‘Have you tried?’
‘Yes!’
‘Have you pointed out to him the dangerous position in which he finds himself?’
‘He is aware of it — fully!’
‘The evidence — circumstantial though it is — is very serious, Mr Radford. Does he realize that?’
‘Yes!’
‘And still he won’t say anything?’
‘He will say nothing!’
‘That’s — final?’
‘Final!’
The Chief Constable hesitated and sighed.
‘But consider, Mr Radford! We have been going into the evidence, we three. It’s strong; some people would call it damning. Does he realize —— ?’
‘I have told you that he will say nothing! Nothing, that is, beyond what he said to Superintendent Henderson, in my presence, this afternoon.’
‘If he would only give some explanation, Mr Radford — —’
‘He will give no explanation!’
The Chief Constable shook his head.
‘Well! Where is he, Mr Radford?’
‘In my dining-room. We are at dinner.’
‘He has made no attempt to go away, then?’
‘Go away? Why should he go away? Do you think he’s afraid? He has already told Henderson that he did not kill Maidment nor rob him, dead or alive! He has no intention of going away.’
‘Mr Radford, why won’t he tell us where he was last night, and where he got the money he paid to Fardale? If he would do that — —’
‘I have already told you he will not do that!’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Have I not said that was final?’
‘But supposing his mother asked him to tell?’
‘She has already asked him to tell.’
‘And?’
‘That has made no difference.’
‘You don’t encourage him in this attitude of silence, Mr Radford?’
‘I neither encourage him nor discourage him. My son is of age. What I feel about it is this — if my son says, as he has said, that he did not kill Maidment nor rob him, I believe him!’
‘Absolutely?’
‘Absolutely! He is my son.’
‘But supposing it was an accidental affair? That he only meant to stun him? Your son was hard-pressed for money.’
‘I have told you that my son says that he did not rob Maidment, dead or alive. Your supposition, therefore, is baseless.’
Colonel Patterson looked at me, and from me to Murwood. I am afraid he got no help from either of us, and he turned to the Mayor again.
‘This is one of the most painful things I have ever had to do with!’ he exclaimed. ‘Well, may we see him, Mr Radford — and your wife?’
The Mayor hesitated a moment. Then he opened the door and, motioning us to follow him, led us across the hall into the dining-room. There was Mrs Radford, and there was her daughter, and there was her son. And to all appearance they were dining unconcernedly.
‘Dick!’ said Mr Radford. ‘Colonel Patterson wants to speak to you.’
Dick looked round.
‘Well?’ he said.
‘Mr Richard,’ said the Chief Constable, ‘I want to appeal to you in your mother’s presence! Will you tell us the truth about this affair, or what you know of it? Will you clear yourself? Will you speak?’
Dick looked his questioner full in the face.
‘No!’ he answered.
Colonel Patterson turned to Mrs Radford.
‘Mrs Radford,’ he said, ‘you are his mother! Ask him to reconsider — —’
