Delphi collected works o.., p.493
Delphi Collected Works of Peter Cheyney Illustrated, page 493
‘Would you like to listen quietly? Good. Well, here’s the story as I see it, and here’s the story as the police will see it if I go to them and tell them what I believe.
‘First of all I would like you to know, all about the death of our late Mr. Alphonse Nirac. You’ve read your newspapers, and you know that the coroner’s jury brought in a verdict of death from natural causes. They brought in this verdict for the very simple reason that they couldn’t very well bring in anything else. All the medical evidence went to show that Nirac died in some sort of paralytic fit, and all the evidence went to show that Nirac was a man in a very bad state of health who might easily have had such a fit. The police were unable to find out anything about Nirac except that he had landed at Dover the day before from France, and that he had stayed the night in a Dover hotel and that he left the Dover hotel, and took a train to Birchgate. They believe that he got into the bungalow somehow for the same reason that the police-sergeant who found him went there — merely to escape from the rain.
‘But what you don’t know is that, whilst the police-sergeant was away telephoning, somebody that I know, who had stayed with Nirac, found that he wasn’t dead. He was able to move, and before he died he said a name twice— ‘Sardonin — Sardonin.’
‘And Anne de Guerrac tells me that she knows that Nirac came to England to see you; that he came to you to speak to you about the purchase of this very bungalow; she believes that he got into that bungalow with the key which you gave him, and that somehow somebody was able to get that key from Nirac so that it was not discovered on his body after death. Nirac, according to Anne de Guerrac, was to hand you a packet containing five thousand pounds in banknotes. She says that he did so; she says that you must have changed the bank-notes because she knows that the original notes in the packet were good notes, and not at all counterfeit.
‘Now, supposing she and I go to the police, and tell them this story. What will be the result? If you deny that you saw Nirac on that day who is going to believe you? He left Dover for Birchgate by an early train. He arrived at Birchgate at 3 o’clock in the afternoon, and it is a strange coincidence that you were not in Bealthorpe on that afternoon.’
‘Yet, for some reason best known to yourself, late that afternoon you dash up to town, and proceed to watch Anne de Guerrac, who has been in London for a few days only, but whom you have been having watched. You follow her to my office, and you tell me that she is a crook, suggesting that any cheque she may have given me will be returned. You knew that she had no banking account. You, yourself, have just said that “she had only a few pounds between herself and starvation.” How did you know? You knew jolly well that she had no banking account, and you knew just as well that the notes to the envelope were counterfeit because you changed them, and you thought that I would immediately chuck up the whole business, and leave this unfortunate woman in a position in which she was absolutely helpless.
‘If we go to the police they will believe our story. They have not been particularly interested in the death of Nirac because they believe he was an odd stranger who went into an empty house because he felt a fit coming on, and who died there. But if we tell them that Nirac came to England to meet you; that he brought you a packet of notes worth five thousand pounds; that we had every reason to believe that you substituted counterfeit notes for the real ones, don’t you realise that every action on your part during that day substantiates our story?
‘You’ll be in queer street. You admit that you’ve been in prison once, and I shouldn’t be at all surprised if you didn’t go there again. Firstly, you will be suspected of having something to do with Nirac’s death — even if they don’t suspect you of that they will want to know why you left him alone In that bungalow, and where the key was. They will want to know about the money, and the only person who could clear you by saying that he didn’t give you the package — Nirac — is dead.
‘Anne de Guerrac lied to me — at least, she didn’t lie, but she didn’t tell me the whole truth. She didn’t tell me that you sent round that packet of notes to her hotel on the evening of the day she came to see me.
‘How will you explain to the police about obtaining possession of five thousand pounds in notes after you left Nirac? If you say that the notes were good ones that makes it all the worse for you. If Nirac didn’t give them to you where did you get them?’
Vowles looked straight in front of him. He looked like a trapped animal Eventually he spoke. His voice was hoarse, and his hands were shaking.
‘It’s a lie,’ he said. ‘A damnable lie!’
Duplessis got up, refilled his pipe, and lit it, then he took off his spectacles, and slipped them into his top waistcoat pocket.
‘That’s the joke, Johnny, my lad,’ he said. ‘I’m with you for once. I believe that it is a lie, but it’s a damned good one. It’s so good that the police on the evidence of Anne de Guerrac and myself will have quite a lot to say to Mr. John X. Vowles. It’s such a good lie that even if you don’t go back to prison it will ruin you by the time the case is through.
‘I’m not particularly clever, but I’m not going to be made a fool of by you. You’re going to come across with what I want, and you’re going to tell me the truth; or Anne de Guerrac and myself are going to the police to do our duty as law-abiding citizens! I’ve got you where I want you — you mean, grasping, greasy-hatted little liar! Well, what’s it to be?’
Vowles rested his head between his hands.
‘You’ve got me beat, Duplessis,’ he said. ‘I was a fool. I didn’t think you had the brains. I’m beat, and I know it. Come back here at nine o’clock tonight, and I’ll spill the beans. I don’t want to talk now — I feel ill.’
Duplessis grinned. ‘I bet you do,’ he said. ‘I’ll come back at nine o’clock. So long, Johnny!’
He walked out of the office, solemnly winking at Miss Day as he passed her in the outer office.
Outside, in the street, he looked quickly around him, crossed the road, and unostentatiously joined a man of medium height who was looking in a draper’s shop window.
Duplessis looked into the window, too. ‘Don’t turn your head, Hastings,’ he said. ‘But hang around, and watch Vowles’ office. I want an exact description of anyone who goes in there between now and nine o’clock. Understand?’
‘You bet,’ said Hastings.
IV. SMUGGLER’S REST
IT WAS TWENTY minutes after Duplessis had spoken to Hastings outside the draper’s shop that he wandered into the bar parlour of the King’s Arms at the end of Bealthorpe High Street and met Le Clerq, who was waiting him. Duplessis wasted no time. ‘I’ve just left Vowles’ office,’ he said, ‘and Hastings is going to keep an eye on the place till I go back there at nine o’clock. Vowles has got the wind up, and he says he’s going to tell me the true story at nine; but he won’t — for a very simple and obvious reason.’
‘Which is?’ queried Le Clerq.
‘Which is — that he can’t,’ replied Duplessis. ‘Vowles is in a bad jam — almost as bad a one as we’re in. Originally he got mixed up in this business simply because he was playing some game of his own, and now the more he struggles to get out of it the deeper in he’ll get. Listen to this.
‘I accused Vowles of meeting Nirac at Birchgate on the afternoon of the day that he died. When I mentioned Nirac’s name Vowles wasn’t a bit surprised. He didn’t say “Who’s Nirac?” and you must remember that there was no way in which Vowles could know Nirac’s name — even the police don’t know it to this day. We know it because Anne de Guerrac told me that Nirac was expected, and described him. I built up a good case against Vowles. I pointed out to him that the bungalow was his. I also pointed out to him that no entrance had been forced except by the police and Hastings.
‘How, then, did Nirac get inside, except by a key, and how was it that no key was found on Nirac? Very obviously because someone had opened the door for Nirac to go in, and that same person had left the bungalow before Nirac’s death, and, very possibly, before his paralytic fit started. If Vowles had had any sense he would have told me to go to blazes, because nobody could have proved that he murdered Nirac, and, even supposing that he let the man into the bungalow, and then left him there to have a fit, that is no crime. Anyway. I pressed hard on the point that Vowles had seen Nirac on the day that he died, and that he had got from Nirac the notes, and had changed them for counterfeit notes, simply because I knew I was building up an excellent police case against Vowles, and because Vowles, having, as he told me himself, been in prison before, the police might be quite severe with him.
‘Now, what does Vowles do? He first of all says he got the money from Sardonin’s lawyers: that he got it in a package so cleverly sealed that it was impossible for him to open it; that he would have opened it if he could; that he handed it to Anne de Guerrac believing it contained relatively important papers. I promptly accused him of being a liar. I told him that he got the notes from Nirac, and for some reason he finds it worth while to allow me to think that is the truth, when all the time I happen to know that Vowles had got those notes from Sardonin’s lawyers. So, in a nutshell, here is the position. In order to keep me quiet Vowles voluntarily confesses that he got that packet of notes from Nirac, that he saw Nirac on that afternoon, and that he was, possibly, with Nirac in the bungalow. Why does he do this? Obviously, only for one reason. Not knowing that I have been to Sardonin’s solicitors, he wishes to prevent me from going there?
‘Now, let’s go back, and reiterate my interview of last week with Sardonin’s lawyers. Sardonin, just before his committal to prison, hands a heavily-sealed packet to his lawyers, informing them that in the event of his conviction it is to be handed to Mr. Vowles. He also orders that Anne de Guerrac is to be written to, and informed that in the event of his conviction she is to come to England, and will be handed a packet by Mr. Vowles containing certain instructions, but she isn’t told where this packet is coming from.
‘Two days after my original interview with Vowles I saw Anne de Guerrac. I said nothing to her about the notes being counterfeit. Obviously, she doesn’t know that they’re counterfeit. I asked her where she got those notes. She told me from Vowles. She got them in the evening of the day on which she came to see me. I asked her if she knew where Vowles got them from. She said Yes, Vowles had got them from the man who had been found dead in the bungalow at Birchgate, that his name was Nirac, and that she knew he was coming to England to bring the money to Vowles. I asked her why she hadn’t told me that she had got the money from Vowles, more especially as she had warned me against him. She replied, quite sincerely, I believe, that he brought it to her because he had been told by Sardonin’s lawyers to do so, but that, in spite of that fact, she distrusts and loathes Vowles, and believes that he was Sardonin’s evil influence, and that it’s through Vowles that Sardonin’s now in prison.
‘Now, all this seems rather a mix-up; and I think the solution isn’t going to be very difficult. The point is this. Does de Guerrac know where Vowles really got the notes, and is she trying to foist on his shoulders an accusation of being concerned in the death of Nirac, simply, because she dislikes him, and wishes to be revenged on him because she believes he caused Sardonin’s downfall? Or, does she really and honestly believe that Nirac brought over those notes? On the other hand, why is it that Vowles prefers me to think that he met Nirac on that afternoon, and got the money from him rather than I should know that he actually did get it from Sardonin’s lawyers?
‘Now bear this in mind. Early in my talk with him this afternoon he told me that he had got the money from Sardonin’s lawyers. Half-an-hour later he admits that he got it from Nirac. What had made him change his mind? That’s what I want to know, and if I can find an answer to that question we shall have progressed.
‘Now, the whole Joke is that Vowles doesn’t know that I’ve seen Sardonin’s lawyers; he doesn’t know that I’ve confirmed his original story, namely, that they gave him the package, believing, themselves, that it contained important papers. For some reason best known to himself, he’s prepared to let me believe that he got the notes from Nirac, and when I go back at nine o’clock tonight he’s going to have some wonderful cock-and-bull story which will (a) explain why Nirac was to give him the notes; (b) explain why and how he knew Nirac was coming: (c) how he knew Nirac’s name; and (d) a possible motive that Nirac would have for giving him counterfeit notes — because, whatever happens, Vowles must protect himself from the charge that he changed the notes.
‘I don’t see how we can go any further at the moment, J.L., and I think the best thing to do is to have some dinner.’
They went upstairs to the dining room, and ordered supper. In the middle of it Hastings arrived.
‘Some fellow has gone into Vowles’ office,’ he said. ‘He came wandering down the High Street about half an hour ago; he’s a foreigner — a Frenchman, I should say. He can only speak a few words In English. He actually asked me where Vowles’ office was, and I showed him. Miss Day had gone; she had left some twenty-five minutes, and Vowles opened the door himself. This French fellow went in, and stayed with Vowles for about five minutes — certainly not more than ten. Then he came out. He had an envelope in his hand, and I got the impression that Vowles had just given it to him. They nodded to each other, and this fellow walked rapidly off to the place where the motor bus stops — the one that goes to Frampton Gate. That’s about eight miles from here on the coast. Then Vowles went back into the office.’
‘That’s interesting,’ said Duplessis. ‘I wonder who this fellow may be. Vowles seems to be having a lot of visitors lately — Nirac, a fortnight ago, who was a foreigner, and now this fellow. I wonder what his name is? What did he look like, Hastings?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Hastings. ‘He might have been anything. He was badly dressed, and had bowed shoulders — a thin, meagre, little man with heavily rimmed eyes. I noticed that his hands were trembling when he spoke to me. He might nave been a clerk — anything, but he certainly hadn’t got enough money to buy himself a decent suit of clothes, and his shoes needed repairing.’
Duplessis looked at his watch. ‘Well, he may, or may not, have anything to do with it,’ he said, ‘and I think it would be a good idea, Hastings, if you waited until that ‘bus comes back, and had a few words with the driver. Find out just where this fellow was going to. He would have to ask the conductor to put him off at some place or other — he wouldn’t know the country. Try and get a line on it. Find out where he is — where he’s going — anything you can. Come back here at ten o’clock. I should think I’ll be back by then from my interview with Vowles.’
‘Right ho!’ said Hastings, and went off.
Le Clerq passed the time as best he could reading old copies of Punch, and smoking innumerable cigarettes. He had become keenly interested in the mystery which was intriguing them all. Behind it he smelt a first-class newspaper story, and he was certain that, somehow or other, Duplessis would worry out the truth.
At five-to-ten Duplessis returned, his hat over one eye, and obviously pleased with life. He dropped into a chair opposite Le Clerq in the deserted dining-room, and took a cigarette from his friend’s proffered case.
‘I thought so,’ he said. ‘Our dear little Vowles has done to de Guerrac exactly what she tried to do to him. She tried to push the responsibility of the Nirac business on to Vowles, and he’s returned the compliment. Here’s his story.
‘He says that he told me this afternoon that he got the money from Sardonin’s lawyers because he wanted to keep free from any responsibility of having met Nirac on the afternoon that he died, and also because his original instructions were that he would get the package from Sardonin’s lawyers. He says that a day or two after his committal somebody or other posted to him a letter written from Sardonin — a letter which Sardonin had written a week before. In this letter Sardonin said that he was sorry he caused such a lot of trouble, but, as he was paying for it with two years’ imprisonment, he’d be awfully glad If Vowles would do him a favour — if he’d take a package which his lawyers had and would hand it to Mademoiselle de Guerrac when she came and asked for it. But, said he, a week after that be got another letter, which, unfortunately, he destroyed — a letter from this man named Nirac, who was then in France, pointing out that he had the package of which Mr. Vowles had been told; that he was coming to England just for the day, and that he would like to meet Mr. Vowles somewhere where be might privately hand him the package. Vowles says he wrote a reply, and said that a good place to be with him would be The Bungalow, at Birchgate, because Nirac could come straight to Dover, and from there to Birchgate, where it would be convenient for Vowles to meet him. Vowles says he went there in the early afternoon to The Bungalow, and waited for Nirac, who, presently, appeared. But imagine, Vowles’ surprise when, five minutes later, Mademoiselle de Guerrac appears, she having also been informed by a letter from Nirac that he’s coming to hand the package to Mr. Vowles. Vowles says that Nirac handed him the package, and that he obeyed Sardonin’s request, and handed it to the woman. Nirac then said that he had private business to discuss with Mademoiselle de Guerrac and Vowles went and left them together in The Bungalow. He says that it seemed they weren’t very well disposed to each other, and, knowing de Guerrac’s uncontrollable temper he wouldn’t be at all surprised if she hadn’t created some circumstance which ended in Nirac’s fit. Vowles said Nirac looked very ill.’
Duplessis blew a smoke-ring, and gazed at it as it sailed across the room. ‘Observe the situation, J.L.,’ he said ‘How these two people love each other! De Guerrac tells me a story which makes it appear that Vowles met Nirac that afternoon, and was with him before, or when, he became ill. Vowles counters by telling another story — one which makes de Guerrac to be the responsible person.’
