Biggles Goes Alone Page 4

  “Well, it was like this. He has the rheumatics pretty bad you know. It makes him sleep badly, never very long at a time. Last night was one of his bad nights. Had the pains awful bad. At three o’clock he couldn’t stand no more of it so he got out of bed for some pills which he takes at such times. He was just going to get back into bed when he hears a sharp noise like the click of a gate latch. It was bright moonlight outside. Looking out of the window he saw Trelawny walking up the path that leads from the sea to the back door of Miss Harrington’s house. Thinking it was a funny time to be visiting, he watched, but he lost sight of Trelawny when he got into the shadow of the house, so he doesn’t know what he did there. But after a minute or two he saw Trelawny go back the way he’d come. That’s all. After what’s happened the Doctor thought you’d like to know.”

  “He’s quite right,” returned the Superintendent, dryly. “Trelawny wasn’t at home when I called to see him this morning. A woman who lives close told me he’d been at sea all night, fishing.”

  “That’s right. Well, he’s back home now. I saw his boat come in a while ago.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Chandler. Tell the Doctor I’m much obliged to him for this information.”

  “Anything else you want me for?”

  “No, thank you.”

  The woman turned and walked away.

  The Superintendent turned to Biggles. “Do you know anything about this fellow Trelawny?”

  “No. He’s a wild, tough-looking chap. Independent type. I’ve spoken to him once or twice. He seems a decent enough fellow. I’ve heard nothing against him.”

  The Superintendent turned to the sergeant. “Have we ever had any trouble with him?”

  “Not that I know of. I can’t recall anything.”

  “All right. Go and fetch him. I’ll talk to him here. Take the car to save time.”

  When the Sergeant had gone his senior officer turned again to Biggles. “This is a bit of an eye-opener. What do you make of it?”

  “It’s not much use trying to make anything of it until you’ve heard what Trelawny has to say.”

  Saying “I’ll leave you to it”, Major Payne went into the hotel.

  “Sure you don’t want me to go, too?” Biggles asked the Superintendent.

  “You can stay if you’re interested.”

  “Of course I’m interested. This new development certainly is a startler.”

  “It’s something I didn’t expect, I must admit.”

  “Nor I.” Biggles took a cigarette from his case.

  “It all goes to show,” declared the Superintendent, heavily.

  “Show what?”

  “That in this sort of case you can’t believe anybody or anything.”

  Biggles did not pursue the matter.

  In a few minutes the police car was back. The Sergeant reappeared, with Mick Trelawny, unshaven, his hair tousled, clad only in a pair of salt-stained trousers, an open shirt and gumboots. His face was pale and in his eyes was a belligerent gleam. “You want me?” he said, shortly.

  “I found him in bed,” informed the sergeant, once more producing his notebook and pencil.

  “That’s where you’d be if you’d been working all night,” returned Trelawny, in a disgruntled tone of voice.

  “All right. We don’t want any of your lip,” snapped the Superintendent. “I’m going to ask you some questions. Think carefully before you answer them.”

  “Fire away. Ask me anything you like. I’ve nothing to hide.”

  “Is your name Mick Trelawny?”

  “Michael Trelawny, if you want it right and proper.”

  “You’re a fisherman by trade?”

  “I am.”

  “You knew Miss Harrington, I believe.”

  “I did.”

  “How well did you know her?”

  “I’d say pretty well. She was a customer of mine, and her mother before her.”

  “When did you last see her?”

  “Yesterday morning. I took her round a couple of pollack.”

  “Where were you last night?”

  “Out in my boat, fishing. I thought I might pick up one or two bass.”

  “Do you mean you were out all night?”

  “That’s what I mean.”

  “How far out did you go?”

  “Never more than a mile, I’d say.”

  “Did you come ashore at any time for anything?” This was the leading question and Biggles held his breath on the answer.

  Trelawny didn’t hesitate. “I did,” he said bluntly.

  “For what purpose?”

  “To go to the Thatched House.”

  “Did you go there?”

  “I did.”

  “At what hour was this?”

  “I hadn’t a watch on me, but as near as I could judge from the moon I’d say about three o’clock.”

  “Why did you go at such a time, knowing Miss Harrington and her servant must have gone to bed.”

  “That’s just it. I didn’t know they’d gone to bed.”

  “You must surely have supposed them to be in bed and asleep.”

  “I thought they were still up.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the lights were still on, upstairs and down.”

  “How did you know that?”

  “I could see them. They were the only lights in the village, I first noticed them about eleven o’clock, because usually by that time most lights are out except in the hotel. I wondered what was going on. When some time later, an hour mebbe, and they were still on. I thought something must be wrong. One of ‘em taken ill, perhaps.”

  “So you came ashore to see. Was that it?”

  “Not then. As time went on I kept looking more and more at the lights wondering why they hadn’t been put out.”

  “Did you know which rooms the lights were in?”

  “Not for certain. I was pretty sure about the sitting-room. I’ve been to the house often enough but I’ve never been upstairs. No reason to.”

  “Go on.”

  “When it got to two o’clock, judging from the sky, I began to get worried, supposing there must have been an accident or something. Burglars, perhaps. Thinking I might be able to help I decided to have a look round. There was no wind so I had to use the oars. I pulled the boat up on the beach and went up the cliff to the house.”

  “Up the cliff? Why up the cliff?”

  “It was the shortest way. It’s easy to get up when you know how, and you’ve done it as many times as I have.”

  “I see. Go on. Then what?”

  “The lights were still on. Coming up to the house I went to the back gate and listened for a bit. Not hearing anything I went on to the house. I listened again, but still I couldn’t hear a sound. I tried the back door. It was locked. I went round to the front and tried that. Locked. Still thinking of burglars I looked at the windows. All shut. I still couldn’t hear anything inside, no talking, or anything like people moving about. I couldn’t make it out. All I could think was the lights had been left on by mistake. I considered knocking ‘em up to tell ‘em, but at the finish, reckoning they wouldn’t thank me for giving ‘em a fright at that time o’ night I went back to my boat.”

  “Then what did you do?”

  “I pulled out half a mile or so and did some more fishing; but not being able to get hold of anything I gave up and went round my lobster pots. No luck there, either. So I went home and went to bed for an hour or two’s sleep. That’s where I was when the sergeant here woke me up.”

  “Did you see anyone when you came ashore.”

  “Not a soul.”

  “You know Miss Harrington was found dead this morning?”

  “I know now. The sergeant told me.”

  “And that was the first you knew about it?”

  “Do you think I’d have gone to bed if I’d known that darling girl was dead?”

  “Did you usually call her darling?”

  “Not to her face. But that’s h
ow I thought of her. One of the best, she was, and a good friend to me. Even now I can’t believe she’s dead.” The man was visibly upset. For a moment a lip quivered. His big fists opened and clenched.

  “Were you in love with Miss Harrington?” asked the Superintendent softly.

  Trelawny stared. “I don’t know. But now you mention it maybe I was. But I never thought of her that way. I can tell you this. If I ever got my hands on the devil who done that I’d twist his head off his shoulders.”

  “Done what?”

  “Murdered Vera.”

  “Who said she’d been murdered? I haven’t said anything about murder.”

  Trelawny blinked. “But how else could she have died so sudden?”

  “I was hoping you might be able to tell me.”

  A curious expression crept over Trelawny’s face. His eyes opened wide. “You don’t think I had anything to do with this?”

  “Never mind what I think. You’ll know more about that in due course. If there’s any neck twisting to be done we’ll do it when the time comes. All right. That’s all for now. I shall want to see you again so don’t go far away. I’ll send for you if I need you.”

  For a moment Trelawny stood still, staring at the police officer. Then he turned sharply and strode away.

  The sergeant closed his notebook and returned it to his pocket.

  Said the Superintendent to Biggles: “Well, he certainly had the answers ready.”

  “Naturally.”

  “Why naturally?”

  “Because a man who’s telling the truth can answer any question without the slightest hesitation. He doesn’t have to think, or watch his words. Trelawny didn’t once hesitate.”

  “Maybe he wouldn’t if he was hiding something. He’d anticipate the questions and have the answers pat.”

  “He didn’t have much time to anticipate anything. He didn’t know Vera was dead until the sergeant told him.”

  “So he says.”

  “He was still suffering from shock when he got here. You could see that from his face. Unless a liar is a particularly cool customer he has to think, if only for a split second, when he’s asked questions, to make sure he isn’t being trapped.”

  “So you think he was telling the truth?”

  “At this juncture, yes. That’s only my opinion.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “In the first place, his reaction to what was an unusual occurrence, I mean the lights being left on, were just what you’d expect of a man of that type. His story fits like a glove with what we know—the Doctor’s version of seeing him on the path, the time, and the lights being on. He could hardly fail to notice them from the sea.”

  “All right. That, you say, is in the first place. What about the second place?”

  “Doctor Venner looked out of his window because he heard the click of the gate latch. Would a man about to commit a crime be such a fool as to click the latch of the gate of the house he purposed entering, like an errand boy in broad daylight? It seems to me more likely that he’d creep up like a stalking cat.”

  “If you’re right it was a bit of bad luck for him he chose to go to the house last night of all nights.”

  “Any other night he wouldn’t have gone to the house, because the lights wouldn’t have been on,” Biggles pointed out.

  “That may be, but we still have only his word for what he did when he went to the house.”

  “If it comes to that we have only Miss Lewis’ word for what happened inside the house. You were lucky to have a witness of Trelawny’s arrival at the house, otherwise it’s unlikely you’d ever have known anything about it. You’d hardly expect to find witnesses of anything at three o’clock in the morning. If Trelawny sticks to his story you’ll find it hard to break down. There’s no evidence of the house having been entered, anyway.”

  “You don’t think he did it?”

  “That’s my opinion at this moment.”

  “That’s what you said about Paul Graveson.”

  “What of it?”

  “If Paul didn’t murder the girl, and Trelawny didn’t, who the devil did?” growled the Superintendent.

  “You’ll have a better chance of working that out, Chief, when you know for certain she was murdered, and how it was done.”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right,” conceded the Superintendent. “We should know more about it tomorrow.” He rose abruptly. “Well, I must be off. I’ll be seeing you again, no doubt. I shall be over.”

  “You’ll find me here.”

  The Superintendent went straight to his car and with the sergeant drove off.

  Biggles observed, with a faint smile as he lit another cigarette, that he did not take Paul Graveson with him.

  CHAPTER VI

  ENTER THE GHOST

  BIGGLES, alone on the terrace, remained undisturbed until his tea was brought out by the house boy, a cheerful local lad known to everyone as Jimmy.

  “This is a dreadful thing about poor Miss Harrington, sir,” remarked the boy dolorously, as he unloaded his tray.

  “Shocking,” returned Biggles, without looking up.

  Jimmy sighed. “Such a nice lady. And to think I was talking to her only yesterday, little knowing it was the last time I should ever see her.”

  “Oh, and where did you see her?” To Biggles this was merely conversation. Busy with his thoughts he was not really interested.

  “At her house.”

  “When was this?”

  “When I took her the strawberries.”

  That made Biggles look up. “You say you took her some strawberries?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “When?”

  “Yesterday morning. I suppose it’d be about eleven. The trouble with strawberries is they all come on with a rush in this sort of weather. Before you know where you arc you’ve more than you know what to do with. We’ve tons in the vegetable garden.”

  “I see,” replied Biggles, slowly. “So you took some to Miss Harrington.”

  “I didn’t pick ‘em. I’m not allowed to. I only took ‘em up to the house.”

  “Who did pick them?”

  “Mrs. Payne. She got together a nice little basket of extra good ‘uns and asked me to take ‘em along to Miss Harrington.”

  “And you did that?”

  “Yes. She came to the door herself. I said, ‘From Mrs. Payne, Miss.’ She said, ‘Oh they’re lovely. We’ll have them for tea. Thank Mrs. Payne for me, Jimmy, and say I hope to be seeing her soon.’ Then she give me a glass o’ lemonade for me trouble.”

  “Hm.”

  “There’s your tea, sir.”

  “Thank you, Jimmy.” The boy returned to the kitchen. Biggles, a slight frown creasing his forehead, poured out his tea.

  A few minutes later Captain Gower appeared from the direction of the village, perspiring, carrying his hat, and from his haste on such a hot day clearly the bearer of news. Pulling up another chair to Biggles’ table he inquired, tersely: “I suppose you’ve heard the latest?”

  “What do you call the latest?”

  “About the bottle of cyanide being found in Paul Graveson’s room.”

  “How did you learn about it?”

  “Mrs. Payne has just told me.”

  “It seems to me, skipper, that too many people are telling too many people too much.”

  “Well, I’d say that just about settles him.”

  “Settles who?”

  “Paul Graveson.”

  “You seem mighty anxious to see that wretched youth hanged.”

  “To me it’s all as clear as daylight.”

  “You’re an expert in these matters, I take it?”

  “I ought to be, the number of books I’ve read on crime and criminals. Murder’s right up my street.”

  “On this occasion we happen to be dealing with fact, not fiction.”

  “I don’t see how that makes any difference. If you’d read a few thrillers yourself you’d know a bit more about
this sort of thing.”

  The faintest suspicion of a smile softened Biggles’ lips. “I’ll think about it. Anyway, you’ve worked it out that Paul Graveson murdered Vera by poisoning her.”

  “It sticks out a mile.”

  “You know, skipper,” returned Biggles gently, “you should think twice before you say a thing like that. Unless you keep a check on your tongue one of these days you’re going to find yourself in court facing an action for slander.”

  “I don’t see how there can be any doubt about it, now cyanide has been found in Paul’s room.”

  “I suggest you wait until some has been found in Vera’s stomach before you air your views in public.”

  “I’m entitled to my opinion.”

  “You are, as long as you keep it to yourself. Now I’ll tell you something which presumably you haven’t heard, or you’d be shouting about that, too.”

  “Oh! What is it?” Gower’s face brightened with expectancy.

  “Paul Graveson isn’t the only person under suspicion.”

  “Really! Who’s the other?”

  “Mick Trelawny.”

  “How does he come into it?”

  “He was at the Thatched House at three o’clock this morning.”

  Gower whistled softly. “Is that a fact?”

  “It is.”

  “Who discovered that?”

  “He was seen there.”

  “Good God! Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. I always did think that feller was a wrong ‘un.”

  “Indeed. Why?”

  “You’ve only got to look at him. Messing about all his life for a few fish. I wouldn’t trust him a yard.”

  “According to you, skipper, everyone’s a wrong ‘un. Fortunately the law takes a different view. Everyone’s a right ‘un until it’s proved otherwise.”

  Gower shook his head. “Well, that may be so, but I still say this will turn out to be a case of poisoning.”

  “You could be right. If so, no doubt you’ll be able to work out who gave Vera the poison, how and why.”

  “Paul was the most likely one to have done it. We know he took her that box of chocolates. Those were the last things to pass her lips.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “She was dead a few minutes later,”

  “The fact that Paul gave her chocolates proves nothing. Other people gave her things to eat. If it’s proved that Vera was poisoned everything she ate and drank the previous twenty-four hours must be suspect.”