Kitabı oku: «Invisible Weapons»

CHAPTER II

Before the reverberations of the gong had died away, Dr Thornborough was on his knees beside the fallen man with Linton standing close behind him. The doctor made a rapid examination.

‘It’s Uncle Bob, and he’s dead!’ he exclaimed without looking up. ‘For Heaven’s sake shut the door, Linton, and fix it somehow so that it won’t open. We don’t want the women crowding in here and seeing this.’

Linton shut the door and managed to jam the broken lock. Then he returned to his station by the doctor’s side, uncertain what he should do. Even his inexperience could tell at a glance that Mr Fransham had not died of heart failure.

The body stretched on the floor was that of a man nearing sixty, grey-headed and clean-shaven. His rugged features and protruding chin proclaimed him to have been a man of strong will. In the front of his head above the middle of his forehead the skin was broken and the bone beneath it fractured. Linton felt assured that Mr Fransham had died as the result of a blow from some blunt instrument. The blood from the wound had trickled down the dead man’s cheek and collected in a small pool on the rubber flooring.

The cloakroom measured about fifteen feet by twelve. Its only entrance was by the door from the hall. The wall on the left of this entrance was provided with a series of hooks, upon which hung an array of masculine coats and hats. Against the opposite wall was a water-closet and, separated from this by a thin partition running half-way across the room, a lavatory basin. In the wall behind the basin was a window, glazed with frosted glass, and between this and the basin a wide window-ledge faced with vitrolite. Only a small panel of this window, less than a foot square, was made to open. It was now open inwards and secured by a rod and pin. The window looked out upon the carriage-way running beside the house from one of the drive gates to the garage. On the outside the window was protected by stout iron bars set about six inches apart. The carriage-way was about twelve feet wide, and it was bounded on its further side by an eight-foot brick wall.

Dr Thornborough rose slowly to his feet, keeping his eyes fixed upon the dead man’s face. ‘This is pretty ghastly,’ he muttered, more to himself than to Linton. ‘Uncle Bob dead like this, and here of all places. I don’t begin to understand it.’ He looked up suddenly and faced the policeman. ‘What are we going to do about it, Linton?’ he asked helplessly.

‘It’s my duty to take particulars, sir,’ Linton replied rather stiffly. ‘To begin with, would you mind telling me this gentleman’s full name and address?’

‘His name is Robert Fransham,’ Dr Thornborough replied. ‘His age is fifty-eight and his address is 4 Cheveley Street, London, SW1. You’ve heard me call him Uncle Bob, but he’s not really my uncle, he’s my wife’s, and the devil of it is that his sister, my wife’s mother, is staying with us at this very moment.’

‘What in your opinion was the cause of death, sir?’

‘You can see that for yourself, I should think. A depressed fracture of the anterior portion of the skull, severe enough to cause immediate death.’

‘Can you suggest what could have caused such a fracture, sir?’

‘I can’t. That’s just the puzzle. The fracture was caused by the impact of some hard body, of course. And that body must have been of a definite shape. You know what a cube is, I suppose?’

‘I think so, sir. It’s the shape of dice or of lumps of sugar.’

‘That’s right. Well, the nature of this fracture suggests that Fransham was struck by the edge of a cube an inch and a half across. And if you can suggest how that happened, you’re cleverer than I am.’

‘Perhaps if we were to search the room, we should find the object, sir.’

‘You’re at liberty to search as much as you like. In fact, it seems to me that this business is up to you. Meanwhile, I’m faced with the particularly unpleasant task of breaking the news to my wife. She and her uncle were devoted to one another, and she’s going to take it pretty badly.’

Dr Thornborough walked slowly out of the room and Linton secured the door behind him. He had no wish to be interrupted at this stage of the proceedings. He was first in the field and meant to take full advantage of the fact.

The dead man was lying flat on his back at right angles to the wall on which the coat-hooks were fixed, and with his arms outstretched. His feet were towards the lavatory basin and a few inches from it in the horizontal direction. The basin itself was half full of soapy water, still warm.

Linton examined the dead man’s hands and found that they were damp and soapy. This, together with the position in which the body was lying, suggested that Mr Fransham must have been actually washing his hands when he was struck. A cake of soap still moist was lying on the floor beneath the basin. Two clean towels hung on a rail nearby. Their appearance indicated that neither of them had been used.

Linton took up his position in front of the basin as though he were about to wash his hands in it. Looking straight in front of him he found that his head was on a level with the open pane of the window. Further, his view of the wall on the opposite side of the carriage-way was not obstructed by the protecting bars. From the centre of the basin to these bars was a matter of thirty inches, measured horizontally.

Linton entered these facts in his notebook and shook his head forebodingly. He didn’t at all like the way in which things were shaping. But for the moment he had done everything that could be expected of him. It was time that he got into touch with his superiors.

He opened the door of the cloakroom and peeped out. There seemed to be nobody about, though he could hear the sound of voices behind the closed door of the dining-room. He went to the telephone instrument which stood on a table in the hall, and rang through to Sergeant Cload, keeping his eye on the cloakroom door meanwhile.

His report to the sergeant was very guarded, since he was not sure who might be listening to him.

‘I’m speaking from Dr Thornborough’s, sir. Mrs Thornborough’s uncle has been found dead under rather suspicious circumstances.’

It took Cload some seconds to realise the full import of this message. ‘What on earth do you mean!’ he exclaimed at last. ‘Let’s have the particulars, man.’

‘I’d rather you came and saw them for yourself, sir,’ Linton replied firmly.

‘Are you trying to hint that there’s been a murder at Dr Thornborough’s?’ the sergeant asked.

‘It looks very like it, sir. But least said, soonest mended.’

‘I see. This is a job for the super. I’ll get on to him at once and tell him what you’ve told me. Meanwhile you stay where you are and see that nothing’s interfered with.’

Linton remained in the hall, awaiting further instructions. From the dining-room came the sound of a woman sobbing and the voice of Dr Thornborough apparently trying to comfort her. From time to time another voice—that of a woman—chimed in. The news of the tragedy had not apparently reached the kitchen, judging by the sounds of merriment which penetrated the baize door. Linton approached this on tiptoe and pushed it gently open an inch or so. He heard two women laughing, apparently at something which was being said by a man with a hoarse voice. The latter was presumably the surly-faced chauffeur and the two women were Lucy and the cook.

Linton had not long to wait for his instructions. Before many minutes had passed a car turned at high speed into the drive and pulled up with a squeaking of brakes outside the front door. Linton, recognising the sound, opened the front door and saluted. Superintendent Yateley, expectant and alert, confronted him. ‘Where?’ he asked.

‘This way, sir,’ Linton replied.

He led the superintendent into the cloakroom and secured the lock behind them. Yateley glanced at the body and then rapidly round the room. ‘Who found him?’ he asked.

‘Dr Thornborough and I between us, sir.’

‘Good. Now tell me what you know about it.’

Linton gave an account of his sojourn in the consulting-room and of the events which followed it. Yateley listened attentively.

‘You’ve done pretty well so far, Linton,’ he said. ‘Now, let’s get the main facts perfectly clear. You heard this Mr Fransham go into the cloakroom and lock the door behind him?’

‘I heard somebody go in, sir, but of course I couldn’t see who it was.’

‘You did not hear the door open or shut again until you broke it down?’

‘No, sir.’

‘There was nobody in the room but the dead man when you broke in?’

‘No, sir. I’m perfectly certain of that.’

‘You have found no trace of any weapon which could have caused this wound?’

‘No trace at all, sir. But I haven’t moved the body to look underneath it.’

‘Quite right.’ The superintendent took a piece of chalk from his pocket and drew a line round the body as it lay on the floor.

‘Now help me to lift him on one side,’ he said.

Removal of the body disclosed nothing whatever and Yateley frowned.

‘He can’t have been struck by any sort of missile, or it would be still in the room,’ he said. ‘All right, Linton, you stay here and have another search. Look through all those coats on the pegs, in the dead man’s clothing and everywhere. I’m going to get statements from everybody on the premises. Where’s the doctor, to begin with?’

‘In the dining-room, sir, with Mrs Thornborough and another lady.’

Yateley left the cloakroom, walked across the hall and opened the dining-room door. Dr Thornborough looked up as he did so, and the superintendent beckoned to him. With an anxious glance at his wife, who was sitting bowed in a chair with an older woman bending over her, the doctor stepped out into the hall.

‘Bad business, this, doctor,’ said Yateley sympathetically. ‘I’d like to hear what you can tell me about it, if you don’t mind. Where can we have a quiet talk?’

‘Better come into the consulting-room,’ Dr Thornborough replied, absently running his fingers through his hair. ‘But I can’t tell you anything about it, I’m afraid. It’s as much as I can do to bring myself to realise that it has happened.’

Yateley made no reply until they were both in the consulting-room with the door shut behind them. ‘This must have been a terrible shock to you, doctor,’ he said then. ‘The dead man was your wife’s uncle, I understand?’

Dr Thornborough nodded. ‘Yes, that’s right,’ he replied. ‘My wife is naturally terribly upset. She has always been very fond of him.’

‘You told Mr Linton that Mr Fransham lived in London. He drove down here at your invitation, I presume?’

‘That’s just what I can’t understand. He told my wife when he arrived that he had a letter from me asking him to come down to lunch today. But I assure you that I had never written him any such letter. In fact, his coming here this week might have been very awkward.’

‘Why was that, doctor?’

‘Because my wife’s mother happens to be staying with us. Fransham was her brother-in-law, but they never managed to hit it off and they’ve avoided one another for years.’

‘What was the reason for this mutual dislike?’

‘I don’t think there was any real reason. Fransham didn’t approve of his brother Tom’s choice when he married, and that didn’t tend to amicable relations. Then Tom got killed in the war while Robert, my wife’s uncle, stayed at home and made a lot of money in munitions. Robert Fransham didn’t take much interest in his brother’s widow and it was a grievance on her part that he didn’t make her a handsome allowance. Add a certain amount of mutual antipathy to all this and you’ll get some idea of the situation. I may say that my mother-in-law is a woman of decided views and doesn’t mince matters if anything upsets her.’

‘Was Mr Robert Fransham married?’

‘No, he had never been. He was what is known as a confirmed bachelor. Before and during the war he was a partner in Fransham and Innes, Brass Founders, of Birmingham. The firm was always fairly prosperous, I believe, and after war broke out it did extremely well on government contracts. In 1920 Fransham sold the business and retired. He then took over the remainder of the lease of No. 4, Cheveley Street and settled down to live there.’

‘What establishment did he keep up?’

‘He had a married couple, Mr and Mrs Stowell, and a chauffeur, Coates. Coates is here now with the car.’

‘Mr Fransham was in affluent circumstances, of course?’

‘Judging by appearances, he was. But I haven’t the slightest idea what he was actually worth. He never spoke about his money and I’m bound to say that he hated parting with it.’

‘You were not in the house when he arrived, were you, doctor?’

‘No, I hadn’t come back from my rounds. The first I knew of anybody being here was when I saw his car in the garage. I didn’t recognise it, for he had bought a new car within the past few weeks and I hadn’t seen him since. But I recognised Coates, his chauffeur, as soon as I set eyes on him, and I knew that the visitor must be Uncle Bob.’

‘You were surprised to find him here?’

‘I was, very much surprised. Uncle Bob has driven down here often enough, of course, but never without letting us know that he was coming. I asked Coates if Uncle Bob had brought anybody down with him and he said no. Then I came straight into the house where I met my wife. She told me that she had seen Uncle Bob who was then in the cloakroom.’

‘What did you do next, doctor?’

‘I came in here. My wife told me that Linton was waiting to see me. He began telling me something about Alfie Prince. But I’m afraid I hardly listened to him. I was worried about Uncle Bob.’