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On his way back to the Yard he called at Mr Arrowsmith’s and interrogated Miss Cox, Miss Darke’s boarding house friend, once again without result. Nor did a visit to telephone headquarters in the hope of tracing the mysterious call lead to anything.
By the time he had completed these inquiries it was getting on towards eight o’clock. As the hours passed he had been growing more and more despondent. But there was nothing more that he could do that night. By now the description would be in the hands of the police within at least fifty miles of London, and that he had not heard from any of them seemed to confirm his worst fears.
He was just about to leave the Yard when the telephone in his room rang.
‘Call through from Portsmouth about that Thurza Darke case,’ said the officer in the Yard private exchange. ‘Will you take it, Mr French?’
‘Right,’ said French, an eager thrill passing through him. ‘Scotland Yard. Inspector French speaking.’
‘Portsmouth Police Station. Sergeant Golightly speaking. Relative to the inquiry as to the whereabouts of a young lady named Thurza Darke received this morning, I think we have some information.’
‘Right, Sergeant. Go ahead.’
‘At about nine-thirty a.m. today a report was received here that the body of a girl had been found in the sea at Stokes Bay, some three miles east of Portsmouth. A party of yachtsmen leaving for a day’s sail had seen it floating about a mile from the shore. They brought it in and we had it medically examined. The cause of death was drowning. So far we have been unable to identify the remains or to find out how the girl got into the sea. It looks like suicide. We had already issued a circular when we saw yours. The remains answer the description you give.’
‘Girl been in the water long?’
‘Six or seven hours, the doctor thought.’
‘Has the inquest taken place?’
‘It’s arranged for ten tomorrow morning.’
‘Right, Sergeant. I’ll go down tonight, if possible. Wait a moment till I look up the trains.’
‘There’s an eight and a nine-fifty, sir, from Waterloo.’
French glanced at his watch.
‘I’ll get the eight. Can you meet me?’
‘Certainly, sir.’
The hands of the station clock were pointing to ten minutes before ten when French, armed with his emergency suitcase, left the train at Portsmouth. A smart looking sergeant of police was waiting on the platform and to him French introduced himself.
‘The girl was with me on the previous day Sergeant, so I can identify her myself. Otherwise I should have brought someone who knew her.’
‘Quite so, sir.’ The sergeant was deferential. ‘We believe she was a stranger. At least, we haven’t been able to hear of anyone missing from anywhere about this district. And your description just covers her. The body’s lying at the station, so you’ll know in a few minutes.’
‘Right, Sergeant. Let’s walk if it’s not too far. I’m tired sitting in that blessed train.’
French chatted pleasantly as they stepped along, true to his traditional policy of trying to make friends and allies of those with whom he came in contact. The sergeant was evidently curious as to what there might be in this girl’s death which so keenly interested the great Yard. But French forbore to satisfy his curiosity until he should himself know whether or not he was on a wild goose chase.
The remains lay on a table in a room off the yard of the police station. The moment that French raised the sheet with which the head was covered he recognised the features of the girl he sought. Poor pretty little Thurza lay there still and peaceful, her small peccadillos and troubles, her hopes and her joys, over and done with. As French gazed upon her pathetic features, he grew hot with rage against the people whose selfish interests had led to the snuffing out of this young life. That she had been deliberately murdered there could be little doubt.
‘It’s the girl right enough,’ he declared. ‘Now, Sergeant, as you may have guessed, there is more in this than meets the eye. I have reason to suppose that this is neither accident nor suicide.’
‘What, sir? You mean murder?’
‘I mean murder. As I understand it, this girl was in the power of a gang of sharpers. She got to know more about them than was healthy for her and this is the result. I may be wrong, but I want to be sure before I leave here.’
The sergeant looked bewildered.
‘There is no sign of violence, as you can see,’ he suggested hesitatingly. ‘And the doctor had no suspicion of murder.’
‘There has been no post-mortem?’
‘No, sir. It wasn’t considered necessary.’
‘We’ll have one now. Can you get the authority from your people? It should be done at once.’
‘Of course, sir, if you say so it’s all right. There will be no difficulty. But as a matter of form I must ring up the superintendent and get his permission.’
‘Certainly, Sergeant, I recognise that. Can you do it now? I should like to see the doctor as soon as possible.’
While the necessary authorisation was being obtained French examined the body and clothes in detail. But except that a tiny bit of skirt had been torn out, as if it had caught on a splinter or nail, he found nothing to interest him.
A few minutes later he and the sergeant were being shown into the consulting room of Dr Hills, the police surgeon.
The doctor was a short man with a pugnacious manner. To French’s suave remarks he interposed replies rather like the bark of a snapping pekinese.
‘Murder?’ he ejaculated when French had put his views before him. ‘Rubbish! There were no marks. No physical force. No resistance. Not likely at all.’
‘What you say, doctor, certainly makes my theory difficult,’ French admitted smoothly. ‘But the antecedent circumstances are such that murder is possible, and I’m sure you will agree that the matter must be put beyond any doubt.’
‘No doubt now. Made my examination. What you want next?’
‘A post-mortem, doctor. Awfully sorry to give you the trouble and all that, but Superintendent Hunt agrees that it is really necessary.’
The doctor was full of scorn at the idea. He had made an examination of the remains in his own way and that should be sufficient for any layman.
But it was not sufficient for French. He held to his point and it was arranged that the post-mortem should take place immediately.
‘A word in your ear, Dr Hills,’ French added. ‘Keep the idea of subtle murder before you. These are clever people, these three whom I suspect, and they’ll not have adopted anything very obvious.’
‘Teach grandmother … suck eggs,’ barked the doctor, but there was a humorous twinkle in his eyes at which French could smile back with a feeling of confidence that the work would be done thoroughly and competently.
‘He’s always like that,’ the sergeant volunteered. ‘He pretends to be annoyed at everything, but he’s really one of the best and a dam’ good doctor too. He’ll make that examination as carefully as the best London specialist and you’ll get as good an opinion when he’s finished.’
If time was a criterion, the job was certainly being well done. French, sitting in the nearest approach to an easy chair that the sergeant’s office boasted, had read the evening paper diligently, had smoked three pipes, and finally had indulged in a good many more than forty winks, before Dr Hills returned.
‘Kept you up, Inspector?’ he remarked, glancing at the clock, whose hands registered half past three. ‘Ah, well, been worth it. Found something. You’ll not guess. No sign of murder. No force applied. No resistance made. Death by drowning only. All as I said. But—’ He paused in his stream of explosives and waited impressively. ‘But—water in lungs and stomach—fresh, Inspector, fresh. What do you make of that?’
French was considerably impressed.
‘What do you make of it yourself, doctor?’ he asked.
‘Drowned in the sea. Fresh water in lungs. Pretty problem. Your funeral.’ He shrugged his shoulders, gave a quick, friendly smile, barked ‘Night!’ and was gone.
3
The Inquest
The problem with which Dr Hills had presented French was not so difficult as it appeared at first sight. There could indeed be only one solution, but that solution carried with it the proof of what French had up to then only suspected, that Thurza Darke’s death was the result of neither accident nor suicide, but definitely of murder.
If the water which the poor girl had swallowed were fresh, it obviously followed that she had been drowned in fresh water, her body having afterwards been put into the sea. Why the three fiends had committed their revolting crime in this way French did not know, but it was clear that the placing of the body in the sea could have been done with but one object—to conceal the fact of murder by creating the appearance of accident. And had it not been for the special knowledge which French possessed, it was more than likely that the trick would have been successful.
A further problem immediately arose, trifling in comparison to that of the girl’s death, but still requiring a decision. Should the discovery be mentioned at the inquest?
To allow the conspirators to suppose that their scheme had succeeded would have the obvious advantage of making them less careful. In the course of his career French had many times experienced the value of lulling his adversary to complacency, if not to sleep.
On the other hand it would be difficult to keep the matter quiet. The doctor would certainly refuse to hold back such material evidence. This would involve confiding in the coroner and adjourning the inquiry on some technical ground, as that official would not allow a verdict inconsistant with the facts to be returned. But an adjournment would not have the effect desired by French. Until the case was finally disposed of and a verdict of accidental death returned, the murderers would remain on tenterhooks, alert and careful.
Eventually French came to the conclusion that it would be best to let matters take their own course. At the same time he would try to keep out of the affair, so that Scotland Yard’s interest in it might remain a secret.
In this case he would not give evidence of identity. His decision therefore plunged Sergeant Golightly into an orgie of telephoning, in order that the inquest might be postponed until he could secure the attendance of Mrs Peters, the deceased girl’s landlady.
The proceedings opened in the early afternoon. French had taken his seat amongst the crowd of loafers and other casuals who invariably attended such gatherings, and held no converse with the police. The room was crowded, the affair having produced a mild sensation.
The first witness was a tall, bronzed man of about thirty, named Austin Munn. He deposed that he lived at Lee-on-the-Solent and was the owner of the schooner yacht Thisbe. At about 6.30 on the previous morning he and three yachting friends had started off in the Thisbe for a long day’s sail. They were going east through Spithead and towards Brighton. When they were passing through Stokes Bay, some three or four miles from Lee, he saw something in the water. He was at the tiller and he altered course to pass it closely. When they came near they saw that it was the body of a young woman. They hove to immediately and brought it aboard. They tried artificial respiration for over an hour, though none of them thought it would be any good. The girl looked as if she had been dead for some hours. The body was that on which the inquest was being held. They turned into Portsmouth and on arrival one of his friends had gone to inform the police. The sergeant had come down at once and arranged for the removal of the remains.
Sergeant Golightly stated that about 8.30 on the previous morning Mr Lewis Pershaw, one of Mr Munn’s yachting party, reported that his yacht had picked up the body of a young woman when starting out for a cruise. He, Golightly, had gone down and taken charge of the remains. The deceased was dressed in a light fawn coat and skirt, with white silk blouse, flesh-coloured stockings and black patent shoes. She had no hat. On her left wrist was a watch which had stopped at seven minutes past one. She wore a necklace and earrings of imitation pearls. Her face was calm and peaceful.
As a result of his inquiries he had learnt that the deceased was a Miss Thurza Darke, an employee at the Milan Cinema in Oxford Street, London. She lodged in a boarding house in Clapham and the landlady was present and would give evidence of identity. He had been unable to find out how the body had reached the place in which it had been found.
Mrs Peters was then called. She deposed that the remains were those of her late lodger, Thurza Darke. The girl had lived with her for nearly a year. She was quiet and well-conducted, prompt in payment and popular with the other boarders. She, Mrs Peters, had become quite fond of her and this tragedy had come as a terrible shock.
Further questions elicited the fact that the witness believed that her boarder had recently been in some serious trouble. For the last couple of weeks in particular she had lost a good deal of her brightness and seemed to have some worry on her mind. But she had not said anything on the subject and Mrs Peters had not tried to force her confidence.
The witness then told of the telephone call. Though this had surprised her, never having heard Miss Darke mention any of her relations, she had not doubted its genuineness at the time. It was not till afterwards that she had learnt from the police that Miss Darke had not sent it.
The fat was then in the fire. When Mrs Peters left the box Sergeant Golightly was recalled and asked if he had made inquiries into the authorship of the message. His reply that he had ascertained that it had not been sent by any of the officials at the cinema, was the first hint those present had received that the case might not be quite so straightforward as up to then it had seemed. Interest in the proceedings perceptibly quickened and the spectators leant forward and fixed their eyes more intently on the witness. But except to obtain the statement that Golightly had been unable to trace the call and had no idea who sent it, the coroner had no further questions to ask.
Dr Hills was the next witness. He deposed that he had at first made an external examination of the remains, by means of which he had satisfied himself that the deceased had died from drowning. He gave technical details as to the condition of the body, stating that in his opinion death had taken place some eight hours previous to his inspection. That had been made about ten o’clock and this, if he were correct in his opinion, would place the hour of death somewhere between one and two in the morning.
‘That would agree with the time at which the watch stopped,’ the coroner remarked, turning over his notes. ‘The hands were pointing to 1.07, Sergeant Golightly has told us. Now, Dr Hills, you said that at first you made an external examination of the remains. What exactly did you mean by “at first”?’
‘Last night late the police came to my house. Said they were not satisfied. Had an idea there might be foul play. Wanted a post-mortem. I made it with Dr Carswell.’
‘And did you find anything which might be taken to support their idea?’ the coroner asked, while the recently aroused interest intensified.
The doctor hesitated.
‘Found a peculiar fact,’ he answered. ‘Outside my province to draw inferences.’
‘And the fact?’
‘Water in the lungs and stomach was fresh.’
This statement produced something in the nature of a sensation. The faces of most of those present assumed an expression of bewilderment, but a few seemed instantly to grasp its significance.
‘And what,’ went on the coroner smoothly, ‘did this fact convey to you?’
Dr Hills shrugged. ‘Girl was drowned,’ he declared, ‘but not in sea. Couldn’t have put herself into sea. Body must have been put in by someone else. Least, strikes me that way.’
‘Did the remains show any sign of force or compulsion?’
‘None.’
For a moment the coroner hesitated when he had written down this reply, his forehead wrinkled from thought.
‘Now, doctor,’ he said at last, ‘you know this country pretty well, I take it?’
‘Lived here all my life.’
‘Is there, so far as you know, any river or fresh water area into which this poor girl could have fallen and from which her body could have been carried to the sea where it was found?’
‘Don’t know of any.’
Again the coroner hesitated.
‘It must be evident to you, Dr Hills, that your evidence suggests at least the possibility of foul play. I want to ask you now, not only from a medical point of view, but also from your experience as a man of the world, whether you can suggest any explanation of the facts other than that of the murder of the deceased?’
At the ominous word a little ripple of movement passed over the assembly, followed immediately by a silence as those present settled down to listen even more intently. Dr Hills shrugged again.
‘Utmost respect; scarcely my province. Since you ask: private opinion: girl was murdered.’
‘But there is no definite medical evidence for that view?’
‘None. Girl was drowned in fresh water. That is all.’
The coroner looked round.
‘Would any member of the jury like to ask the witness a question before he stands down?’
A small foxy-faced man like a tradesman or small shopkeeper rose to his feet.
‘I would like to ask the doctor just what the police said to him about foul play, and then I would like to ask the sergeant just what made him say it.’
‘That is an important point and one I have already noted,’ the coroner replied. ‘Dr Hills stated,’ he referred to his notes, ‘that he was asked to make a post-mortem, as the police had an idea there might be foul play. Have you anything further, Dr Hills, to add to that statement?’
‘Nothing. That covers everything.’
‘The nature of the police suspicion was not revealed?’
‘No. Not in detail.’
‘And was the doctor not curious? Did he not ask?’ interjected the foxy-faced juror.
The coroner frowned. ‘The witness has said the nature of the suspicions was not revealed in detail,’ he said coldly, glancing at the juror. ‘Were you told in a general way that murder was feared?’
‘In a general way, yes. No details.’
‘Who spoke to you on the subject?’
This was the question French was dreading. If the matter were pressed there would be nothing for him but for him to give evidence.
The doctor looked as if he was going to hedge, then he seemed to think better of it and answered.
‘Sergeant Golightly and a representative, as I understood it, from Scotland Yard.’
At this a little ripple of movement swept over the assembly. From the spectators’ point of view things were going better and better.
‘And it was the Scotland Yard man, I presume, who promulgated the suspicion?’
‘That is so.’
‘You may stand down, doctor, but please don’t go away. Recall Sergeant Golightly. You didn’t tell us, Sergeant, that you had received a visit from an officer of Scotland Yard?’
‘You may rest assured, sir, that all the essential facts would have been put before the court. As you know, sir, it is not customary for the police to state the sources of their information.’
‘I am not criticising your conduct, Sergeant, nor do I wish to embarass your handling of the case, but if there is further information as to how your suspicions became aroused which you can properly give us, we should be glad to hear it.’
The sergeant glanced at French. To the latter it seemed that less harm would now be done if he himself gave evidence than if a mystery were to be made of the affair. He therefore nodded and the sergeant replied:
‘There is no mystery in the matter, sir. I can tell you everything that occurred. I admit that no suspicion of foul play was aroused by the finding of the body. It seemed to me a case of either accident or suicide. But that afternoon a call was received from Scotland Yard, a general call, sent, I understand, to all stations. This said that a young lady was missing, giving her description and asking for a lookout to be kept for her. When I read it I thought it probably referred to the deceased. I telephoned so to the Yard and there was a reply that an inspector would come down by the evening train to see if he could identify the remains. Inspector French arrived and did so. He said that the possibility of foul play must not be overlooked and suggested that a post-mortem should be made. With the consent of my superiors the matter was arranged. Inspector French then told me who the deceased was and where I should go to get a witness of identity.’
‘Has Inspector French returned to London?’
‘No, sir. He’s here.’
‘Here now? Good. Then call him.’
As French entered the box the little ripple of excitement was repeated. A full-fledged inspector of the famous C.I.D. was an unwonted sight in the local courts and people craned forward to see what manner of man he might be.
In the meantime French had made up his mind as to what he would say. He would of course tell the truth, but perhaps not the whole truth. In such matters his conscience was a trifle elastic. He justified his conduct by considering the admirable end for which his evasions were invariably made.
‘Now, Mr French,’ the coroner went on when he had noted the witness’s name and occupation. ‘Will you please tell us all you properly can of this matter.’
‘There is not much to tell, sir,’ French replied in his pleasant but respectful manner. ‘Some time ago I had occasion to visit the Milan Cinema in Oxford Street and I became acquainted with one of the young ladies in the box office, a Miss Thurza Darke.’
French, with an admirable air of candour, made a slight pause as if he had reached the end of a paragraph. Immediately he went on:
‘Yesterday I was again at the Milan, and I noticed that Miss Darke’s place was empty. I asked about her and what I was told did not seem quite satisfactory. As a result I made some inquiries and learned that Miss Darke had left the Milan at her usual time on the previous evening, quite in her ordinary frame of mind and without making any special remark to anyone there. From Mrs Peters, her landlady, who gave evidence here today, I learnt about the telephone message. The fact that the message was a false one confirmed my suspicion that all might not be well, particularly as no reason could be suggested for the girl’s disappearance. Considering all the circumstances, it was judged wise to issue a circular that she was missing. This was done and there was a reply from here, as you have heard. I came down and saw that the deceased was Miss Darke.’
‘And have you any idea as to how her body got into the sea?’
‘None, sir.’
‘What does the fact that fresh water was found in the deceased’s lungs convey to you, Inspector?’
‘Just what the doctor has said, sir; that she was drowned in fresh water and that her body was afterwards put into the sea.’
‘Can you account for that in any way other than that the girl was murdered?’
‘That is certainly the most probable explanation, though I think there are others. For instance, the girl might have been drowned accidentally or committed suicide, and her body might have been found by someone who feared that he might be accused of murder and, therefore, in a moment of panic, tried to get rid of it in a way that he hoped would keep him from suspicion.’
‘That doesn’t seem very probable.’
‘It does not, sir, but one has to consider all possibilities.’
The coroner continued asking questions, but without learning anything further of interest. Then he turned to the jury and made a short speech. Having surveyed the evidence he continued:
‘The questions which you have now to consider, gentlemen, are three in number. First, you have to find the cause of death, if in your opinion the evidence justifies you in doing so. Now to my mind there can be no doubt of this. Dr Hills has told us definitely that it was drowning. Secondly, you have to decide whether this drowning was caused accidentally or whether it was suicide or whether it was murder. Here the evidence is not so direct. It has been established, however, that the girl was drowned in fresh water and the body afterwards placed in the sea, because apart from Dr Hills’s testimony, we all know that there is no river hereabouts into which the deceased could fall and in that space of time be carried by the current to where she was found. It is difficult to see with what object this could have been done save that of hiding a crime. If you think that these views are borne out by the evidence you will return a verdict of wilful murder. If on the other hand you consider some other explanation tenable, such as the ingenious one advanced by Inspector French, you may return that of accidental death. If you consider that the evidence points to suicide, you will find accordingly.