Introducing
of mystery fiction. The story of
Charles Stafford, a distinguished
, >
airman (among other things) who
. -'
survived his own inquest and lived
to baffle Scotland Yard, is told with
speed, suspense, action and a *w-
markable denouement. Here is a
ix^ystery guaranteed to try the wits
of the most astute fan.
PROPERTY OF
! Mr. Blow
">od story . . .
down
o pages
- Times
YORK
THE "MOTH" MURDER
BY
LYNTON BLOW
NEW YORK
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
AUTHORIZED EDITION
PRINTED IN THE
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
To
MY FRIEND
R. VASSALL-ADAMS
2134526
AUTHOR'S NOTE
All the characters in this volume are purely fictitious.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE CRASH 11
II. MURDER! 22
III. THE CRIME NEAR TOTLAND CORNER . 33
IV. THE SENSATION AT THE INQUEST . 45
V. THEORIES 57
VI. HUNT VISITS MOORLANDS ... 67
VII. THE CUT TIRE MYSTERY ... 80
VIII. THE ARREST 92
IX. ANOTHER BODY 103
X. SIR HENRY DISAPPEARS . . .112
XI. THE DEAD MAN'S BOOTS . . .125
XII. A LOOK ROUND THE GROUNDS . . 134
XIII. AT THE POND . . . . .140
XIV. THE CHIEF CONSTABLE SOLVES A
MYSTERY . . . . . .150
XV. PRO PATRIA 161
XVI. DEVELOPMENTS 166
XVII. AT THE BUNGALOW . . . .174
7
8 CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
XVIII. THE HUNT BEGINS IN EARNEST . 184
XIX. THE SECRET CODE .... 193
XX. THE RED HOUSE 206
XXI. WHICH OUGHT TO HAVE BEEN CON-
CLUSION 215
XXII. HUNT SEES DAYLIGHT . . . 225
XXIII. IN THE ISLAND 237
XXIV. THE RACE FOR THE SENIOR TOURIST
TROPHY 244
XXV. ZERO HOUR 255
XXVI. CONFESSION ...... 259
XXVII. CONFESSION (continued) . . . 269
XXVIII. EXPIATION 283
THE "MOTH" MURDER
I
THE CRASH
WILLIAM POPE, coastguard, set down his mug on
the table, drew his coat-sleeve across his mouth,
then pushed away his used plate. Delving into his
pocket, he withdrew, first his tobacco pouch and pipe,
and then a copy of the evening paper. Carefully
loading and lighting the pipe, he began, after set-
tling well back into the depths of his not altogether
uncomfortable chair, to glance over the card of the
next day's race meeting.
It was a lonely job this, watching night after
night for distress signals that seldom went up; and
for smugglers who never seemed to smuggle, at any
rate not around this part of the coast.
After a lightning survey of the whole programme
he decided to have another look around before going
more carefully in the matter of picking the winner
of the 3.10, the Big Race of the day.
He had soon seen that this was going to be a
much harder task than he had at first anticipated
seventeen runners, and half of them had not been
seen out this season ; an hour's work at the very least
before he could, from out of the chaos of Weights,
Jockeys, Distances, Form, and Latest London Bet-
ting, restore order and find the "Certainty" the
Handicapper and Press Correspondents had over-
looked.
11
12 THE "MOTH" MURDER
So, stretching himself, he rose, and went to the
door and out on to the short, tufted grass that covers
the headland.
Had it been daytime instead of 2 A.M., he would,
on opening the door, have been confronted by the
tall, white cliffs of the Isle of Wight, with a view of
the Solent, while nearer, just across Totland Bay,
The Needles, standing gaunt and detached from the
mainland, like sentinels guarding the narrow chan-
nel.
A treacherous part of the coast, this, as all mar-
iners know, for, hidden by the waves, but still only
just below the surface, wait cruel, jagge4 rocks,
eager for the ship that deviates but slightly from
her course.
However, as the moon, though full, was hidden at
that moment by heavy rain-clouds, all he could see
that night, or rather early morning, was the glow
from the lighthouse snuggled at the base of The
Needles, and the more powerful shaft of light from
the station at St. Catherine's Point, flashing inter-
mittently across the placid waters of Bournemouth
Bay.
Moving to the front of his hut, he could see, some-
what to his right, a solitary pin-prick of light from
somewhere on the Swanage shore and the glittering
portholes of a liner far out in the English Channel.
All was well at sea, it seemed, so he moved on his
little circuit.
Again, from the right-hand side of his little out-
post, he could see but a few scattered lights from
Bournemouth, and the beam from the headlamps of
THE "MOTH" MURDER 13
a car far away on what he took to be the main Lon-
don-Bournemouth road.
From the back of his hut, across the broad expanse
of Christchurch Harbour, he could just make out
the ancient Priory, caught by a faint beam of
moonlight that broke through the now receding
clouds.
Feeling satisfied that all was well, after calling to
his dog Spot, who was busily engaged in scratching
at some rabbits' holes, he turned, to re-enter his little
station, there to settle in brighter surroundings the
question of which horse should carry his money in the
3.10 at Newmarket.
Withdrawing an envelope from an inner pocket
and producing a pencil from behind his ear, he set
about to consider the question in what he thought to
be the most scientific manner.
" 'Golden Glory,' " he wrote, " 'Jockey, J. Ross.
4 yrs. 9 st. 2 Ib. Rand 2nd to Rendezvous, Hurst
Park. August 8th. . . . Not been out this season.'
I remember that race," he ruminated. "Let me down
then, the blighter. Well, Rendezvous's not in the
3.10, anyhow, that's one good point."
He pondered over Golden Glory's chances awhile.
"I dunno !" he muttered at length. "I don't alto-
gether fancy it, once bitten, twice shy.
"Let's see" drawing his finger down the list of
runners. "Scarecrow don't know it, don't like it's
name either.
"Sweet Olive, Starlight 4th, Eagle's Claw, Jimmy
so Jimmy's running again, is he? I thought his
career was ended last season . . . sprained tendon,
I thought. Must be wrong, I expect!
14 THE "MOTH" MURDER
"Let's see now. Rose of Lincoln, Income Tax,
Mistake. Good! Here's another old favourite
Zadwig.
"Never shall forget when he won the Leger, five
shillings each way I 'ad on 'im. An' didn't we have
a night out? Not 'arf ! Tight as lords, the whole
gang on us !"
He grimaced at the recollection of his reception
home that evening. It was decidedly chilly, to say
the very least of it.
"Well, that was holiday-time," he said aloud, as
if an explanation was desirable. "That was diff'rent.
No time for drinkin' now. All up with your job if
they caught you squiffy on this beat. Quite right
too. Work when you works an' drink when you
play. That's what I holds with !
"Now where was I? Oh, yes! Zadwig, wasn't
it? That's right. Now let's see. . . . Jockey, L.
Coombs. . . . Bright lad, that Coombs. Been out
of luck lately, though."
Old Pope worked on, while time flew by as on
wings.
Then, from out of the silence of the night came a
sound, indistinct at first, but rapidly getting louder,
clearer-defined, and nearer.
"What's that, I wonder?" muttered old Pope.
"Sounds like an aeroplane !"
Dropping the paper, he rose hurriedly and pulled
open the door. Still louder now, and almost over-
head!
Looking up, Pope saw it at once a small white
monoplane, showing port and starboard lights, fly-
THE "MOTH" MURDER 15
ing very fast and rather low; right across the pale,
luminous face of the moon.
"That's young Dennis Evans," he said aloud.
"Silly young fool. What the 'ell's he doing up
there at this time of night ? He's got all day to play
about in, but that's not enough for the likes of him.
All the same, these young chaps," he grumbled,
"must turn night into day.
"Well, I suppose it's no concern of mine but I'd
rather it be him than me flyin' out to sea all alone !"
With a last glance at the fast receding lights of
the 'plane, the old fellow went back to his chair
and the 3.10.
The sound had almost faded by now.
Picking up the paper again, he started to con-
sider anew the chances of Redskin in the "Big 'Un."
"8 st. 7 Ib. . . . Favourably weighted," he
thought. "A furlong more than he's used to,
though; I wonder if that will be his undoing? Oh!
Crane up. An old hand. Hasn't had too good a
season perhaps this is where he is going to break
his run of bad luck. Hello! What's that? Could
swear my lamp flickered.
"No! It's steady enough. Funny, though.
"There it is again.
"No ! It's outside ... a distress rocket, it looks
like!"
Paper in hand, he rushed to the door, flung it
open, and stepped out into the night.
Looking up, he saw at once the cause of his anx-
iety.
A huge ball of fire seemed to be coming across
the harbour towards him.
16 THE "MOTH" MURDER
It was an aeroplane in flames!
"Good God! Young Evans!" he gasped. "He
must have circled!"
Nearer now, almost overhead.
The engine spluttered then stopped.
Instantly the 'plane banked over and began a
dizzy, mad, uncontrollable plunge earthwards.
As it dived, great blobs of fire fell from it, and on
each twist and spin the flames blazed up the fiercer,
for the leaking tanks sprayed more and more petrol
out over the whole.
It was still up 1,500 to 2,000 feet when Pope
first noticed the disaster, and it fell this distance
at an almost incredible speed, leaving a trail of black
fumes behind to catch and reflect the brilliance of the
flames.
Then, with a resounding crash almost enough to
split the ear-drums it hit the ground, throwing out
a ring of blazing petrol over the grass for twenty
yards or more around, and shooting a cascade of
sparks high into the air.
For several moments Pope stood petrified, awed
by the intensity of the flames.
Then, pulling himself together, he ran the two
hundred yards or so to the 'plane.
But he could do nothing. He felt the hot air on
his face when a good hundred yards away, and the
nearest he could approach to it was barely another
fifty.
For a while the wreckage burned with redoubled
fury as one of the tanks burst with a devastating
roar. Then they settled down to eat themselves out
in a little less terrifying manner.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 17
Pope had realised from the first that little he could
do would prove of the slightest use. If Evans was
in the 'plane, his body must have been burned to a
cinder long ago.
However, it was his duty to summon aid as soon
as possible, so he retraced his footsteps back to his
hut and speedily got into communication by 'phone
with Bournemouth police station.
The Superintendent himself happened to be in
the office at the time and the call was immediately
switched through to him.
"What's this?" he said. "Coastguard Station.
Hengistbury Head. 'Plane down in flames. Yes,
I've got it all right I'll let the fire brigade know
and we'll be along at once!"
Pope replaced the receiver and went back again
to the scene of the crash.
Although the heat was not quite so terrific now,
he could get no nearer than before, as the grass, due
to the scorching to which it had been subjected, had
become ignited and was giving off choking, acrid
fumes and banks of heavy smoke which absolutely
defied penetration.
After a few more moments spent gazing towards
the half-hidden wreckage, Pope turned to go part
of the way to meet the Superintendent.
At that moment, however, another figure appeared
coming hurriedly towards him from out of the pall.
For a few moments he thought it might be Dennis
Evans. "Has he been lucky enough to escape by
parachute?" he wondered.
But it was only the tenant of a near-by farm
18 THE "MOTH" MURDER
who had been awakened by the crash and immedi-
ately set out to render what aid he could.
Within another ten minutes the two were joined
by a sergeant and a constable from Christchurch,
who had seen the reflection of the blaze in the sky
and hurried over by motor-boat to investigate.
"A sad business, Pope, I fear," said the sergeant
as he drew near. "Not a dog's chance to get out
of there."
"No," agreed the coastguard. "Unless he has
managed to escape by parachute."
"I don't think so," pointed out the farmer. "He's
had ample time to get along here by now. No ! I'm
afraid we shall find all that's left of him in there"
indicating the debris.
"If he jumped, there's still a chance that he has
been carried out over the cliff edge by the wind, isn't
there?" inquired Pope, still sticking to his parachute
theory, " or even fallen short and landed in the
harbour. Perhaps he's marooned on one of those
mud-flats."
"Possibly," acceded the sergeant. "Let's hope so.
Anywhere rather than helpless in those flames," he
added with a shudder.
"Ah! Here comes Superintendent Walker with
the fire extinguishers." Old Pope's sharp eyes had
caught and recognised the approaching figures long
before the others were aware of them. "Now we
shall soon know one way or the other."
The Superintendent drew close, panting hard, fol-
lowed by a little army of firemen.
"Couldn't get the engine along here," he gasped.
"Hell of a place to get out to, this!"
THE "MOTH" MURDER 19
"Never mind, sir," said the Christchurch sergeant.
"It would be too late now even if you had it the
grass is mostly out and the chemicals are the only
things that will have any effect on the wreckage."
"I suppose so," agreed the Superintendent, look-
ing at the debris. "No idea who it is, have you, ser-
geant?" he asked.
"Yes! As a matter of fact, Pope recognised the
'plane. It has been over here once before to-night.
Says it's young Evans from Bournemouth, and this,"
pointing to the twisted metal work, "his little white
monoplane."
"Good heavens!" ejaculated the Superintendent.
"Are you positive? Why, only last week he tried to
persuade me to go up with him for a short trip," he
continued sadly, "and now this!"
While the two stood talking, the captain of the
fire brigade and his men had hurriedly donned their
respirators, and now, armed with the extinguishers,
they advanced towards the flames. In spite of their
most strenuous efforts, however, it was a full half-
hour before they could quell the fire enough to allow
the others to approach.
The sergeant was the first to draw close, and, after
one look at the debris, he withdrew. "I don't know
much about flying," he said, "but I'm positive
whatever Pope says to the contrary that's not the
wreckage of a monoplane and I'm pretty certain
it's a 'Moth.' "
"Then there must have been two of them," began
Bope excitedly, "and if it's not the single-winged
'plane lying here, young Evans is safe. Thank
goodness for that, for although I don't altogether
20 THE "MOTH" MURDER
hold with some of his ways, I can't say as I've ever
met a nicer fellow. No snobbery about him and
rich too."
"You're right there," seconded the sergeant. "A
rattlin' good sort I've always found him myself."
"Then if it isn't Evans, who is it?" asked the
Superintendent.
"Perhaps it's an army 'plane," suggested Pope.
"They do a lot of night flying over these parts, you
know. Come from an aerodrome out Winchester
way, so I'm told."
"That's an idea anyhow," said the Superintendent.
"Get on the 'phone to them and find out if they're
flying to-night."
They repaired to the office, and within a very few
minutes Pope had obtained the information they
sought.
No army 'planes were up in the district that night.
"I thought not," said the sergeant. "That's a
private 'Moth' 'plane."
"I wonder if we ought to ring up Sir Charles Staf-
ford's place out Lymington way?" the Superintend-
ent asked. "He has a 'Moth,' I know."
"I'll try if you like, sir," replied the coastguard.
"Perhaps I can find out from the butler without dis-
turbing Sir Charles."
"Righto ! Have a go at it. Even if we do fetch
him from his bed, the information will be worth it.
I say, sergeant, the flames are almost out now let's
go and see if they've found anything."
The two men left the hut and walked over to the
scene of the disaster once more.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 21
The brigade captain came part of the way to meet
them.
"It's a dreadful sight, Superintendent," he began.
"We can see the remains of a body at the bottom
of the wreckage, but the fuselage is still much too
hot to let us drag it clear!"
It was indeed a dreadful sight; the little group
could see it all too well.
And as they stood there, helpless, waiting for the
glowing metal to cool, old Pope came running up.
"I believe you're right, Superintendent," he
shouted. "A 'Moth' left Lymington at three o'clock
this morning bound for Plymouth. Sir Charles him-
self was piloting it, with Mrs. Evans as his pas-
senger ! The Head would be directly on their route !"
II
MURDER!
INSPECTOR HUNT, of the Criminal Investigation De-
partment, New Scotland Yard, had spent an exceed-
ingly restless night.
After a fast run down in his car to Princetown
Prison, where he had hoped to obtain an important
statement from a convict, he had, instead of con-
tinuing his journey back to Town that night, re-
turned by the lower route, breaking his drive at
Bournemouth to pay a long overdue visit to his mar-
ried sister who resided in the Southbourne district.
Although he had retired to bed that night feeling
dog-tried, he had, to his annoyance, only remained
asleep for what seemed the space of a few minutes
before he had awakened rather suddenly and ap-
parently without cause.
Once awake, he had found it impossible to get off
to sleep again, as on each occasion that he managed
to settle comfortably he was disturbed by the sound
of a vehicle bumping and rattling over the unfinished
road a few feet beneath his window.
At last he could stand it no longer. It was just
getting light outside, so he decided to dress and go
for an early stroll.
Silently completing his toilet, he crept down the
stairs, unlocked the back door, and went out.
Although it was late spring May 23rd, to be
22
THE "MOTH" MURDER 23
precise there seemed quite a nip in the air, and
the grass on the wasteland was white with frost.
Soon, after turning a corner in the road, Hunt
saw, drawn up on the grass edge by the roadside,
the vehicles that had disturbed his night's rest.
Three in all a fire-engine, and two private cars.
Looking towards the headland for the first time
Hunt saw where the trouble lay.
A thick bank of smoke hung over a hollow, and
little bursts of flame were visible from time to time.
He noticed, though, that each spurt was less active
than its predecessor. The firemen seemed to have
the outbreak well in hand.
As it was still some hours before breakfast-time
Hunt decided to take a stroll over the headland and
ascertain the nature of the outbreak.
He had picnicked on the Head on many occa-
sions, and was puzzled by the fire, as he could remem-
ber no building in the vicinity except the Coastguard
Station, which he could see was intact.
A sharp walk of a quarter of an hour's duration
brought him to the scene. Immediately he saw the
tangled wreckage he divined the cause of his abrupt
awakening.
As he drew near to the little knot of waiting men
he was recognised by Superintendent Walker, who
drew apart from the others and went forward to
meet him. "Well, bless my soul if it isn't Inspector
Hunt," he began. "Fancy meeting you down here
especially at this ungodly hour."
"You're to blame for the hour, Superintendent.
How do you expect a man to sleep when you drive
24 THE "MOTH" MURDER
your ramshackle old Ford by his window at fifty
miles an hour? But," he added in a more serious
tone, "what's the trouble here?"
"It's hardly in your line, Inspector," answered
Walker, "but no doubt you'll be shocked to know
that in there, we believe, are the remains of Sir
Charles Stafford and a Mrs. Evans!"
"Sir Charles Stafford!" echoed Hunt. "Surely
not the Sir Charles Stafford?"
"Unfortunately!" replied Walker. "But never-
theless true, I'm afraid!"
Sir Charles Stafford!
In a flash the exploits of Sir Charles leapt vividly
into Hunt's mind.
Barely a year ago he had startled the world by
a daring, successful, double crossing of the Atlantic
alone and in one of the smallest of light 'planes.
These had been the culminating flights of a series
that he had made which had helped considerably to
raise Britain's prestige in the air to a point not
hitherto attained.
And now disaster ! And by a cruel trick of fate,
he, who had conquered dense jungles and mighty
oceans, high perilous mountain ranges and torrential
tropical storms, had met his end on a clear, calm
morning in his native country.
And Mrs. Evans too.
He had seen both her and her husband several
times, though he did not know them to speak to.
With a sickening feeling in his heart, he looked
again towards the wreckage. Could it be possible
that all that remained of the beautiful wife of young
THE "MOTH" MURDER 25
Dennis Evans was the hideous, distorted body they
could already see, or was it, even more horribly mu-
tilated, lying still lower in the funeral pyre?
At last the metal-work seemed to have cooled
enough to allow the firemen to remove the first body
from the twisted mass of wires and broken, half-
burned struts that held it prisoner.
Hunt, although he had during his career as a
police officer seen death in many forms, could scarcely
suppress a shudder at the ghastly scene now being
enacted before his eyes.
Soon, however, the body that of a man was
lifted clear, reverently laid out on a stretcher and
covered with a sheet.
Again the firemen returned to the wreckage; the
fuselage was soon hacked asunder and the burned
fragments charred almost to a powder that had
fallen in a heap on top of the half-buried engine,
removed.
But no other body did they find.
Within a few minutes of the conclusion of the
search Sir Charles' chauffeur-mechanic arrived with
the butler. He seemed to pale slightly and sway at
the sight of the body on the stretcher.
The Superintendent went over to them. "We have
recovered a body from the wreckage," he began, "and
we assume this is Sir Charles' 'plane though we
hope against hope we are wrong. Are you quite
sure Mrs. Evans was in this machine? Mr. Evans
is reported to have passed over here just before the
crash. Might she not have been with him?"
"No," answered the mechanic. "I am positive that
Mrs. Evans was
DOBRIN LIBRARIES
X/./rrarixo
26 THE "MOTH" MURDER
"Had she a parachute?" asked Hunt.
"No!" was the reply. "Sir Charles had, but
neither Mr. nor Mrs. Evans ever carried one."
"In that case it's rather remarkable that Sir
Charles didn't attempt to use it, isn't it?" commented
Walker.
"It is unless," replied Hunt, "unless he refused
to jump and leave Mrs. Evans to her fate."
"If that's the explanation and it's feasible that
would be the bravest thing that even Tie ever did
and his life was made up with doing things few other
men would attempt," said the Superintendent.
"In that case, where is the body of Mrs. Evans?
is the question we've got to answer," put in the ser-
geant.
Here Hunt again addressed the mechanic Bailey.
"Is there any way in which you can positively iden-
tify this 'Moth' as Sir Charles'? It's no use at-
tempting to form any theories until we are absolutely
sure of our ground."
The man considered for a moment. "Yes," he
answered, "I can tell you after I've had a look at
the engine. Several parts of it are absolutely special
fittings. There'd be no chance of any other 'plane
having them."
A quick glance at the engine sufficed. "There's
no doubt about it," he announced. "This is Sir
Charles' machine."
"Well, now we know definitely, the next thing to
do is to ring up Plymouth and get them to break
the news to young Evans. It'll be a blow for him,
no doubt. I'm glad I've not got to do it. He was
THE "MOTH" MURDER 27
devoted to his wife, Inspector," said the Superintend-
ent. "And having done that," he added, "we must
try to find the body."
Old Pope soon got the necessary connection, and
was talking to the caretaker at the aerodrome. The
result of the call was in a way disappointing; Dennis
Evans had not yet arrived.
"That's extraordinary, isn't it?" remarked the
Superintendent. "It's just on half -past five, I be-
lieve." He looked at his watch. "Yes! your clock
seems right by this 5.30 exactly. Plymouth to
Lymington." He looked at the map on the station
wall. "Let's see how far he had to fly."
"One hundred and fifty miles," answered Bailey.
"I saw Sir Charles marking out the route yester-
day."
The Superintendent had found a pencil and six-
inch rule.
"I only make it one hundred and twenty," he de-
clared.
"Yes," replied Bailey. "That's all it is in a
straight line; but Sir Charles was not taking the
long sea hops from Lymington to Swanage and
Swanage to Torquay. He intended to follow the
coastline. I know Mr. Evans would take the same
route."
"Well say a hundred and fifty miles. What
would that little 'bus of Evans' do?"
"It's pretty fast," admitted Bailey. "It should
average a good hundred miles per hour."
"I thought so," said the Superintendent. "In that
case he's an hour overdue."
"Probably turned back when he missed the others,"
28 THE "MOTH" MURDER
suggested Hunt, "in which case, if he hasn't given
up the search and gone on again he'll soon be here."
"That's about it," agreed Walker. "Now let's get
busy and see if we can't find out what has become
of Mrs. Evans. I'm afraid she jumped without a
parachute, and in all probability she fell into the
harbour."
Those who are at all familiar with the district
will realise that this was the most likely explana-
tion, as the headland at the point where the crash
took place is barely a quarter of a mile in width,
bounded on its southern side by the English Chan-
nel, and on the northern by the broad expanse of
Christchurch Harbour.
The distance across the harbour in a straight line
running from the scene of the crash towards Lyming-
ton was a full two miles, and it was apparent that
the Superintendent had set himself no mean task.
However, the little party split up and set to work
in a willing manner. Mr. Jones, the farmer, had
to go back to his duties, and Pope was told off to
remain near the 'phone in case any news should come
through concerning Evans.
The fire brigade captain and his men were set to
work to search systematically the bushes and grass
covering the two hundred and fifty yards or so of
ground between the debris and the water's edge.
A constable, who had arrived some time previously
with a police surgeon and some ambulance men (who
had since removed the body), was posted to watch
over the wreckage.
Hunt joined the other little party, made up of the
THE "MOTH" MURDER 29
sergeant and constable from Christchurch, Bailey,
Sturman the butler and, of course, the Superin-
tendent.
The sergeant started the engine, and the little boat
drew slowly away from the shore.
There are several reed-covered mud-flats in the
harbour, and by the time these had all been thor-
oughly gone over Hunt discovered that he would
have to hurry to get back to his sister's in time for
breakfast.
The other party had combed their ground long
since and were gathered around Pope's hut. Neither
group had met with success, nor had any news yet
come through from Plymouth.
A couple of R.A.F. officers, however, had arrived
not long after the search-parties set out, and they
were still engaged in examining the burned-out
plane. Seeing the Superintendent, they made over
to him.
They also were somewhat puzzled, they said, by
the failure of Sir Charles to jump, especially as they
were convinced that Mrs. Evans had done so with-
out a parachute.
Of the cause of the crash they could say nothing
yet; an Air Ministry examination would have to be
held.
Regarding Mrs. Evans, they pointed out that,
were Pope's account of the disaster correct they
saw no reason to doubt it, and the known facts con-
firmed it then they had the strongest arguments to
support it.
According to Pope, when he first saw the blazing
machine it was flying in a normal position at a height
30 THE "MOTH" MURDER
of approximately two thousand feet, and did not
seem then to be out of control. It had, however,
immediately afterwards commenced a spinning dive,
and had Mrs. Evans been flung out during this de-
scent it is reasonable to suppose that the body would
have been discovered on the ground covered by the
firemen.
Pope's figure of two thousand feet or thereabouts
was confirmed in their opinion by that being the alti-
tude they would have expected a "Moth," climbing
leisurely and flying in a straight line from Lyming-
ton, and not waiting to circle the taking-off ground,
to have reached.
Bailey had described the take-off and explained
that the wind what little there had been had
been blowing from a south-westerly direction, so the
'planes, after taking off against it in the usual man-
ner, were, without turning directly, on their course.
Should they have had engine trouble before gain-
ing sufficient height to glide back safely to their
landing-ground they would have been faced with the
difficulty of making a forced landing on unknown
ground and in most uncertain moonlight. However,
it was not the first time that Bailey had seen Sir
Charles take this risk.
The distance the engine had buried itself in the
earth, taking into consideration the weight of the
'plane and state of the ground, also supported Pope's
estimate of the altitude.
The theory they put forward regarding Sir
Charles' remaining in the cockpit was that he had
attempted to bring the blazing machine down on
THE "MOTH" MURDER 31
to the Head, and had been overcome by the fumes.
That was, in their opinion, the only one to fit the
facts.
Yes; they had heard of cases of 'planes catching
fire at even greater altitudes and being brought to
earth safely. Why, only a year or two ago there
was the case of that other famous private 'plane
owner, Pat Lloyd, who successfully brought down his
blazing machine at a flying meeting up North. . . .
Largely a matter of luck, though. . . . One has to
side-slip a lot to keep the flames from the cockpit.
Still it was possible.
Yes ; no doubt Evans had made a forced landing.
Rather a coincidence that but plenty of safe land-
ing-places along the coast. They both knew the
route well. News would be along presently, no
doubt. Hallo! Reporters, by the look of things.
Extraordinary how soon they get on the scent.
The telephone bell rang again. Pope picked up
the receiver.
"News of Evans, I bet," remarked the Superin-
tendent, f
But no !
"Wanted on the 'phone, sergeant," announced the
coastguard, handing over the instrument.
"James speaking," answered the sergeant.
The voice at the other end could be heard indis-
tinctly by those in the hut.
Then "What?" the policeman cried. "Good
God, no ! it can't be true !"
Dropping the instrument from his listless hand,
it fell with a clatter on to the table.
32 THE "MOTH" MURDER
He turned, facing the others. "My brother," he
muttered brokenly, "Constable James. Found in a
ditch in Redstock Lane murdered !"
And as the sergeant spoke Hunt noticed Bailey,
the mechanic, quiver, as if from a blow !
Ill
THE CRIME NEAR TOTLAND CORNER
THE little village of Redstock where Constable
James was stationed can be reached from Bourne-
mouth from two routes. The quicker probably is
via Totland Corner on the main Lymington-Bourne-
mouth road.
This was the one Superintendent Walker was tak-
ing at no small speed on that glorious May morning,
with Inspector Hunt on the front seat beside him,
and Sergeant James seated in the rear.
Directly the news of the younger James' death
had been received the Superintendent had offered to
drive the sergeant over to the village ; and, thinking
it probable that the local police would decide to call
in Scotland Yard, he had invited Hunt to accompany
them.
Hunt had accepted the invitation, and, after stop-
ping for a moment at his sister's house and explain-
ing that he would not be in to breakfast, he hur-
riedly rejoined the waiting couple.
Over the bridge at Tuckton, where the toll-col-
lector, knowing the car, made no attempt to stop
them, sharp right over the tram-lines at the cross-
roads, on over the hump-backed narrow bridges on
the main London road at Christchurch, and, after
a fast run up the straight, right again towards High-
cliffe.
34 THE "MOTH" MURDER
A mile more, then a constable pulled them up.
"We are diverting the traffic down the loop road to
your right, sir," he explained. "Some footprints
are visible near the body, and the Chief Constable
does not want to run the risk of having them ob-
literated."
Parking the car where the constable indicated,
they followed another constable through a gate into
a field of young corn and along parallel to the main
road until they came to the spot known as Totland
Corner.
Then, after climbing over a fence into the adjoin-
ing meadow, they were asked to wait there for a few
minutes while their guide went for Major Williams,
the Chief Constable.
After a short interval, Hunt saw the Chief Con-
stable, a rather stern, grey-moustached, military-
looking man about fifty years of age, approaching.
"Sorry to have kept you waiting, Superintend-
ent," he began, "but we've a few interesting tracks
that we want to keep distinct for as long as pos-
sible."
"That's quite all right, sir," said the Superintend-
ent. "I've no business here myself really, but I
brought Sergeant James over. However, I should
like to introduce you to my friend Detective-Inspec-
tor Hunt from the Yard.
"You've probably heard of him," continued
Walker. "I expect you remember his handling of
the Collier case?"
"I'm pleased to meet you," said the Chief Con-
stable, shaking Hunt warmly by the hand. "Yes, I
THE "MOTH" MURDER 35
recall the case quite well, and I must say I admired
the capable way the Inspector handled it.
"But," he continued, "we haven't got a clever,
scheming poisoner to deal with this time; instead
a callous, brutal murderer who shoots a man down
in cold blood ! We also have, I'm glad to say, some
very good clues, and I fancy his arrest will only be
the matter of a few hours."
"That's good!" remarked Hunt. "Let's hope so,
at all events."
"Still," continued the Chief Constable, "now
you're on the spot I don't intend to miss the chance
of getting you to help me. It's more than probable
that your trained eye will spot something we locals,
unused to anything more serious than petty larceny,
will overlook."
"Oh, no!" answered Hunt. "You mustn't expect
too much. But, if you like, I will try to get permis-
sion from the Yard to stay on, and I'll do my best.
Although," he added, "by your talk of an early ar-
rest the case seems as good as over."
"Yes. I hope I'm right but," he reminded them,
"there's many a slip you know the saying, Inspec-
tor. Now, before I take you to the spot where the
body lies, shall I tell you as much as we know?"
"Yes, if you would," answered Hunt.
"Then, briefly at seven o'clock this morning Ser-
geant Kirk at Christchurch had a 'phone call from
Mr. Abbot of the Home Farm here to say that one
of his cowmen, a man named Ball, had discovered
Constable James, the village policeman, dead in a
ditch in Redstock Lane. There was blood on his
36 THE "MOTH" MURDER
face, and it was plain to the cowman that he had
been shot.
"Kirk immediately instructed a constable to let
me know, then he came out on his motorcycle com-
bination with Constables Pryce and Brown, while the
police surgeon followed in his car.
"He that is, Kirk saw at once that James had
been murdered, and, noticing car tracks near the
spot, closed the roads.
"The surgeon soon arrived, and, after a brief ex-
amination, was able to say that the constable had
been dead some hours. Perhaps you'll see the cow-
man yourself, Inspector? He's coming over now."
"Thanks, sir, I will," replied Hunt. "So far the
story is very clear."
The cowman, a diminutive little man, looked scared
out of his wits. Hunt, however, obtained his story
without difficulty.
Mr. Abbot, the cowman explained, had two farms
Home Farm, up the lane in the village of Red-
stock, and Manor Farm, near Chalton, a little ham-
let on the loop road along which the traffic was being
diverted.
He, Ball, had a cottage near Manor Farm, and it
was his first duty in the morning to collect the cows
from the meadows on his way up to work at the Home
Farm.
This morning they had been in two meadows, the
Valley and Angels.
He had set out at his usual time 6.30. Going
across Valley Meadow, he had collected the cows in
the usual way thirty-nine he believed there were
and had gone on in front of them and opened the
THE "MOTH" MURDER 37
gate, afterwards crossing the road and opening the
gate in Angels.
After closing the gate behind him, he had been sur-
prised to see the cows clustered round the hedge a
short distance up the meadow. This is a low hedge,
and the cows nearest to it were gazing with their
heads over it, evidently watching something in the
lane. As he approached them, he noticed that the
other cows which had spent the night in Angels had
already run from the vicinity of the pond to the
gate. Upon drawing close to the herded cattle, he
had looked over the hedge and had been staggered
to see the body of the village policeman sprawled on
his back in the ditch.
He had scrambled over the hedge, and found, to
his surprise, that the dead constable had blood on
his face and uniform, and what looked like a bullet
wound in his forehead. He had some difficulty in
getting the cows away from the spot, but eventually
managed to, and hurried up to the Home Farm,
where he informed Mr. Abbot of his discovery.
"That's all very clear," said Hunt, when the cow-
man had concluded. "Just a question or two and
that will be all. Firstly, I take it that we are now
standing in Valley Meadow?"
"Yes," replied Ball, "this is Valley Meadow."
"And is that your cottage I can see down at the
other end by the farm?"
"Yes," answered the cowman again. "That's it."
"Be about half a mile away, wouldn't it?" said
Hunt, half to himself. Then "Did you hear any
shot in the night?" he asked.
38 THE "MOTH" MURDER
"No," was the reply, but Ball added that he had
been disturbed by the noise of an aeroplane.
Dismissing the cowman, Hunt crossed the road
and passed through the gate into Angels. Walking
up by the hedge for a distance of about fifty yards,
he came to the spot opposite to where the body lay.
The passing of the cows had obliterated any foot-
prints that might have been there previously and
the few showing now had obviously been made re-
cently, as they were on top of the cow-tracks.
Satisfied that no clues were to be found there,
Hunt climbed the hedge, using the same place that
the others had done.
"One good point about this case," he thought, "is
that Sergeant Kirk has been careful to keep all the
recent footprints to the same comparatively narrow
section of the road, and I shall not have to spend
half the morning sorting out the footsteps of the
police and others concerned from any that may have
been made by the murderer."
The body still lay undisturbed, facing the road,
in the spot where it was found. For the second time
that morning it was not a pleasant sight that pre-
sented itself to the Inspector's eyes.
The head was in a slightly higher position than
the body, and blood had flowed freely from the wound
across the face and down the breast of the blue
tunic there was left a crimson stain.
After a short glance at the corpse, Hunt turned
his attention to the surface of the road.
A set of footprints running from somewhere
higher up the lane down past where he now stood
caught his eye.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 39
Following them, walking on the grassy border of
the ditch, he found they ran to the bottom of the
lane. (The spot known as Totland Corner.)
Here they crossed and re-crossed the narrow lane
a number of times but did not appear to go beyond
it on to the main Bournemouth-Lymington road be-
fore running back near the opposite bank until they
drew out suddenly to the ditch-side again.
At this point they showed the maker of them had
stopped and turned round.
Hunt glanced at the dead constable's boots, and
saw they were responsible for the tracks as he had
guessed. The U-shaped metal heel of the left one
had worn noticeably to one side, and the prints he
had found, on a close examination, showed this pecu-
liarity.
He then turned his attention to another set of foot-
prints intermingled with the others, made, he saw,
by a considerably smaller foot than the dead con-
stable's.
They started three-quarters of the way across the
lane, facing the ditch, just where the body lay, tak-
ing, he could trace, a couple of steps in that direc-
tion.
There the maker seemed to have stopped for a
moment. Hunt could see the slightly deeper im-
press, especially of the toe of the more forward print.
Then they turned, and, after two more paces, van-
ished.
It was obvious that the person responsible for the
tracks had climbed out of the car, walked to the
ditch, stopped, turned ; and, after retracing his steps,
40 THE "MOTH" MURDER
re-entered the vehicle. The tracks of a car showed
up plainly at this point.
Hunt next inspected these car-tracks. At the spot
where the footsteps vanished he could see by the much
deeper marks that the car had stopped. This was
exactly what he had expected to find.
A few drops of heavy oil had fallen here between
the wheel-tracks, and still showed up plainly on the
soft, damp surface of the lane.
He could see quite plainly, too, that the car had
afterwards gone on up the lane towards Redstock,
the cut-up surface of the roadway suggesting the
departure had been hurried.
Following the tire-tracks down the lane, the In-
spector noticed that in places they overlapped the
prints of the dead constable. On reaching Totland
Corner, he found that the car had come from the
direction of Lymington, before turning into Red-
stock Lane.
A good look round failed to reveal any more prints
except those made by the police and cowman
anywhere in the lane.
On the main road, however, there were four other
distinct sets of car-tracks. The first was obviously
the track of a heavy lorry and was definitely not
made as recently as the other three. (Later Hunt
ascertained that it was the delivery lorry of a brick
and tile manufacturer returning late to Highcliffe.)
The second tracks were those of a motor-cycle
combination, subsequently traced to a builder's son
at Highcliffe who had been to a theatre in Bourne-
mouth, returning about midnight.
The fourth tracks, which over-ran all the others,
THE "MOTH" MURDER 41
were those made by the butler and mechanic on their
run to Hengistbury Head. Hunt had noticed that
the tires of the Rover they arrived in were all new
Dunlops.
Only the third set remained untraced.
These overlapped the lorry and combination
tracks, but were themselves crosed by the Rover's.
However, as they had themselves been lapped by
the car he took to be the murderer's and did not
appear to have stopped Hunt dismissed them as of
no importance.
Then, returning to where the Chief Constable
stood directing a policeman, who was busily engaged
in taking photographs of the body and the various
prints on the road, he looked carefully at the plaster
casts that Major Williams had taken.
They were almost perfect, and he saw at once that
they could not be bettered.
"So you've finished, Inspector," observed the Chief
Constable. "May I ask what you make of the case?"
"The same as you do, sir, I think," replied Hunt.
"It seems very straightforward. Find the car a
large one with the V-shaped flint cut in the near
front tire and you'll soon have your man unless, of
course, it's been stolen."
"Exactly, Inspector; that's what we've got to do
now ; and, as I told you, I believe it won't take long.
The following has been sent out to all police stations :
'Wanted for MURDER. Driver of a large car,
probably over twenty horse power. Fitted four
almost new Firestone extra heavy sports tires, size
31 x 5.25. Large V-shaped cut in the near front
42 THE "MOTH" MURDER
one. This car was in the vicinity of Redstock
and Highcliffe between midnight and 4< A.M., May
23rd. Driver is probably a small man. Was
wearing shoes size 6. Fitted new "Uskide" soles.'
"Every constable in the country will be looking
for that car, and promotion, by now," he added.
Just then a plain-clothes man came up to them.
"I've discovered a set of prints in the meadow run-
ning this way," he announced.
"Let's go and have a look at them," said the Chief
Constable.
The detective led the way. About midway up the
meadow, almost in the centre of it, was a patch of
boggy ground.
Here the tracks of a man's boots were plainly
visible. They appeared to lead from the corner op-
posite to that near which the body lay.
Hunt followed them for about fifty yards, losing
them in a maze of cattle-tracks. Continuing in the
direction they appeared to lead from, he came to a
gate in the corner of the meadow.
But no further trace of them did he find, although
he diligently searched both sides of the hedge from
the farm right round to the pond.
Returning to the marshy patch, he picked up the
trail again, only to lose it later some fifty yards from
the lane, and a good hundred yards higher up than
the spot where the body lay.
Here again Hunt made a thorough search, but the
mass of cattle-tracks running parallel to the lane
made it impossible for him to find the prints again
in the meadow. He knew from his examination of
THE "MOTH" MURDER 43
an hour previously that they were not in the lane.
A further search round the remaining sides of the
meadow revealed nothing. Both ends of the tracks
vanished entirely.
On their arrival at the marshy portion of the
meadow, Major Williams had set to work taking
casts of these new prints, while Hunt endeavoured
to find out from whence they came and to where
they led.
After satisfying himself that all traces of them
were indeed lost after the passing of the cows, Hunt
returned, to find the Chief Constable had completed
his task.
"I don't think these have any bearing on the case,"
he said, "or we should have had traces of them in
the lane, but it's as well to make sure of everything
in a case like this. Now," he added temptingly, "Mr.
Abbot has sent to say that if we could spare the tune
to go over to the farm, his wife would be glad to
serve us a meal. What about it?"
Hunt was by this time ravenously hungry, and
welcomed the suggestion.
Mrs. Abbot apologised profusely for what she
called such a "slap-up meal," but to the two famished
officials the eggs and bacon were as welcome as manna
from Heaven.
They found the Superintendent had been 'phon-
ing up the coastguard station, and Hunt learned to
his surprise that no news had yet been received of
Evans.
The doctor was holding a post-mortem examina-
tion on the body of Sir Charles that morning, and
the inquest was fixed for 4.30 that afternoon.
44 THE "MOTH" MURDER
While Hunt and Major Williams did justice to
the meal, Walker sat listening to the Chief Con-
stable's story of his discoveries.
He also was of the opinion that the car-tracks and
footsteps in the lane were made by the murderer.
The footsteps in the meadow, he thought, had been
made by a gipsy taking a short cut from the Forest
(where any number were encamped) across the fields
to the main road.
But, although Hunt realized that this was more
than likely the correct explanation, he hated leav-
ing loose ends in a case, and determined that he would
look into the matter more closely before being as
certain again, as he had been before the finding of
the prints, that the Chief Constable's deductions
were correct.
IV
THE SENSATION AT THE INQUEST
THE inquest on the dead policeman had been fixed
for three o'clock that afternoon. Hunt decided, al-
though he would be unlikely to hear anything new
about the case, to attend on the off-chance of some-
thing fresh coming to light.
However, little did. The proceedings were almost
immediately adjourned to give the police time to
make their inquiries. Only Sergeant James' evidence
of identification, and then that of the doctor, being
taken.
Dr. Willing, the police surgeon, said that he had
found the bullet lodged in the back of the brain,
and, after exhibiting it to the jury, he passed it over
to the Chief Constable.
Hunt, when he saw it, was of the opinion that it
was a .22, but it was badly flattened and he was not
prepared to swear to it. He pocketed it, however,
for future reference.
So, by a quarter to four, he found himself once
more in the road. Just as he had decided he could
do no more there that day, and was wondering how
he could best get back to Southbourne, the Superin-
tendent appeared, coming, it seemed, from the direc-
tion of Bournemouth, and drew up alongside him.
"Doing anything important?" he asked, lowering
the window of the saloon.
45
46 THE "MOTH" MURDER
"No," replied Hunt. "I'm just going back to
Southbourne to get a shave and a decent meal."
"I'll drive you, then," said Walker, "and, if you're
not too tired, I should like you to take a spot of tea
with me at a little cafe I know at Christchurch, and
then come along to the inquest on poor Sir Charles.
I think it will interest you in fact I know it will!
By the way, no news of young Evans yet at least,
not up until I left the station half an hour ago.
Funny that it seems to me.
"Of course, he may have landed on some isolated
corner of Dartmoor, although I understand that
would not be directly on his route."
"Oh, yes !" said Hunt. "I'd forgotten the inquest
was this afternoon. I'd like to come."
He climbed into the car, and a few minutes later
they were seated in the cafe on the outskirts of
Christchurch. The predominant topic of conversa-
tion here appeared to be the fate of Sir Charles Staf-
ford. The occupants of a nearby table, Hunt noted,
were engaged in fierce argument as to who had
ranked as our No. 1 pilot prior to the baronet's crash
on the Head. The man on Hunt's right voted Staf-
ford, his younger companion was loud in his praise
for Pat Lloyd, while the two lady members of the
party were agreed that Jean LeLac, the handsome
young Anglo-French airman, deserved the palm.
However, as time was pressing, Hunt was not al-
lowed to remain to hear the finish of the argument.
The inquest was being held at the "Bull." As
Walker pulled the car up outside the premises, Hunt
noticed quite a crowd of would-be hearers, many of
them women, who had, he guessed, hurried down from
THE "MOTH" MURDER 47
Town as soon as they received the news of the dis-
aster.
It was apparent that, owing to lack of room, they
had, despite their journey, been unable to gain ad-
mittance to the improvised court. It had always
seemed a strange thing to Hunt that Sir Charles,
who had the whole feminine world at his feet, had
never married, and as he looked at the many beauti-
ful women, some obviously on the verge of tears
one or two playthings of the dead man, he knew
he was more surprised than ever.
Inside, the little room was crowded, and Hunt
could see several leading airmen among those pres-
ent. The detachable leaves of the billiard-table had
been replaced, and seated at the head of it was Dr.
Wild, the Coroner, while down each side sat the mem-
bers of the jury.
The Coroner opened the proceedings with a short
speech deploring the circumstances that had gath-
ered them together that afternoon.
He then paid a brief tribute to the flying achieve-
ments of the late Sir Charles, mentioning especially
his lone Atlantic flights and his record-breaking
flight to Australia and back. "We all feel," he con-
cluded, "that the world will be left the poorer by the
passing of so gallant a gentleman !"
Then, after he had briefly thanked several aero-
nautical experts who were present, including the
aforementioned Pat Lloyd, for their offer of advice
on any technical points that might arise, the jury
were sworn in and taken to view the remains. And as
they filed back after completing the sordid task the
law demands and which must be fulfilled, Hunt could
48 THE "MOTH" MURDER
see that they had been shaken to a man by the awful
sight they had had to see.
The first witness was William Pope, the coast-
guard. He repeated his story of the disaster. The
Coroner had no questions to ask him, and he was
allowed to stand down.
The butler, James Henry Sturman, was then
called.
He was obviously affected, and gave his evidence
at first in a halting manner. He said he was in the
service of the late Sir Charles Stafford at Forest
Court, near Lymington. He had held that position
for the last twelve months.
He was then shown a gold hunter watch, a bunch
of keys, some buttons, and a wallet. He had no dif-
ficulty in identifying the articles as the property of
Sir Charles Stafford.
Asked to explain more fully how he could be sure
that the watch was not one similar to Sir Charles', he
replied that this watch had been presented to Sir
Charles on the completion of his Atlantic flights, and
bore an inscription on the back of four and a half
lines. He could still see traces of these lines. There
was no doubt about it this was Sir Charles' watch !
The keys, he said, he had frequently used himself.
He gave a detailed account of the use of each. The
wallet he identified by its metal clasp.
As for the buttons they were off a new suit of
plus-fours Sir Charles had had made recently. He
could, even now, swear to the burned material hang-
ing from them.
Satisfied, the Coroner turned to face his man more
squarely. "Now. Will you please tell us exactly
THE "MOTH" MURDER 49
what happened on the evening of the 22nd and early
morning of the 23rd of May?"
Sturman seemed to consider a moment before com-
mencing. "Last evening," he began, "Sir Charles
gave a little dinner-party to a few friends. It was
a farewell party he was due to sail to-day from
Plymouth on a prolonged visit to America.
"Mr. and Mrs. Evans were going with him. They
had arrived by air in the early afternoon.
"The other guests, a Mr. and Mrs. Lovel, Mr.
Day, and the two Miss Fensomes, also arrived early.
"Dinner was served at eight. At ten o'clock all
the guests left except Mr. Day and, of course, Mr.
and Mrs. Evans."
He, Sturman, was then told he could retire until
2.30 a.m. which he did. He believed Sir Charles
and Mr. and Mrs. Evans then went out into the
grounds. He could not say what happened after
that.
The next time he saw Sir Charles was 2.45 a.m.
Here the Coroner interrupted. "You say Sir Charles
and Mr. and Mrs. Evans went into the grounds about
ten. Did not this Mr. Day accompany them?"
Sturman hesitated for a moment, then, flushing, he
answered, "No."
The Coroner had noticed his embarrassment.
"Will you please tell us what happened to Mr.
Day?"
Again Sturman hesitated. Then "Mr. Day was
feeling unwell ; he went to lie down," he answered.
Hunt realised instantly what the Coroner was
driving at; guessed correctly, too, what the next
question would be.
50 THE "MOTH" MURDER
"Were any of the party under the influence of
drink? I know this is a painful question, but it must
be answered!"
The butler was now decidedly uncomfortable.
"Yes. I'm afraid so," he answered at length.
"Will you please name those who were?"
For a moment Hunt thought Sturman would re-
fuse to answer. Eventually, choking his indignation,
he did reply. "Yes. Only Mr. Day."
"You are sure that neither your late master nor
Mr. Evans were also?"
"Quite sure," replied the butler. "Mr. Day was
the only culprit."
"You realise that this is a most important ques-
tion and you are on oath ?" insisted the Coroner.
"I have answered it against my wish," said the
butler hotly.
The Coroner overlooked this outburst and con-
tinued. "And you saw Sir Charles again at 2.45?"
"Yes. Sir Charles was in flying kit," went on the
butler. "He was in the room he used as his office.
Mr. and Mrs. Evans and Mr. Day were witfr him.
Mr. Day was still intoxicated," he added maliciously
for the Coroner's benefit. "All four of them had a
small glass of whisky."
"You mean Mrs. Evans as well?" asked the Coro-
ner, somewhat surprised.
"Yes. Mrs. Evans as well," replied Sturman, now
really annoyed.
"And then"
"I went out to the hangars to see that everything
was ready. Sir Charles, Mr. and Mrs. Evans, and
Mr. Day soon followed.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 51
"Mr. Evans climbed into his little monoplane,
started the engine he had a self-starter and taxied
slowly out across the park.
"I helped Mrs. Evans into the front seat of the
'Moth,' And handed her up the little travelling-bag
she was carrying.
"Sir Charles swung the propeller. The engine
started first swing. Then he climbed in behind Mrs.
Evans, and, after I had handed him up his portman-
teau, he opened up and followed Mr. Evans out.
"I then closed the hangar doors and went into the
house again. A few minutes later, first one and then
the other 'plane roared over the housetop.
"Mr. Day had gone in before me. I found him
in the office. He said he had decided to go back to
Town that night instead of staying on as he had at
first intended. After another drink, he had, al-
though I tried to dissuade him, insisted on leav-
ing. . . . Although he was not, in my opinion, in a
fit state to drive a car, he managed, after two or
three attempts, to start his engine and drive away."
"Thank you," said the Coroner, seeing Sturman
had concluded. "That's all very clear. Now, just
one or two questions, please, then you may stand
down. Where is the hangar you spoke of situated ?"
The hangar, Sturman explained, was a building
Sir Charles had erected and was attached to one side
of the house. It could be entered from the house by
a door at the end of a passage. There was no need
to go outside to get to it. The garage was built
on the same plan, and was really part of the hangar.
"I imagined so," observed the Coroner. "Now,
lastly what had Sir Charles in his portmanteau?"
52 THE "MOTH" MURDER
"Oh, only his designs and private papers, I be-
lieve," said the butler. "I can't say definitely, as I
didn't see him pack it."
The next witness was Horace William Golding,
a dental surgeon of Lymington.
He said Sir Charles was one of his patients. He
was shown a set of badly distorted false teeth. He
was able to say immediately that, despite their con-
dition, he could recognise them as a set he made re-
cently for the late Sir Charles Stafford. He could
positively identify them by a gold tooth on the right
side of the upper plate. He thought it unusual to
put a gold tooth in a complete set, but Sir Charles
had insisted and he had done so.
This concluded Mr. Golding's evidence, and Sir
Charles' valet, Horace Stone, was called.
He identified the watch, keys, wallet, and buttons
as Sir Charles' property. He explained that Sir
Charles' luggage had already gone forward, and that
to the best of his knowledge the portmanteau con-
tained only papers.
Next, Bailey, the chauffeur-mechanic, was called.
He seemed to Hunt to be in a state of abject terror.
The Coroner noticed his nervousness, and began
his examination in a kindly tone. In reply to his
questions, the mechanic said he had been in Sir
Charles' service for the past two years. He had
gained some knowledge of aircraft whilst serving
with the R.A.F. towards the latter part of the war.
Sir Charles had lately taken him in hand and
he was now a qualified pilot. It had been arranged
that he was to go to Plymouth and fly the machine
back that day.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 53
He had previously been asked to make a rough
sketch of the house and grounds, and this he now
produced and handed to the Coroner.
At a quarter to three that morning he had gone
from his house to the searchlight that Sir Charles
used to aid him to take off in the dark. He had
immediately switched this on.
At about five minutes to three the 'planes taxied
out. They stopped by him and ran up their en-
gines for a time. He went over to Sir Charles to ask
if the searchlight was throwing the beam in the right
direction. Mrs. Evans was in the 'plane. Mr. Evans
had got out of his 'plane and gone over to the
"Moth." He saw Mrs. Evans speak to him.
Sir Charles then taxied into the far corner of the
ground. Mr. Evans' engine began "spitting back."
After a couple of minutes, however, it got going
properly again and he too taxied to the far cor-
ner.
Then for some inexplicable reason his light went
out of order. He managed to get it going again
after about thirty seconds.
A minute or so later Mr. Evans took off. Just as
he was getting up speed, the light flickered again
only for a few seconds, though.
Mr. Evans was travelling too fast to stop, and
had managed to take off in the dark a very risky
procedure. . . . But luck favoured him, and he got
clear.
A moment later Sir Charles taxied by at speed
and, by some amazing coincidence, the light flick-
ered yet a third time. Sir Charles, however, was not
54 THE "MOTH" MURDER
going quite so fast as Mr. Evans had been, and he
managed to pull up safely.
He had then turned round half way down the park.
Bailey could see him plainly now the light was on
once more.
He then taxied back to the spot where he had
stopped before, and got out of his 'plane. Qoming
over to Bailey, he had cursed him for not seeing that
the light was kept in good working order.
Then, going back to the 'plane, he had spoken to
Mrs. Evans, climbed in, and taxied once again to the
far corner. This time he had taken off without in-
cident. Mrs. Evans was definitely still in the 'plane,
for as the machine raced by he had seen her hair
blowing in the wind. He had noticed, he added, that
she never wore a hat when flying.
The time then was exactly three o'clock ; he heard
a clock strike the hour in Lymington, he believed.
He had waited until the 'planes got well away be-
fore turning off the light (in case they had engine
trouble and needed its beam to land by) and going
back to bed.
He had been disturbed later by the butler ringing
him up he had a 'phone extension to his house.
That was all he could tell except, of course, his see-
ing the wreckage of the "Moth" on the Head.
"That evidence was remarkably clear," said the
Coroner. "If all witnesses kept so closely to the
point, I should get through these proceedings in half
the time I now take. One question before you go
can you tell me what kind of weather you had at
Lymington last evening?"
"Yes," replied the mechanic. "It held fine up
THE "MOTH" MURDER 55
until just after eleven, and then we had a couple of
hours' steady downpour."
"That will be all for the moment, I think," said
the Coroner, motioning him to stand down.
Miss Elsie Fensome was next called. She corrob-
orated the evidence. She was certain Sir Charles was
not drunk. After dinner, she continued, they played
a short game of roulette only for an hour or so;
then they all went home, except Mr. Day, who, she
regretted, had made a pig of himself.
Yes, she had seen his car a magnificent Rolls-
Royce. Almost new.
This was all Miss Fensome could tell.
Hunt began to wonder if the Superintendent had
meant by his remark, "I think it will interest you
in fact, I know it will," that it would come out in
evidence that a drunken man in a Rolls-Royce car
had been driving in the vicinity of Redstock Lane at
the approximate hour of the murder. (He guessed
Mr. Day would take the Lymington-Bournemouth
road past Totland Corner until he reached the main
London-Bournemouth road.)
The matter certainly wanted looking into, but he
did not think a man would go to the trouble of fitting
non-standard tires to a new car, no matter how good
the tires might be. Rolls-Royce, he knew, had stand-
ardised Dunlop.
He could see the proceedings were drawing to a
close. The Coroner was whispering to the Super-
intendent, who nodded in reply.
"Dr. Lawrence Grier."
The doctor went up to the table.
56 THE "MOTH" MURDER
"You are police surgeon at Bournemouth?" asked
the Coroner.
"I am, sir," was the reply.
"At 4.15 this morning you examined the body of
Sir Charles Stafford on Hengistbury Head?"
"That is correct, sir."
"In consequence of what you saw you held a post-
mortem examination later?"
"I did, sir assisted by Dr. Robinson."
"And did you ascertain the cause of death?"
"We did, sir."
"And you found?"
"In simple language a bullet wound in the
brain!"
V
THEORIES
HAD a bomb exploded in the little room it could
hardly have produced a bigger sensation than did
these few words of the doctor's.
For a moment it seemed to Hunt that he could
have heard a pin drop. Then a hysterical sob broke
the silence; a woman at the back fainted, and the
onlookers began excitedly talking to one another.
The Coroner, Superintendent, and doctor, who
had known, of course, what was coming, alone re-
mained unmoved. Even Hunt, hardened by years of
police work to shocks and surprises, could hardly
believe his ears. Now it was plain why Walker had
wished him to be present. It looked like another
murder.
The Coroner rapped for silence. It was obvious
that he had more questions to ask the doctor. Every-
one became all attention again. Every eye was fas-
tened on the medical man but he remained oblivious
to their stares ; not a muscle of his face moved.
"And could," went on the Coroner, "the wound
have been self-inflicted?"
"It could but it seems highly improbable that it
was. The bullet entered the base of the skull behind
the ears, traversed the brain, and was removed from
behind the forehead."
Here the doctor produced the bullet ; it was handed
57
58 THE "MOTH" MURDER
to the jury, who examined it carefully, though what
they expected to learn from it was a puzzle to Hunt.
It was then passed up to the Superintendent, who in
turn handed it to the C.I.D. man.
This bullet, also, was badly flattened, but Hunt,
after comparing it with the other one, which he still
had on him, was convinced that this too was a .22.
This was a coincidence that required the most care-
ful looking into. He decided to send them both up
to the experts at the Yard, who would, he knew, not
only tell him the calibre quite definitely, but also
whether or no they were both discharged from the
same barrel.
The doctor was continuing his evidence. "For the
wound to have been self -inflicted," he said, "it would
have been necessary for the deceased to have held the
weapon in the left hand behind the back of the head."
This concluded the medical evidence, Dr. Robin-
son not being called.
After a short conversation with the Superintend-
ent, the Coroner recalled the mechanic, Bailey.
"Was Sir Charles left-handed?" he asked.
"No," was the reply. "Right-handed always."
At this stage the Coroner adjourned the inquest
indefinitely to give the police time to make their in-
quiries.
Hunt and the Superintendent followed the Chief
Constable, who had arrived during the taking of
Bailey's evidence, into a private sitting-room, where
he motioned them to seat themselves.
"Now," he began, "we've got a mystery this time
if you like a case without parallel, to the best of
my knowledge and, if the good name of the British
THE "MOTH" MURDER 59
police force is to be upheld, we've got to solve it."
"Hear, hear !" put in Walker. "And, if we don't
want the Press to ridicule us, we've got to act
quickly."
"We have indeed," agreed Hunt. "And, so far as
I'm concerned, even if it means working all night
I'm game."
"And I too," announced Walker, "although I've
already had some sixteen hours on the go without
a break."
"Well what's the next move to be ?" asked Hunt.
They sat in silence for a while. The Chief Con-
stable passed round his cigarettes. "Yes," he said
presently, "it's a puzzle to know just where to begin.
I think perhaps we'd better run over the evidence
again. There must be a clue somewhere that we
have missed.
"To start with, I take it that you agree that Sir
Charles met his death between 3 and 3.17 this morn-
ing." [3.17 was the exact time of the crash on the
headland, according to Pope, who supplied the in-
formation to the Superintendent soon after he ar-
rived on the scene. It will be remembered that the
Superintendent afterwards checked Pope's clock by
his watch and found it correct.]
The others nodded.
"In that case, he could have been murdered only
at Lymington, in the air, or after the crash on the
Head."
Again the others had to agree.
"We know from what the doctor told Superin-
tendent Walker that he could not possibly have sur-
vived the crash. We know from Bailey's evidence that
60 THE "MOTH" MURDER
he was not murdered at Lymington. That leaves us
only the possibility that he was murdered in the air.
Do you agree to that ?"
"Yes," replied the Superintendent. "Partly.
But, don't forget, we have only the word of one man
that he was not murdered at Lymington."
"Yes," replied the Chief Constable. "I had over-
looked that point. But for the moment I accept
Bailey's evidence."
"Again," put in Walker, "though you know he was
dead the moment he hit the ground on the Head, you
don't know that someone, either urged by some in-
sane impulse or realising that it was impossible to
save him from the fury of the flames, didn't put a
bullet through his brain."
"We do," objected the Chief Constable. "We
know from Pope's evidence that owing to the heat no
one could get near to the wreckage."
"But," retorted Walker, "again you only have the
evidence of one man."
"No," put in Hunt. "I accept Pope's evidence as
correct. Besides, the odds against anyone being on
the head, just by the spot and in possession of a re-
volver at 3.17 a.m. are enormous."
"I think so too," went on the Chief Constable.
"Then that leaves us with the possibility that he was
murdered in the air.
"Now, to get murder in the air suggests another
aeroplane. Remember the unusual hour 3.17 a.m.
Not much chance of another aeroplane passing in the
ordinary way. But we know there was one, piloted
by his friend Dennis Evans. . . . And, when that
friend disappears, you must admit that the case
THE "MOTH" MURDER 61
against him begins to look suspicious, to say the least
of it."
"Yes," answered Walker, "but when you add the
fact that the woman he loves was also in the 'plane,
suspicion is instantly removed."
"But do we know he loved her?" asked Hunt. "A
good many people keep up the deception in public,
remember."
"That may be so," replied Walker. "Probably is.
But I know, I am positive, that young Evans thought
the world of his wife. I don't know that she re-
turned his love, mind you I think so, though."
"I haven't finished yet," continued the Chief Con-
stable. "Another way to commit murder in the air
would be to stow away on the aeroplane, or go openly
as passenger, commit the murder, and escape by
parachute."
"Yes," said Hunt thoughtfully, "that's an alterna-
tive. Now, in a 'Moth' there could be no room to
stow away. That leaves the murderer only the
chance to go as passenger. In this case there was
a passenger Mrs. Evans.
"We know Mrs. Evans had no parachute. The
question is, had Mrs. Evans the means by which she
could murder Sir Charles in this case a revolver
or an automatic and also, had she the motive ? Re-
member, the motive in her case would have had to
have been exceptionally strong for she herself would
also have had to have been prepared to perish."
"Yes, we must look into the question of motive very
carefully, Inspector, but it need not be as strong as
you think. To start with, once again we have only
one man's evidence again Bailey's that she had no
62 THE "MOTH" MURDER
parachute. Now let's suppose Mrs. Evans had a
parachute and committed the crime say over
Christchurch Harbour. Parachutes don't always
open. If hers didn't, where would she have gone had
she fallen on a mud-flat?"
"Why, out of sight held down by the mud. I
never thought of that," answered the Superintend-
ent. "That's about what happened. . . . Probably
we shall never know the truth."
"Yes, exactly," said the Chief Constable. "Out of
sight in the mud. But that's only one of the possi-
bilities. Suppose, again, this time accepting Bailey's
evidence that she had no parachute, that she shot Sir
Charles when over the same place those soft, seldom
visited mud-flats. The 'plane, Bailey tells me, was
fitted with dual control. All she need have done after
committing the murder would have been to turn the
machine upside down. The body would have
dropped, and, as Walker pointed out, it would re-
main buried deep in the mud for all time.
"Now we know that she didn't carry out this plan
successfully, but we don't know that it wasn't at-
tempted. In all probability, if this was the method
she used, after the shooting of Sir Charles she turned
the 'Moth' upside down, but, for some reason that we
may never discover, his body failed to drop. Lots of
things may have happened it's not hard to imagine
it getting caught up in some way. Then, before she
righted the 'plane again, it may have caught fire
in which case she may have lost her nerve and
jumped, meeting the end she had planned for Sir
Charles."
"That all sounds very cut and dried, sir," the
THE "MOTH" MURDER 63
Superintendent remarked, "but assuming 1 , as you
are, that Mrs. Evans intended to save her own life,
you come up against a snag. What would Mrs.
Evans tell the authorities had happened to Sir
Charles?"
'The question I expected, Walker. The answer is
obvious. She would say they hit a bump or air-
pocket that turned the machine over, throwing Sir
Charles out. Simple, isn't it?"
"I'm sorry," put in Hunt again, "but I see an-
other snag. Don't you think that the odds against
Mrs. Evans' being able to turn the 'plane over ex-
actly at the right moment for the body to fall on a
mud-flat are very great? And if the body didn't fall
on a mud-flat it would fall in the harbour itself and
that would mean that sooner or later it would come to
light. And then the doctors would have found the
bullet wound, and things would have begun to look
black against Mrs. Evans. No, I can't agree with
3 T our theory I'm afraid it's too far fetched."
"Possibly, Inspector. Perhaps the risk would be
too big for her to take. But I've still one more pos-
sibility. Supposing Mr. and Mrs. Evans were work-
ing in collusion . . . would it have been possible for
Mrs. Evans to have shot Sir Charles, set the 'plane
on fire, and jumped to her husband's 'plane beneath
v/ithout a parachute, mind you I remember read-
ing an account of a stunt flyer doing this in Amer-
ica for the films, I believe."
"It could have been done in daylight, I suppose
but remember, this murder was committed in the
dark," replied Hunt.
"Yes I didn't take that factor into considera-
64 THE "MOTH" MURDER
tion," assented the Chief Constable. "I think we can
safely leave that theory out."
"Well," started the Superintendent, "we don't
seem to have made much progress, for all our theories
have met with objections, but I think I can see
what our next move must be. Pull me up if you
find my reasoning at fault.
"It seems to me that, in spite of the various objec-
tions, Mrs. Evans is still the strongest suspect. If
we accept Bailey's evidence, she had no parachute,
and it follows that she perished. To make a case
out against her it is necessary to find the motive
and, as Inspector Hunt says, it's got to be a very
strong one. This means an examination of her
household a trip to Moorlands appears to me to be
indicated.
"Again, taking the other theory improbable as it
appears to me that young Evans murdered both
Sir Charles and his wife. Again we need a motive,
and again the best place to look for evidence that
that motive exists is Moorlands."
"Yes, I think you're right," agreed the Chief Con-
stable. Then, "What do you suggest, Inspector
you seem to be thinking deeply ?" he asked.
"I am," answered Hunt with a smile. "I'm think-
ing of one of the extraordinary features of the case
that both you and Superintendent Walker appear to
have overlooked."
"And that is ?" asked the Chief Constable eagerly.
"Why did it take Sir Charles seventeen minutes to
fly a distance of only twelve miles?"
"A point we've missed, Inspector, as you say. I
wonder? Even if my theory of Mrs. Evans' tipping,
THE "MOTH" MURDER 65
or, rather, attempting to tip, the body out is correct,
it doesn't explain the loss of time satisfactorily.
"The speed of Sir Charles' 'plane would be at least
a hundred miles an hour. Twelve miles at a hun-
dred miles per hour. That would take him, roughly,
just over seven minutes. A margin of ten unac-
counted for."
"No, hardly that, sir. He wouldn't do that speed
whilst climbing. We know it was a 'hotted up' ma-
chine, and would climb on a calm day at a good
eighty miles per hour, but, to be on the safe side,
we'll say he only did seventy. The wind was negli-
gible we'll say ten miles per hour. That brings his
speed over the land down to sixty miles per hour.
At that rate it should have taken him just twelve
minutes he should have been over the Head at 3.12.
There's still a deficit of five minutes, even with my
generous figures. The time taken to tip a body out
would hardly run into seconds, of course."
"Well, what is your theory, Inspector? You've
formed one, I wager," said the Chief Constable.
"Not yet, sir. I'm trying to decide if he could
have landed. I know it would be terribly risky to
attempt to do so in the dark, if not impossible, es-
pecially as we know he took off again. But, even if
he did, I fail to see where it all fits in," replied Hunt.
"I believe you said one of the points we had over-
looked?" queried the Superintendent. "Don't tell
us we have missed another."
"I'm afraid you have, Superintendent, and in my
opinion it's the most important and obvious factor
in the whole case."
"And what is it?"
66 THE "MOTH" MURDER
"Simply that whoever killed Sir Charles murdered
the policeman also. But I agree," the Yard man
added, "that the only thing for us to do now is to
go along to young Evans' place and try to pick up
some helpful information."
VI
HUNT VISITS MOORLANDS
THE little discussion had taken the three only half an
hour, so by seven o'clock Hunt found himself once
more in Walker's car. This time, though, he was
occupying the rear seat, the Chief Constable being
seated in the Inspector's original place.
As he left the "Bull" to enter the car the Yard
man bought a paper from a newsboy standing near,
and as soon as they were on the move he turned up
the accounts of the tragedies.
He found his photograph in a prominent position
on the front page, and a very flattering reference to
himself in the column beneath.
"Inspector Hunt, of the C.I.D.," he read, "is in
charge of the case [this was, of course, the case of the
murdered Constable James, the result of the inquest
on Sir Charles not yet having reached the papers],
and if he shows his usual brilliance the murderer will,
no doubt, soon be brought to justice.
"Inspector Hunt," it continued, "it will be remem-
bered, was responsible for the arrest and conviction
of Ernest Collier, the Guildford poisoner. His
handling of the case, when his superiors had all failed
dismally, won him well-deserved praise and promo-
tion from the authorities, and he is still the youngest
detective-inspector at the Yard. Indeed, it -seemed
hard to believe that the almost boyish figure seated
67
,
68 THE "MOTH" MURDER
next to the Chief Constable at the inquest this after-
noon was Inspector Hunt, the possessor of one of
the ablest brains in the force to-day."
Hunt smiled as he read the compliment. True, he
was young, and felt young. At thirty-two it needed
still more than a couple of murders to damp his out-
look on life.
Glancing over the account of the murder of Con-
stable James, who was described as one of the most
promising young officers in the local constabulary,
and an invaluable member of the "Rovers" football
team, he passed on to the account of the disaster on
the Head.
"Sir Charles Stafford," he read, "will be remem-
bered chiefly for his pioneer work in aviation. His
lone double crossing of the Atlantic in a will
stand for all time as an epic example to the world of
what British courage and British machinery can
accomplish.
"Born in 1899 in Bermuda, he was brought to
England at an early age. After a few years at a
preparatory school he entered [here the name
of a famous Public School was mentioned], his edu-
cation being interrupted by the war. He saw service
in France with the Air Force from July 1917 until
the cessation of hostilities.
"He then went up to Oxford, where he distin-
guished himself in all branches of sport. He was a
member of O.U.D.S. After completing his studies,
he devoted his attention to aeronautical affairs,
mostly on the Continent, and in 19 began to blaze
the trail with long-distance flights to all quarters of
the globe. He was unmarried."
THE "MOTH" MURDER 69
As he read, Hunt recalled the tumultuous welcome
Sir Charles had received in Town after his Atlantic
flights, and saw again the graceful, well-set-up figure
and smiling, handsome features of the baronet ac-
knowledging the cheers of the populace; and as the
fleeting vision passed he swore to himself that he
would do all he could to bring the murderer to
justice.
Looking down the column, he found a short refer-
ence to Dennis Evans. "Mr. Evans," he read, "has
resided on the outskirts of Bournemouth for the past
three years. Both he and his wife, the passenger re-
ferred to above, are very popular locally. They have
both taken a keen interest in one of the leading ama-
teur theatrical companies in the district, and at the
present moment are making a film in which they both
have parts.
"It is still believed possible that Mrs. Evans has
escaped the disaster, and it is hoped that by the time
this appears in print news of both Mr. and Mrs.
Evans will be to hand."
It was obvious to Hunt that the editor had sensed
a mystery and hardly knew the best way to word the
paragraph.
A few minutes later they turned in the drive and
drew up at the house, a large modern residence sit-
uated just over the boundary of the town.
Although it stood in its own grounds, Hunt saw
at once that Evans could not have kept his 'plane
there, for the well-kept lawns, though spacious, were
not half large enough to allow a safe landing, let
alone a take-off.
The door was opened by Evans' butler-valet, a
70 THE "MOTH" MURDER
man named Davis, who knew the Superintendent,
and had seen his car approaching up the drive.
He had learned of the suspected murder of Sir
Charles from the chauffeur who had attended the in-
quest, so, guessing some awkward questions would be
asked, he immediately showed them into a small, well-
furnished room overlooking the gardens, which was
more secluded than the rest of the house.
This was the room that Evans used as his office.
The walls were covered with many sporting prints
and photographs. A typewriter and a telephone
stood on a desk by the window, while down two sides
of the room ran shelves of books, mostly dealing with
sporting subjects. A couple of gun cases hung on
the wall by the door, and near by, on the floor, was
stretched the fine skin of a tiger that Evans had
himself bagged.
A real man's room, thought Hunt, as he seated
himself by the table in the centre.
The Superintendent opened the inquiry. "You
may not have heard," he began, addressing Davis in
a kindly tone, "but we have discovered that Sir
Charles Stafford's death was not due to his accident,
as we at first believed, but to a bullet wound in the
head. In plain English, unless we are very much
mistaken, we are investigating a case of murder.
"It is quite possible, Davis, that you will be able
to help us considerably with our investigations, and
I hope you will do your best to answer any questions
that Inspector Hunt or the Chief Constable may put
to you."
"Certainly, sir. I will do my best to help," an-
swered Davis politely.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 71
"Well, then, Inspector, perhaps you'd be good
enough to carry on?" said the Superintendent, ex-
changing his seat on the corner of the table for one
of the well-padded chairs.
"Take a seat, Davis, and make yourself com-
fortable," began Hunt, knowing the best way to get
information of the kind he was after was by show-
ing civility and tact.
"Now, to start with," he continued, "I don't know
exactly what kind of life Mr. Evans leads. Has he
an income, do you know, or is he in business ?"
"Yes," replied Davis. "He has an income and he
is also in business."
"Oh, both ! I see. And where is his business sit-
uated? Is it local?"
"No, it's not local. It's in Town. The Stock Ex-
change, I believe though I'm not sure about that,"
answered the valet.
"Does he go to Town every day?"
"No, not every day never more than twice a
week. Lately he hasn't been as much as that."
"No. How often has he been going lately, then ?"
The valet thought for a moment. "Not more than
a couple of times in the last month or six weeks."
"I see. Now how long have you been with Mr.
Evans?"
"Two years and a half, sir."
"He has only lived at Moorlands for about three
years, I understand. Have you any idea where he
lived before that?"
"No, I'm afraid I haven't, sir. I believe he used
to travel a lot mostly on the Continent."
"That doesn't help us much, I'm afraid. You
72 THE "MOTH" MURDER
haven't noticed any change in Mr. Evans' manner
lately, have you? For instance, has he seemed wor-
ried or upset in any way?"
The valet hesitated. "Now you mention it, sir,
I have. Nothing very much, but he has seemed to be
a little preoccupied doesn't take any notice of a
question one might ask him, and he is very nervous
at times."
"How long ago was it when you first noticed this
change ?"
"About the time he stopped going to his office
a month or six weeks."
"Some business worry, probably. Now, about
Mrs. Evans. I understand she was a qualified pilot?"
"Yes," the valet replied. "She has been flying now
for some eighteen months."
"This is rather a personal question. I want you to
think carefully before you answer. Has anything
occurred to make you think Mr. and Mrs. Evans
are not getting on so well together as they might?"
"No, nothing. Mr. Evans is devoted to her."
Hunt put a few more somewhat similar questions
to him, but was unable to get the answer he desired.
Then he brought Sir Charles Stafford's name into the
conversation, but with still the same result. Both
Mr. and Mrs. Evans were exceptionally friendly with
him. No, there had never been any quarrel between
them, he was sure.
Seeing that he would be unlikely to get any fur-
ther information from the valet, he turned the con-
versation on to more general lines. He soon learned
that the Evans household was made up of the valet,
THE "MOTH" MURDER 73
housekeeper, cook, three maids, a gardener, and the
chauffeur.
The aeroplane was kept on a farm some couple of
miles away, the chauffeur, an ex-R.A.F. man, keep-
ing it in order.
"I think I should like to see the housekeeper now.
Will you go and ask her if she can spare us a few
minutes?" asked Hunt, dismissing the valet.
Davis left the room, and the housekeeper, a rather
stern-looking woman of about forty, was soon in the
chair he had vacated.
Similar questions were asked again with the same
replies. She had, she told him, noticed a change
come over Mr. Evans lately. He seemed to be lost in
thought for hours on end. He w r ould start too if
the doorbell rang, or if any stranger came up the
drive. She was sure he had something on his mind,
and went about expecting something to happen.
No, she had no idea what his business was. Like
the valet, she thought he was in some way connected
with the Stock Exchange. He was devoted to his
wife, she was sure.
The chauffeur was sent for next. He had no idea
where Mr. Evans' office was situated. He would drop
him at his club and pick him up there again later,
generally the next afternoon.
Mrs. Evans never accompanied him to Town when
he went on business. When they went on a shopping
expedition, or for pleasure, they usually travelled by
air.
Mrs. Evans was crazy on flying caught the craze
from Sir Charles Stafford, he thought.
Two of the maids who followed the chauffeur
74 THE "MOTH" MURDER
could add little the trio did not already know. It
seemed to Hunt that in suspecting either Mr. or
Mrs. Evans he was definitely on the wrong track.
From what he had heard, he gathered that they were
an unusually happy young couple, blessed with an
abundance of the world's riches. Mr. Evans' recent
unnaturalness was, he thought, no doubt due to some
business worry.
Then Dorothy Mills, Mrs. Evans' young maid, en-
tered, and soon shattered Hunt's newly formed illu-
sions, plunging him again into a maze of suspicion.
She was a pretty brunette, with laughing eyes,
well-spoken, and completely at her ease. It seemed
certain to Hunt she had seen better days.
Her room, she said, was directly over that of Mrs.
Evans. Several times lately she had been disturbed
by the sound of Mrs. Evans sobbing bitterly in the
night.
"Oh !" said Hunt. "I'm sorry to hear that. Have
you any idea what the trouble was ?"
The girl looked at him for a moment. "I have an
idea but I don't think I ought to tell you! . . .
Will you promise to keep it secret if I do?"
"Of course!" replied Hunt. "Anything you tell
me unless it has a bearing on the case and is used
in evidence will remain a secret."
The girl still looked a trifle dubious. "I don't see
how it can come out in evidence, and, if you promise
to keep it to yourself, I think I can tell you what is
worrying both Mr. and Mrs. Evans," she said at
length.
"I promise," said Hunt, with barely concealed
THE "MOTH" MURDER 75
eagerness. "Now just what is worrying Mr. and
Mrs. Evans?"
"Well," the maid began, "the first time I heard
Mrs. Evans crying would be about a month ago. I
had not been feeling well, so I went to bed early.
The sound woke me up about midnight. Mr.
Evans w r as in the room with her. He was talking
softly at first. Mrs. Evans' sobs continued. I
couldn't hear what he was saying. Then all at once
he raised his voice.
" 'If we are ruined,' he said, 'you've only your ex-
travagance to blame for it.' He spoke softly again
for a while; then, later, I caught a bit more of the
conversation. 'If I knew who' then a name I
couldn't catch *was, I'd get him, even if I swung
for it.' That was all I heard that night.
"About a week later he was talking again. It was
a sultry night we had a thunderstorm about 3 A.M.
and my bedroom window was wide open. I
couldn't sleep and I was sitting in my dressing-gown
looking out over the golf-course. The lightning was
quite vivid, and I was wondering whether we should
get the storm we don't often here, you know. I'm
frightened to death of thunder, and I was just think-
ing of going into cook's room next door when Mr.
Evans crossed the floor below and opened the window.
"He only spoke a few words, but I caught them
all. 'That's the only w r ay, Peggy, I'm afraid,' he
said. 'We'll go over to the States and from there
to somewhere where the law can't touch us. I may
not be able to save much from the wreck, but what
little I have by me will keep us going if we live
quietly anyhow, it's that or nothing.' As you
76 THE "MOTH" MURDER
know, they were sailing to-day. That's all I can
tell you, I'm afraid."
"Extraordinary. I can hardly believe it," put in
Walker, when the maid had excused herself. "Young
Evans bolting. It just shows you one half of the
world never guesses how the other half lives."
It was plain the Superintendent was shaken. His
faith in the innocence of young Evans had known no
bounds. "This alters the case considerably," he was
bound to admit.
"Yes," replied the Chief Constable, "it does and
for the moment I must confess I fail to see what's to
be done next."
"So do I. We're up against a deadlock," said
Walker. "What do you suggest, Inspector?"
"I must agree that we seem to have come to a
dead-end, but remember, we have made good prog-
ress. If we could only ascertain the nature of his
business, I think we should also find the key to the
mystery. It seems obvious to me that some rival has
been ruining him. You'll remember he said, 'If I
knew who somebody or other is, I'd get him, even
if I swung for it."
"If he himself didn't know who his competitor was,
we don't stand much chance of finding out, until, at
least, we know his business."
"Quite," remarked the Chief Constable. "The
next thing to do is to get on the track of this mys-
terious business. I say mysterious deliberately, be-
cause if no one in his house, not even his chauffeur,
knew what or where his business was, it must be
something that he doesn't want talked about."
"And add to that," suggested Walker, "the fact
77
that he talks about killing a rival, then it becomes
easy to make more than a wild guess."
"Yes," answered the Chief Constable. "Mem-
bers of the Stock Exchange certainly don't go about
threatening to kill one another. It sounds more like
dope trafficking or rum-running to me. What do
you say, Inspector?"
"I certainly agree, sir, that your suspicions may
prove to be well founded. But we are sure of noth-
ing yet, and I think it's unwise to work out theories
until we're certain they are being built on solid
ground. To my mind, here we have a case of a man
saying he is going to commit a murder. This same
man is last seen flying off with a man who is after-
wards found murdered in his aeroplane. We know of
no cause of ill-feeling between the two men. But
don't you agree that the best place to search for evi-
dence of this ill-feeling is at the home of the mur-
dered man?"
"He's right again, Superintendent. I shouldn't
like to commit a murder and have him on my trail,"
said the Chief Constable, with unconcealed admira-
tion.
They rose and passed out through the study door.
In the hall a smartly-dressed, vivacious, but rather
over-painted lady stood talking to the valet.
As soon as she saw the Superintendent she made
over to him. "Isn't it terrible !" she began excitedly.
"Poor Peggy, so young, so beautiful, to have come
to such an end.
"And poor Sir Charles too. A blessing perhaps,
though, in some ways. She would have died of
grief in any case. So terribly in love with him,
78 THE "MOTH" MURDER
you know. I never could understand it myself.
Poor Dennis gave her everything she asked for to
make her happy. Never a bit jealous or angry.
Such a gentleman. I do hope nothing has happened
to him. Where do you think he is, Superintendent?"
"I'm afraid I can't say, Mrs. Birch ; it's a mystery
to me. Allow me to introduce Major Williams, the
Chief Constable; and Detective-Inspector Hunt of
Scotland Yard."
"So delighted to meet you," she said to Hunt.
"I'm really quite thrilled. It's the first time I've
met a real detective. I was beginning to think they
existed only in novels."
As she spoke, Hunt felt the Superintendent dig
him in the back. "We must hurry, Inspector," he
said. "We've a lot to do before dark."
Hunt took the hint, and, apologising to Mrs.
Birch, who was preparing a long string of questions
to fire at him, for his hurried departure, followed the
Superintendent and Major Williams to the car.
Once up the drive and out of hearing, the Super-
intendent let fty. "Of all the insufferable bores and
evil-tongued scandalmongers I've ever met, that wo-
man takes the biscuit.
"My poor Peggy this, and my poor Peggy that,
when all the time she hates her like poison. Why,
Mrs. Evans even forbade her the house a short time
ago. She'd turn in her grave, I'm certain, were she
to know that Davis had let that woman in.
"I forget exactly how the climax came, but I know
what the trouble was over. Young Evans told me
himself. It appears she was making a dead set at
him, and, when she failed to capture his affections,
THE "MOTH" MURDER 79
did all she could to make trouble between him and his
wife. Definitely an undesirable sort of woman. Her
husband left her long ago I don't blame him, poor
devil."
"I've met the type myself, Superintendent," com-
mented the Chief Constable, "though luckily they're
few and far between."
"And I too," added Hunt, "but, as much as I
despise them, I never allow myself to overlook the
fact that even they sometimes speak the truth."
VII
THE CUT TIRE MYSTERY
THE long spring evening was drawing to a close when
the Superintendent's car drew up outside Sir Charles
Stafford's lovely residence on the edge of the New
Forest.
Hunt, who had never before visited Lymington, en-
joyed every moment of the drive, and was almost
sorry when at last he had to drag his tired body from
the luxurious, well-sprung upholstery of Walker's
car. But, tired as he was, he roused himself quickly
at the sight of another car, a Rolls-Royce, standing
outside the front door.
"Mr. Day, for a fiver," he said aloud. "I wonder
if he'll have anything to tell us?"
His surmise was quite correct. Mr. Day was in the
hall talking to the butler.
Directly he saw the Superintendent he hurried
over to him. Hunt could see he was flushed and ex-
cited, and, he thought, looked not altogether sober.
"Oh, Superintendent !" he began, in a rather loud,
excited manner. "I'm so glad you've come. You'll
never guess what's happened.
"You know I was supposed to be staying here last
night? I didn't though, of course, but that doesn't
matter at least, not a lot, only if I had I should
have found out sooner.
"I must have changed suit-cases with Mrs. Evans
80
THE "MOTH" MURDER 81
when it happened I can't say. Anyhow, it did
happen. Imagine my surprise, Superintendent,
when I opened my bag or should I say what I took
to be my bag this morning? What do you think it
contained?"
The Superintendent seemed a bit dazed by this
torrent of words, and repeated the question aloud.
"What should I expect to find if I opened a lady's
suit-case? Why some of her clothes, I expect.
Maybe even some underclothes," he added gravely.
"Just so, Superintendent, so should I, and if I
had I should have said nothing, but returned it
quietly to her house. But I didn't that's the funny
part.
"There were no clothes. None at all. Nothing
not even a toothbrush! No nothing nothing but
money !
"Stacks of money all notes hundreds of 'em
no, thousands and all five-pound notes."
"Where are they?" asked Hunt quickly. "Have
you them with you?"
"Yes," replied Day. "Of course I have. I've
brought them back here where I found them. Stur-
man has helped me to put them in the safe. They'll
be safe there, whose ever they are."
"Well, if this isn't the limit," remarked the Chief
Constable to Walker, in an undertone. "But for this
drunken fool all this money would have been lost for
ever. It seems to me that young Evans has man-
aged to save a considerable amount from the wreck
after all."
They followed Hunt and Day to a massive safe
let into the wall of Sir Charles' study. Sturman
82 THE "MOTH" MURDER
knew the combination ; he kept the silver there, he ex-
plained.
He dialled the letters C.H.A.L.Y.M., turned the
key, and the heavy door swung open. The Inspector
reached for the suit-case, a neat blue expanding one,
with the initials P.E., painted in black letters on the
front. Carrying it orver to the table, he unlocked it
with Day's key.
It was filled, as Day had said, with five-pound
notes, pile upon pile, bound with elastic and all ap-
parently genuine.
He set to work to count them roughly. The piles
all seemed to contain an equal number. He counted
one quickly. A thousand notes 5,000.
Quickly he counted the bundles. There were fifty.
"Strewth!" he exclaimed. . . . "Fifty times five
thousand a fortune. Two hundred and fifty thou-
sand. A quarter of a million."
He glanced at some of the numbers. To his sur-
prise, few of them were consecutive. A quarter of
a million of untraceable money !
" 'And we shall have to live very quietly.' Good
Lord ! How could he have called himself ruined with
this lot?
"I say, Superintendent, we can't leave all this here.
You must take it to the station and lock it away
until to-morrow and then bank it. My Goodness!
I've never handled a case with so many staggering
surprises."
The others were equally astounded.
The Chief Constable grasped the table for sup-
port, while Sturman seemed totally unable to keep
THE "MOTH" MURDER 83
his bulging eyes away from the table, however hard
he tried to preserve his usual dignified manner.
Day, who had had all this wealth in his hands,
seemed equally shaken by the disclosures. He had
hurriedly returned it to the house without thought,
too drunk, or too startled, to trouble to count it.
What a chance he had missed ! The money untrace-
able, and the owner of it, in all probability, dead.
Rich though he already was, the desire to accumu-
late more was still strong within him.
Hunt could guess from his downfallen countenance
what was passing through the man's mind. Little
wonder too, for the temptation to any man to say
nothing, had he known just how much the case con-
tained, would have been almost overwhelmingly
strong, and the chance of detection practically nil.
Even if Evans had afterwards turned up and claimed
the money, Day could have pretended he had not yet
unpacked the suit-case and discovered his mistake.
The unhappy-looking man soon left the room, pre-
sumably to seek solace in liquid refreshment.
"Well, this certainly does confirm the maid's story,
Inspector," commenced the Chief' Constable, "but
otherwise it doesn't get us any nearer our goal."
"No, sir, it doesn't," Hunt replied. "We'd better
put this back in the safe for a time and continue our
inquiries. I suggest we see what Sturman can tell
us first."
"As you like, Inspector," assented Major Wil-
liams.
To begin with, Hunt let the butler tell of how he
obtained his post and of what little he knew of Sir
Charles' earlier life in his own way. But Sturman
84 THE "MOTH" MURDER
was unable to divulge anything Hunt did not already
know.
Seeing that this method was a waste of time, and
looked like serving no useful purpose, Hunt began
to question him directly.
"Yes, Sturman," he said pleasantly, "that's all
very clear, but unfortunately we know it all already.
Now let me ask you a few questions. Firstly, what
becomes of the title and estates now Sir Charles is
dead?"
"Oh!" replied the butler, "Sir Charles has a cou-
sin a gentleman named Henry Sandleson. I believe
he is Sir Charles' next of kin. He has been here once
or twice, but, to tell the truth, Sir Charles did not
get on with him at all well. In fact, the last time he
was here Sir Charles ordered me to show him out.
That was six months ago. He hasn't been here since.
I rather fancy, from what Sir Charles said at the
time, he is a ne'er-do-well."
"Have you any idea what they quarrelled about ?"
"Yes as a matter of fact, Sir Charles told me
afterwards. He was demanding money. I had strict
orders that I was not to allow him to enter should
he ever turn up again."
"Well, it will be different now. I suppose he has
succeeded to the title and estates," commented Hunt.
"He'll put in an appearance pretty soon, I expect,
unless he's out of the country. Now, you say Sir
Charles had a large income. Was he not also in
business?"
"No. He was on the board of several aviation com-
panies, that was all. He seldom went to Town."
THE "MOTH" MURDER 85
"More of a figurehead, you mean, than an active
director?"
"Yes, that's right. It was an asset to any firm
to get his name on their letter-heads."
"I see." Then "Did Mr. and Mrs. Evans often
visit him?"
"Oh, yes ! They were great friends. They came
over several times a week. Mrs. Evans especially.
She used to golf a good deal with Sir Charles."
"Oh . . . now ... do you happen to know
where Sir Charles lived before he came to Forest
Court?"
"Yes. He used to live at Harrow. I believe Mrs.
Evans came from somewhere near that district. I
understand that was where she first met Sir Charles.
She was unmarried then, of course."
"Was she How long has she been married?"
"Just over three years, I believe. Sir Charles was
best man at the wedding. I can show you a photo-
graph of the couple leaving the church of course,
this was all before my time, but Mrs. Allen, Sir
Charles' old nurse, told me this before she died. She
was with him all his life or, I should say, with the
family. Sir Charles lived with an uncle, who has
since died, when he first came to England. This Mrs.
Allen stayed on as housekeeper when Sir Charles
went to school. After his uncle died, Sir Charles had
old Mrs. Allen here pensioned her off, as it were, till
she died."
Hunt thought for a moment. "Have you any
idea if Sir Charles and Mrs. Evans quarrelled re-
cently?" he asked.
86 THE "MOTH" MURDER
"Quarrelled ? No, I should think not. They were
the best of friends."
"You must have seen a lot of Mr. and Mrs. Evans
together. Did they always strike you as being a
happy couple?"
"Yes, always. I feel sure they were."
Hunt tried several more questions, but was unable
to extract any further information. That he had ob-
tained had been given freely, and he had no reason
to suspect the man of withholding anything im-
portant.
Next he intimated that he wanted to go from the
study to the hangar where Sturman had last seen
Sir Charles alive.
It was quite a short walk down a passage and
through a door set in the wall at the end.
The hangar was a spacious building, large enough
to hold three or four 'planes at the same time. A
fast single-seater of the fighting type was its sole
occupant.
"A design of Sir Charles'," remarked the butler,
noticing the Chief Constable seemed interested in it.
"It has a very low landing speed coupled with a re-
markable performance. Sir Charles intended to
place it on the market shortly."
There was obviously nothing there that would help
in the solving of the crimes, so Hunt passed on
through an open door into the garage. Two cars
stood there the Rover and a sports Bugatti.
"Are these the only cars Sir Charles possessed?"
asked Hunt.
"Oh, no," replied the butler. "There's a Bentley
too."
THE "MOTH" MURDER 87
"A Bentley too. Where's that kept?"
"In here usually but just now it's up in the re-
pair shop."
"And where's the repair shop?"
"Over by Bailey's house across the park by the
lake."
"We're just going over there, so I can satisfy my
curiosity then. Which is our quickest way round
this path or back through the hangar?"
"There's not much in it. They're both about the
same. Ah! Here comes young Jim, the under-
chauffeur he'll show you across."
A pleasant-looking youth of some eighteen sum-
mers came up to them. He had overheard Sturman's
remarks, and was, in fact, on his way over to the
workshop himself.
The three set out, and during the three-quarters of
a mile walk across the park Hunt was engaged in an-
imated conversation with Jim Hucklesby. He
learned that Jim was an enthusiastic motorcyclist,
who was busy at the moment putting the finishing
touches to a machine Sir Charles had entered for
him to ride in the Tourist Trophy race in the Isle
of Man next month.
He was full of praise for Sir Charles, who, he said,
was a thorough sportsman, and seemed deeply
shocked by the tragedy. He could not, however, add
any information to that the Inspector had already
gathered.
He had only been with Sir Charles a few months.
The story of how he obtained his post was quite
interesting.
Sir Charles was president of a local motor-cycle
88 THE "MOTH" MURDER
club, and had presented the prizes at one of the
monthly grass track meetings, when Jim had carried
off the majority of events. Recognising Jim as a
resident of Lymington, he had afterwards stopped
and chatted whenever they met.
Then, when the garage Jim was employed at had
closed down, he had taken him on as under-chauffeur.
Sir Charles soon discovered that in Jim he had an
exceptionally fine driver, and did all he could to help
him realise his ambition to win the Senior Tourist
Trophy.
And Jim assured Hunt that he meant to make the
most of his chance and ride as never before.
By this time they had come up to the landing-
light that had given trouble early that morning.
Jim explained that, although he had spent some time
in examining it, he had been unable to find any de-
fect. It seemed to function perfectly.
He said that the current for this lamp was gen-
erated over by the repair shop, a hundred yards or
so away. Sir Charles had decided it would be more
satisfactory to generate the current for this part of
the estate separately than to run a cable across from
the house plant.
Hunt found the switch and pulled it down. In-
stantly a powerful shaft of light shot across the dark-
ened park. He left it on for some little time, but
was not rewarded with a flicker. Evidently all was
in order now.
The little group continued towards the block of
buildings. The hitherto broad, level park gave way
here to a little plantation of fir-trees on either side
of the now narrow strip of rather tufty grass.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 89
It seemed probable to Hunt that this was where
the 'planes had started their rush across the park.
He was right again in his surmise, as he afterwards
learned.
A few more paces, then Jim announced that the
first building was the repair shop. He produced his
keys, and, after unlocking the door, switched on the
light.
The place, large enough to hold three cars, was in
spotless condition. A well-equipped bench ran down
one side, while across the bottom stood the lathes and
drills, driven, Hunt could see, by a small electric
motor. Just inside the door stood a couple of motor-
cycles one, a specially-built, stripped grass-track
racing machine, and the other one of the newest of
road-racers.
But Hunt was not, at the moment, interested in
these. His eyes were all for the Bentley.
It stood in the centre of the shed, facing the door,
over an open pit, and he saw at once that it was fitted
with Firestone tires.
Moving over to the car, he quickly examined the
near-side front one. The V-shaped cut he was look-
ing for did not appear to be there.
Releasing the brake, he pushed the car forward a
pace. This time his examination yielded the result
he hoped for. Whoever had left the car there had,
either by accident or design, stopped the wheel with
the cut hidden by the ground.
He nodded to the others, warning them with his
finger to his lips to say nothing in front of Jim.
But Jim had not noticed the inspection of the tire,
being busily engaged in fitting some little gadget he
90 THE "MOTH" MURDER
had brought from the house to his stripped machine.
So absorbed was he in his task that he, although
nearer to the door than the others, did not, in com-
mon with them, notice the face of the mechanic Bailey
peering at them from the darkness without.
"I think the next move is to have a little chat with
Bailey, don't you, sir?" remarked Hunt to the Chief
Constable.
His mind was going back to that afternoon at the
inquest when the mechanic had shown so much un-
easiness. At the time he had put it down as being
due to the strangeness of the surroundings, but he
began to think differently.
As he spoke he did not know that Bailey himself
had heard the words, and was now doubling back to
his house to regain, if possible, a little of his com-
posure before the ordeal began.
"Yes," the Chief Constable replied. "I think so
too. I noticed a light in what I took to be his house
as we were coming over, so I think we shall catch
him in."
Jim followed them to the door. "You can't miss
his place," he said, "so there's no need for me to come.
It's the next building but one."
Bailey himself answered Hunt's knock, and, show-
ing surprise as though seeing them for the first time
that night, asked them in.
The little room was cosy, well furnished, and
scrupulously clean. Hunt put his hat on the table
and curtly refused the proffered seat. Bailey did
not seem as nervous now as he did at the inquest.
Now that the crisis had come, fear had lent him
courage enough to make an attempt to bluff the sit-
uation.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 91
To Hunt's mind this little man did not seem to
look the part of a murderer. But he knew from ex-
perience that it was impossible to tell by looks alone.
Many a little man had paid the supreme penalty.
He decided to come straight to the point. "Now,
Bailey," he said in a voice that rang with authority,
"I want the true account of your movements between
three o'clock this morning and the time when Stur-
man called you to the 'phone with the news of the
disaster."
"The true account?" echoed Bailey with well-
feigned surprise. "Why, I gave it at the inquest.
After I put out the landing-light I came straight in
here and went to bed."
"Look here, my man, I tell you candidly that tale
no longer holds water. You were seen to leave here
in the Bentley just after the 'planes had left,"
bluffed Hunt.
Bailey seemed relieved. A ghost of a smile played
across his lips. "If that's all you have against me,
sir," he said, "I can soon prove to you that your
information is incorrect."
He spoke with conviction and, they thought, spoke
the truth.
"And how," queried Hunt in a little less com-
manding manner, "can you prove that my informa-
tion is incorrect?"
"Easily. The Bentley was taken away yesterday
afternoon and not brought back until this morning !"
"Oh !" exclaimed Hunt, astounded. "Who took it
away, and to where was it taken?"
"Jim Hucklesby took it away to Hendon to the
makers to get a new camshaft. You see, it's a spe-
cial job, and standard spares won't fit."
VIII
THE ARREST
"JiM HUCKLESBY?" echoed Hunt. "And he was
away with it, you say, all night ?"
"Yes, sir; at least, he didn't bring it back here
until this morning. I understand from what he told
me, though, that he got back to Lymington just be-
fore midnight, and left it in his father's garage. His
father, of course, keeps a public house on the other
side of the town."
"This complicates matters a lot," said Hunt to
the Chief Constable. "We must see Hucklesby again
at once. I feel certain, though, that he's not mixed
up in this business himself, but it may have been pos-
sible for someone to have borrowed the car without
his knowledge."
Picking up his hat, he made for the door. "You're
not going to bed for a few minutes, Bailey, are you ?"
he asked. "I may want your help again."
"No, sir," replied the mechanic. "I shall be up
for an hour or more yet. I usually keep the wireless
on until late."
Hunt, followed by the Superintendent and Major
Williams, hurried from the house. To his surprise,
the light in the garage had been turned off. Going
up to the door, he found that it was locked. It was
obvious that Jim had gone.
"Curse it!" said Hunt, half to himself. "We
92
THE "MOTH" MURDER 93
ought to have asked him to wait. It'll probably take
us half the night to find him again."
Just then the strains of the "Indian Love Call,"
from Rose Marie, came floating across the park.
"That's probably him whistling," observed the Su-
perintendent, "and, if so, he's a good half way across
to the house."
"Wait," shouted Hunt. "I know how I can at-
tract his attention."
He sprinted off in the direction of the landing-
light. The others followed at a more leisurely pace.
Reaching the light, Hunt switched it on. It was
fitted with a swivel, and almost immediately the beam
picked Hucklesby up. A few signals and the lad,
guessing he was wanted, began to retrace his foot-
steps.
The trio went part of the way to meet him, leav-
ing the light on and walking down its ray.
"I didn't realise you were going so soon," began
Hunt, "and I've one or two important questions to
ask you. To start off with, I'll tell you I'm trying
to trace the movements of the Bentley, and I want
you to tell me whether you think anyone could have
borrowed it after you put it away in your father's
garage last night?"
"My father's garage ?" repeated the lad, as though
unable to grasp the Yard man's meaning. "Who
told you I put it in my father's garage?"
"Never mind that. Do you think anyone could
have borrowed it without your knowledge?"
But Hucklesby cut him short. "You're on the
wrong track, Inspector, I'm afraid. I haven't got
94 THE "MOTH" MURDER
a father at all much less a father with a garage.
Did Bailey tell you that yarn?"
"Haven't got a father?" cried the Chief Constable,
momentarily forgetful of his grammar. "Bailey's
called your bluff all right, Inspector, and sent us all
on a wild goose chase. If we don't get back instantly,
he'll get away if he's not already done so."
They started back towards the mechanic's house.
"Yes, sir," replied Hunt, "he bluffed me badly,
and by now, no doubt, he's miles away."
Hardly had he uttered the words when a car en-
gine woke to life with a roar. From the darkness of
the distant sheds shot the glare of powerful head-
lights. Across the park towards them came the Bent-
ley, accelerating rapidly. A moment more and it
had passed them, a good hundred yards to their left,
travelling at quite seventy miles an hour.
"Well, that's that!" said Hunt angrily. "He's
tricked us properly. The next thing to do is to go
back to the house and 'phone, but by the time the
police are warned he'll be miles away. And to think
I could have sworn that he was not a murderer !"
"Why don't you 'phone from Bailey's house?" ad-
vised Jim, thoroughly thrilled by his experience.
"It'll save you quite ten minutes."
"That's a good idea, Jim. I will. Let's sprint."
The Chief Constable and Superintendent did not
see how any sprinting on their part would help mat-
ters, so followed in a more dignified manner.
In a short time Hunt and young Jim arrived at
the mechanic's house. The door, they found to their
surprise, was locked. However, under their com-
bined weight it soon flew open.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 95
"The 'phone's in his bedroom," announced Huck-
lesby, rushing up the stairs.
Hunt picked up the instrument hurriedly. He
could tell at once the line was dead. Glancing down,
he saw the trouble. The line was cut in two places.
Jim came to the rescue again. "I'll run you down
to the house on my motor-cycle. It'll bump a bit
there's no carrier but I've a little air-cushion on
the back mudguard, and a pair of pillion rests."
"Fine," answered Hunt. "I'll endure the bump-
ing."
A few moments later they were again in the re-
pair shop. The machine was, luckily, not quite ready
for the races, and so was still equipped with electric
lights.
A short push and the well-tuned engine jumped
to life. Hunt clambered into position behind the
under-chauffeur, and they were off.
Their speed increased rapidly, sixty seventy
nearly eighty, then in an incredibly short space of
time they were braking for the house. Almost before
they came to a standstill, Hunt was off, flying up the
steps to the front door. He tried it it opened and
in he rushed without knocking.
The 'phone was in the hall. Taking off the re-
ceiver, he impatiently awaited the exchange to an-
swer. But no answer came the line seemed dead.
He examined the instrument quickly. It had not
been tampered with. "Cut outside, no doubt," he
* thought, replacing the receiver on its hook.
Jim was still waiting outside. One of the garden-
ers stood with him. This man had seen the hurried
96 THE "MOTH" MURDER
departure of the mechanic, and had noticed he took
the Bournemouth road.
"Where can we 'phone from?" asked Hunt as he
came up. "He's cut this wire too."
"There's a 'phone-box in Lymington, sir," volun-
teered Jim. "Jump on we'll soon be there."
Hunt helped to start the machine again, leaping
on to his seat as the engine fired.
The speed at which Jim covered the few miles to
Lymington convinced Hunt that the lad was a mar-
vellous driver. Trusting that the road ahead was
clear, he had approached, and sometimes taken,
many of the really nasty corners at a speed of well
*over a mile a minute. Luckily no traffic was on the
road or disaster must have overtaken them.
Hunt had not ridden a motor-cycle for years, and
as the powerful machine raced along, banking and
braking for corners, and getting away again with
flashing acceleration, he realised that the possession
of one provided the lucky owner who defied the law
and opened wide the throttle with more thrills than
any racing car or aeroplane.
Again, in an almost unbelievable space of time,
they reached their destination ; pulling up at a tele-
phone-box in a long, controlled skid.
This time Hunt had better luck, getting through
immediately to the police station, where the sergeant
in charge took down the C.I.D. man's brief descrip-
tion of Bailey and the car which, before many min-
utes had elapsed, was circulating to all stations in
the southern part of the country.
Going back to the machine again, he noticed that
their hectic arrival had attracted the attention of a
THE "MOTH" MURDER ^ 97
patrolling constable, who stood questioning Jim at
some length.
Hunt produced his card and the policeman, who
had seemed a little sceptical of Jim's story, became
all politeness.
Yes, a Bentley had passed some five minutes be-
fore travelling at a furious pace. Yes, it was still
on the Bournemouth road.
"Let's try to catch him," suggested Jim, now
really worked up by the thrill of the hunt. "We can,
you know, sir. We'll beat him on the corners."
Hunt, too, felt the fever of the chase. "Let's try,"
he answered rashly.
The constable gave them a push, and a ride that
Detective-Inspector Hunt was to remember all his
life began.
The winding road to Highcliff e was covered at an
even faster rate than that they had been travelling
at previously. They thundered through the little
village, bringing people wrathfully to their windows
from their beds.
A constable sprang from out of a doorway at the
Bournemouth end of the narrow street, waving his
light and shouting. But for all the good he did he
might just as well have saved himself the trouble,
for Jim paid him no attention, but tore on the faster.
His speed, as he braked hard for the turn a little dis-
tance beyond the village, was over ninety miles per
hour.
Just before reaching Totland Corner, the scene of
the murder of Constable James, a rabbit, dazed by
the headlight, dodged across in front of them. They
hit it fair and square with the front wheel, but,
98 THE "MOTH" MURDER
luckily for them, its body was flung clear, and they
were not thrown off.
Not in the least perturbed by this narrow escape,
Jim kept the throttle open. Soon they came to the
junction of the Lymington and London-Bourne-
mouth roads. A policeman was standing on the strip
of grass on the corner nearest Bournemouth. Pull-
ing up for a moment, they learned that the Bentley
had turned, not three minutes before, towards Lon-
don. The policeman had tried to stop it, but in vain.
He had received a 'phone call from Lymington just
as the car approached.
Off again ; this time on the long straights through
the Forest towards Lyndhurst. They would not gain
much here. The Bentley would do an easy one hun-
dred and twenty miles per hour, and, even if they
whacked up one hundred and ten miles per hour, Jim
doubted whether the Inspector would be able to stand
the terrific bumping.
But, to Hunt's own surprise, he was able to keep
his seat; and consequently the maximum speed of
the motor-cycle was reached on many of the straights.
Lyndhurst at last. Another policeman in the
street. They pulled up hurriedly. Yes, the Bentley
had just passed. Not so much ahead either less
than two minutes now. He had not taken the South-
ampton road, but turned left for Romsey.
"Making for Town," yelled Jim. "Suppose he
thought the level crossing gates on the Lyndhurst-
Southampton road might be shut. We'll catch him
now he'll find this road too twisty."
Jim's optimism proved not unfounded. Three
minutes later the lights of the Bentley could be seen
THE "MOTH" MURDER 99
a mile or so ahead. His quarry in sight, Jim took
more risks than ever. There was traffic on the road
now heavy lorries bringing produce from London
to the coastal towns. They flashed by them, flat out,
gone long before the drivers' curses could reach their
ears.
Bailey was going a little slower now. He had no
idea that he was being pursued. Five minutes later
the motor-cycle was close enough for its light to re-
flect on the Bentley's windscreen. It was then the
mechanic realised the chase was on.
With a frightened oath he banged down the accel-
erator, and the big car, responding, leaped forward.
He had left it too late, though ; the twisty road did
not permit him to use his superior speed to advan-
tage, and, foot by foot, the motor-cycle drew closer.
The man was desperate now. He was cornering
almost as fast as Jim. But it was obvious that he
could not keep it up. Again and again he only es-
caped disaster by a miracle. Less than a hundred
yards now separated pursuer and pursued. They
were entering the narrow, twisty streets of Romsey.
The police here had received the news, and had
started to erect a flimsy barrier. The Bentley, how-
ever, took it in its stride, scattering the policemen
in all directions. But the incident caused Bailey to
miss his turn. Now he was on a loose-surfaced, un-
familiar road with the roaring motor-cycle but fifty
yards behind.
Two miles farther on stood the little village of
Houghton. It was approached from Romsey by a
straight and level half-mile stretch of road, followed
by an S bend.
100 THE "MOTH" MURDER
The Bentley had careered madly down the straight
at over a hundred miles per hour; while the motor-
cycle, owing to the bumpy state of the road, had
fallen some hundred yards behind.
Elated by the discovery that he was shaking off his
pursuers, Bailey left his braking for the bend a
fraction of a second too late.
In a hectic skid the Bentley struck the bank at the
apex of the first bend of the S, wrenching the off-
side rear tire clean from the wheel. By a super-
human effort Bailey righted the car for a moment,
only to lose control again almost instantly as he
skidded madly on the second bend of the S.
This time luck did not favour the mechanic. Still
moving at well over a mile a minute, the Bentley
charged a low brick wall. The wall held, but the
car doubled up like a concertina.
This abrupt termination of his forward motion
caused Bailey to be flung from his seat and cata-
pulted high into the air.
Either nature or an earlier generation of villagers
had luckily decided that the spot he was heading for
was ideal for a really deep pond. This decision alone
undoubtedly allowed the delivery of a live man to
justice.
Skilfully avoiding the wrecked car, which almost
blocked the narrow road, Jim brought his machine
to a standstill only a few paces beyond it.
Hunt hurriedly scaled the wall, over which he had
seen the wanted man disappearing, and saw him,
partly stunned and half-drowned, struggling in the
water.
With Jim's help he dragged him ashore. After a
THE "MOTH" MURDER 101
few minutes the fugitive had recovered sufficiently to
realise what had happened to him. He did not seem
surprised to find the handcuffs on his wrists.
"I shall detain you on suspicion of being concerned
in the murder of Constable James some time between
the hours of three and six-thirty this morning in Red-
stock Lane, and it is my duty to caution you that
anything you say will be taken down and may be used
in evidence against you," warned Hunt, addressing
the terror-stricken man.
"I don't mind how much you caution me," whim-
pered the mechanic. "You can't prove I used the
car."
Hunt would not have answered the prisoner, for
he knew he spoke the truth, but Jim overheard the
remark and supplied the evidence the Yard man
needed.
"Oh, yes, you can, sir," he started. "I saw him
myself. At four o'clock this morning I went across
to get my motor-bike out of the repair shop. You
see, as I told you, I'm practising hard for the races,
and I go out almost every morning at daybreak and
try to cover a hundred miles or so in as many min-
utes.
"Just as I got to the shed I heard a car coming
up the lane by the side of the landing-ground. It
had no lights on, though it was hardly daylight. I
wondered who it could be at that time of morning,
so I hid myself round the corner of the shed to find
out what was going on. The car it was the Bent-
ley came up to the front of the repair shop and
stopped. I saw Bailey get out and swing back the
102 THE "MOTH" MURDER
double doors. Then, getting in the car again, he ran
it into the shop.
"I didn't want him to think I had been spying on
him, so I waited some little time before going in and
getting my bike. I felt the radiator of the Bentley
as I passed and found it was quite hot. I could tell
the car had been driven some distance, and, I
thought, driven hard. I noticed later in the day
that the car had been turned round and placed over
the pit."
"Thank you, Jim," Hunt said with a smile. "I
must take that statement down in writing and get
you to sign it. I think that completes the case."
Then, sternly : "Now, Bailey, unless you can explain
your movements with the car to my satisfaction, I
have no option but to charge you with the murder."
"I can explain, Inspector, but I won't. You must
do your worst," he added defiantly.
IX
ANOTHER BODY
THE noise of the smash had aroused the village con-
stable, whose house was not far from the scene of the
accident. He had hurriedly dressed and proceeded
in the direction from which the sound had come, ar-
riving just as Hunt was deciding to knock someone
up and borrow his car to convey his prisoner to
the police station.
It turned out, however, that the constable had re-
cently come into a little money and possessed an old
Morris Cowley, which was in good going order de-
spite its rather battered appearance. He was also
on the 'phone.
The party set off to his house with the mechanic,
who seemed now to be resigned to his fate.
Once at the house, Hunt 'phoned the news of the
dramatic arrest through to Lymington, asking the
sergeant, who answered the 'phone again; to send a
constable to tell the Chief Constable and Superin-
tendent Walker that they were taking their man to
Bournemouth by road.
Jim arranged to leave his motor-cycle at the po-
liceman's house and call for it when he returned the
car on the morrow.
The old Morris had quite a turn of speed, so the
return journey did not take them much above twice
the time the outward trip had done.
103
104 THE "MOTH" MURDER
The Chief Constable and Walker were already at
the police station, and both seemed extremely thank-
ful that such an early arrest in what seemed at first
so difficult a case had been effected.
The prisoner was immediately charged; he made
no reply, and was escorted to the cells.
After arranging to meet the Chief Constable in
the morning, Hunt set off to Southbourne with Jim,
who had offered to drop him at his sister's house be-
fore continuing his journey back to Lymington.
And so, after a hearty supper, the Inspector,
fagged in body and mind, went to bed.
He had arranged to have breakfast at 7.30 the
next morning, and, although he had not had very
long in bed, he was down before the clock struck the
half -hour, looking and feeling as fresh as ever.
He was not diie at the station to help the Chief
Constable prepare the case against Bailey until ten
o'clock, so he decided to run out to Totland Corner
in his car to examine a little more closely the meadow
in which the detective had found the mysterious foot-
prints.
He was still not satisfied that these prints were un-
connected with the crime although just what part
they played he was quite unable to decide.
Neither had he yet dismissed the still missing
Evans from the case. It seemed highly probable to
him that Bailey had an accomplice ; the words, "I can
explain, but I won't," rather suggested that he was
shielding someone. Even now, though he had him-
self arrested th% man, he felt that Bailey had not
fired the fatal shots, although he undoubtedly had
been there and knew exactly what had happened. **"
THE "MOTH" MURDER 105
The fact that the mechanic was deeply involved
rendered his account of the start to the fatal flight
as highly improbable, and evidence to be regarded
with suspicion. Until it was possible to make him
give the true account, Hunt felt that the key to the
mystery would be unobtainable. That Bailey would
turn King's evidence eventually he had no doubts.
His type invariably did; but it was possible that he
would withhold his information until the actual mur-
derer got clear away.
His little car was very powerful, capable of a
good seventy-five miles an hour, so he was able to
make short work of the trip. Sad to relate, he was
seldom able to keep to the speed the law demands
must not be exceeded.
Reaching the Corner, he turned his car into Red-
stock Lane, parking it near the scene of the crime.
He thought it very probable that the murder of
Sir Charles had taken place here too. In spite of the
dangers of a night landing, he felt certain one had
been carried out. He felt equally sure that both
murders had been committed by the same person
using the same weapon.
Leaving the car, he climbed the hedge into Angels.
It was a beautiful morning, little wind, with a clear
blue sky that gave promise of hours of warm sun-
shine.
Deep in thought, he walked down by the low
hedge until he came to the gate by the main road.
Leaning with his back up against it, he looked up
the meadow towards the marshy jDatch. The cows
had been in the meadow again overnight, he noticed.
"ftatiier a pity," he thought ; "there's little hope now
106 THE "MOTH" MURDER
of finding marks where the 'planes may have landed,
even if they had been there previously."
The meadow, he reflected, was ideal for landing
purposes. If only he could see a way to get over the
snag of a landing by night on strange ground, and
without landing-lights, he felt convinced he would
be able to solve the crimes in their entireties.
Then suddenly, as he looked up the field, he saw
how it could have been done. The mistake he had
made had been in thinking Bailey had been at Lmy-
ington when the 'planes took off.
Supposing Bailey hacfr switched on the landing-
light at a quarter to three or even earlier; then,
instead of waiting to see the 'planes start, had hur-
ried here with the Bentley.
With a quarter of an hour or so's start, he would
have been at Totland Corner well before the 'planes.
There would have been little fear of traffic at that
time of the morning, and he could safely have ma-
noeuvred his car across the road until his lights, which
were extremely powerful, were shining through the
gateway and lighting up the meadow as effectively
as any landing-light of the type Sir Charles used.
The Inspector decided to attempt to reconstruct
the crime. He fetched his car from the lane, and,
after propping the gate wide open, he drove it into
a position similar to that in which he believed Bailey
had placed the Bentley.
He carried a small pocket compass with him when-
ever he did any motoring. Producing this from the
pocket of his car and placing it on the running-
board the most convenient level surface he dis-
THE "MOTH" MURDER 107
covered that the nose of the car was pointing in a
north-easterly direction.
This was what he had expected to find. His
knowledge of flying, though little less scanty than
that of the average man in the street, was sufficient to
tell him a 'plane normally landed against the wind.
The wind that fateful night, or, to be exact, that
early morning, was, he remembered, blowing from
a south-westerly direction.
As the 'planes would also, almost certainly, land
against the light, to avoid shadows, he felt that his
theory that this gateway was the one used was con-
siderably strengthened by his discovery with the com-
pass.
The tracks of the car in the gateway would have
been wiped out completely by the cows when they
passed through in the morning. That fact alone
convinced Hunt that the crime had been planned
with the utmost caution.
One thing was clear now that had been a mystery
before the unidentified tracks that started so sud-
denly in the middle of the meadow were -made by a
man getting out of an aeroplane.
He decided to walk over to the spot where these
began to see if he could gain further knowledge
there. But, after having progressed so far with the
reconstruction, Hunt found himself nonplussed al-
most at once by a simple fact that he had overlooked.
There was only one set of tracks.
Try as he could, the Inspector was unable to fit
this single set into his theories. Even assuming that
Evans had, by some pretext, arranged for them to
land in this meadow, and, after landing, had climbed
108 THE "MOTH" MURDER
out of his 'plane, walked over to Sir Charles, and
fired the fatal shot, there was the insurmountable
snag of there being no return footprints to the start-
ing-point.
Obviously he had gone back, as the monoplane
had passed over the Head later.
But, in spite of this disappointment, Hunt felt
sure he was on the right track. He knew it would
be possible to send up the "Moth" without a pilot
with the controls in a central position and the engine
running on full throttle it would float gently sky-
wards as soon as it reached a high enough speed to
leave the ground.
He decided to go back to Bournemouth to see if
the Chief Constable could suggest any way out of
the difficulty. He had hardly turned, though, to
begin to retrace his footsteps to the car when some-
one hailed him from behind.
Turning again, he saw Mr. Abbot, of the Home
Farm, waving and shouting for him to stop. Won-
dering what the excitement could be about, he went
part of the way to meet him.
Although the farmer was clearly excited, he did
not impart his news until he had shaken hands with
the Inspector and bid him a hearty good morning.
Then he came quickly to the point.
"I'm sorry to trouble you, Inspector," he said,
"but I've just found another dead man on my farm."
"Another dead man !" echoed Hunt. "This place
will soon have quite an unsavoury reputation, I'm
afraid."
"Yes," answered the farmer. "It certainly will
but I don't think this will be a case for Scotland
THE "MOTH" MURDER 109
Yard. It's a man of the tramp class, and I should
say a case of natural death but whilst you're here,
Inspector, I thought you'd like to take a look round."
He led the way up into the far corner of the
meadow to the gate where Hunt had expected, during
his search on the day before, to find traces of the
unidentified footprints.
After climbing the gate, Abbot led him through
some gorse and furze-bushes to a little tin shelter,
where the cattle were wont to lie in bad weather.
The Inspector had noticed the building the morning
before, but had not troubled to examine it.
In the far corner of this shed Hunt saw the body
of a rough-looking, unshaven man. He bent down
and touched the still form ; it was cold and stiff . No
doubt death had taken place hours, or even days,
previously.
The man's head was on a bundle, of the type
tramps carry, and the body was fully clothed, ex-
cept for the badly cracked boots, which stood side
by side near at hand.
As Hunt gazed at the face, set quite calm and
peaceful in death, he had a feeling that he had seen
the man before. He tried hard to place him for some
minutes but in vain.
Abbot noticed the Inspector was closely scrutin-
ising the dead body, and volunteered the informa-
tion at his disposal. "He's been about the place
some days, Inspector, I believe," he commenced,
"though he's a total stranger to me.
"My wife told me she had a tramp call a day or
two ago to beg a stamp and an envelope. Her de-
scription of him fits this man exactly. She was very
RETURN W.TH.N TWO WEEKS
AWT.
110 THE "MOTH" MURDER
puzzled to get such an unusual request as this, but,
as he seemed a well-spoken man who had undoubt-
edly seen better days, she gave him what he asked.
She said he had a hunted, furtive look about him,
and she wondered if he was in trouble with the
police."
As the farmer concluded, the scene of his previous
meeting with the dead man came vividly into Hunt's
mind.
He remembered now that he was at the Old Bailey,
waiting to give evidence in a forgery case. He had
arrived a little early, and the case previous to the
one he was connected with had not quite finished.
The prisoner, Alfred Newton, stood charged with
the crimes of blackmail and robbery with violence.
The jury filed back to their box. The foreman
returned a verdict of guilty. In vain the accused
protested his innocence. The judge, addressing him
in scathing tones, passed sentence of seven years'
penal servitude.
The case had interested Hunt at the time, and he
remembered reading it up when he got home that
evening. He had no doubts whatever the accused
had been justly convicted.
He remembered, too, the escape of Alfred New-
ton from Parkhurst Prison, Isle of Wight how he
had eluded his warders in a fog and got clear off the
island. It had been a nine days' wonder, and, truth
to tell, the authorities had quite given him up for
lost. . . . And all this time he had apparently been
wandering about quite openly. Just another in-
stance of a wanted man mixing unconcernedly with
THE "MOTH" MURDER 111
his fellow-creatures without unduly raising their sus-
picions.
"Your wife was right then, Mr. Abbot. He was
in trouble with the police. I remember now. This
is Alfred Newton, the convict who escaped from
Parkhurst Prison last March," announced Hunt at
length.
"I suppose we'd better 'phone up the police station
for the doctor and I expect we shall have to attend
still another inquest."
As they turned to leave the hut, Hunt remembered
the mysterious footprint. Crossing again to the
body, he picked up the well-worn boots.
He saw at a glance that they were not the pair
he was longing to set eyes on. No these were quite
two sizes too small !
SIR HENRY DISAPPEARS
THE Chief Constable had most conscientiously been
through all the papers dealing with the murders,
and had decided to ask the magistrates for a week's
remand when Bailey appeared before them.
To tell the truth, he had not the slightest hopes
of getting any jury to convict on the little evidence
before him, and he did not know exactly where to
look for any more.
But, being a born optimist, he counted on Hunt
being able to procure it for him. Consequently, he
was considerably relieved when at last the very much
overdue Inspector put in an appearance.
Hunt apologised for his lateness, and explained
the reason for it.
Major Williams was very annoyed to think the
escaped prisoner had been on his territory and had
evaded arrest for so long. However, as the mischief
was done, and Hunt had already acquainted Super-
intendent Walker with the facts, and Sergeant Kirk
had the case in hand, he rapidly dismissed the mat-
ter from his mind as of no great importance, turning
the conversation again to the murders of Constable
James and Sir Charles.
He confessed to Hunt quite frankly that he was
in a quandary, and explained to the Yard man that
he looked to him to show him the way out.
112
THE "MOTH" MURDER 113
"I'm sorry, sir," answered the Inspector, "but I
myself am also in a hole. In fact, I was hoping that
you would be able to help me, instead of me helping
you."
He then explained his theory of how the murders
were committed by Evans, who, he felt certain, in-
duced Sir Charles to land in Angels, pointing out
how, although his compass supported his ideas, the
clue of the single track of prints was inexplicable.
The Chief Constable listened without comment
until Hunt had finished. Then, after a few mo-
ments' consideration, he agreed that Hunt's theory
seemed the only possible one that would allow both
murders to be committed by the same person using
the same weapon. How Evans got to the lane and
back to his 'plane, leaving only a single track of
footprints, was a puzzle too involved for him to solve.
"I think," began Hunt, as he selected a fresh ciga-
rette from his case, "if we forget Bailey's account
of the start of the flight, and try to reconstruct the
case from the beginning, we might, between us, man-
age to discover where we are making our mistake."
"Quite," agreed the Chief Constable, "we might.
Let's try again. I take it that we are going to accept
the butler's statement that Mrs. Evans was in the
'plane when it left the hangar to be true? I forgot
to tell you we took a statement from Mr. Day last
evening, after you had left on your little joy-ride,
and he corroborates the butler's story."
"Yes," replied Hunt, "I think we can accept that.
Let's start from there. Now, first, we must discover
what happened to Mrs. Evans. Is she lying dead in
Christchurch Harbour or has she joined her miss-
114 THE "MOTH" MURDER
ing husband? Secondly, we must discover Mr.
Evans' whereabouts and the hiding-place of his
'plane. And, lastly, what part has Bailey played
in these tragedies?"
The Chief Constable nodded in assent. "Yes
that puts the matter in a nutshell. When we know
the answers to those questions our case will be com-
plete but, before we go any further, I can partly
answer the last one already. At least, I can tell you
one vitally important part that Bailey did not play
and when we find who did play it we shall be a
long way on towards our solution."
"And what is that part, sir? I have certainly
missed it," put in Hunt eagerly.
"Just that he could not have turned off the land-
ing-light, and yet (according to Hucklesby) when
he arrived back at the repair shop with the Bentley
the light was out."
"That's an important point to be sure," said Hunt
thoughtfuUy. "Fancy me overlooking such an ob-
vious fact." Then "Don't you think everything
points to another person being in the plot an ac-
complice whose job it was to turn off the light at the
proper time?"
"I do," agreed the Chief Constable, "and to my
mind, after taking every known fact of this amaz-
ing tangle into consideration, everything points to
that accomplice being Evans' good lady. I'm in-
clined to believe the whole of Bailey's evidence was
perjured evidence and I doubt if Mrs. Evans trav-
elled by air at all. But we'll have to thresh this
matter out later. It's time we were in court."
THE "MOTH" MURDER 115
The proceedings that morning were very brief,
only Hunt's evidence of arrest being given. The
Chief Constable asked for a week's remand, which
was immediately granted.
The prisoner was not represented. He caused
some surprise by requesting that all editions of the
local papers be supplied to him.
He went on to explain that they were very neces-
sary to him to help him prepare his defence. He
had a complete answer to the charge, but until a
certain piece of news reached him his lips were sealed.
After a whispered conversation with the Chief
Constable the magistrates granted this extraordinary
request, and the mechanic was immediately taken
back to the cells.
Neither Hunt nor Major Williams was very sur-
prised to hear the accused's application for the
papers; it certainly strengthened their theory that
Bailey had an accomplice.
"No doubt he expects to get a message from some-
one probably Evans," observed Hunt. "We must
study all the advertisements carefully, no matter how
innocent they may appear at first sight."
"Yes," agreed the Chief Constable. "I intend to
give them my closest attention, but I don't think it
will help us a lot, as Bailey's bound to speak the mo-
ment he receives his message."
They were back in the Chief Constable's little office
by this time, and were preparing to settle for a
lengthy conference. Hardly had they taken their
places, when the telephone bell rang.
The Chief Constable leaned forward and picked
up the receiver. The call was from Forest Court, it
116 THE "MOTH" MURDER
transpired Sir Charles' butler had news for them.
Sir Henry Sandleson, the new baronet, had ar-
rived the previous evening, not long after the two
police officials had departed.
Sturman had, he said, accepted him as the lawful
occupier of the house, and had escorted him to Sir
Charles' own room, where he had left him after re-
ceiving orders not to disturb him before 10 A.M.
To Sturman's surprise, however, Sir Henry was
not in his room when he entered at 10.30 A.M. after
repeatedly rapping on the door.
The bed did not appear to have been slept in, and
no trace of the baronet was to be found. The front
door, moreover, had been found unlocked.
This new development considerably upset the
morning's plans, making an immediate journey to
Lymington imperative. Hunt had to make a 'phone
call to the Yard, so, whilst he was getting through,
the Superintendent, who had just come into the office,
and heard the news, sent for his car.
As soon as Hunt had finished his conversation they
started their journey, and within a short while they
were again travelling the now familiar road towards
Lymington.
In spite of a thorough search of the house and
grounds, Sturman and his helpers had been unable
to find any trace of the missing Sir Henry Sandle-
son by the time the trio put in an appearance.
The butler stood waiting by the porch, his usually
dignified face bearing a baffled, vacant expression.
It was clear that the strain of the past few hours
was beginning to tell on him.
He led the way through the spacious hall, down
THE "MOTH" MURDER 117
the broad passage, and into Sir Charles' little study.
After motioning them to seat themselves, he handed
round a box of the dead airman's cigarettes, then
prepared himself for the inevitable questioning.
As usual, Hunt took the inquiry in hand. It was
about 2 A.M., he learned, when the new baronet rang
the front door bell. He arrived on foot, but ex-
plained that he had paid off his taxi outside, pre-
ferring to walk up the short drive from the main
road.
He had already dined and supped, he said, and,
after a short chat during which he deplored the
tragic event that had brought him there from his
business in the North, he moved off to bed.
Of course, Sturman continued, he was not sur-
prised to get orders not to call Sir Henry too early,
as he had travelled far and certainly looked all in.
He was able to give a full description of the miss-
ing man. Hunt jotted down the particulars. Age
about thirty-five; dark curly hair; swarthy com-
plexion; well built, and about six feet in height.
Wearing horn-rimmed spectacles and dressed in
Harris tweeds. Carrying a light, fawn overcoat.
"He bears a slight resemblance to my late master,"
the butler added, "but, if I may be permitted to say
so, lacks his air of breeding."
This was all the information Sturman was able to
give.
Hunt sat in silence for a moment, his hand clasped
to his forehead, covering his eyes.
The Superintendent was framing his lips for a
question when the Chief Constable forestalled him,
taking the words from out of his mouth.
118 THE "MOTH" MURDER
"Have you made certain," he asked, "that nothing
is missing from the bedroom or any other room, for
that matter ? No papers or any articles of value ?"
"Why, no!" exclaimed Sturman. "I haven't
looked. But why should I?" he inquired. "A gen-
tleman doesn't usually rob his own property."
"Oh, no," replied the Chief Constable, "of course
not I didn't mean that. I was wondering are you
positive would you be prepared to swear that the
man you admitted was Sir Henry Sandleson?"
"Why, yes, sir. I would have no hesitation in
swearing to it. I've met him, and spoken to him,
before, and I never forget a face. There can be no
doubt whatever about it. The gentleman I admitted
was Sir Henry Sandleson."
"Well, in that case all we can do is to trace the
taxi-driver who brought him here. He's probably
either a Bournemouth or Southampton man," put
in Walker.
"Yes," agreed the Chief Constable. "That's the
next step, I think. What do you say, Inspector?"
Hunt drew his hand slowly down his face, raised
his head and looked up. "Yes, that seems all we can
do as regards tracing the movements of Sir Henry ;
but before we do anything else I should like to take
a thorough look over this house. Would you care
to conduct us?" he asked the butler.
"The servants' quarters included?" the latter
asked.
"Yes," replied Hunt. "With your permission, I'd
like to visit the whole house. We may just as well
do the job properly whilst we are about it. And,
Sturman," he added, "please keep your weather-eye
THE "MOTH" MURDER 119
open you'll probably find something has been dis-
turbed."
The butler moved over to the wall and pressed a
bell-button. "Lay lunch for three in here," he or-
dered the neatly dressed maid who answered his sum-
mons.
"A fine idea," commented the Superintendent.
"You're a marvel, Sturman," he added.
"Where do we begin, Inspector?" asked the Chief
Constable.
Hunt considered for a moment. "Let's start from
the top and work downwards," he replied at length.
"Well, then, if you are ready, gentlemen, follow
me," invited Sturman. Suiting his actions to his
words, he led the way back along the passage,
through the hall, then up the massive main stair-
case.
Passing the first floor landing, they eventually
reached the attics. These, Sturman explained, had
been turned into workshops by Sir Charles, and
up here the dead airman had spent a considerable
amount of his time.
Opening the door at the top of the stairs (in-
cidentally this was always kept locked), their guide
led them along a broad, well-lit landing that ap-
peared to run the whole length of the house.
"There are half a dozen rooms up here," explained
the butler. "The two at the far end are used only
for storing odds and ends, but the other four are all
in daily use."
Proceeding down the passage, Sturman threw open
the bottom door. The room contained a jumble of
old trunks; old aeroplane fittings; and any amount
120 THE "MOTH" MURDER
of old papers, the whole being covered with a thick
layer of dust, while cobwebs hung from the ceiling,
swaying gently in the draught.
Hunt and his colleagues took a quick look round.
To go through the accumulated rubbish systemati-
cally would take them hours, perhaps even days. It
seemed no useful purpose would be served by such
a course, so Hunt presently motioned the others on.
The next room presented a more orderly appear-
ance, being the storage-place of engine and other
spare motor and aircraft fittings. A brief survey
sufficed, and the three officials soon passed on from
this to the next room, the first of those in daily use
by Sir Charles up to the time of his demise.
This, Sturman explained, was the room in which
Sir Charles had done most of his designing. It was
fitted up with every convenience. A telephone stood
by the rather disorderly mass of papers on the desk
in the corner against the nearer wall, and an ash-tray
by it showed its user to be a heavy smoker. An ex-
pensive electric fire was in position by the chimney,
and in front of it, on the floor, there lay a splendid
tiger-skin (bagged on the same expedition as the one
in Evans' study at Moorlands, Hunt afterwards
learned) .
A smaller desk held a typewriter, a high-class dic-
taphone and several reference-books.
In the centre of the room was a large, strongly
built, level oak bench, scrupulously clean. On this
were several set-squares; rulers; callipers; drawing-
boards and a varied collection of blue-prints. A
glass-fronted cabinet containing the more delicate
instruments lay face upwards near at hand.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 121
Hunt cast a casual glance at the plans, wondering
as he did so what would happen to the half-com-
pleted designs lying on the bench before his eyes.
Did they contain the germ of some new idea which
would be snapped up eagerly by other designers
when and if they came into the market, or were they
too insufficiently advanced for any but the dead in-
ventor to complete?
This room connected with the next by an inner
door, as did the remaining three, so, after Sturman
had assured them that, to the best of his knowledge,
everything here was still in order, Hunt passed
through the inner door into what appeared to be an
extremely well-equipped workshop.
Everything the practical mechanic needed to help
him ply his trade was here, and everything was left
tidily in its appointed place.
There did not seem much chance of picking up a
clue here, so, as Sturman was satisfied nothing had
been taken, they continued on their tour of inspec-
tion.
The next room and its contents provided some-
thing in the nature of a surprise to the three police
officials. It seemed as though they had passed into
the natural history room of some private museum.
Confronting them, as they opened the door, was
a stuffed panther, crouched as if to spring. Near
by, more towards the centre of the room, two lion
cubs gambolled, whilst their mother stood rigid, as
if on guard over her offspring.
"Sir Charles bagged everything in this room him-
self, sir," remarked Sturman to the Chief Constable,
his utterance given in the tone of one who has cause
122 THE "MOTH" MURDER
to be proud of his handicraft almost as though he
himself had done the bagging. As a matter of fact,
he had not been in Sir Charles' service when the
majority of the exhibits were taken, but he had heard
so often the well-deserved admiration of visitors that
he had come to accept their praise as a matter of
course.
Even Hunt, a worker at all times, but now the
hard-pressed investigator of two callous murders,
was unable to tear himself away from the room for
some minutes. After inspecting a few smaller fauna
in the vicinity of the lioness, he turned his attention
to the walls, around which ran tier upon tier of glass-
fronted cases, all numbered and labelled.
Those down the two longer walls contained birds,
brightly plumaged representatives of every conti-
nent, ranging from the diminutive humming-bird of
South America to the more common bullfinch of the
British Isles. Each exhibit was set as nearly as pos-
sible in its natural surroundings, in many cases the
nest and eggs being shown also.
The two shorter sides of the museum contained:
on the north side, fish, and on the south side, reptiles.
Reptiles of all sizes and nations from the little
adder, so plentiful on the headland where Sir Charles
had crashed, to the black mamba of Darkest Africa.
Many of the birds, particularly the English ones,
had been stuffed by Sir Charles himself, explained
Sturman. His dead master was, he said, a man who
could turn his hand to anything, as they would see
by the examination of the next room, where every
exhibit was of his own fashioning.
And, indeed, before many minutes had elapsed,
THE "MOTH" MURDER 123
they all confirmed the butler's statement. For this
room was a veritable abode of art art in all its
forms.
On the walls hung drawings and paintings of
every conceivable kind : black and white prints ; land-
scapes and portraits in oil and water-colour; a few
hand-coloured photographs; all exquisite examples,
seemingly flawless.
Little tables and niches in various parts of the
room contained statues, wrought in metal in some
instances, carved in marble in others, while yet more
were of the purest alabaster.
Hunt recognised an effigy of Sir Charles himself
among the latter examples, an excellent life-size rep-
lica of the head and shoulders. Truly the dead bar
onet had been a great craftsman.
A few minutes sufficed for Sturman to ascertain
that the contents of the room were as they should
be, then the party went out on to the landing again.
After the butler had relocked the doors, they all de-
scended to the bedrooms.
Sir Charles' room was the first to be visited. A
spacious room, giving a grand view of the park and
lake, it contained very little furniture, though what
there was was good, and well chosen.
Among the pictures on the walls was a photograph
of the Evanses standing by their little white mono-
plane, taken but a fortnight since.
There was little to detain them here, for the room
bore no trace of the brief tenancy of Sir Henry.
Sturman paid particular attention to the room, even
rapidly going through the dressing-table drawers,
124, THE "MOTH" MURDER
but once again, he assured them, everything was in-
tact.
The examination of the other bedrooms was brief
yet thorough, but it yielded no clue to the lynx-eyed
Inspector from the Yard. Neither, for that mat-
ter, did it enlighten the Chief Constable or Super-
intendent Walker. The downstairs rooms were next
gone over just as efficiently, but with still the same
result nothing disturbed and no clue. The mys-
tery surrounding Sir Henry's disappearance seemed
inexplicable !
XI
THE DEAD MAN'S BOOTS
THE officials having invited Sturman to join them
at their meal, an extra place was laid, and the four
sat down to table.
For some time everyone tried to keep the conversa-
tion off the crimes and to talk of less sordid things.
But, no matter what subject cropped up, it sooner
or later led directly back to one or other of the chief
characters in this tragic drama.
For instance, an intended attack by an American
on the water speed record as a topic brought Sir
Charles' name to the fore. He was, Sturman de-
clared, an extremely capable, though daring, driver,
and his little outboard motor-boat, which he kept in
the boathouse on the lakeside, was one of the fastest
of its class in the country.
Similarly, a discussion on the danger of the motor-
cycle as a means of transport turned the conversa-
tion on to Jim Hucklesby and his hopes and chances
in the race for the Tourist Trophy. The next stage
was for Hunt to recall his exciting pillion ride, which
led directly to the subject of Bailey.
As the officials naturally were loath to expatiate
their theories before an outsider, especially one who
must himself be regarded (like all the others at For-
est Court) with a certain amount of suspicion, the
conversation was inclined to lapse for a time.
125
126 THE "MOTH" MURDER
Then, after one of the latest "talkies" had been
the subject of a spirited argument for some minutes,
and the talk tended to drift towards the film which
Sir Charles and the Evanses were engaged in pro-
ducing, the telephone bell began to ring.
Sturman answered the call, then immediately
handed the instrument to the Superintendent.
The disturber of their talk was Sergeant Kirk,
who had startling news. He had, he said, had the
body of the convict Newton removed to a room at
the Crown Inn at Redstock. The Coroner had de-
cided to open the inquest at 5 P.M. Dr. Grier, the
police surgeon, had decided that death was in all
probability due to natural causes, but he would, of
course, hold a post-mortem examination.
The matter that Kirk wanted to draw the Super-
intendent's attention to, was, he thought, peculiar,
to say the least of it.
He had been examining the dead man's boots with
a view to connecting him with the maker of the single
set of tracks in the adjoining meadow. He had dis-
covered, however (from notes in his pocket-book and
a photograph of the prints), that the boots were
much too small to fit the tracks, and was replacing
them by the body when something drew his eyes to
the dead man's feet.
It struck him at once as curious that the wearer
of such weather-beaten footgear as the old boots were
should have feet so well formed and free from corns
and blisters.
Bending lower, he had suddenly noticed that the
feet appeared to be too large for the boots by the
body to fit them.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 127
Losing no time, he had proceeded to put his theory
to the test. Unlacing one of the boots, he had at-
tempted to fit it to the foot.
As he expected, he was unable to do so. It was
obvious that the dead man never had, and never
would have, been able to wear so small a size as a six.
His next step had been to call the doctor's atten-
tion to the matter. Dr. Grier had not only been
able to confirm his opinion regarding the impossi-
bility of Newton wearing the boots, but had also been
able to assure him that the dead man's correct size
was an eight, and, judging by the well-preserved
state of the feet, he was confident the convict had
been wearing his normal size up to the time of death.
This new development was likely to put an en-
tirely different complexion on the case, and as Stur-
man had, on hearing the message was for the police,
excused himself and left the room, the three were
free to decide in privacy the next step to be taken.
Major Williams possessed a quick brain, and vol-
unteered his opinion immediately. "I think," he
began in a strong manner, "it is obvious that we
must now regard Newton with the gravest suspicion.
"Here we have an escaped convict, a desperate
man, as his record shows, hiding from justice, and
considering the police as his most dangerous enemies.
Now the murdered man, James, was a police officer.
That fact alone gives us a motive.
"The very fact of the convict's body being dis-
covered not more than ten minutes' walk from the
place where Ball found the body of the constable
shows us that in all probability Newton had the op-
portunity. Indeed, the news that he was up in Red-
128 THE "MOTH" MURDER
stock begging writing materials from Mrs. Abbot
strengthens and confirms my view that he had the
opportunity.
"Now as regards the means. We don't know yet
that he had the means, but / think it is highly prob-
able that he had. You will remember the ending of
the description broadcast concerning him when he
made his escape from Parkhurst last March? 'He
is a dangerous man, and may be carrying firearms.' '
Here the Chief Constable paused for a few mo-
ments, pondering how best to continue. The others
watched him intently. It had been clear to them
all along that he had taken the murder of one of his
most promising men very much to heart.
Presently he continued, "Of course, the murder
was not premeditated. Picture yourself in Newton's
place. He had walked across the meadow, through
the marshy patch, where he must have realised he
was leaving footprints, and across to the hedge where
James stood in Redstock Lane.
"Here he was challenged by the constable. Un-
less he could silence him quickly and silence him
for good he must be prepared to go back to prison,
to be shut away inside those grey, unrelenting walls,
to lose touch with his fellow creatures, and to say
good-bye to freedom for the next five years. And
this time there would be no chance of escape a
prison-breaker does not get a second chance.
"Then, of course, he used his gun. Once the con-
stable fell dead he must have realised that he had
burned his boats. The thought of thf footprints
must have crossed his mind. How was he to make
good his escape? A difficult enough proposition for
THE "MOTH" MURDER 129
any man; what must it have been like for Newton,
a man already being hounded from pillar to post?
The matter called for the greatest caution one false
step and then the gallows.
"Well, gentlemen we know he had been in the
neighbourhood at least a couple of days. He must
have seen the cows come up from the Valley Meadow,
cross the road into Angels, and then go up by the
spot where he must have been standing, to the gate
at the farther end of the pasture.
"Here, perhaps, was a chance of escape. If he
picked his way carefully to the road, avoiding the
softer patches en route, he could hope for the pass-
ing cattle to remove all traces in the morning.
"Then, as an extra precaution, he may have re-
moved his boots before going out on to the highway.
No, on second thoughts I'll wash that idea out. A
man parading the highway carrying his boots would
be an object of suspicion and that was what he had
to avoid being now at all costs.
"At any rate, I'm pretty certain that before carry-
ing out the next part of his scheme he walked back-
wards and forwards across that portion of the road-
way that lay between the gates, over which the cows
would pass, until all traces of the wet mud had been
removed from his boots.
"Then, when he was satisfied that all was gone, I
feel sure that he carried on down the main road to-
wards Highcliffe. Now, about three hundred yards
down the road from Totland Corner there's a little
coppice, or, rather, a little dell, the banks of which
are covered with bushes. The place is a favourite
camping-ground for gipsies. In this hollow lies an
130 THE "MOTH" MURDER
amazing collection of kettles, pots and pans, old hats
and other articles of apparel, and the usual quota
of old boots, the cast-away junk of the campers.
"At the meadow end of the gully is a deep pond,
through which a stream is always running you
know the place, Walker, I'm sure."
"Yes," replied the Superintendent. "I know it
well; we're always being called there to move the
campers on. It's private property, but the gipsies
seem to regard it as theirs by hereditary right."
Hunt did not know the actual spot to which the
local men were referring, but was able to visualise
it quite easily. There were many such dumps in
country districts, he knew from experience.
The Chief Constable started on the final lap of
his theory.
"Here I consider Newton to have made his
great mistake. Probably, due to his nervousness,
he wanted to get rid of his betraying boots at the
earliest possible moment. Seeing all the old boots
around, or knowing from what he had seen during a
previous foraging expedition that the dump con-
tained boots, he immediately threw his own boots and
the revolver into the pond, weighting the former
more likely than not.
"Then, to his horror and disappointment, he dis-
covered that all the boots in the dell were too small.
His plan for escape frustrated, what was he to do?
Far better to lie low than to run the risk of being
seen walking bootless on the night of the murder.
From where he was he had no trouble to get back
to his shelter it was just across the meadow and
the damp grass would not have marked his feet," the
THE "MOTH" MURDER 131
Chief Constable concluded, a look of justifiable pride
growing on his face.
"A wonderful theory, sir," said the Superintend-
ent approvingly. "And right, too, I should say.
Every fact in its place and not a flaw that I can
see. I suppose you expect to recover the boots and
gun by dragging?"
"Yes. I'd better get some men on the job right
away. What do you say, Inspector?"
"Yes," replied Hunt. "Dragging seems the best
way of testing the soundness of your theory. I sup-
pose you assume that Newton carried the small pair
of boots for appearance' sake just in case anyone
looked in the hut?"
"Exactly," assented the Chief Constable. "That
would be the only reason." He looked at Hunt
keenly. "I fancy that you don't altogether find my
theory to your liking, Inspector?" he queried.
Hunt's thoughtful expression gave way to a smile.
"I find your theory extremely interesting, and it's
possibly correct," he replied evasively, "but, if you'll
pardon my differing, sir, I think you've left out one
important point, which has, I feel certain, a direct
bearing on the case."
"And that?"
"The car that stopped in Redstock Lane."
The Chief Constable was silent for a moment.
Truth to tell, the presence of the car had been in
the back of his mind throughout. "Of course, the
car may have had nothing to do with the crime, after
all," he suggested. "All we know is that it passed
up Redstock Lane after the constable had begun to
132 THE "MOTH" MURDER
retrace his steps from the junction of the lane and
main road.
"Possibly the constable already lay dead, and the
driver stopped the car to render assistance. Then,
seeing the policeman was beyond human aid, may
he not have driven off again?"
"He may," agreed Hunt. "Quite possibly. But
don't you think as he did not report the tragedy that
he must have had guilty knowledge?"
This question was something in the nature of a
stumbling-block to the Chief Constable, who mum-
bled something about "being in a panic," but his
tone no longer carried conviction.
"And again," continued Hunt. "It's my theory
that both this murder and that of Sir Charles Staf-
ford were carried out by the same person using the
same weapon. I can't see how we can fit Newton in
as the murderer of Sir Charles."
"No. I agree with you there. Newton could
hardly have done both murders unless there's a lot
more in this case that has still to come out. But
you'll agree with me when I say that the same weapon
was not necessarily used?"
"Oh, quite, sir. I grant you I may be wrong.
Anyhow, we shall soon know ; I'm expecting a report
from Inspector Carliss of the Armoury Department
at the Yard. It should be down any time now, and
I have the strongest premonition still that my opin-
ion will be proved to be correct."
"Perhaps so," granted the Chief Constable. "Per-
haps so." Then "Have you formed any theory
yourself, Inspector?"
"Hardly a theory, sir. Just an idea. . . . When
THE "MOTH" MURDER 133
you 'phone up the station to get your men on the
job of dragging the pond, perhaps you will be good
enough to get this message circulated," replied Hunt,
producing a pencil and paper.
He wrote for a couple of minutes, his pencil glid-
ing easily over the sheet. "Perhaps it would pay
to get some bills printed too. Could that be ar-
ranged, Superintendent?"
"Yes," replied Walker. "No trouble at all.
What do you want done?"
"Just this. I'll read it through. This for the
police :
" 'WANTED. Information as to the whereabouts
of a man of the tramp class, probably of small
physique. Wearing boots size eight, two sizes too
large for him. Was in the vicinity of Redstock
between dates May 20th and 24th last.'
"And for the bills:
" 'Will the man who changed boots with a dead
man in a hut near village of Redstock between
May 20th and May 24th please communicate at
once with the nearest police station. No action
will be taken against him, and reward will be given
him for information he possesses.' "
XII
A LOOK ROUND THE GROUNDS
THE others saw at once the trend of Hunt's idea.
"A good alternative theory," commented the Super-
intendent. "It's just as well to have two strings to
our bow." Then "I'll get on the 'phone at once,"
he continued, reaching for the instrument, "and get
your messages out."
The Chief Constable had risen to his feet and
stood gazing thoughtfully out of the window. "Shall
we take a look round the outbuildings," he asked,
"whilst Walker is 'phoning our instructions through ?
There's no especial hurry for us to get out to the
pond ; it'll take the men an hour or so to get on the
job."
"Yes," replied Hunt. "I was going to suggest
the same thing myself."
The hangars and the garage being nearest to the
house, joined by a passage, it will be remembered,
it was to them that Hunt led the way.
Nothing had been disturbed here. The little sin-
gle-seater 'plane alone occupied the hangar, and the
Rover and Bugatti were still in their places in the
garage.
The search of the few odd outbuildings revealed
nothing of interest, and they were just about to re-
turn to Walker in the study when Hunt remembered
that Bailey's cottage and the outbuildings near by
had only had the most casual inspection.
134
THE "MOTH" MURDER 135
At that moment a gardener came in sight. Hunt
called him over to ascertain if the buildings by the
lakeside were kept locked up during the daytime.
He thought not, he said, but would slip indoors
and fetch the keys in case they were, and accompany
them if they wished. Hunt intimated his acceptance
of this offer, and, after a couple of minutes' absence,
the man rejoined them with the necessary keys.
They were comparatively silent during the jour-
ney across the park, the gardener especially so, being
awed, no doubt, at the thought of the company he
was in.
Arrived at this part of the estate, Bailey's cot-
tage was the first place to receive attention. The
search here, though brief, was thorough, but no clues
were discovered hidden away amongst the arrested
mechanic's belongings.
The electric power station was next visited. Quite
a small building, its space was almost entirely utilised
by the necessary machinery. A small petrol engine
was fixed to the floor, just inside the door; a few
feet farther on stood the belt-driven dynamo; while
the far end of the shed held the bubbling cells. A
small switch-board connected to the batteries com-
pleted the equipment.
From here a brief visit to the repair shop revealed
the fact that Jim had fetched his motor-cycle from
the constable's house at Houghton, and had, pre-
sumably, returned the trusty Morris.
Hucklesby nodded pleasantly to the two officials,
blushing like a schoolgirl when the Chief Constable
complimented him again on his daring driving of
the night before.
136 THE "MOTH" MURDER
This concluded the search, with the exception of
the boathouse on the lakeside, which Hunt wanted
to see, more out of curiosity than with hopes of pick-
ing up a clue.
The wooden structure was some twenty feet long
by fifteen wide. It contained a couple of outboard
motor-boats and a flat-bottomed punt. The shed
had been built over a little natural harbour, which
allowed the boats to float in a good six feet of water.
Noticing a sodden handkerchief lying in the bot-
tom of the punt, Hunt stepped into the craft and
picked it up. Inspecting it, he found that it bore
the initials D. E.
"One of young Evans', by the look of things," he
said to the Chief Constable.
The remark seemed to awaken memories in the
gardener's brain. "Oh, yes," he started. Luckily
he spoke slowly, for the officials were hard put to
follow his atrocious English. "I can tell yer 'ow
that comes ter be there. . . . The late marster, tho'
I sez it mesself what 'as no right ter, used ter drive
these 'ere boats abaht like 'ell. Didn't use ter use
no gumptun at all 'e 'ad ter swim forrit on two
occasions that I knowed of larst week.
"Yer see that little buoy out yonder?" he queried,
pointing a gnarled forefinger out beyond the open
end of the boathouse to where a small black object
could be seen floating in the centre of the lake.
The two police officers replied in the affirmative.
"Well," he continued, "Sir Charles 'ad a 'abit uf
drivin' roune there as close in h'as 'e cud git. Some-
times 'e got roune sometimes 'e didn't. . . . When
'e was a practisin' like this 'ere 'e kept the punt
THE "MOTH" MURDER 137
moored close by so as 'e 'adn't fur ter swim an'
then when 'e got ter it 'e got in an' pushed over ter
'is motor-boat, what didn't use ter sink but floated
upzide downe. . . . Then 'e'd fix a towrope an' 'aul
it back ashore.
"That's what I alwus sed 'ud be the endin' of 'im
drownin', not flyin' 'e were safe enuf up there. . . .
H'as I told my missis larst Wensdy, or let me see,
were it Tewsdy I carn't call it ter mind exactly,
but I know she 'ad just got back from ole Widder
Corrigan's an "
Hunt cut his reminiscences short. "Yes," he said,
"but you haven't told us yet how the handkerchief
came to be left in the punt."
"Lor' bless yer, no! I was furgettin' abaht that
thro' thinkin' uf ole Widder Corrigan, as naggin'
an' gossipin' ole 'ag as ever walked on two feet," he
replied, his dislike of the Widow Corrigan showing
plainly on his weather-beaten face.
" 'Twus like this 'ere," he went on. "Abaht 'arf
arter ten t'other night, the night they 'ad a bit uf
a do up at the 'ouse, I wus out
The Chief Constable pulled him up. "You mean
the night before last?" he inquired.
"Yes, that's right, the night afore larst. As I
wus sayin' I went out abaht 'arf arter ten to 'ave
a larst look roune at my snares
Here he stopped short and looked at the Chief
Constable.
"Sir Charles used ter let me do a bit of rabbitin',"
he ventured to explain.
"Of course. Why not?" said the Chief Constable
138 THE "MOTH" MURDER
soothingly. "I believe Sir Charles mentioned the
fact to me," he added untruthfully.
Reassured, the gardener resumed his narrative.
"Well, when I got downe ter a spot oppisit the
boat'ouse on t'other side uf the lake I 'eard wun uf
the moter-boats startin' up. Uf course it wus a luvly
moonlight night, as bright as day at the time, tho'
it come on ter rain 'ard later. Well arter a mo-
ment out come the boat at a 'ell of a lick, an' it went
racin' roune the lake a time or two.
"There wus two people in it ; wun wus Sir Charles
'isself an' t'other yung Mr. Evans, whose 'anker-
chief you're 'oldin' in your 'and.
"Then I set eyes on the punt comin' across the
water. When it got ter jus' by the buoy it stopped
an' I cud see who wus in it.
"It were yung Mr. Evans, a lookin' as graceful
as a "
He scratched his head thoughtfully, as if hoping
to produce a suitable word, but, receiving no in-
spiration, left the sentence unfinished.
"Then Sir Charles," he went on, "started ter open
'er out. Lor', didn't 'e muve. Seemed so much
farster in the moonlight some'ow. Roune an' roune
'e shot, gittin' closer an' closer to the buoy each time
'e tried. Then 'e did it once tew often, an' over went
the 'ole bag uf tricks an' shot 'em in the water. Of
course they swum ter the punt an' as soon as I see'd
they wus all right I pusht on ter 'ave a dec' at the
rest uf me wires."
"I see," said Hunt. "You think Mr. Evans must
have used the handkerchief to help dry himself, and
then left it in the punt?"
THE "MOTH" MURDER 139
"Yessir," agreed the gardener. "That's 'ow I
figur's it out."
"Well, there's not much to interest us here, In-
spector, is there?" asked the Chief Constable. "Are
you ready to go back to the house?"
"Yes," replied Hunt, "we've seen all there is to
see on this part of the estate. Let's go and drag
your pond."
They were soon back at the house, and as they
left the gardener Hunt tipped him the price of a
drink. True, he had not been of much assistance
to them, but he might still prove of value if looked
after.
Walker was trying one of Sir Charles' cigars,
sitting well back in an easy chair, a pencil in his
hand and his notebook on his knee, when they re-
entered the study.
He closed the book when he saw them enter, rising
to join them. "Best cigar I've had for a twelve-
month," he declared. "Try one, gentlemen?" he in-
vited, generously pushing the box across.
"No, not for me," said Hunt. "I'll have a ciga-
rette."
"Try one of these," said the Chief Constable,
opening his case and passing it over at the same
time helping himself to a Corona with his other hand.
But, before either of them could light up, the tele-
phone bell rang. Hunt, being nearest, took off the
receiver.
"From the station," he announced, after a mo-
ment or so, then, putting his hand over the mouth-
piece, added : "It's about Bailey. He says he wants
to make a statement!"
AT THE POND
THE effect of Hunt's statement on the other two
was almost magical. The look of intense seriousness
on Major Williams' face gave way to an expression
of eager hopefulness, whilst the Superintendent
grinned expansively.
"Coming to his senses, is he?" remarked Walker.
"Now perhaps we shall be able to see a glimmer of
daylight."
"Yes," said Hunt thoughtfully, "now we shall
know exactly what part the Bentley played in the
crime."
"You think he will tell the truth?" queried the
Chief Constable.
"I do," answered Hunt. "He's too scared now to
attempt any bluff. It'll be the truth, and, I think,
the whole truth. Don't forget the time is getting
on, and he has had the first edition of the paper."
"You think Evans has communicated with him,
then?" asked the Superintendent. Then "If he
has," he added, thinking deeply, and not waiting for
a reply, "it means, of course, that he has got well
away but still, he cannot have left the country, or
he could not have inserted the advertisement."
"And in that case his handicap should soon play
him into our hands," commented Hunt.
"Handicap what handicap ?"
140
THE "MOTH" MURDER 141
"The handicap of losing all his money. We can
assume from what we've already gathered that the
whole of his worldly goods were in that bag of
Evans'. And, as we have the bag, it follows that
his movements are limited. Sooner or later he'll have
to show himself, and then "
"Yes," agreed Walker, "I had certainly over-
looked the money question. Perhaps our case is not
going to be so very difficult after all. Well, as we're
ready, gentlemen, let's get to the car. . . ."
Soon after passing through Highcliffe, they
stopped at the little wooded dell where the dragging
operations were about to take place.
A couple of motor-cycles were already drawn up
by the roadside, and as the trio descended from their
car a police tender drew in sight.
The sergeant in charge, stepping out, saluted the
Chief Constable, who explained to him the reason for
the dragging order being given.
Then, seeing the men were ready, he led the way,
over some low iron railings, through the thick bushes
behind them, into the meadow, and so round to the
pond.
The Chief Constable and Superintendent brought
up the rear of the procession with Hunt, but the In-
spector, after climbing the rails, chose the lower
route through the dell, past the pots and pans and
old clothes that were a conspicuous feature of the
dump. He halted here a few minutes before rejoin-
ing the others, giving his whole attention to the cast-
away articles of apparel. Then, satisfied, he pro-
ceeded through to the little party, feeling that his
142 THE "MOTH" MURDER
foresight promised to save them some considerable
time.
The Chief Constable stood apart from the others,
waiting for the men to begin. He could guess from
Hunt's face as the Inspector approached him that
the Yard man had discovered something. He began
to feel too that the "something" was a snag in his
theory.
He was not far wrong, as the Inspector's first
words showed him.
"I'm sorry, sir," Hunt began as he came up to
him, "but I'm afraid our dragging's not going to
be the success we had hoped."
"Oh! Why not? Out with it, Inspector. You've
already had a find, I know."
"Yes," replied Hunt. "I believe I have. If you
can spare a minute, just come with me and see for
yourself. It'll be a bit of a disappointment, though,
I'm afraid."
The Chief Constable followed without a word.
What clue had he missed this time, he wondered.
Walker, perceiving the other two move off, fol-
lowed in their wake. Opposite to the heap of rub-
bish, Hunt pulled up. "You'll see there's over a
dozen old boots in this little pile," he said. "I picked
them all up in less than a couple of minutes. . . .
You'll find every one is an eight or even larger.
There's not a six among them!"
The Chief Constable realised immediately that the
Inspector's find exploded his theory of Newton being
the murderer most effectively. It was hardly feas-
ible that the convict snatched up the first two boots
he came across and bolted barefoot, without even
THE "MOTH" MURDER 143
trying them on. No, his case against the dead man
seemed damaged irretrievably.
But he bore no malice against the Yard man. A
man with the Inspector's varied experience and bril-
liant deductive powers was, he realised, too valuable
a helpmate to upset by showing signs of jealousy.
Indeed, he openly considered himself extremely lucky
to be able to enjoy the younger man's friendship,
and wondered whether, if he had been without the
Inspector's valuable assistance, Bailey would have
been safe under lock and key.
Although he had almost lost faith in his theory,
on Hunt's advice he gave the men instructions to
carry on with the dragging, on the off-chance of
something coming to light, before rejoining the In-
spector and Walker, who were walking to the car.
A few minutes later they were again on the road.
Apart from their breaking their journey at Christ-
church where they partook of a hurried cup of tea,
and a chance meeting with old Pope, the coastguard,
as they left the cafe, the trip was quite uneventful.
Within a few minutes of their arrival the mechanic
was shown into the little room where the three officials
sat. At a nod from the Superintendent, the two con-
stables who had escorted the prisoner withdrew.
Hunt proceeded to take charge of the situation.
He began in a kindly manner, asking Bailey to take
a chair, and offering him a cigarette. This the un-
happy man accepted, lighting it with visibly trem-
bling hands.
"So you're going to help us clear this mystery
up ?" he asked pleasantly, studying his man intently
the while.
THE "MOTH" MURDER
"I'm going to tell you what I was doing at Tot-
land Corner with the Bentley," replied the little man.
"You may not believe it, but all you are going to
hear is the truth, the absolute truth. I can do no
harm to anyone by speaking now.
"If you had not agreed to let me see this paper"
he touched his coat pocket, in which Hunt could see
something bulging "I should not have sent for you.
I should probably never have spoken and I know
you'll never be able to hang me on the little evidence
you've got."
He spoke the truth, and the others knew it. The
evidence was purely circumstantial, and no jury
would be likely to convict.
"It's going to be a fairly long story, I'm afraid,
but I'd better start at the very beginning. I've
learnt from this paper that you have found the dead
body of an escaped convict, Alfred Newton. I sup-
pose this report is quite correct?"
Hunt nodded, puzzled. "Quite correct."
"Well, then, before I go any further I might as
well tell you that Alfred Newton was my brother
. . . his real name, of course, was Alfred Bailey!"
This announcement came as something of a shock
to the Inspector. A totally unexpected development.
He made no comment, however, but produced a note-
book and pencil, intending to take the statement
down in shorthand.
Bailey had paused for a moment, but, seeing the
Yard man was waiting for him, he continued: "I
was born in a little country town near Oxford. My
father was a labourer and, I'm afraid, he liked his
drop of booze. My brother Alfred was three years
THE "MOTH" MURDER 145
older than me we had a sister between us, but she
died quite young. We were always about together,
my brother and I, and always up to pranks. Very
often we used to get into quite serious trouble, my
brother especially so.
"One day I went with another boy named Dick
Brown to raid an orchard not far from the town.
We'd been in trouble there before that only added
to the fun. The farmer had carried on like a mad-
man the last time he caught us there. He said that
the next time he caught us he would hand us straight
over to the police.
"Well, as luck would have it, we got caught again.
My brother had apparently watched us creep into
the orchard and had seen us captured by the farmer,
who took us to an outhouse and locked us in before
going off to find a policeman.
"Alfred waited his chance and tried to help us.
The farmer had taken the key away with him, so
he couldn't open the door. The only other way of
getting out was by the window, but this was set up
some ten feet from the ground and we had no way
of reaching it. We were only little fellows, mind
you. I'm not very big now, and I was only eleven
then. The window business seemed too hard a nut
to crack, so all we could do was to sit down and wait
for the policeman.
"Then Alfred had a brain-wave. He hunted in
the other buildings until he found a rope. Looking
round further, he found a long rake. Coming back
to the shed we were locked up in, he called out that
he had a plan. We were to get as far away from
the window as we could, bend down, and cover our
146 THE "MOTH" MURDER
faces. He was going to smash the window and throw
the rope in to us. We did as he told us, and the
glass fell in with a crash. . . . But the rope never
came. Just as Alf was a gettin' ready to chuck it
up he was collared by the blinkin' farmer, who had
got back quicker than we expected he would with
the copper. This smashing of the window just about
put the tin lid on things. We were all three given
in charge.
"Of course, in those days the magistrates were
often too severe. We came up before a fairly lenient
one. He took the ages of Dick and me into consid-
eration and let us off with a good dressing down.
But he regarded Alfred, who was quite innocent
really, as the ringleader. In spite of our pleadings,
he sent him to Borstal. . . .
"Borstal wasn't the place then it is in these days.
When he came back to us three years later he was
completely ruined. He had 'got in' with the worst
of the inmates, and soon left us again to join his
new-found companions in Town. In a very short
time he had become a hardened little criminal. Time
after time he went to prison, and every time I tried
to get him to mend his ways. I felt, you'll under-
stand, that I was responsible for this terrible state
of affairs. I was, you'll agree, at the bottom of all
his troubles. . . . And it was up to me to help him
all I could.
"Now, long years in prison had ruined his consti-
tution, and when he was sentenced last time, and sent
down for seven years, I guessed he would never live
to serve his time. His heart, especially, was always
giving him trouble.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 147
"And then to get to recent events after his
escape he found his way to me at Forest Court. I
hid him in my cottage for weeks, waiting a chance
to get him abroad. Wouldn't you have done the
same? I had only a little money saved up, and that
of course was his for the asking or, without it, for
that matter.
"All was going well until one night he met a police-
man when he was walking alone in the park. He
did a bolt, and the constable, thinking he was a
poacher, told Sir Charles, who asked him to keep
an eye on the place. For nights on end this cop
kept watch in the park, coming across to my cottage
for a chat more often than not. I believe, myself,
that he had an idea something funny was going
on.
(4
Then one night, thinking the game was pretty
nearly up, and that I should get into serious trouble
over the part I was playing in it, he took his hook.
"I had no idea where he had gone, until, a week
later, I had a letter from him. I've torn it up I'm
afraid you'll have to take my word for it. In this
letter he asked if all was clear at Forest Court. If
so, he wrote, could I pick him up at 3.30 A.M. on
Tuesday, the 23rd of May, at Totland Corner. He
was in difficulties, he said; practically starving; and
he couldn't hope to hang out much longer. . . .
"As I told you at the inquest, Sir Charles took
off at 3 A.M. exactly. I waited a minute or so, in
case he wanted to land again, before switching off
the light. Then, running to the repair shop, I got
out the Bentley.
"I ran it down the Green Lane and out on to the
148 THE "MOTH" MURDER
main Lymington road. I drove fairly fast, and I got
to Totland Corner at 3.25 A.M. I'm sure of that
time 3.25 to the minute.
"My brother was not on the Corner, so, after wait-
ing three or four minutes, I drove up Redstock Lane
a little way so as to be able to put the lights out
for a few minutes, as the last thing I wanted to do
was attract attention. I went up about fifty yards
or so before stopping and switching off the lights.
"As my eyes got used to the semi-darkness I no-
ticed something lying by the roadside.
"Thinking perhaps my brother had hurt himself
whilst climbing over the hedge, or, more probably,
had had another heart-attack, I jumped out of the
car and stepped across the lane.
"I had a flashlight in my pocket. Finding it, I
turned it on. . . .
"Imagine my horror and surprise when I found
myself gazing into the face of a dead policeman.
"And what a face!" He shuddered at the mem-
ory. "All screwed up with pain and the hot, red
blood still gushing out of a gaping wound in the
forehead."
He stopped for a moment to wipe off the beads
of perspiration that had gathered on his face. He
was living again the dreadful minutes of his dis-
covery.
His very earnest manner convinced his listeners
that they had so far heard the truth. And his evi-
dence was of vital importance to the police.
"Of course," he continued shortly, "I jumped back
into the car, and started up. This was a nice mess
to be in. What was I to do?
THE "MOTH" MURDER 149
"I guessed at once that my brother had somehow
got hold of a revolver, and had been stopped by the
policeman as he was on his way to meet me on the
Corner. I knew that he was desperate; that if he
thought he could get away with it he would have no
hesitation in shooting an enemy down in cold blood.
"It stood to reason that I couldn't take him to the
cottage after this. I had no wish to become an ac-
cessory after the fact by hiding a murderer from
justice, though, of course, I was still prepared to
help him in any other way I could.
"To avoid turning the car by the body, I carried
on up the lane through Redstock, returning that
way home.
"Of course, you know the rest, Inspector."
XIV
THE CHIEF CONSTABLE SOLVES A
MYSTERY
So this cleared up the mystery of the car-tracks.
But, instead of throwing light on the whereabouts
of the murderer, it left the police more in the dark
than ever.
Reaching over, Hunt pressed a bell-button in the
wall. A constable answered the summons.
"Take the prisoner out," the Inspector ordered,
"but keep him near at hand. We may want him
again in a few minutes."
Left to themselves, none of the three spoke for
some considerable time. Each was deep in thought
attempting to reconstruct the case now so much
of it had seemingly collapsed.
It was Major Williams who first broke the silence.
"Everything points to the man Newton being the
murderer of my constable after all," he said. "Even
his brother admits that he was due at Totland Cor-
ner at 3.30 A.M., the scene and approximate time of
the crime."
He paused, then, more slowly and thoughtfully,
selecting a cigarette from his case the while:
"I'm now rather inclined to think that he didn't
throw his boots away, but I feel certain that we shall
find the weapon sooner or later. I'm glad I left the
men to drag the pond, in spite of the upsetting of
150
THE "MOTH" MURDER 151
my theory by the finding of all those boots in the
dell."
"Yes," agreed Hunt, "Newton appears the ob-
vious suspect at a first glance. But is he? Let's
think it out. . . .
"The fact that he has been hiding on Sir Charles'
estate in some ways helps, and in other ways com-
plicates, matters. Even if we can prove that Sir
Charles did land in Angels Meadow, and so give
Newton the opportunity to commit the double mur-
der, it doesn't explain how Sir Charles' 'plane came
to crash on the Head.
"Now, with Evans doing both the murders, and
both at Totland Corner," he ruminated, "this last
difficulty disappears for Evans, with his knowledge
of flying, would be able to start off Sir Charles'
'plane with the dead body in the cockpit.
"I doubt if Newton had this knowledge I'll in-
quire presently but even if he had, we have the
presence of Mrs. Evans to account for. . . . It's
hardly likely that she would stand by and see her
best friend shot.
"No! Bringing Newton into it involves, I think,
a triple murder. To make any sense at all he would
have had to shoot Mrs. Evans also. What the mo-
tive for this supposed wholesale slaying could have
been, I can't for the life of me imagine.
"Of course, if he did kill all three, I grant you
Mrs. Evans' body might quite conceivably have
fallen from the 'plane, as has been suggested, into
Christchurch Harbour. . . . But to add to these
rather far-fetched suggestions, to make our case
against Newton complete, we must believe Dennis
152 THE "MOTH" MURDER
Evans also has met with disaster in some way or
other. He has not been heard of for over thirty-
six hours, and, if he is still alive and innocent of
conspiracy, why is he in hiding?"
"This certainly is a staggering case, an amazing
tangle of probable and improbable theories," re-
marked the Superintendent. "We build up theory
after theory and the Inspector picks holes in them
all almost before the words have had time to cool
out of our mouths." Then, seeing the others were
deep in thought, he lapsed into silence.
But the Chief Constable still stuck to his guns.
"All right," he said. "I'll grant you the case
against Newton alone has broken down but for
one thing. I still do not agree that both murders
were committed with the same weapon. So in one
theory I still say Newton alone.
"Now, in my other, I'll fall in with your theory
that both crimes were committed with the one
weapon. What's wrong with this for a working
hypothesis? . . .
"For some reason at present unknown to us, the
Evanses plotted to murder Sir Charles, but decided
to call in outside help as it happens, the choice fell
on Newton. Why it fell on Newton, we may find
out later, but it's not impossible to imagine that they
had good reasons for their choice or even that they
had Newton in their power."
"No," replied Hunt, "we'll agree that's not un-
reasonable. Carry on."
"Good. Now to continue. Young Evans has
made arrangements to retire to some predetermined
place, where Mrs. Evans will join him after the crime
THE "MOTH" MURDER 153
has been committed. As his 'plane has disappeared,
it's probable that it's a yacht at sea. . . . He could
alight on the water by it and his 'plane would soon
be lost beneath the waves. Mrs. Evans, by some
pretext, persuades Sir Charles to make a landing in
Angels.
"As soon as they are down, or perhaps after they
have turned the 'plane round ready to take off again,
the convict Newton appears, and shoots Sir Charles
through the back of the head. . . .
"Now we can get over the difficulty of Newton
restarting the 'plane. He doesn't! Mrs. Evans
does it herself. You'll agree now, Inspector, that
this shows a way of getting over the mystery of the
disappearance of Mrs. Evans' body?"
"Yes, most effectively, sir. And then what?"
queried the really interested Hunt.
The Chief Constable resumed. "Waiting on the
main road at Totland Corner is a car. . . . After
seeing the 'Moth' off on its strange journey, they
cross the meadow to it. Just by the hedge the two
are challenged by Constable James. You know the
rest. Newton draws his gun, and a second cruel
murder is committed in that peaceful country lane.
"And then, down to the road. The accomplice
drives off with Mrs. Evans. The murderer, for some
reason, is prepared to remain behind and, I think,
the mystery is complete."
Walker, who had for the moment forgotten a vital
piece of evidence that was contradictory to the
theory, was inclined to be impressed.
"And this other accomplice have you formed any
opinion as to who he might be?" he asked eagerly,
154 THE "MOTH" MURDER
a suspicion beginning to take form in his mind.
And the Chief Constable's reply, "I have a shrewd
idea it was our intoxicated Mr. Day but not so in-
capable as the others imagined," was what he had
half expected to hear.
The Superintendent sat deep in thought for fully
a minute. Then he put his second question. "But,
according to Sturman's evidence, Day did not leave
the house until after the 'planes had taken off. If
you are relying on the lights of his car being used
to aid Sir Charles, how do you make the Rolls arrive
at the Corner in time? It could never keep up with,
let alone beat, the 'Moth' on a cross-country trip
like this."
"Oh, that's simple, Superintendent. He didn't
use the car lights to land by. He dropped a mag-
nesium flare."
It was left for Hunt to fall into the trap the Chief
Constable had so cunningly laid.
"Can you find a flaw this time, Inspector?" Major
Williams inquired.
Hunt smiled good-naturedly. "I must apologise
again, sir, for my contrariness," he said, "but I'm
afraid I can."
"And this time?"
"Quite a glaring mistake. You say that Newton
and Mrs. Evans walked over to the hedge by which
the constable's body lay from the spot where the
'planes had turned to take off.
"Now, as the wind was blowing from a southwest-
erly direction, the 'Moth,' in order to take off against
it, would commence its run in the northeast corner
of the meadow. That is, of course, from the corner
THE "MOTH" MURDER 155
nearest to where the dead convict's body was found
in the hut.
"To walk from there to the hedge they would have
to walk diagonally almost the whole length of the
pasture
He paused, and looked at the Chief Constable, as
though to give him a chance to see for himself the
error into which he had fallen.
But the latter did not avail himself of the op-
portunity.
"What difference does that make?" he innocently
asked. "That's just the way I thought they came."
"All the difference in the world," replied Hunt
quickly. "They couldn't have walked there was
only one set of footprints"
"No," said the Chief Constable quietly. "That's
just it. They didn't walk! I never said they did.
She famted, and he carried her all the way."
"Carried her?" echoed Hunt. "Of course. That's
the explanation I've been looking for. Well," he
added laughingly, "you've certainly shown me up
this time, sir."
"And so you find no fault, Inspector ?"
"No! I can't see any harm in us working on
those lines. It's the best bit of reasoning we've had
so far. . . . There's only one feature I dislike about
it there seem too many in the plot! Just count
them up. Young Evans, his wife, Newton, Day, and
the crew of the yacht then possibly an intermediary
between Newton and the Evanses."
Before the Chief Constable could comment on this,
a constable knocked at the door.
156 THE "MOTH" MURDER
"Come in!" rapped out Walker in a businesslike
manner.
As the man walked across the room they could see
that he held an envelope in his hand.
"With Sergeant Smith's compliments," he said,
passing the missive over to Hunt. "It has just come
in over the 'phone."
He withdrew quietly as Hunt ran his finger under
the still moist flap.
Inside was a single sheet of paper, addressed to
him, marked, "Received by 'phone, Armoury De-
partment, New Scotland Yard."
The message was brief but emphatic.
"Both bullets submitted .22 calibre. Both un-
doubtedly fired same barrel."
With a grin of satisfaction the Inspector passed
the sheet over to Major Williams.
"We shall have to work on my second theory in
any case after this," the Chief Constable remarked.
"It entirely disproves my first."
He passed the message on to Walker and turned
back to Hunt. "What's to happen to Bailey are
we justified in keeping him in custody a little
longer?"
"Oh, yes. I should say we are justified but I
doubt if it is necessary. I think we've got the truth,
and he's not likely to bolt now, so we shall be able
to get in touch with him easily should we want him.
. . . He'll have to appear in court again. I sup-
pose you can fix the question of bail quite easily?"
"Oh, yes. That can no doubt be arranged."
THE "MOTH" MURDER 157
"In that case, let's have him in. A few more ques-
tions won't hurt him, and if the replies are satisfac-
tory he'll soon be free to go."
It was a much brighter man who came to them
now. He guessed that the end of this interview would
see him virtually a free man.
Hunt again took up the questioning. "Now about
your brother," he began. "Had he by any chance
any knowledge of aircraft?"
The answer was what he had expected. "No!
No knowledge of flying at all; he was a compositor
when he was in a job."
"And now one other important question did your
brother ever meet either Mr. or Mrs. Evans?"
"No, not to my knowledge. In fact, I think I can
say, definitely, no."
A few more questions of similar reckoning failed
to shake the man's denials, so Hunt turned again to
the evidence given by the mechanic at the inquest.
Again the prisoner was adamant. His answers to
questions dealing with the start of the flight never
varied from the original ones in the slightest degree.
At last, seeing that he was only wasting time by
persisting, Hunt told the man he would be free to
go as soon as the necessary formalities had been com-
plied with. Whether the Chief Constable intended
to prosecute him later on another charge he was not
in a position to state, he added, as the constable who
had been summoned escorted him out.
"Going back to the subject under discussion be-
fore my constable disturbed us with your message,"
started the Chief Constable. "If you think there
were too many in the plot for my theory to be cor-
158 THE "MOTH" MURDER
rect, and yet still think my line of reasoning to be
the right one, how do you reconcile your two state-
ments ?"
Hunt was toying with a pen on the desk before
him. After a moment he replied:
"I think Evans was undoubtedly the murderer!
Until just now I was puzzled as to how he could have
been, but I'm beginning to see daylight. . . . This,
broadly speaking, is my theory :
"The 'planes started from Forest Court as Bailey
said Sir Charles and Mrs. Evans in the 'Moth' and
Dennis Evans alone in his little white monoplane.
"Dennis Evans took off first, you'll remember. I
suggest he kept the lead until he was over Angels,
where he feigned engine trouble. Dropping a flare,
he glided to earth.
"Sir Charles, seeing his friend in trouble, landed
to help him. . . . Once on the ground, I think,
Evans ran his 'plane back up the field, turning again
for the take-off in the north-east corner. Sir Charles
probably did the same with the 'Moth' !
"Then, before Sir Charles could get out of his
'plane, Evans came over and fired the fatal shot.
"Next, he would have started his own 'plane off
empty, and a little later the 'Moth' would have been
made to follow suit carrying, of course, the body
of Sir Charles.
"I've made inquiries and ascertained that both the
'Moth' and Evans' little monoplane are so easy to
handle that, given suitable conditions, they would
take off unpiloted when their lowest flying speed was
reached.
"As you realise, they had more than enough room
THE "MOTH" MURDER 159
to reach their flying-speed in Angels, and I think
we can say quite safely that the conditions were suit-
able.
"The unforeseen misadventure of the 'Moth'
catching fire was, of course, a serious matter for
the Evanses. Had all gone well, the 'planes would
have both gone down in the sea, probably hundreds
of miles from land, and sunk without leaving a trace.
"Everyone would have thought that the three of
them had met with disaster through their folly in
flying over the sea in the darkness of the early morn-
ing.
"Xo suspicion of what had really taken place
would have been in anybody's mind excepting, of
course, the accomplice waiting at Totland Corner.
"The difficulty of there being only one set of foot-
prints is explained satisfactorily now. Evans car-
ried his wife.
"The only snag that I can see is this can we con-
nect Day definitely with the case? If not, we've got
to find the unknown who was waiting with the car.
And if it wasn't Day, who was it?
"The constable," he added, "was killed because
he had seen too much. In all probability Evans knew
the policeman by sight, and guessed that he himself
was known to the constable by name.
"This shooting did not complicate matters though,
as they had left no clue, and, were it not for the dis-
covery of the bullet in Sir Charles' remains, no one
would have connected the two tragedies.
"Then to add more mystery to an already mys-
terious affair, I'm afraid the cows churned up the
corner of the meadow where Evans walked backwards
160 THE "MOTH" MURDER
and forwards in sending off the unpiloted 'planes,
and so destroyed all traces."
"That's more like it, Inspector," agreed the Chief
Constable enthusiastically. "You don't need half
the number of people in your theory, and, after hear-
ing it, I'm afraid mine must have sounded a bit thin.
"It's obvious that the most important thing to do
now is trace this car they used. It would be the one
I crossed off my list as out of the case, as its tracks
were overrun by those of the Bentley. . . . The
other few tracks, you'll remember, were all accounted
for."
Hunt looked across at the Chief Constable rather
shamefacedly. "After all my experience of police
work, I feel I ought to be kicked," he admitted. "I
didn't trouble myself over those tracks at all and
I have only the haziest recollection of them. I be-
lieve I observed they were made by a fairly large car,
but I'm not even sure of that."
"Never mind," said the Chief Constable cheer-
fully. "We're companions in crime. I didn't worry
about them either. . . . We shall have to get on
without them."
Just then a car drew up outside the station. Rec-
ognising the driver, a Poole police inspector, the Su-
perintendent excused himself and left the room.
In less than a minute he was back again. Pop-
ping his head just round the door, he exclaimed ex-
citedly, "Sensation follows sensation, it's news of
Evans! I'll show the skipper in."
XV
PRO PATRIA
ABOUT the time that "the skipper" was being ushered
into the little room at Bournemouth, where the Chief
Constable and Hunt were seated, the telephone bell
on the desk of Detective Inspector Whitfield of the
C.I.D. began to ring violently.
Putting down the pen with which he was prepar-
ing a report with meticulous care, the Inspector
picked up the receiver.
The call was from Sir James Spreadbury, the
Chief Commissioner.
Whitfield's presence was, he learned, required im-
mediately.
Blotting his report carefully, he folded it up and
locked it away in his desk. This interesting docu-
ment showed the result of three months' labour ex-
pended in the search for the ringleaders of the Tot-
tenham Court Road dope gang. And this record, as
Whitfield himself would have been the first to admit,
did not show the amount of progress the police de-
sired.
Sir James, a prematurely grey but otherwise
youngish-looking man of splendid physique, was
wearing an extremely puzzled expression when the
Inspector knocked at his door, before many minutes
had elapsed.
161
162 THE "MOTH" MURDER
"Take a seat, Inspector," he began, in his cultured
manner. "I want a little talk with you. How much
more progress have you made with this dope case?"
Whitfield considered for a moment before reply-
ing. "Candidly, sir, I can't say that we've got any
farther at all," he said at length. "In fact, I'm
afraid we're rather worse off than we were when last
I reported. From confidential reports that we've re-
ceived, it appears that the Tottenham Court Road
gang are doing more business than ever.
"Of course that's only to be expected. With the
Chelsea gang practically wiped out of existence, the
trade is bound to pass to Gascoigne's crush."
"So you still think that Gascoigne is one of the
ringleaders?" inquired the Chief Commissioner, with
something of a smile playing about his lips.
"I'm sure of it, sir. Everywhere we go we run
up against the man. He's been seen in the company
of Schwartz a couple of times lately, and, as you
know, we have enough evidence to put Schwartz away
for some years any tune we want to use it. But, as
you agree, it suits our purpose to let Schwartz go
free. He is more likely to lead us eventually to 'the
boss' than any other man we know.
"Then take Barnes. Any time we want to pull
him in I'll guarantee we should find the stuff on him.
What does Gascoigne want with a man of Barnes'
reputation ?
"Before he got in with the Court Road gang, what
was he? A little sneak-thief down by the docks.
And look at him now, dining at the Frivolity more
evenings than not and running a Rolls with a liveried
chauffeur.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 163
"But that's not all. I could name a dozen more,
both known and suspected members of the gang
and Gascoigne knows them every one."
"Yes," commented the Chief. "He certainly mixes
with a deuced funny crowd but that in itself 's not
a sin. What do you know of him otherwise?"
"Not a lot," admitted the Inspector. "In spite
of the most exhaustive inquiries, his past remains
wrapped in mystery. . . . He seems to have plenty
of money, and is a member of two otherwise respect-
able clubs.
"His latest flame is Marianne Barlow, the leading
lady of Rags and Tatters, Merryweather's new show,
but there my information ends.
"If only we had the help of 'Pro Patria,'" la-
mented the Inspector, "this gang would soon go the
way of the Chelsea lot. Why ever he concentrates
on the one gang I cannot imagine.
"A score of letters we must have had from him,
and in every case his information has been proved
correct. A man with his knowledge of the under-
world must have got a line on the Court Road crowd.
I'm half inclined to think he must be working for
them himself. The demand for dope will still go on,
and unless he helps us stamp out everybody in the
game he's not really doing half the good he imagines
he is."
"Have you never stopped to consider who 'Pro
Patria' might be?" asked Sir James quietly.
"No," said the surprised Inspector. "I can't say
I've given the matter much thought. To my mind,
it seems better to act on his advice without question ;
164 THE "MOTH" MURDER
he's never let us down yet. If we start a hunt for
him, we'll only defeat our own ends by putting him
on his guard."
The Chief Commissioner was fumbling in a
drawer. Presently he withdrew an envelope, the
familiar colour and size of which told Whitfield at
a glance the sender.
"Well, if we had decided to search for 'Pro Patria,'
this letter would have saved us the trouble," the Chief
declared, passing the missive over to the Inspector.
Whitfield studied the envelope carefully before
withdrawing the contents.
It bore all the usual characteristics of a "Pro
Patria" letter. The typewritten address was to the
Chief Commissioner himself, and the envelope was
marked "Personal."
The blurred I's showed the same faulty typewriter
had been used as on all other occasions, while the
postmark showed the letter to have been posted in
the Hammersmith area that morning.
His scrutiny finished, the Inspector withdrew the
enclosed sheet. He saw at once that the message was
longer than usual.
"DEAR SIR JAMES," he read, "You will agree
that with the help of my information you have
successfully cleaned up the Chelsea gang of dope
traffickers.
"There is, however, as I have no doubt you are
well aware, an even more powerful gang operating
in the neighbourhood of Tottenham Court Road.
"My investigations against this gang have been
of a somewhat different nature, and I am glad to
THE "MOTH" MURDER 165
be able to say that I have information of the great-
est value.
"If, therefore, you would make it convenient for
you personally to see me, I propose calling at the
Yard to-morrow morning at 11, when I will place
such information as I have in your hands. This
will include the name of 'the boss' and several lesser
members of the gang.
"Assuring you there can be no possibility of a
mistake "
And here the good man's eyes nearly popped out
of his head, for underneath the typewritten "Pro
PATRIA" was scrawled a signature and the signa-
ture was that of Claude Gascoigne.
XVI
DEVELOPMENTS
"THE skipper" proved to be an elderly-looking man
wearing a ragged blue jersey and rubber thigh-
boots. He carried an old, greasy yachting cap,
which he twirled nervously in his hands, and as he
bid the Chief Constable (whom he evidently recog-
nised) good evening, Hunt could see his teeth were
uneven and tobacco-stained.
"Captain Matthews has news of the utmost im-
portance for us," the Superintendent declared. "He
happened to be fishing out beyond his usual limits
or he would not have seen what he did. . . . But
he'd best tell you the story with his own lips. Take
a seat, captain and help yourself to a cigarette,"
he added, pushing the box over to him.
The old mariner accepted the offer of a smoke,
and, after lighting the cigarette, sat back in his
chair, his uneasiness fast disappearing.
"This is Inspector Hunt of Scotland Yard,"
said the Chief Constable, introducing the detective.
"You can tell your story without letting his pres-
ence upset you. As a matter of fact, he is in charge
of the case."
"That's all right," replied the fisherman. "What
I've got to say can be said afore anywun; it can't
harm nobody !
"My name, as Inspector 'Aydon from Poole, 'im
166
THE "MOTH" MURDER 167
what brought me 'ere, will tell you, is Joe Matthews.
I'm skipper of the Kathleen Norris. She's a little
thirty-foot fishin'-smack, as nice a tub as ever sailed
out uf Poole 'Arbour.
"My crew is y'ung Jim Brown an' 'Arry Bow-
man, but they 'ad ter stop an' 'ang the nets out. I
ought ter be there 'elpin' 'em by all rights, but when
I 'appens ter tell P.C. Coggins what we'd see'd 'e
'urries me off ter the police stashun ter see Inspec-
tor 'Ay don, 'oo sez, 'Yer must cum with me ter
Bournemouth an' let 'em know about it up there !' '
After a slight pause, he began the story proper:
"It 'appens as we wuz tryin' fur new fishin'-
grounds well out uf the bay. We left Poole about
three o'clock on Monday arternoon.
"We kept the sails up an' used our little motur
as well, as we wanted ter get as fur out as possible
by dark.
"We finally fetched up at a spot about fifty mile
out in the Channel; a few mile west uf Swanage as
near as I can say.
"We 'adn't bin this fur out afore, but we 'ad
'eard it sed that there wus a 'ole in the sea-bed there,
if anywun cud strike it, which wus full uf fish.
"We didn't 'ave no luck at furst. Time an agen
we dropped our nets, but we didn't ketch no fish
until, just as day wus breakin', we got among 'em.
"We wus busy 'aulin' in about four o'clock when
we 'card the 'um of an airyplane.
"Thinkin* it wur funny ter 'ear wun so fur out
at sea an' at sich an early 'our, we all on us looked
roune ter see where the noise wur comin' from.
168 THE "MOTH" MURDER
"We saw the machin' at wunce it wur a good
way orf, coming out from the land.
"Then, as we watched, all uf a sudden 'is engine
spluttered an' stopped. But the airyplane still kept
cumin' on. A little white single-winged un, it wur.
"Straight at us it come, gittin' lower an' lower,
till we made sure it 'ud be on top of us. So it wud
'ave bin tew, only it dropped short. . . . About fifty
yards away frum us it 'it the water an' started goin'
downe slowly straight away.
"We 'ad ter finish pullin' in the nets, but that
didn't take long, an' in a very short time we turned
the Kathleen N orris about an' ran alon'side.
"We knew the airmun couldn't 'ave bin 'urt as it
only dropped gently into the sea. To our 'orror,
tho', there weren't nobody in it! . . .
"The part where 'e sat 'adn't sunk yet, but it wur
empty, we could see.
"Anyhow, ter make sure I stood up in the boat
an' looked right down ter the bottom uf ther
ther " He searched for a word.
"Cockpit," suggested Hunt.
"Yes, cockpit, I believe that's what you calls it.
Anyway, it weren't no good. There weren't nobody
in it.
"We waited by a good 'our ter see if 'is body wud
cum floating up, but no. He weren't never in it
when it 'it the sea."
He felt in his pocket and produced a grimy piece
of paper. "Jim Brown, he writ this downe fur yer
it's the readin' un the wings. I b'aint no scholar,
so I doant know what it means."
Hunt took the paper from him. He saw at
THE "MOTH" MURDER 169
once that it was the registration number of the
'plane. In a bold, copperplate hand were pencilled
the mystic letters GE EXXGF, and the number
870/0076591.
With a sense of elation, Hunt realised that these
signs would prove beyond doubt whether the 'plane
was Evans' or not. If, as he himself felt certain,
it was, the fact that it had come down empty seemed
to prove his latest theory to be correct. The police
would be justified in applying for a warrant for
Evans' arrest without waiting for further evidence.
"I'll keep this, if I may," he said, pocketing the
document. "It's a most valuable piece of evidence.
And now, gentlemen, don't you think that we have
earned a drink? Let's all take a walk across to the
'Crown.' "
The others agreed that this was a jolly good idea,
and the entire party proceeded to the hotel, where
they found the Inspector from Poole already in-
stalled.
Then, after a couple of drinks apiece, the gather-
ing dispersed, Hunt to drive back to his sister's at
Southbourne, and the Chief Constable and Superin-
tendent to complete the formalities that would en-
able Bailey to secure his release.
The next morning again saw the indefatigable
Hunt up betimes. After a brisk walk along the
sands by a sea as calm as a mill-pond, he returned
to eat a hearty breakfast before going on to Bourne-
mouth to begin the serious work of the day.
The Superintendent, he found, was already at
170 THE "MOTH" MURDER
work in his office, but the Chief Constable had not
yet put in an appearance.
Walker greeted him warmly. "Still no news of
importance, no trace of Evans or his wife and, as
I've heard nothing from Forest Court, I presume
the vanished Sir Henry Sandleson has not done a
spectacular reappearing trick."
"Too bad," murmured Hunt, "but we can't expect
jam on it every time and, I think, we really did do
a good day's work yesterday."
"Yes, I suppose we did; we certainly werQ busy
enough," admitted the Superintendent. "But still,"
he added, "we've got to do better or we shall soon
have the newspapers on our track. They're full of
the case this morning. 'The "Moth" Murder Mys-
tery,' they call it, and a good name too but I think,
if we have our fair share of luck, they'll soon be able
to cut the mystery part out of it."
"I hope so," echoed Hunt, "and 7 think so too.
Did you arrange to get the warrant this morning?"
"Yes. I hope to get it signed straight away. A
doctor J.P. is calling in on his way by. Now, there's
one minor matter to which my attention has been
drawn. It may have something to do with our case,
and it may not. I don't know quite what to think,
but I thought I'd bring it to your notice.
"A Mrs. Thornton, of Park View, a large house
just past Forest Court, going out on the main road,
has reported that her Singer six saloon, number RU
9081, has been stolen from her garage at the side
of the house.
"It appears she left the house on Thursday last
for a long week-end in Town. On returning yes-
THE "MOTH" MURDER 171
tcrday, she found the garage had been entered and
her car taken.
"There were no servants in the house from Friday
evening to yesterday morning, Mrs. Thornton hav-
ing given them a few days' holiday.
"A peculiar feature of the theft is that the garage
lock shows no signs of having been tampered with.
Mrs. Thornton is certain that she locked the door,
and the servants verify this, as they tried all the
doors including the garage one before leaving on
Fridajfc It seems the thief, or thieves, must either
have possessed a key, or have been unusually careful
in picking the lock.
"This is what comes of people building houses in
such out-of-the-way places," he complained, "and to
go away and leave valuable property unprotected is
inviting trouble of this sort," he grumbled.
"Are there no other houses in the vicinity?" Hunt
inquired. "I haven't been any farther along the
road than Forest Court, so I'm not familiar with
the district."
"No the next house is a good mile down the
road."
"I suppose the full description has been circular-
ized to all stations?"
"Oh, yes Lymington saw to that last night. I
have it here somewhere." He went through some
papers on the desk and produced a typewritten copy.
"I'll read it out:
" 'Stolen from Park View, near Lymington,
Hants, some time between Friday the 19th and
172 THE "MOTH" MURDER
Wednesday the 24th of May last: Grey Singer,
six cylinder, four-door saloon. Registration No.
RU 9081. Engine No. L 2254/905281. Chassis
No. BJ/4085/71132.' "
"We can't do any more," remarked Hunt. "I
suppose it'll turn up again. It's surprising how
few cars disappear entirely." Then inquiringly:
"What's the programme to-day, Superintendent ?"
"Oh, that's for you to decide. I have nothing
special on to-day. I shall be able to lend you a hand
until tea-time, at least."
"Well, I've been thinking we ought to find out
just where our Mr. Day spent the early hours of
Tuesday morning. As he has probably returned
home, this will mean a trip to Town, I'm afraid. I
have his address in my pocket-book, so I think I
ought to 'phone him for an appointment," answered
Hunt at length.
"Yes that does seem the next step, Inspector.
Although it'll take up more than half the day, it
can't be helped. Even if he has a perfectly satis-
factory answer, it'll mean crossing yet another name
off our list of suspects, and so narrow down the chan-
nels of our inquiry. And that'll be better than re-
maining at a standstill."
Hunt was reaching for the 'phone when Walker
interrupted.
"Wait a minute," he said, "here's the Chief Con-
stable. He's got another fisherman with him. I
wonder what's turned up now?"
Hunt turned, and looked out of the window.
The Chief Constable, followed by the fisherman
THE "MOTH" MURDER 173
Walker had indicated, was walking across the road
from his car.
He seemed in good spirits, for his face was
clothed in smiles and his attitude was that of a
man who has received good news.
He passed out of sight beneath the window, then,
a few seconds later, flung open the office door.
He was plainly excited; even his military train-
ing did not enable him to conceal the fact.
"Good morning, gentlemen," he began. "Al-
though it seems I'm not the early bird, I think it's
me who's caught the worm.
"This gentleman" he indicated the fisherman
"came to my house early this morning before I was
up, in fact and he has brought us news of the ut-
most importance.
"It's news of Evans and his wife both alive and
kicking!"
XVII
AT THE BUNGALOW
HUNT looked across at the Superintendent. "News
of the Evanses, eh! My word, Major Williams cer-
tainly has caught the first worm, and a mighty fat
worm too, while we poor early birds haven't even
had a peck at one."
The newcomer had already taken the chair in-
dicated by the Chief Constable, and Hunt studied
him intently as he lit the cigarette that Walker,
showing his usual generosity towards witnesses, had
thrust upon him.
He was quite a young man, handsome in a coarse
kind of way, and showed, the Yard man noticed, a
stubble of at least three days' growth on his chin.
He wore similar garb to the visitor of the previous
evening, but his high, rubber thigh-boots showed
more signs of wear.
The colour of his nose suggested a liking of alco-
hol, and, truth to tell, his breath was tainted with
the odour of stale beer. But it was his eyes that
completed Hunt's unfavourable opinion of him; an
opinion that had its beginnings as soon as he crossed
the threshold. For his eyes were narrow, ferrety,
and shifty-looking.
The Chief Constable briefly explained how Birch
for that, it transpired, was the man's name came
to his house that morning and told him he had a
174
THE "MOTH" MURDER 175
story to tell, but for his own safety could only tell
it in confidence, and if promised full forgiveness for
his misdeeds.
After being assured that these misdeeds were not
so very serious, the Chief Constable had, he said,
given Birch a definite promise that any evidence he
had to give that incriminated him would not be used
against him.
"I find myself entirely justified by this somewhat
irregular undertaking," he concluded, "for Birch's
story may prove to be of incalculable value." Then :
"Now, Birch, tell the Inspector what you saw at
daybreak Tuesday morning."
The fisherman looked across at Hunt.
"If I tell you the whole story, I suppose the Chief
Constable's promise holds good? I don't altogether
trust you plain-clothes blokes," he started, with
something approaching a smile. The question was
evidently meant without the malice which could easily
be read into the words.
"Certainly! If the Chief Constable is prepared
to overlook your sins, whatever they may be, it's not
for me to interfere," replied Hunt readily.
"Well, as long as I know, that's all right. Here
goes.
"On Monday night I went out to do a bit of river-
fishing up the Avon, towards Ringwood. I'd better
tell you first, I suppose, where I live that's Christ-
church alongside the river, upstream of the main
road.
"I keep a little sailin'-boat moored at the bottom
of my garden, and as the river is pretty wide I use
it quite a lot. On Monday night there was hardly
176 THE "MOTH" MURDER
any wind, though we 'ad 'ad a bit of a storm earlier,
but I found just enough to carry me slowly up the
river.
"As soon as I got clear of the town I dropped a
spinner over in the hopes h'of pickin' up a stray
salmon. As you gentlemen know, there's folks that
see harm in that an' call it poachin'," he added un-
necessarily.
"Well, as it happens, I 'ad a bit of luck and got
a couple of nice ones about seven or eight miles up-
stream. The time, when I hooked my second, was
about three o'clock. . . .
"As this seemed a good spot, I sailed backwards
and forwards for more'n an hour, but I didn't get
another. As it was starting to get light, I decided
to pull in my line an' turn for home.
"I 'adn't gone more'n a mile 'fore I came to a
stretch where there are half a dozen summer bunga-
lows on the bank.
"There was, I saw to my surprise, a car drawn
up outside the nearest one. They all 'ave their own
drive down from the road, which is only fifty yards
away," he explained.
" 'That's funny,' I said to myself ; 'I wonder who
that can be?' It was moonlight when I passed on
my way upstream, an' I knew that the car wasn't
there then.
"I used to come up this way a lot the summer
before, an' I knew the end bungalow belonged to Mr.
Evans 'Myns Abass' I remember the name. It
struck me as bein' comic.
"It wasn't no business of mine, though, an' I
shouldn't 'ave thought no more about it, but just
THE "MOTH" MURDER 177
as I drew level a lady an' gentleman came out.
"I couldn't see the lady properly, as she turned
her back on me to lock the door. But I did see the
gentleman. I saw him plainly. I was Mr. Evans.
An' the lady, judgin' by her figur', I took to be Mrs.
Evans.
"Neither of them 'appened ter notice me, an' I
should have soon forgotten all about it, only I 'card
later what 'ad 'appened on the 'Ead.
"Then, when I 'card about that chauffeur bloke
bein' pulled in for murder, I said to the missus,
' 'Ere's a nice mess to be in, to be sure. There's
something fishy goin' on here, I'm certain. What
am I to do? If I don't go to the police, an innocent
bloke'll most likely get 'ung, an' if I do go, I shall
get put back in jug.'
" 'Owever my missus said, 'You go and see the
Chief Constable 'isself, an' if you put it to 'im that
he'll get nothing by juggin' you he may let you orf.'
"I put orf comin' all day yesterday, then I
couldn't bear waitin' no longer.
" 'Righto, Katie,' I said. 'I'll get up early an'
do as you say!' That's 'ow I come to be 'ere."
The importance of this statement could not, as
the Chief Constable had said, be estimated. It would
be one of the main weapons in the hands of the pros-
ecution.
"Thank goodness you came," remarked the In-
spector. "And now for a few questions. . . .
"Did you notice the size and colour of the car?"
"Yes. I noticed it was one I 'adn't seen there
before. It was greyish in colour and quite a decent
size."
178 THE "MOTH" MURDER
"A saloon, of course?"
"Yes. It was a closed-in one."
"Did you notice whether there was anyone wait-
ing in it?"
"No. I couldn't see. It was turned back to me
ready to go out again; if there was anybody in it,
I shouldn't have been able to see them."
This answer was not at all satisfactory, but Hunt
realised that the car must have been seen later on
the road. Given luck, he would be able to find some-
one who remembered how many occupants it had.
"Well, then, if you didn't notice that, perhaps
you will be able to help me here. Was either Mr.
Evans or the lady we take to be his wife carrying
any luggage?"
Birch thought for a moment. "Yes," he replied.
"Now I come to think of it, Mr. Evans was. He
was carrying a little portmanteau."
"A blue one?" put in Hunt quickly.
"No, not blue. I remember distinctly now. It
was brown."
"Brown, eh !" Hunt thought for a moment. This
was not the answer he had expected. Presently he
continued :
"Have you ever seen the car anywhere before?"
Birch considered for quite a minute. "No. I
can't say definitely that I 'ave ; there's so many aboul
like it."
"You've never seen it coming from Lymington by
any chance? a woman drives it."
The Chief Constable was listening wonderingly.
What game was the Yard man playing? He began
to feel that he hadn't been the only one to catch a
THE "MOTH" MURDER 179
worm after all. Birch's answer settled his doubts.
It was plain that Hunt had scored again.
"Blimey, Sergeant," he said, reducing Hunt in
rank unwittingly, "you're right. I remember now.
Wait a bit. I'll tell you 'er name." He scratched
his head vigorously, as if to help refresh his mem-
ory.
"Damme, I've 'card it somewhere. Mrs. Thornley
no, not Thornley I've got it Thornton!
That's it Mrs. Thornton."
"Quite correct," smiled Hunt. "Mrs. Thornton
of Park View." Then, seeing the look of astonish-
ment growing on the Chief Constable's face, he could
not refrain from adding, "It's a Singer six, registra-
tion number RU 9081."
Pen in hand, he picked up the official description
of the car that the Lymington police had circulated.
"Get this out again at once, with this addition,"
he commanded the Superintendent.
The words he wrote were but few. Just "Hold
the occupants on a charge of murder." "And, whilst
you're out there," he added, indicating the outer of-
fice, "send out a full description of both the Evanses,
and ask for a close watch to be kept on all ports."
The Chief Constable looked up at Hunt. "Don't
you think a trip to the bungalow will be worth
while?" he inquired.
"Yes, certainly and after that I'm going to
search Moorlands from top to bottom, even if I have
to get a warrant."
"There'll be no need for that. I've always found
Davis most obliging."
"He's got to be," said Hunt grimly. "It's a mat-
180 THE "MOTH" MURDER
ter of time being everything now; the longer start
they get the harder they'll be to trace. I'm afraid
we shall find that they've dumped the Singer long
ago.
"If only you'd come before," he added reproach-
fully to Birch; then more brightly, seeing the man
looked a little hurt, "Never mind, better late than
never, I suppose."
They moved out from the office to where the Su-
perintendent stood talking to an elderly, profes-
sional-looking gentleman.
"This is Dr. Burroughs," Walker began, on see-
ing Hunt approaching. "Allow me to introduce
you. He has come to sign the warrants we shall
want two now, I'm afraid."
A few minutes later, the formalities completed,
warrants signed, and descriptions being flashed
throughout the land, the officials were free to start
their journey.
A quarter of an hour's drive brought them to the
bungalow.
They had no key, but Hunt produced a couple
of oddly bent pieces of wire from his pocket, and
after a couple of minutes' work on the lock the door
swung open.
It seemed the journey had been in vain. Few
traces of the brief visit of the owners were to be
seen.
The scanty furniture that had been left there for
the winter was thickly covered with dust, and the
atmosphere of the damp rooms was cold and unin-
viting. It was obvious that the place had been un-
occupied for some considerable time.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 181
It was only in the dining-room that definite proof
of the supposed visit was to be found. Here, in the
grate, a heap of ashes showed some papers to have
recently been burned.
Hunt bent down and gently lifted a few of the
larger fragments with a pair of small tweezers. All
he could say, though, after a most careful examina-
tion, was that they were the remains of a newspaper,
probably the Daily Mail.
"We'll take these along with us," he said, "but
I don't think we shall learn much from them."
After noting that one corner of the table had
been used as a chair, and that the mirror over the
fireplace had been wiped, they agreed that the place
had shown them all the clues it had to offer, and,
after relocking the door, turned their attention to
the gravel drive.
Here the tracks of a car were plainly visible. Fol-
lowing them, Hunt found that they turned right
for Christchurch when they reached the main road.
"Gone to Town, for a fiver," he said.
"And now Moorlands?" queried the Chief Con-
stable, climbing into his car.
"Yes, sir. And as fast as we can get there."
Davis was as obliging as possible. When Hunt
explained the reason of the visit, he offered to show
them round himself.
As at Forest Court, they started their search in
the attic.
But here they found no well-equipped workshops
and highly interesting museums.
Instead, just the usual ill-lit storage-place of years
of accumulated rubbish.
182 THE "MOTH" MURDER
"Nothing worth worrying about up here," re-
marked Hunt after a moment. "Come on let's pro-
ceed."
The servants' quarters on the next floor they left
unlocked at. Passing them quickly, they came to
the bedrooms.
Mrs. Evans' was the first to be visited. A little
bureau holding her private correspondence was ruth-
lessly forced. A hurried look through some of her
letters gave Hunt the impression that they were
valueless. But he was leaving nothing to chance.
How often he had found the most innocent-looking
documents to contain a vital clue.
Borrowing an attache-case, he slipped them in-
side, after having first sealed them in a large en-
velope on which he wrote: "Mrs. Evans' Bureau."
Then on to Mr. Evans' room. Nothing here, it
seemed. Just a bed, a couple of chairs, dressing-
table, washstand, and chest of drawers.
He ran quickly through the drawers. "Hardly
any clothes here," he observed.
Davis explained. All Mr. Evans' suits had gone
to Plymouth. In fact, the only one that had not
was the one the wanted man was wearing. The valet
described it. "Single-breasted, of reddish-brown ma-
terial, with a slight pin-stripe."
The dressing table next claimed Hunt's attention.
In the second drawer he opened there lay a type-
written envelope. He snatched it up eagerly. To
his disappointment it did not contain a letter. In-
stead, only an assortment of various sized suction
pads for an upper dental-plate.
He flung it back, exasperated, and continued.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 183
A few bills in one of the small side-drawers went
the way of the letters in Mrs. Evans' bureau.
Then to the other bedrooms. Each was unoc-
cupied, so the inspection was but brief. None of
them offered a clue.
Evans' study was the first ground-floor room to
be examined. The desk here would not yield to
Hunt's wire and had to be forced. There was sin-
gularly little correspondence in it. What there was
he hurriedly docketed and slipped into the bag.
The other rooms were soon disposed of. Quick
as the search was, it was thorough. Even the house-
keeping bills and account-books were carried off.
"Where to now?" asked the Chief Constable as
they finished the task. "Back to the station?"
"Yes. We must try to sort out these" indicating
the contents of the bag "but I'm afraid we shall
be interrupted by news of the finding of the car."
XVIII
THE HUNT BEGINS IN EARNEST
BACK at the station, the officials set about the al-
ways unpleasant business of prying into other peo-
ple's correspondence. Even though he was certain
that she was a murderess, Hunt felt a slight feeling
of revulsion as he began to read carefully the letters
he had taken from Mrs. Evans' bureau.
Most of them were of comparatively recent re-
ceipt, some of them being business letters from her
dressmakers and hairdressers, others invitations to
various social events and dances, while several were
from an unknown Biddy, who, it seemed, had been en-
joying a most profitable run of luck at Monte Carlo.
All of them, however, made most uninteresting
reading to an outsider, and Hunt was not sorry when
he put down the last of the loose ones.
Only a small bundle now remained. These were
tied neatly with blue ribbon. As he began to untie
them, he thought of the words of the still popular
waltz : V
Some letters tied with blue,
A photograph or two,
I see a rose from you,
Among my souvenirs.
Were these, he wondered, souvenirs the passionate
love-letters of some still remembered swain?
The bundle untied, he picked up the first one. It
184
THE "MOTH" MURDER 185
was over three years old, but the writing, he thought,
seemed familiar.
"My Own Darling Peggy," it began, and ap-
peared to continue in the same romantic strain.
After reading a few lines, he turned to the back
page. He saw at once what he had half expected
to see. The writer had been the late Sir Charles
Stafford.
Putting it down, he picked up the next. The
handwriting was similar. A hurried inspection
showed him that all the others originated from the
same source, and all, he saw, were couched in the
same terms of endearment "Sweetheart of all my
Dreams"; "Wonderful One"; "My Own Glorious
Little Girl" to quote but few as examples.
"Perhaps there's a clue here, after all," he said
aloud.
"What have you found?" asked the Superintend-
ent, looking up. "Love-letters?"
"Yes," replied Hunt. "Love-lettersbut the
most recent is over three years old."
He settled down again to read through the sen-
timental "nothings" a man will always write to the
woman he fancies himself in love with.
But what he read had little bearing on the case.
There was no hint of a quarrel, nothing to show
what had occurred to upset the plans of an early
marriage that the dead man spoke so enthusiasti-
cally of.
Baffled, Hunt retied the letters with their ribbon,
and set to work on a batch he picked from the others
still in the bag.
186 THE "MOTH" MURDER
Promptly as Big Ben chimed the hour of eleven
Claude Gascoigne came to Scotland Yard. A police
constable immediately ushered him into the presence
of the Chief Commissioner.
Sir James Spreadbury greeted him warmly; al-
most with brotherly affection.
"So you're the gentleman to whom we owe so
much " he began.
But Gascoigne waved him down. "It was noth-
ing, Sir James," he said, "nothing at all. . . . Any
other decent-minded Britisher, given the opportu-
nity, would have done the same. I had that oppor-
tunity that was all."
"Well, I'm glad you dlcC get the opportunity, Mr.
Gascoigne. How you got it I do not intend to in-
quire, but I will say, in passing, that for a long time
past your comings and goings have been regarded
with curiosity, not to say suspicion, by my men."
"I am well aware of it, Sir James, well aware of
it. In fact, on one or two occasions their presence
has, metaphorically speaking, almost resulted in the
killing of the goose that lays the golden egg. But
I came here to give you valuable information, and
so, as I'm a busy man, I propose to waste no time.
No one can hear us in here?" he inquired question-
ingly.
"No, no one, Mr. Gascoigne; the walls are abso-
lutely sound-proof, and, as you can see, there's no
one here but us," replied the Chief Commissioner.
He did not think it necessary to explain that all that
was taking place was being recorded by a dicta-
phone.
"Very well then. As I have your assurance that
THE "MOTH" MURDER 187
we cannot be overheard, I'll give you the names I
promised. . . . You realise," he went on, taking a
slip of paper from his notebook the while, "if it
should ever leak out that Claude Gascoigne supplied
this information, to-day will prove a very disastrous
day for me. I never forget the ancient saying,
'Walls have ears,' and even Scotland Yard may have
traitors within its gates, you know."
Then, reading from the list, he began: "These
are the names of several prominent members of the
gang. A man named Schwartz I don't know his
Christian name, but he is known as 'Issy' to his
friends, and is, I believe, well known to the police.
"Wilfred Barnes he drives about in his Rolls
and runs an expensive flat in Knightsbridge.
"Jerry Scott and Lennox Hugonin they're two
ex-confidence men and a couple of others of whom
I know little save that their names are Brewer and
McKenzie."
Sir James smiled grimly. Every one of the men
whose names had been read out was a suspected traf-
ficker.
"They are meeting to-night at eight o'clock at
a house in Devonshire Avenue No. 121, to be pre-
cise. A consignment of cocaine and heroin will be
distributed on the premises.
"To get this information, I need hardly add, I
have had to run the greatest risks. However, I am
certain it is correct, so I hope you will use it to the
best advantage and take them all red-handed."
"We shall certainly. You can be assured of
that," replied Sir James with enthusiasm. "I sup-
188 THE "MOTH" MURDER
pose," he added, "we shall take the 'boss' there too?"
"I'm afraid not," corrected the other man.
"Not? Why not? Isn't he going to be there?"
No he won't be there." Then softly and
slowly: "You see he's dead."
"Dead," echoed Sir James. "You don't mean it !"
"Yes, dead. Murdered, in fact. He was Sir
Charles Stafford"
Hardly had Hunt had time to scan the first of the
letters taken from Evans' desk when the telephone
bell rang. The Superintendent picked up the in-
strument.
"It's for you, Inspector," he said; "they've put
it through from the outer office."
Sir James Spreadbury was on the other end of
the wire.
In a very few moments he had told Hunt of
Claude Gascoigne's amazing disclosures. "Appar-
ently," he explained, "Sir Charles had been doing
the smuggling himself, bringing the dope from the
Continent by air."
He had taken little part in the actual distribution,
but the method of this distribution had been devised
by the dead man, who was the brains of the gang.
Only one or two of the heads knew who "the boss"
was; although he was occasionally present at the
meetings, he was always masked, and allowed no one
to question his authority.
"He had us completely in the dark, you know,"
the Chief concluded, "and I'm wondering if his mur-
der was due to his connection with the gang."
THE "MOTH" MURDER 189
"Yes," replied Hunt, "I have every reason to
think that it was. We know the murderer, Evans,
for whose arrest we hold a warrant, is himself mixed
up in some shady business. Do you think you can
see Gascoigne again, and get him to do his utmost
to find out whether Evans was in any way connected
with the Chelsea crowd? We know for certain that
Evans was being pushed out of business, and if we
knew that he was in the dope game we should have
our motive straight away. Not that we haven't a
prima facie case against him already we have
but we want to leave nothing to chance."
"I'll do the best I can," answered Sir James, "and
in the meantime Gascoigne will have a 'shadow' fol-
lowing who will not leave him day or night.
"Neither Whitfield nor myself entirely trusts the
man, in spite of his open-handed actions, and we
both have a feeling that there's a lot more than
meets the eye in his denunciations."
"A good idea," commented Hunt. "He may easily
be paving the way for a gang of his own. Keep an
eye on him by all means."
A brief review of the murder case by Hunt con-
cluded the conversation, and he returned once more
to the letters.
He was not allowed to work at them for long.
The 'phone bell rang again, and this time Walker
announced that a Swanage Inspector had arrived
with Hunt's tramp. "They are showing him in at
once," he added.
Almost immediately there was a knock at the door.
The two new arrivals provided a striking contrast;
the Inspector tall and generously proportioned, the
190 THE "MOTH" MURDER
tramp a miserable-looking specimen of humanity,
standing no more than four foot ten.
As soon as they were seated, the Inspector began :
"We received your message warning us to look out
for a man of the tramp class wearing an exception-
ally large pair of boots for his size," he said, "and,
acting on this information, P.C. Burgin stopped this
fellow as he was coming into the town.
"It was soon obvious that he was the man you
wanted to interview. . . . As I had to come this way,
I brought him over with me."
The tramp, who said his name was Jack Jones,
was able to tell his story in a fairly coherent manner.
On the previous Sunday, he related, he had set out
from Southampton to walk to Plymouth, where he
hoped he might find work. On Monday evening he
came to the cattle-shelter near Redstock just as dusk
began to fall.
To his surprise, he found the hut already had an
occupant, and this other man, he discovered, was
seriously ill.
It was his heart, he explained t(? the tramp, but
he would not allow him to go for help, saying that
he had been like it many times before and he knew
from experience that the spasm would soon pass.
After an hour it did pass, but later another attack
came on, and he died almost immediately. This
would be just after midnight.
Seeing that he could do no more, he did not relish
the idea of spending the night with the dead body,
and decided to find another spot farther on.
Before leaving, however, he noticed that his dead
companion's boots were considerably more service-
THE "MOTH" MURDER 191
able than his own, so he decided to appropriate them.
He found, however, that they were much too large,
and he had to stuff them with grass. This measure
had the desired effect, and he set off again on his
journey.
"The time then," he replied to Hunt's questioning,
"was not quite 1 A.M."
He had immediately set off for Bournemouth,
where he spent most of Tuesday asleep under a
hedge, and then by easy stages tramped to Swanage,
where he had been stopped by the police.
"Well, this clears Newton," the Superintendent
remarked. "If he was dead at one o'clock he could
not have had a hand in the affair."
"No," agreed the Chief Constable, "he couldn't.
That's obvious."
Hunt, after inspecting the boots and satisfying
himself that they could not have made the once mys-
terious single set of tracks, told the tramp to wait
outside for a moment.
"What shall we give him?" he queried. "His evi-
dence was not of much value, as we had already prac-
tically dismissed Newton from the case. Do you
think a pound too much?"
"No," replied the Chief Constable. "That won't
break us. I'll go and see what I can do about it."
He rose and passed out to another room.
He had hardly left when the 'phone bell rang
again. This time what the Inspector heard told
him the hu/it was on in earnest.
The Singer had been traced to an all-night garage
just outside Winchester. It had been left there by
a lady and gentleman who had driven up early on
192 THE "MOTH" MURDER
Tuesday morning and complained of engine trouble.
They had afterwards proceeded on their journey
to Bath in a Morris Cowley two-seater they had bor-
rowed for a day or two whilst the Singer was being
put in order. The number of the Morris was, he
learned, RU 9188.
The Chief Constable re-entered as Hunt was put-
ting down the instrument.
On hearing the news, he was all for the three of
them driving out to Winchester straight away.
This course was agreeable to the others, so, after
giving orders for the Morris's number and descrip-
tion to be circulated, the three officials hurried to
the Chief Constable's high-powered car.
"How far is it?" queried Hunt. "Forty miles?"
"Just over," answered the Chief Constable.
"Bet you five shillings you don't do it in an hour !"
The Chief Constable looked at Hunt. "Really you
are a reckless devil, Inspector," he began. Then,
slipping in his gears, "Righto! It's a bet."
XIX
THE SECRET CODE
ONE hour, four minutes, fifteen seconds later, the
Chief Constable brought his car to a standstill out-
side McAndrew's All-Night Garage.
"You win, Inspector," he said, "but you wouldn't
have done if it hadn't been for that confounded
brewer's dray holding us up in Southampton."
The Inspector smiled. "Better luck next time,"
he said. "It was certainly a close shave for me."
Mr. McAndrew himself was in attendance at the
garage, having been warned of the officials' impend-
ing arrival.
He invited them into his private office, where he
produced a bottle of whisky and a syphon of soda-
water.
He repeated the story of the fugitives' arrival
over the drinks, and added that no trace of engine
trouble in the Singer was to be found.
It was unfortunate that he had himself been at
the garage at the time, he said, for had the petrol-
pump attendant alone been in charge he would not
have dared sanction the exchange of cars.
"I don't think it's made much difference," replied
Hunt. "If they hadn't been able to leave the Singer
here they would have dumped it somewhere else.
They won't keep the Morris either," he added. "It'll
turn up some time to-day.
193
194 THE "MOTH" MURDER
"Now about the lady and gentleman. Do you
recognise them from these photographs?" He
handed the proprietor a couple of snaps he had
found in Evans' desk.
The man looked at them intently for a minute or
so. "It certainly is the man," he declared at length,
"but I'm not at all sure about the woman. The lady
in this photograph is a blonde; the lady in the car,
I'm almost positive, was a brunette!"
"Dye," suggested the Superintendent.
"Yes possibly," put in Hunt, "or, perhaps, a
wig."
The telephone bell started to ring, cutting short
any chance of further conversation.
The call was for the trio, from Bournemouth
police station.
The Morris had been reported found abandoned
near Surbiton railway station.
"Then they've got to Town," exclaimed Hunt.
"We shall have the dickens of a job to find them
now."
"Shall we follow them up?" asked the Chief Con-
stable.
"We might as well," replied Hunt; "the stage
seems set now for a scene in London."
Two hours later found them in Surbiton police
station. The story that the sergeant in charge had
to tell was not at all helpful.
A patrolling constable had first noticed the car
parked in Stourfield Drive at 9 A.M. on Tuesday
morning. He had observed at frequent intervals
THE "MOTH" MURDER 195
throughout the day that the car was still in the
same place.
The drive is a cul-de-sac, the sergeant explained,
and cars are frequently left there for hours at a
time.
It was not until he was passing at midnight, off
duty and in plain clothes, that the constable became
suspicious, as the car lights were not switched on.
He reported the matter to the police station, and
another constable was detailed to keep an eye on it
for an hour or two, and then, if no one turned up
to claim it, he was to drive it to the police station.
No one had turned up, so the car had come into
the possession of the police. Neither had anyone
reported its loss, and they were in the act of tracing
it when Hunt's message had come to hand.
As this was all the help the local police were able to
give, Hunt suggested that it might pay them to make
inquiries at the railway station in the hopes that
someone may have remembered seeing the Evanses
there.
But although they interviewed every official who
had been on duty that Tuesday morning, including
a couple of porters who were away from work and
had to be called from their beds, no one could def-
initely remember the couple.
The only slender clue they obtained was that a
man who appeared somewhat agitated had taken a
couple of tickets for Kingston at approximately 8.45
A.M. on Tuesday. He had a lady companion, the
booking-clerk noticed, and, as far as he could recol-
lect, they were carrying two or three suit-cases.
The Chief Constable and Walker thought it might
196 THE "MOTH" MURDER
pay them to go along to Kingston to see if any fur-
ther trace of the couple could be picked up there,
but Hunt decided to go straight to the Yard and
get as many men as he could out on the search. So,
after arranging to meet at ten o'clock that evening
at a hotel Hunt mentioned (situated close to the
Yard), the party split up; Hunt leaving by train,
and the others going on in the car.
.......
Back at the Yard, Hunt went along to see the
Chief Commissioner immediately.
When Sir James heard that the wanted couple
had reached Town, he gave orders that every man
who could be spared was to concentrate on a search
of the hotels. Meanwhile Hunt's two snaps were
to be enlarged, and the photos, with as detailed a
description as it was possible to furnish, were to be
sent out post haste to all stations.
By the time this had been done, and he had eaten
a good square meal, Hunt realised that it was well
past seven o'clock. He suddenly thought of the raid
that was shortly to be made on the house in Devon-
shire Avenue, and decided that it might be worth
his while to be present.
He hurried along to Detective-Inspector Whit-
field's office and volunteered his services. Whitfield,
who was glad to receive this unexpected offer, rapidly
disclosed his plans.
The area containing the avenue was, he said, al-
ready surrounded, and the detectives were all armed.
Whitfield obviously expected trouble.
A few minutes before eight o'clock three innocent-
THE "MOTH" MURDER 197
looking vans drove leisurely out of Scotland Yard.
The first, containing Hunt and Whitfield, in addi-
tion to half a dozen beefy detectives, was to all ap-
pearances a greengrocer's delivery van. It bore bore
on its green canvas covering, the words, "R. Simms :
Fruiterer," and an address in Camden Town. From
the outwardly decrepit state of the vehicle, passers-
by were apt to infer that "R. Simms: Fruiterer,"
was not doing so well in business as he might. But
had any of these speculating idlers seen the speed
of the car when given full throttle, they would soon
have changed their opinion.
The next car, in charge of Sergeant Grice, was
to all intents and purposes the removal van of one
"G. Wardle: Carrier." But the half-dozen occu-
pants often found it their duty to remove more than
mere furniture.
The third and last car, bearing the lettering and
arms of one of the best-known firms in the grocery
business, was both new and speedy. Its interior was
divided into two compartments, the inner of which
was wont to receive unwilling and unrepentant gen-
tlemen who often tried to resort to violence. But
its unyielding sides were, as many optimistic crim-
inals had discovered, built of far tougher metal than
the tin they appeared to be at first sight.
Before reaching their destination the three cars
separated; Sergeant Grice's car going on down the
main road past the avenue; drawing up, after fol-
lowing one or two short and twisty roads, almost
immediately opposite the kitchen garden at the rear
of No. 121.
Hunt's car followed more slowly, turning into the
198 THE "MOTH" MURDER
avenue itself, and continuing down it at the same
leisurely gait.
As it turned from the main road, Hunt noticed
a match-seller, who was standing in the gutter, put
his thumb up.
"O.K.," observed Whitfield, in the best talkie style.
"They're there."
It was more than a coincidence that, as they
reached a point just opposite No. 83, the supposed
grocery van came into sight at the other end of the
road. It was a distance of some fifty yards from
No. 83 to No. 121, and from the latter to the end
of the avenue another fifty.
The timing so far was perfect, and Hunt was
comforted to know that by the time they reached
the doorway, a party, some eight to ten strong,
would be climbing quickly into the back garden.
In less time than it takes to tell, the cars drew
up outside the house, a dozen or more men appear-
ing in the roadway as if by magic.
Whitfield immediately took charge. After inef-
fectively trying the bell, he knocked authoritatively
on the wooden panel of the door.
Still no answer the house was as silent as the
night.
After a moment he rapped again. "Open in the
name of the law!" he demanded.
His voice brought the neighbours to their doors.
"Get back in, and stay in," he advised. "There's
going to be trouble here."
Seeing that no amount of knocking was going to
procure the opening of the door, he beckoned three
of his men forward.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 199
"Down with it," he said, drawing his revolver to
cover his men from possible attack.
A couple of hefty barges and the door swung open
with a splintering crash.
The hall appeared deserted, so Whitfield beckoned
all but four of his men forward.
A search of the downstairs rooms was of no avail ;
a betraying cigarette was still smouldering in an
ash-tray, but the birds had flown.
Running up the stairs with half a dozen followers,
Whitfield flung open the bedroom doors. But the
first floor too was deserted.
There only remained the cellar now. It was there
that they found them, every one of the men Gas-
coigne had named. But there was little fight in the
gang; a tame ending to what had promised to be a
hair-raising affair.
In a very short time the prisoners were hand-
cuffed and brought into the light of the dining-room.
They refused to admit that they had met to dis-
tribute dope, strenuously denying Whitfield's sug-
gestion that any "snow" was concealed in the house.
This left the police no choice but to search the
premises. It was some little time before the pro-
hibited drugs came to light stuffed well down be-
hind the back and sides of a divan.
Without the finding of the dope the police had
no case against the men, but the discovery of it
sealed their fate.
And the men knew it. "That swine Gascoigne
betraying his mates again," McKenzie swore under
his breath.
200 THE "MOTH" MURDER
But Hunt, who had remarkable hearing, caught
the sentence.
"What do you know of Gascoigne ?" he demanded
of the man.
McKenzie remained dumb.
"Do you hear?" Hunt stormed, losing his temper
at the sight of the other's insolent stare. "What
do you mean by ogam?"
But still no answer. McKenzie apparently was
determined not to speak.
Just then the detective who had been disguised
as a match-seller entered. With him, hand-cuffed
to him in fact, was an old lag, one Wallace Hayley.
This man, Hunt recalled, had long been a sus-
pected member of the Chelsea gang. The police had
"pulled him in" on more than one occasion lately,
but had been unable to prove anything against him.
If he was actually still in the game, it seemed he
was being unusually cautious, for he had managed
to keep out of serious trouble for at least four years.
"Saw this bird trying to slink by the top of the
avenue," said the detective laconically, "and, as you
told me to keep an eye open for suspicious charac-
ters, I went across to have a little chat with him. I
didn't altogether like his manner, so I suggested a
stroll down to see you, Inspector. He didn't like
the idea, and tried to get funny, so I've had to bring
him against his will."
Whitfield crossed over to the man. It was obvious
that the latter was perturbed.
"What's the matter, Wally ?" the Inspector began
pleasantly. "You don't usually resent my presence
as much as this. Perhaps you've something in your
THE "MOTH" MURDER 201
pocket you wouldn't like me to see; eh? Ix>ve-let-
ters, perhaps? You ought to be ashamed of your-
self, Wally, at your age and with a dear trusting
wife at home too." Hayley's domestic troubles were
well known to the Inspector.
The prisoner turned purple with rage at the In-
spector's bantering. "I'll stop all this," he threat-
ened. "Pulling a law-abiding citizen in every time
he happens to be on the streets. I'll get you fired
for this, Whitfield. This is the fourth time it's hap-
pened in as many months. I'll see the Home Secre-
tary himself you mark my words."
"Quit likely you will, Wally. Quite likely," re-
plied Whitfield calmly. "He's visiting Wormwood
Scrubs over the week-end. I can make arrange-
ments for you to be housed there, maybe," he added
thoughtfully. "One prison's as good as another
these days, I'm told."
Hayley was more livid than ever. He wrestled
with the bracelets in a futile effort to get free. If
looks alone could kill, Whitfield was as good as dead.
Then, seeing he was trapped, he abandoned the
struggle. Flinging himself into a near-by chair (the
detective had slipped the other handcuff on to him
long since), he lay huddled, almost exhausted by the
intensity of his own emotions. "Now do your worst,
Whitfield," he challenged defiantly.
"Look him over, one of you," was the Inspector's
answer.
He offered no further resistance, and his pockets
were gone through in a trice.
This time, though, he was caught with the stuff.
202 THE "MOTH" MURDER
His pockets contained more dope than the detectives
had found in the settee.
The only other interesting discovery was,
strangely enough, a letter; but it was not a love-
letter.
Hunt picked it up.
It appeared to be in code, for the typewritten
address on the envelope was unreadable:
Tr Fyx Pitx,
XV. Gyenm Pinhj,
Oljdhek.
was the inscription it bore.
The single sheet inside was also typewritten and
equally mysterious. It was impossible to understand
a word of what was written, for the message though
short, ran as follows:
"F rq jq xxoi runu. Zfr tx ec xw jxhh. Z
wz wrg jzxqz. Vo iru pxt ijy xzt? Nmu jwbx
hwi fxu qqi itu qci. Qqo ygxz tqx pjq bip jpz
c goz txk xtz. Tnjz fzqz voir j ujxk znzgu.
Twxp xgu exhmz ggwi. Hxtx muh hp x qq?"
As soon as he realised that he was merely wasting
time in attempting to solve the code himself, he de-
cided to send it to the expert at the Yard. As there
seemed quite a variety of letters, he had no doubts
but that Sergeant Headly would find it quite a sim-
ple matter to decipher the message.
Putting the letter in his pocket, he crossed over
to Whitfield. "What's the programme now, Dick?"
he asked.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 203
Whitfield was looking thoughtfully at a key he
had picked up from amongst the contents of Hay-
ley's pockets. "Wally hangs out in the next road,
I believe. What about a look over his premises?"
"Yes, by all means. I'd no idea he lived so close."
Five minutes later found them in No. 29 Westby
Gardens.
The house was very similar in build to the one
they had just left, but it was furnished in a more
lavish style. Evidently Wally studied his personal
comfort to a remarkable degree.
The search here for dope took longer. But it was
well worth the extra trouble, for secreted in out-of-
the-way corners of the villa were small packets of
cocaine, heroin, and other prohibited drugs.
The total value of the dope discovered Whitfield
estimated at well over 5,000.
Thinking that on his arrival back at the Yard he
would find Sergeant Headly had taken his depar-
ture, he crossed the dining-room to a little table on
which there stood a typewriter. An accompanying
note would ensure the speedy decoding on the mor-
row, he thought.
Inserting a sheet of paper, he began: "Inspector
Hunt's compliments. He would be " And there
he stopped, for, chancing to look up, the following
caught his eye: Ztqcxwjip Brtj'q wifcgzfxtjq. Bx
mirgh yx."
In a flash the solution came to him. The arms
bearing the type had been removed and others sub-
stituted. The result of this change-over was that
the letters pressed on the keyboard did not print the
204 THE "MOTH" MURDER
corresponding letters on the paper. For instance,
he saw at once that I on the keyboard, when pressed,
printed Z. Likewise, H printed B.
A moment more and he had grasped the full sig-
nificance of this. With the aid of the machine it
should be possible to decode the mysterious message
himself. The thought was father to the deed. In
a very short time he had pressed the keys in the order
given in the coded letter.
Hardly waiting to finish, he withdrew the sheet.
To his disappointment, instead of a sensible sentence,
the first line was another unreadable jumble:
"M us ts eeyo uaga. Inu ne xp ec tedd. I ffi cul
tiesi," he read.
"The wrong typewriter," he said aloud, "but the
right system."
Just as he was putting it aside, the letters "I ffi"
caught his eye. Something seemed familiar, though
unusual, about them.
A moment more and their meaning stood revealed.
This was the message, but the words were purposely
run one into the other to mislead.
With this knowledge, the rest, was easy:
"Must see you again. Unexpected difficulties.
If you are not being watched, come as soon as
possible. Insert short reply in Evening Times.
If you state vigilance relaxed, will code new ad-
dress,"
he read.
"Look at this, Dick," he called.
Whitfield obeyed, looking over his shoulder.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 205
"Great Scot!" he ejaculated. "There's life in
the old gang yet."
"There is indeed," replied Hunt ; "a man who loses
a quarter of a million in one night isn't going to give
up his business, even although it's a dying business,
without a struggle."
XX
THE RED HOUSE
SHORTLY before ten o'clock Hunt arrived at the
rendezvous close to the Yard, where the Chief Con-
stable and Walker awaited him.
He was obviously excited, and carried, the others
noticed, a small case, which they thought contained
a gramophone.
"Going to give us an entertainment, Inspector?"
asked Walker.
"Yes," replied Hunt, putting down the case.
"Hardly the kind of entertainment you're expect-
ing, Superintendent, though but an entertainment
all the same."
In as few words as possible he told them of the
events of the evening, the raid on the house in the
avenue, the arrest of the traffickers, the detaining
of the man Hayley, and the subsequent discovery of
the coded letter.
Then he sprung his surprise. He had, he said,
discovered the decoding machine at Hayley's house
and had brought it along with him.
Here he paused, and produced the decoded mes-
sage. "Take a look at this, sir," he said to the
Chief Constable, "and tell me who you think the
sender is."
It was Walker who was the first to answer. He
had risen, and stood looking over the Chief Con-
stable's shoulder.
206
THE "MOTH" MURDER 207
"Evans," he said excitedly. "Evans, without a
doubt."
"Yes," agreed Major Williams. "It certainly
looks as though it might be our man. Whoever it
is, we ought to be able to trap him fairly easily now
we know the code."
"Yes," replied Hunt. "We ought. That's why
I brought the typewriter here. I want you two to
help me to compose an advertisement for insertion
in the Evening Times."
He started to unpack the machine. "How do you
think this will do?" he asked. "'Police vigilance
relaxed. Will endeavour to keep any appointment.'
Better make it as brief as possible, don't you think?"
"Yes. That'll do fine," agreed the Chief Con-
stable.
Inserting a piece of paper in the machine, Hunt
set to work. He tapped out the mystic letters
"Ci gzw xkzn zgut wxpx. G oexhmz ggx thxuk
ir pj. I dx xcu toucc iztj fx tj"
all jumbled together, as seemed to be the gangs'
practise.
"I'll take this down to the Evening Times my-
self," he remarked, "and make sure it gets put in.
The person this is meant for will never know that
his plans have miscarried and his message has been
intercepted, as I have given orders that Hayley's
arrest is to be kept a close secret at any rate until
we've got our reply."
"I suppose we've nothing more to do until then?"
commented Walker.
208 THE "MOTH" MURDER
"I hardly agree with you there, Superintendent,"
answered Hunt. "I don't intend to rely too much
on my assumption that any reply we get will come
from Evans. At any rate, I intend to keep up the
search. By the way, how did you two get on at
Kingston this afternoon?"
It transpired that they had had no luck at all.
No one appeared to remember anyone answering the
description of either Evans or his wife.
"Well, as there doesn't seem anything else we can
do to-night, I'm off to bed to get as much sleep as
possible there's no telling if we shall get the chance
for any to-morrow night."
So saying, the Inspector took his departure, after
wishing them both a very good night.
The next morning found Hunt early at the Eve-
ning Times office. By presenting his official card,
he speedily obtained an interview with the advertise-
ment manager. Less than ten minutes later he left
the building, assured that the advertisement would
be inserted in the first edition.
The remainder of that day was spent in a fruit-
less search of the hotels, and he was not sorry when
bed-time came round once more. He could look for-
ward with hopefulness to the morrow, for he felt
confident that the Evening Times would contain the
hoped-for answer to his advertisement.
Another good night's rest, and he awoke in the
best of spirits.
He had left instructions that the Evening Times
were to 'phone him immediately the expected mes-
THE "MOTH" MURDER 209
sage was sent in. But when ten o'clock, the time
after which no further advertisements could be guar-
anteed insertion in the same day's issue, had come
and gone without the hoped-for result, his mood
changed for one of angry desperation.
But it did not alter the facts; his trap had seem-
ingly failed.
All through that day the longest day that he
had ever endured, it seem to Hunt he fumed and
fretted, though working like a Trojan on his in-
quiries at the hotels the while.
Then to bed, and a restless, disturbed night, as
he turned the case over again and again, in his mind.
Once more, for what must have been the hundredth
time, he lived through his discoveries. He visualised
again that scene in which he had seen the body of
the murdered air-ace taken from the burned-out
wreckage of his "Moth." Then followed visions of
the search for clues by the body of the shot police
constable in Redstock Lane ; the resultant inquests ;
the inquiries he had made in the company of the
Chief Constable and Superintendent, first at Moor-
lands, and later, at Forest Court; the unexpected
discovery that the Bentley's front tire had been cut
in a manner similar to that of the tire of the car
that had stopped by the body in Redstock Lane ; the
hue and cry for, and subsequent breath-taking chase
and arrest of, the mechanic, Bailey; the midnight
appearance of the new baronet, Sir Henry Sandle-
son, at Forest Court, and the still-unsolved mystery
of his astounding and almost immediate disappear-
ance from his bedroom; the astonishing plea for all
editions of the local papers that the suspected me-
ii Li \ 1 t
WITOHN Two WEBKS
210 THE "MOTH" MURDER
chanic had made from the dock, to be followed later
by his statement that the dead prison-breaker, New-
ton, was his ne'er-do-well brother.
Next he recalled to mind the Chief Constable's
acceptable theory that the single set of prints in
Angels' meadow, that had provided food for so much
serious thought, had been made by Evans carrying
his wife ; the arrival at the police station of Captain
Matthews, the skipper of the Poole fishing smack,
with his news of the sinking of Evans' empty 'plane ;
the story of the Evanses being seen at their riverside
bungalow by the salmon-poacher, Birch; the revela-
tion that Sir Charles Stafford had been the "Boss"
of the Tottenham Court Road gang of dope traf-
fickers ; the arrest of the remaining members of that
infamous company that followed as a result of Claude
Gascoigne's visit to the Yard; and finally, his own
share in the discovery and decoding of the letter
found in the breast-pocket of the notorious drug-
trafficker, Hayley.
At last came morning, and with it the first of a
chain of events that were to lead to a finale Hunt
was destined to carry in his memory to the grave.
At eight o'clock he received a 'phone call from the
Evening Times. A coded advertisement had been
handed in. It had obviously been delivered by hand,
as the envelope was unstamped.
The clerk read out the letters: "J itz nbju jxg.
Xkx tpxhb ir qxb utg xoqjug y utq."
Hunt immediately ran them out on the machine.
The result was most satisfactory: "To-night at
eleven. Red House, Hanley, St. Albans," was what
was written on the sheet.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 211
The thoroughly happy Inspector lost no time in
getting over to the hotel where the Chief Constable
and Walker were staying, and letting them know
of this latest development.
Walker seemed anxious to get the matter over,
and was keen on going to St. Albans straight away ;
the Chief Constable, however, agreed with Hunt that
it would be better to wait till evening, keep the ap-
pointment, and take them unawares.
This course was eventually decided upon, so Hunt
suggested a visit to the Yard to have a look at an
ordnance survey map of the St. Albans district.
Not long afterwards the trio were in Hunt's little
office at the Yard.
The Red House was clearly shown an isolated
residence a good half-mile from the viUage of Han-
ley.
"What's the order of attack, Inspector?" asked
the Chief Constable. "Do we tackle the job our-
selves, or call in the help of a squad of your men?"
Hunt thought for a moment. "If you're game,
sir, I propose we tackle the job alone."
Just after eight o'clock they set off in the Chief
Constable's car to St. Albans, where they intended
to wait until nightfall before continuing out to re-
connoitre in the vicinity of the Red House.
The journey down took less than an hour, and
they adjourned to a hotel until closing time.
At 10.30 they reached the village, where they
looked up the police constable.
He was able to tell them that a lady and gentle-
212 THE "MOTH" MURDER
man, whom he had not seen before, were staying at
the house.
The house belonged to a gentleman from Town,
who only came down at week-ends. He was not there
now, but he had left his car for his guests to use.
The only other occupant of the house was the
elderly housekeeper, a stupid, slovenly old woman.
The constable could not understand why Mr. Wat-
kins put up with such an unsatisfactory menial, as
he seemed such a smart gentleman himself.
After a short discussion it was decided that, as
Evans would most probably open the door in person,
the best plan would be for the three to spring upon
him without giving him a second's warning.
At two minutes to eleven their car stood on the
brow of a slight dip, facing the Red House, which
was some three hundred yards distant.
"Are we ready?" inquired the Chief Constable.
"O.K.," replied Hunt and Walker of one accord.
The lights of the car had long since been extin-
guished. The Chief Constable released the brake,
and the car slowly began the long, silent glide down
to the house.
Two minutes later they drew up noiselessly outside
their destination.
They stepped out and began the short walk up
the dark, shrubbery-bordered drive to the front door.
The front of the house, they noticed, was in dark-
ness.
Going into the porch, Hunt saw that there was no
bell only a heavy brass knocker.
This he raised, and the sound of its falling rever-
berated throughout the whole house.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 213
Almost immediately shuffling footsteps could be
heard coming along the passage to the door. Evi-
dently visitors were expected.
But, to the officials' disappointment, it was neither
Evans nor his wife who opened it. It was the half-
witted housekeeper.
"You the genleman what's come to see Mr. Wat-
kins' friend?" she began; then, seeing the others,
she realised that something was wrong, and made a
desperate effort to shut the door in their faces.
But she was too late. Hunt was already half in-
side the hall, the Chief Constable at his heels, whilst
Walker was left to deal with the indignant house-
keeper, who suddenly became vicious as well as an-
noyed.
Walker, however, realising that this was no time
to stand on ceremony, clapped a massive hand over
her none too comely mouth.
These evolutions took place so quickly and noise-
lessly that any occupants of the house could have
had no warning to be on their guard.
Seeing that Walker was more than capable of
managing the struggling female, Hunt and the Chief
Constable passed rapidly down the hall to a door,
from under which a faint glimmer of > light was vis-
ible.
The Inspector threw open this door, entering the
room unconcernedly but in his hand was a small
black automatic, and his finger was in readiness on
the trigger.
The room had only one occupant, an elderly-look-
ing lady, her grey hair fast turning white. On her
nose reposed a pair of tinted horn-rimmed spectacles,
214 THE "MOTH" MURDER
and her dress, Hunt noticed, was many years behind
the fashion.
She had risen to her feet as he opened the door,
but her smile of welcome turned to an expression
of utter dismay when she saw who her unannounced
visitors were.
Hunt started to pocket the weapon as soon as he
saw that Evans was not in the room, advancing to-
wards the terror-stricken woman the while.
"Mrs. Evans, I believe," he said sternly. "I hold
a warrant for your arrest on a charge of being con-
cerned in the murder of Sir Charles Stafford at Red-
stock on the "
But he got no further.
With a crash, the unconscious form of the Chief
Constable hit the floor alongside him, sending the
revolver flying from his hand.
That he saw, but no more, for at that instant the
light went out, and, before his eyes could accustom
themselves to the inky darkness, something struck
him violently in the back, sending him headlong
under the table.
XXI
WHICH OUGHT TO HAVE BEEN
CONCLUSION
AFTER what seemed an age, the half-winded Inspec-
tor managed to get his bearings, and started to crawl
slowly towards the door.
But, before he had covered half the distance, some-
one stumbled over him. Throwing out his arms,
more by instinct than with expectations of making a
capture, they came in contact with the body of the
woman he took to be Mrs. Evans. She struggled
violently, and managed to break free for an instant.
The Inspector made another blind grab and, more
by luck than judgment, caught her again, this time
by the hair.
A blood-curdling shriek rent the uncanny silence
of the house as, realising that she was trapped, she
let out a piercing scream.
Then, in spite of the intense pain it must have
cost her, she redoubled her efforts to escape.
Hunt started to rise to his feet, seeking to get a
firm grip of her body with his free hand.
Just then, though, her efforts proved successful,
for the wig she was wearing came off in the Inspec-
tor's hand, and a moment later, before Hunt had a
chance to stop her, she fled through the door to
safety.
"Look out!" he bawled to the Superintendent,
215
216 THE "MOTH" MURDER
who, he supposed, was still somewhere in the gloom
of the hall. "Stop her, for the love of Mike."
But no answer came, and he heard her pass out
unchallenged on to the gravel drive.
He realised at once that the Evanses had been too
clever for him, and had somehow got wind of their
arrival. He guessed that Evans himself had been
watching from the shelter of one of the upstairs win-
dows, timing his attack with commendable exactness.
And he saw, too, that he was in a desperate posi-
tion himself, for Evans apparently had not yet left
the house. He could hardly suppress a shudder at
the thought that he might at that moment be cov-
ered by the murderer's revolver, and shot in cold
blood before help could reach him.
Feeling in his pocket for his flashlamp, he with-
drew it, meaning to search for his revolver. Find-
ing it at last, he switched it on but no beam of light
answered the action. It was obvious that the bulb
had been broken in his fall.
With a muffled curse he slipped it back into his
pocket, and started to grope for his gun on the floor.
But it was of no avail ; he was unable to discover its
whereabouts.
Abandoning his search, and cursing his folly in
suggesting coming to the house without a proper
escort, he crept slowly over to where the injured
Chief Constable lay.
He was completely knocked out, Hunt found, but
was breathing strongly. It would only be a matter
of minutes before he regained consciousness.
He decided to risk striking a match to make a
quick examination of his injuries.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 217
He saw by its feeble light that the room was
empty. He was in no immediate danger, it seemed.
Then with a hurried glance he took in the Chief
Constable's injuries. He had evidently been dealt
a savage blow with a stick, or more probably, the
butt end of a revolver, for there were no signs of
blood only a fast-swelling bruise.
As the last flicker of the match died out, Hunt
heard the front door slam, and at the same time the
sound of a car engine being started up in the road.
And he recognised the car by its exhaust note; it
was the Chief Constable's, beyond doubt.
Instantly, regardless of the danger, he jumped
to his feet, and, without further thought for his gun,
ran out through the hall to the door.
In front of him, some little distance down the
drive, he heard, rather than saw, a running figure.
Without the loss of a moment, he realised that if
he was to catch his man he would have to resort to
strategy.
The fugitive was too far ahead for him to over-
take him before he reached the car; his only hope
was to reach a point a few yards down the road be-
fore the car passed, and attempt to leap on to the
running-board.
Turning aside from the drive, he forced his way
through the shrubbery, raced across a small lawn
and, after scrambling over a low hedge, landed in
a meadow on the other side.
A sprint of a hundred yards brought him, as he
had hoped, to a point in the road where he would
still have time to attempt to intercept the car.
As he dragged himself clear of some barbed wire
218 THE "MOTH" MURDER
by the simple, but expensive, method of leaving part
of his clothing behind him, Major Williams' bus
roared by, its engine shrieking its heart out in the
lower gears.
Luckily, in the excitement of the moment, Mrs.
Evans had forgotten to switch the lights on, so both
she and her husband failed to notice the Inspector
crouched by the hedge.
By the time that she had rectified this omission,
Hunt had managed to gauge his spring, and had
landed safely, though uncomfortably, on the lug-
gage carrier at the rear.
He clung to his precarious perch until the car
was running smoothly in top gear, then started to
climb as carefully and silently as possible towards
the back seat.
After one breathless moment, when Evans looked
round, apparently to see if they were being pursued,
his task was easy.
Once safely over the back of the car he dropped
to the floor where, shielded from view by the back
of the front seat, he had time to wonder what his
next move was to be. So far he had not given the
matter much thought, and he now began to doubt
his wisdom in embarking on this uninvited ride.
He decided that if he did not act until the car
came to a standstill he would run less risk, as Mrs.
Evans, if startled while driving, would be quite likely
to lose her head and turn the car over.
The next question was, what weapon did he in-
tend to use? For all he knew, Mrs. Evans might
be in possession of a gun and, whilst he was taking
Evans, she might easily hold him up.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 219
All things considered, it would be best for him
to see if he could find a tire-lever, or something
equally heavy, with which to lay out his man tem-
porarily before re-arresting Mrs. Evans.
Thinking there might be a suitable weapon in the
tool-kit under the rear seat, he began to turn the
cushion up. Inch by inch it gently rose, until, at
last, he was able to see that there was indeed a tire-
lever there.
Slowly he extended his arm to reach it. But at
that moment Evans turned again and this time he
discovered his unwelcome passenger.
With an oath he left his seat beside the driver,
flinging himself heavily on top of the unsuspecting
Inspector.
His weight knocked Hunt flat on the floor and,
before the startled polide officer could rise to defend
himself, the murderer's strong, sinuous hands were
about his throat.
The car was going much faster now than pre-
viously ; Mrs. Evans' nerves were finding the sudden
shocks too much for them.
Had she not accelerated from a steady thirty-five
to somewhere in the neighbourhood of fifty-five, the
story might have had an entirely different ending,
as Hunt was decidedly getting much the worst of
the argument when the car took a small, hump-
backed bridge in its stride.
This threw the back of the car, and the struggling
combatants, high into the air, and when they hit the
bottom again Hunt's throat was free and he was on
top.
But his opponent was not done yet. He fought
220 THE "MOTH" MURDER
with redoubled fury, seemingly possessed of maniacal
strength.
Inch by inch he forced Hunt back, till at length
they were fighting on the seat itself.
Still the car shot on madly through the night,
Mrs. Evans glancing back from time to time, noting
with satisfaction that her man was slowly, but surely
winning. And there was none to see the fight to
the death that was taking place at her rear, for the
road they traversed led through open country to-
wards Harpenden, and was entirely deserted.
The Inspector fought valiantly, but in vain he
had been hurt more than he realised by his fall at
the house. Little by little the relentless arms of his
adversary pushed him back till soon he was in im-
minent danger of being forced over the folded hood
at the rear of the car and into the roadway to almost
certain death.
Another minute and the tired Inspector would
have been clay in the other's hands; his strength
was all but exhausted. Evans could have killed him
almost without resistance.
But in that minute came salvation. Suddenly the
even running of the car changed.
Whilst rounding a bend in the road, Mrs. Evans
had seen the red lights and closed gates of a railway
level crossing and she had realised that it Was going
to be as much as she could do to pull up, for the
speedometer registered a speed of a mile a minute.
With a squeal of its brakes the car shot sideways
in a terrific skid, ramming and almost mounting the
bank at the side of the road.
But it did not overturn, though the shock of the
THE "MOTH" MURDER 221
impact burst two tires, and sent Evans and the In-
spector hurtling into the road.
The last thing Hunt remembered before losing
consciousness was seeing the car, with Mrs. Evans
helpless at the wheel, crash through the gates before
coming to a standstill, right in the track of the ap-
proaching London-bound express.
But he did not hear, as did the crossing-keeper,
the blood-curdling shriek of the express's whistle,
nor the agonised death-screams of Mrs. Evans, as
the engine caught the car, carrying it some distance
up the line before flinging it aside, a mass of twisted
metal.
Hunt recovered consciousness about an hour after
the accident. Everything was hazy at first, and in
his dazed state he could not understand why he was
in hospital, with an anxious-looking Chief Constable
standing by his bedside.
His head was aching too; almost unbearably.
This puzzled him for a time, as he had no recollec-
tion of being wounded. Then suddenly it all came
back.
"Where's Evans?" was the first question he asked.
"Did you get him?"
The Chief Constable shook his head. "No," he
said sadly. "We didn't get him. I'm afraid we've
made a sorry mess of the whole affair. Evans must
have seen us coming up the drive."
"You all right?" Hunt inquired.
"Yes," replied the Chief Constable. "I only got
a slight tap on the head. Evans must have slipped
222 THE "MOTH" MURDER
out of the back door when he saw us coming, at-
tacking Walker first as he was silencing the house-
keeper. He's only got a slight tap, though. He'll
soon be all right again. Next he coshed me that's
the last thing I remember.
"Later, when I'd recovered sufficiently to get my
bearings, I discovered that they had taken my car.
I went back to the house, and found Walker was
well enough to set out with me in search of you. We
guessed you'd managed somehow to get mixed up in
the disappearance of the car.
"Well, we hadn't gone far down the road we saw
by the car-tracks that was the way you had gone
when we saw the lights of a fast overtaking car.
"We stood in the middle of the road, waving our
hats, forcing the car to a standstill, despite its pro-
longed horn-blowing.
"We soon discovered, to our surprise, that it was
an ambulance on its way to a level-crossing a little
farther on, where a car had crashed through the
gates, killing the lady driver and badly injuring her
companion.
"When we told the doctor who had given us this
information who we were, he immediately offered to
drive us to the scene of the disaster.
"We accepted, of course, and that is how we came
to find you unconscious in the signalman's cabin.
"The doctor was soon able to assure us that you
were only stunned and shaken, so we left you there
to go with him to inspect the wreckage of my car
and the body of Mrs. Evans.
"The express had luckily not been derailed by the
severe impact, but my Sunbeam was reduced to scrap
THE "MOTH" MURDER 223
iron. As the train had been travelling at a good
seventy miles an hour, and had caught the car broad-
side on, this was not surprising.
"Mrs. Evans' body had been taken from the debris
before we arrived. Death had been practically in-
stantaneous." He did not attempt to describe the
terrible injuries he had seen on her mangled body.
Hunt had sufficient imagination to visualise them.
"Walker and I are both agreed that it was the
body of Mrs. Evans beyond doubt. But there was
no sign of Evans. How he managed to escape is a
mystery to me."
Hunt was able to supply the missing reason.
"When we fell, I bore the brunt of the impact," he
explained. "My body must have saved him; prob-
ably he was not even stunned."
"We had a thorough look round for him, any-
way," continued the Chief Constable, "but, as I said,
we were unable to find any traces of him."
"Well, if it's any consolation to us, we know for
certain now that we're on the right track. That's
about the only good that has come of the night's
work."
A doctor came up just then; the nurse had told
him that his patient had regained consciousness.
"Feeling better, old man?" he queried.
Hunt assured him that he was feeling O.K., which
was very far from the truth. "I suppose I can get
up now?" he asked.
"What do you propose doing if you get up?" the
doctor replied.
Hunt considered for a moment. "I must get back
to the Yard," he said. "I shall get in enough trouble
224 THE "MOTH" MURDER
as it is. Every hour's start that Evans gets will
make our task the harder."
The doctor considered for a moment. "Righto,
Inspector," he said at length. "Have it your own
way but if I have given in, you must promise me
you'll take things easy for a day or two."
XXII
HUNT SEES DAYLIGHT
A WEEK later Evans was still at large; the police
had no clue as to his whereabouts, and the Press had
almost forgotten the murder of Sir Charles.
Hunt was in the office of the Chief Commissioner,
a considerably rattled man.
He was reminding Sir James Spreadbury for the
twentieth time that he had only himself to blame
that the case had not been cleared up long ago.
But Sir James was not blaming the Inspector for
the unsatisfactory ending of it; he quite understood
that it was only human nature that had made the
trio feel they ought to be allowed to effect the arrests
without the calling in of the Flying Squad.
"You're taking it to heart too much, my boy," he
said, in a kindly manner. He could be very under-
standing and human at times. "You surely haven't
given up hope so soon, have you?"
Hunt smiled grimly. "No. I'm going to bring
this case to a satisfactory conclusion, even if it takes
me all my life."
"That's the spirit, Inspector. Let's pray that it
doesn't take all that long, though," the Chief re-
plied. "Now, what was that other little matter you
wanted me to look into?"
"Oh, yes, I'd almost forgotten. Are those two
men still trailing Gascoigne?"
225
226 THE "MOTH" MURDER
"Why, yes," the Chief replied, "but nothing fresh
has come to light. I think you're putting a wrong
construction on McKenzie's words. I'm pretty cer-
tain he meant 'his friends again' to apply to Gas-
coigne getting friendly with him just before his
arrest. Possibly it flashed across his mind at that
moment who his betrayer was. I don't think you
will find Gascoigne is a member of the gang what
sense would there be in his giving his own men
away ?"
"I must admit, sir," answered Hunt, "that that
is one of the many things that are still puzzling me.
The case is full of loose ends; in fact, although we
know our man without a doubt, we are a long way
off discovering the motive for Sir Charles' murder.
"It couldn't have been due to the fact that Sir
Charles was ruining him; even if Sir Charles had
effectively stopped his income, we know it could not
have seriously inconvenienced him. The discovery
of the quarter of a million proves that.
"It could not have been love. Evans was mar-
ried, apparently happily. Besides, the participation
of Mrs. Evans proves that she would hardly have
been likely to help her husband kill her lover. And
we know that she did help her behaviour on the
night she met her death was that of a guilty woman.
"Then, too, there's the mystery of the appearance
and disappearance of Sir Henry Sandleson. Where
do we fit that in the puzzle?"
"I admit it's a teaser still," replied Sir James,
"but I think the solution, when it comes, will prove
to be quite a simple one."
By the Chief's manner Hunt could tell that the
THE "MOTH" MURDER 227
interview was at an end. He rose to go. "You'll
let me know if Gascoigne gets up to any funny
tricks? I can't help thinking that letter was meant
for him."
"Certainly," the Chief answered, "I'll let you know
immediately."
Hunt arrived back at Bournemouth just after
midday; his journey down was his record one. He
had not been to "The City of the Pines" since the
day of his hurried departure for Winchester, having
spent his time in a thorough, though ineffectual
search of London. The Chief Constable and Walker,
however, had returned the day following their ill-
fated visit to the Red House.
The Chief Constable was away in another part of
the county, but the Superintendent was at the sta-
tion.
He welcomed Hunt warmly, and when they were
seated he began, at the Inspector's inviting, to tell
of the little they had discovered at the Bournemouth
end of the trail.
It was chiefly of the Evanses; of the many in-
quiries he had made of their friends, with a view to
throwing more light on the motive of the murder.
But nothing fresh had come to light. Sir Charles
and Mrs. Evans were looked upon as the best of
friends; it seemed inconceivable to their acquaint-
ances that she should have helped to bring about his
death.
As to the accomplice who had taken Mrs. Thorn-
ton's car to Totland Corner of him, or her, there
was no trace!
228 THE "MOTH" MURDER
Neither had the new baronet reappeared. The
motive and identity of the accomplice, to say noth-
ing of the mysterious movements of Sir Henry, were
as far off solution as ever.
The only other item of news that interested Hunt
to any degree concerned Jim Hucklesby and Bailey.
They had, Walker said, left that morning for
Liverpool, en route to catch the night boat to the
Isle of Man, where Jim hoped to succeed in his at-
tempt to win the race for the Tourist Trophy.
Bailey was going over to act as mechanic, the Chief
Constable offering no objection.
Hunt had not by any means forgotten the ex-
citing ride he had had on the Star Special that Jim
hoped to ride to victory. "I wish him luck," he said.
Then "When does practising start?"
"To-morrow," the Superintendent replied. "He
left his departure as late as possible in case we needed
his help. A nice lad, Jim," he added reflectively.
"He ought to have started a week ago; most of the
riders have had some days on the island ; but he put
what he considered was his duty first, and stayed,
as I said, to see if he could help me in any way."
"Yes," agreed Hunt, "a really nice lad, as you
say. Now, what about a spot of lunch?"
The Superintendent thought this a good idea,
proposing that Hunt should accompany him to his
house, where he felt confident his wife would be glad
to welcome him.
Just as they were preparing to leave, the 'phone
bell rang.
Walker took off the receiver. "For you, Inspec-
tor," he said.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 229
Hunt took the instrument from him. The call was
from the Yard.
Gascoigne had, he learnt, been folowed to Euston
Station, where lie had taken a ticket, and entrained,
to Liverpool.
He put down the instrument, feeling considerably
puzzled. What did this mean, he asked himself?
But he was unable to supply the answer to his own
question. Liverpool suggested ships, and ships a
means of fleeing the country. The Yard had "noth-
ing on him," though; as a matter of fact, they were
under an obligation to him, and he was perfectly
free to leave the country if he chose to do so. Still,
Hunt had the feeling that there was something
"fishy" about this latest move of his.
Once more they were about to leave, and once
more they were delayed.
This time a constable knocked at the door, and
when he announced, "Sir Henry Sandleson to see
you, sir," the two surprised officials almost collapsed.
"Now for the denouement" whispered Walker,
after telling the man to show him in.
A moment later Sir Henry entered, a tall, well-
built man, his rather handsome face disfigured some-
what by a scar, received in the war.
Walker received him coldly. "Take a chair," he
ordered, rather than asked.
By his manner Hunt could see the Superintendent
intended him to conduct the interview.
Turning, to face the baronet more squarely, he
began, "I am Detective-Inspector Hunt from the
Yard. I am in charge of the investigations into the
230 THE "MOTH" MURDER
murder of Sir Charles Stafford . . . your cousin,
I believe?"
"Yes," the visitor assented. "That's right he
was my cousin. It's about that I've called, of
course."
"I imagined so," answered Hunt rather sternly.
He was no respecter of the aristocracy when they
interfered with his duties to the extent Sir Henry
had done. "I suppose you realise," he continued,
"that we have been hunting high and low for you
since the night you vanished so completely from
Forest Court?"
Sir Henry looked mystified. "I don't quite fol-
low you," he said.
Hunt began to get a trifle annoyed. "I thought
I had made my meaning quite clear. I said, quite
distinctly, I believe, that we had been searching high
and low for you since the night of May 23rd, when
you chose to vanish so mysteriously from the house
of your late cousin, Sir Charles Stafford!"
Sir Henry smiled. "I'm sorry, Inspector," he ex-
plained, "but you're barking up the wrong tree! I
haven't been near Forest Court for months ! Some-
one has been pulling your leg if they stuffed you
up with that yarn."
It was Hunt's turn to look mystified. "I'm sorry,"
he said simply ; "there's been a mistake somewhere."
Then "Perhaps you'll be good enough to tell us
why you haven't called to see us before?"
His answer came immediately. "I couldn't, old
man. I've been out of the country."
"Out of the country?" echoed Hunt. "That com-
plicates matters more than ever."
THE "MOTH" MURDER 231
"Yes, I've been out to [He mentioned some
out-of-the-way European State.] There's been a
Royal christening there, as you probably know."
Hunt did know. The first pictures of the cere-
mony had arrived in England only a day or two
previously.
Sir Henry continued. "I work for the Sound
Film Co. We went out to film the show." He spoke
expressive slang, Hunt noticed.
"I heard of the murder whilst we were out there.
Of course, I knew the title came to me; that didn't
interest me a lot. What's the use of a title without
money to go with it? American heiresses are scarce
now!"
"I suppose so," answered Hunt. "But doesn't the
estate come to you?"
"Oh, no !" corrected the baronet. "It was bought
by Sir Charles with his own money. Not a penny
comes to me. He was free to will it where he wished."
Hunt had not considered the money question be-
fore. He had taken it for granted that Sir Henry
succeeded to the estate as well as the title. But, so
far as he could see, this new development made little
difference to the case.
"When did you leave England?" he asked.
"Let's see ... May the . . ." he thought hard
"the 23rd, I believe. Yes. That's right . . .
May the 23rd."
"The day of the murder," Hunt observed. "From
Dover, I suppose?"
"No. Southampton on the Regal. It was so
much easier to carry our traps that way. No chang-
ing from train to train. Once on board the boat
232 THE "MOTH" MURDER
and everything left undisturbed until we docked
at"
Hunt considered. "What time did the boat sail?"
he asked.
"Twelve midday," was the answer.
Hunt thought for a moment. There was ample
time for anyone to participate in the murder and
still have any amount of time in which to catch the
boat. He did not feel disposed to dismiss Sir Henry
so easily from the case. Evans must have had an
accomplice other than his wife; the police had no
idea who that accomplice was. Therefore, anyone
who had any connection with any of the parties con-
cerned must be regarded with the gravest suspicion.
"Did you know Evans?" he asked.
"Oh, yes! Quite well," Sir Henry replied. "A
very nice fellow too, I always thought."
"Yes that seems the general opinion. But I
usually find the murderer is given a better name than
the victim. Now, one more question. A very per-
sonal one, I'm afraid but it can't be helped.
"What sort of terms were you on with Sir
Charles?"
The baronet considered for a moment. "Why do
you ask me that, I wonder?" he said aloud. Then
"You surely don't think I'm mixed up in the
affair, do you?" he asked suspiciously.
"Hardly that," answered Hunt, "but, as you
know, the Evanses had an accomplice. We haven't
traced him yet, and until we do we've got to ask un-
pleasant questions."
"Well, as I've a perfectly clear conscience, I'll
answer your question," said the baronet graciously,
THE "MOTH" MURDER 233
"although I'm not at all sure you're not exceeding
your powers in asking it. Sir Charles hated the
sight of me, and the feeling was reciprocated."
"So I understand," Hunt replied. "Now your
answer leads to another question. When did you
last see Sir Charles?"
"In London, two months ago in the lounge of the
Savoy, to be exact !"
"Did you speak?"
"No. We merely nodded to one another."
A further quarter of an hour's chat failed to help
the police in their inquiries. Seeing that he could
not enlighten the officials, Sir Henry rose to go.
"Let's have your address, Sir Henry, in case we
want to look you up at any time," asked Hunt.
The baronet acquiesced, handing over a card.
"You won't find me at home for a week or two," he
remarked. "We're going over to the island to take
some shots of the T.T. races."
Hunt mentioned that Jim was riding.
"Oh, yes. So I've been told. Is he any good?"
the baronet inquired.
"Quite good," replied Hunt enthusiastically,
"and, if the will to win counts for anything, he'll be
well placed at the finish."
"Sir Charles paid his entry fee, I believe," Sir
Henry remarked. "A great sport, Charles ; I grant
him that. He was always fond of risky pastimes.
He rode himself, you know, a couple of times just
after the war. Didn't do any good, though the
machine let him down on both occasions."
234 THE "MOTH" MURDER
Walker was quite correct. His good lady was
glad to see the Inspector, and served up a delightful
lunch.
Over the meal the two discussed the next step to
be taken. Hunt explained that he had interviewed
Day, but the man had stuck to his original story,
not deviating from it in the slightest.
Neither of them knew quite what to make of Sir
Henry's denial of a visit to Forest Court, nor, in
fact, could they quite fathom Sir Henry himself.
The obvious thing to do, they eventually agreed,
was to make another journey out to Lymington, and
try to make Sturman change his story.
They started the short walk to the police station.
Walker had one or two small matters to attend to
before they could depart.
Not far from the house he discovered that he had
nearly run out of tobacco.
"Shan't be a moment," he said, entering a near-by
shop.
Hunt stood on the pavement, gazing across the
road towards the window of a ladies' hairdressing
establishment.
All of a sudden he started startled at what he
saw there. It was a perfectly normal hairdresser's
window so far as one could see the same kind of
wares displayed there as in practically every hair-
dresser's in the country and displayed in just the
same attractive manner.
And in that moment he solved "THE 'MOTH'
MURDER MYSTERY" the most baffling crime of the
century. Solved it in its entirety saw how he had
THE "MOTH" MURDER 235
been blinded and led "right up the garden" to the
last.
Walker came out of the tobacconist's at that mo-
ment.
Hunt stood on the pavement, oblivious to the
passing traffic, not noticing the waiting Superin-
tendent a man lost to the world.
"You look as though you've seen a ghost, In-
spector," Walker began.
Hunt came back to earth with a start. "I have,"
he said, "or, perhaps I should say, something mighty
like one."
The Superintendent was gazing in the same direc-
tion as Hunt. "I don't see anything to stare at,"
he confessed, although he too, at that moment, was
studying the shop window.
"If you're ready," he suggested, seeing Hunt still
wore a dazed expression.
"Yes, I'm ready," replied Hunt, "but I'm afraid
Lymington's off for me, at any rate." He was
thinking rapidly; a staggering possibility had just
flashed through his mind a million to one chance
that he decided to gamble on.
Just as the huntsman knows instinctively the best
covert to draw for a fox ; the keeper the best stands
at which to place his wealthiest guns; so Hunt, the
avenger of a terrible double crime, in a moment of
inspiration, guessed where he would be the most
likely to find his man.
"Lymington off?" repeated the Superintendent.
"Then where are you going, Inspector ?" he asked.
Hunt did not answer immediately; he was hur-
riedly turning times and distances over in his mind.
236 THE "MOTH" MURDER
"I think I can just about make it," he murmured
half aloud. Then, in reply to the Superintendent's
query, "I'm going to the Isle of Man. If I hurry to
Croydon and charter a 'plane, I think I shall just
manage to catch the night boat."
"Croydon the Isle of Man," echoed the Superin-
tendent stupidly. Then "What the devil is he up
to?" as he saw the excited Inspector hurry off down
the road as though he had but a moment to live.
Before following him, however, Walker crossed the
road and spent several minutes gazing fixedly at the
window of "Farmer & Gainsborough, Ladies' Hair-
dressers" ; then, still as puzzled, he followed slowly in
Hunt's wake.
XXIII
IN THE ISLAND
So certain was Hunt that his deductions were correct
that before leaving the town he paid a hurried visit
to Dr. Burroughs to obtain the latter's signature to
yet another warrant.
The doctor seemed surprised to see him, but in-
vited him into his study, where he poured him out a
stiff drink.
The Yard man began by binding his host to se-
crecy, after which he expounded his newest theory.
At first the doctor was openly sceptical. Hunt
suspected that he was wondering whether the acci-
dent at the crossing had left his brain a trifle dis-
torted.
But as the Inspector continued, fitting each fact
neatly and quickly into its appointed place, the
worthy J. P. became more and more impressed.
"By Jove, Inspector, I believe you're right," he
said with unconcealed admiration as Hunt concluded.
"I'll sign the warrant immediately I can see you're
itching to be gone."
"Thanks," replied the Yard man, "I guessed you
would. When one comes to think of it, it's the only
theory that can possibly be made to fit the facts. In
all our others we left various features of the case
unexplained."
On his return he looked in on Walker at the sta-
tion.
237
238 THE "MOTH" MURDER
"Are you going to keep your discovery all to your-
self?" the Superintendent asked.
"Yes," replied Hunt, "I'm afraid I must. If I
were to tell you just what I thought, I know you'd
laugh at me. . . . However, to be as fair as possi-
ble, I shall write to you to-night, enclosing in the
envelope a sealed letter.
"If I die, or disappear suddenly, you'll learn who
my murderer was by reading it. If, on the other
hand, I live, and everything goes according to plan,
I'll telegraph you permission to open it.
"As I say, the chances are heavily against me be-
ing correct in all my reasoning and if I'm proved
wrong, after dragging you all over to the island,
what an idiot I shall appear.
"Besides that, there's still a lot of work to be done
here. You must see Sturman again, and endeavour
to shake his evidence. Also, according to our origi-
nal theory, there is the accomplice to be tracked
down yet.
"I promise you this," he added. "By continuing
your present search you are doing everything possi-
ble to clear up the case. You're not so much on the
wrong track as my actions may suggest."
"Very well," said the Superintendent with a smile.
"I'll do as you say. I don't really relish the idea of
going over to the island I'm a rotten sailor. Inci-
dentally, I'm getting all behind with my other work.
Now as regards your letter I'll promise not to open
that until I get your wire."
"Or hear I have departed this world," reminded
Hunt. "Though I hardly think I shall allow that
THE "MOTH" MURDER 239
to happen. One near go in a case is more than
enough for me."
He walked out to his car, the Superintendent fol-
lowing. "You'll be sure and book me that 'plane,
won't you?" he said. "If I don't get it I shall miss
the boat and I have special reasons for wanting to
catch it."
A moment later he had started the engine and
slipped the gears into mesh. He drove recklessly all
the way to London, and, to his knowledge, had his
number taken by country policemen on no less than
three occasions. But he had no time to stop and ex-
plain ; explanation could come later if necessary.
Once in Town, he drove straight to Scotland Yard.
He was granted an immediate audience by the Chief
Commissioner.
When he had explained his theory, the Chief sat
back thoughtfully in his chair.
"It's possible, Inspector," he admitted. "Possible,
but hardly probable. Anyhow, you have my permis-
sion to go over but if anything does come of your
trip, for goodness' sake be careful. You're too valu-
able a man to take unnecessary risks."
Hunt lived in a suburb through which he had to
drive on his way out to Croydon. He stopped at his
lodgings for a few minutes to pack his bags.
The contents of one in particular might have ex-
cited comment among the habitues of the island had
they been able to glance inside it. For it contained,
among other things, a dictaphone of new and pe-
culiar pattern, a pair of headphones of the type tele-
phone operators use, a strong hack saw, a bunch of
skeleton keys, and a well-oiled automatic. He
240 THE "MOTH" MURDER
climbed into his 'plane just after six o'clock. The
mechanic swung the propeller, and the engine re-
sponded straight away. A few moments later they
started their short somewhat bumpy run over the
drome, then the pilot pulled back his stick, and the
machine, in answer to his movements, rose steadily
into the air.
As they passed rapidly over London and the home
counties, Hunt busied himself in writing his prom-
ised letter to the Superintendent.
He began at the very beginning, giving his views
on the case in full. As Walker discovered, when
later he opened the missive, these views were correct
down to the smallest detail.
Just after eight they landed in Liverpool, where
Hunt found he had still plenty of time in which to
catch the boat.
Instead of proceeding leisurely to the dock,
though, he tipped his taxi-driver ten shillings to
make the journey at his best speed.
This the man did, and by 8.30 Hunt found himself
on board the Mona, where he immediately took up a
position from which he was able to scrutinise every
oncoming passenger.
But his man did not put in an appearance. He
was fated to take the trip to the island that he had
thought up till now might easily prove to be un-
necessary.
Once at Douglas, he decided that he had done
enough for one day, so, after alighting from a taxi
outside his hotel, he passed straight up to bed.
Early the next morning, as soon as it was light,
he was awakened by the staccato roar of a racing
THE "MOTH" MURDER 241
motor-cycle. He jumped out of bed and dressed
hurriedly. This was, of course, the first morning of
practising. He might as well see the fun.
Five minutes later he was in the roadway, walking
towards the start. It was a trifle misty here; con-
ditions were terrible on the mountain, they said, and
it did not appear likely that any fast times would be
returned.
He watched Jim start; saw him disappear into
the mist with the speed of a veteran. Then after
watching a few more men off, he decided to walk to
Governor's Bridge to see Jim come round on the
completion of his first lap.
Passing along the road behind the grand stand,
he came to the famous bridge in under ten minutes.
Soon after he arrived the early starters began to
appear. To his surprise, Jim arrived surprisingly
early. With a squeal of brakes he half skidded the
corner, accelerating violently immediately, in an
endeavour to catch the man ahead.
Retracing his steps to the grand stand, he found
Jim's lap speed chalked up 35 minutes 45 seconds.
He ran his finger up his lap table 35 m. 45s. = 63.3
m.p.h.
"A wonderful speed," he said aloud. "If he can
do this on his first morning and in dreadful cli-
matic conditions what will be be doing by race
day?"
Not waiting to see the finish of the practising, he
returned to his hotel, shaved, and otherwise tidied
himself for breakfast.
There was a boat due in at nine o'clock. He was
waiting on the quay to meet it. Again he scrutinised
242 THE "MOTH" MURDER
every passenger, and again he was disappointed
an occurrence that was to be repeated many times in
the next fortnight.
Once sure that his man had not arrived on the
early boat, he began a tour of the hotels and, at
each hotel he visited, he endeavoured to come into
contact with all the male guests; a difficult under-
taking, as Douglas was filling rapidly. And in every
case, before leaving, he carefully inspected the re-
gister ; but in no case did he find the desired entry.
This was his programme daily now ; first to watch
the practising, then to see the boats in, and finally
to spend the remainder of the day in a tour of the
hotels and various racing camps, keeping his eyes
and ears well open but his tongue he kept well
guarded.
He found time too, each morning, to visit the
headquarters of the Sound Film Co. and in-
quire of their manager if Sir Henry Sandleson had
yet put in an appearance.
The answer was always the same No it was
doubtful whether he would be over ; he was detained
in London on private business, they believed.
But it was significant that there was one person
already on the island whom he seldom let out of sight
for any length of time, in spite of his other activi-
ties, and that person was Jim Hucklesby.
Jim was staying at the Ceramo, the same hotel as
himself. He met him at all hours of the day, con-
gratulating him regularly on his fast improving
speeds.
By the end of the first week's practising the lad
had clocked a lap at over seventy, although on no
THE "MOTH" MURDER 243
occasion had the conditions been realy favourable
for high speeds.
Another of Hunt's peculiarities that the "lads"
would have commented on had they known of it was
his extravagance in rooms.
Instead of being content to share one with an-
other holiday-maker for prices were high he had
actually gone so far as to take two rooms, one on
each floor, and, as it happened, one over the other.
A question of wishing to be free from noise, they
would have said, but they would have been wrong,
for the Inspector could sleep like a log through the
severest thunderstorm, and also, as a matter of fact,
was occupying the one upstairs.
But the reason could have been partly supplied
by Mr. Casson, the jovial manager, had he the per-
mission and inclination to give it.
XXIV
THE RACE FOR THE SENIOR TOURIST
TROPHY
BY the last morning of practising Jim was the talk
of the island. His fastest lap was only fractionally
slower than that of Brown, an old hand with a life
knowledge of the tricky Manxland course, whose
engine had been tuned by Hocking, the works expert,
acknowledged by most people to be finest tuner
extant.
As a result, Jim found himself besieged with offers
of employment at salaries the mention of which
caused his head to swim. However, being of a stable
disposition, he refused them one and all, deciding
to wait until after the race before making his final
choice.
But whilst Jim moved in an ecstasy of seventh
heaven, Hunt daily became more despondent, till,
on the day of the race for the Junior Trophy, it was
hardly safe to approach him for fear of having one's
head snapped off.
Jim saw the race from the stands, realising for
the first time at what a terrific speed the faster men
were travelling. But Hunt, who sat near at hand,
seemed to take but little interest in the proceedings.
On the Wednesday came the light-weight race.
This time, though, Jim was not in his place, having
ridden out to Craig-ny-Baa on a friend's machine
244
THE "MOTH" MURDER 245
to watch the riders' spectacular leaps down the
mountain.
Hunt, however, did not move from the stands,
though his eye seemed more on the crowds of specta-
tors than the competitors.
In this race Brown had the misfortune to crash
badly when leading, leaving Jim the hope of the
Star camp for the big race on the Friday.
The Thursday found Hunt up unusually early.
Any chance passer-by in the corridor outside would
have been more than surprised to have found that
he was spending the time he had gained by his early
rising in an examination of the lock of his spare
room No. 44.
The remainder of that day he spent in keeping
the closest possible watch upon Jim's movements; a
watch he only relaxed when he had to visit the quay
to see a boat in.
But when the last of Thursday's trippers to the
Senior had been landed he began to feel again that
his hopes had proved false, and that his early rising
had been but so much wasted effort.
Not a hundred miles from Liverpool is situated
the club-house of the Light Aeroplane Club.
On the night in question it was unusually crowded
the Round Scotland Air Race had concluded there
a few hours previously, and the weary competitors
were loath to leave the comfort of the lounge. In-
deed, many of them, including the winner, Pat Lloyd,
intended staying there the night.
Two men were seated at a table in the far corner
246 THE "MOTH" MURDER
of the room. The elder was a millowner, Jeff Gor-
don by name, and a prominent aeroplane enthusiast.
A clever pilot, he had taken third place in the afore-
mentioned race.
The younger man, Dickenson, was speaking.
"Here comes Lloyd," he said, "looking as fresh as a
daisy. His vitality seems amazing; no matter how
gruelling the race, he always comes up smiling."
"Yes," Gordon replied. "He's got the stamina
of a racehorse. I know I feel dead beat, and I don't
mind admitting it. But Lloyd no, nothing could
tire the man."
The winner, a tall, bespectacled, rather fat-faced
man, went up to the bar and ordered a drink.
"Hasn't raced for ages, has he?" asked Dicken-
son.
"No quite three years," replied Gordon. "A
funny thing do you know I was third to him in this
race last time he competed?"
"Remarkable. The old order changeth not,"
laughingly quoth Dickenson. "He used to race a
lot in those days, I understand."
"Yes, he flew at every big meeting it would be a
little before you were old enough to take an active
interest in the sport."
**Yes, I was hardly able to take an active interest,
as you say, but I did take an interest all the same.
He was one of my idols in those days a sort of ideal
I hoped some day to grow up and emulate."
"Well, you're well on the road to your goal. In
another year or two you'll be a force to be reckoned
with, at the rate you're coming along."
"Flatterer," replied Dickenson. "You know I'm
THE "MOTH" MURDER 247
only mediocre and that's what I always shall be.
Just a plodder a man who might win if all the good
men dropped out."
"Nonsense," said Gordon. "You'll come on a lot
when you've had a little more experience. Won't
he, Mr. Lloyd?"
Lloyd, who was passing, stopped. "Yes, he's
going to be 'hot stuff' some day and that day isn't
so far off either."
"Tired?" asked Gordon.
"Tired? No. I never allow myself to feel tired.
But I'm off to bed soon, all the same I'm getting
off early. I'm going to have a look at the T. T. over
in the island."
"Yes, it'll be a good race this year, I'm told. I'm
only too sorry I can't spare the time to pop over
myself."
Dickenson sat deep in a brown study. "Penny
for your thoughts," said Gordon, when Lloyd had
departed.
The younger man smiled. "They're not worth
even that I was merely wondering where I had seen
a photo of Lloyd recently," he said.
Dawn, dry roads, a warm June morning, and no
mist.
These were the conditions Hunt found when he
looked out of his bedroom window at about 4.30 the
following morning. Everything pointed to the race
being easily the fastest of the series.
He dressed leisurely and strolled down to the har-
bour. Two boats were due in early, and he hoped
248 THE "MOTH" MURDER
that this time he would find his man among the
passengers.
But when both loads of unshaven, laughing men
and dishevelled, excited girls were ashore he found
his optimism had been premature.
Unless his man had used the most effectual dis-
guise, he was not on the island.
For a moment Hunt thought of returning to the
mainland on the first departing boat; but, on re-
considering the question, he decided he might as well
see the day's sport.
Half an hour later found him seated in the stands,
bent on enjoying the race in spite of his disappoint-
ment.
The riders were lined up on one side of the road-
way, their machines on the other (it was one of the
early races after the massed start had been intro-
duced), and the starter was shouting final instruc-
tions through his megaphone.
The hand of his watch crept slowly but surely
towards the magic hour of ten.
Then suddenly the maroon boomed, and forty odd
leather-clad figures sprinted across the broad sec-
tion of road to their machines. A brief push before
the engines started, then they were off.
As a spectacle it was magnificent; men and ma-
chines seemed as one being.
A minute later, and the ear-splitting noise they
made, had faded, leaving the spectators approxi-
mately half an hour in which to decide among them-
selves who would be first man round.
Twenty-five minutes later the staccato roar of an
open exhaust could be heard approaching.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 249
But it was not a motor-cycle. Such a speed for
the thirty-seven and a half mile lap was, of course,
impossible. It was a little red monoplane, screech-
ing its way just over the tree-tops.
It circled the grand stand twice before descending
in a near-by field.
At that moment the faster of the riders could be
heard approaching, and of all that vast crowd in the
vicinity only one man appeared to take any further
interest in the aeroplane and that man was In-
spector Hunt.
Pushing his way through the knots of people, he
gained a piece of high ground, from which he was
able to focus his glasses on the field in which the
'plane had landed.
The machine, he saw, had come down safely, and
was taxi-ing back towards the road.
A minute later the pilot had climbed out of the
cockpit and, after a look at some part of the engine,
started to walk towards the road.
In less than five minutes he passed close by Hunt
(who kept well out of sight) on his way to the pits.
The Yard man followed him at a discreet dis-
tance, studying his every action.
Once at the pits, he stopped, and wrote a note,
which he handed to a Boy Scout who was standing
near by. After a little monetary persuasion, the boy
departed with it, heading for the direction in which
Hunt was standing.
What ought he to do? the latter wondered. Fol-
low the Scout or keep to his man?
He decided to compromise by attempting to stop
the boy and persuade him to hand over the message.
250 THE "MOTH" MURDER
This proved easier than he expected it would, as the
boy did not even doubt his word that he was a police
officer.
A glance at the note sufficed. It was to the man-
ager of the Ceramo, booking a room for the night.
Producing a pencil from his pocket, Hunt
scrawled "Room 44," and, underneath, his signature.
Then, together with a tip, he handed the paper back
to the boy.
He felt considerably relieved now. The hand-
writing, he felt sure, was that of the man for whose
arrest he held a warrant. His choice of the Ceramo
as his headquarters had been a lucky one.
The intercepting of the Scout had taken very
little time, and he had not lost sight of his man the
while. The man was walking on, passing slowly
down the pits, his eye taking in all that was going
on around.
Opposite the Star camp he halted. After watch-
ing the mechanics, particularly Bailey, for a mo-
ment, he spoke to the pit manager, who nodded, evi-
dently replying in the affirmative.
Then, turning, he retraced his steps back to the
grand stand.
Hunt waited until he had seated himself before
taking up a position immediately behind him, from
which he could keep him in view, and at the same time
be as well out of sight himself as possible.
Indeed, to be on the safe side he bought a news-
paper, behind which he would be able, should the
necessity arise, to hide his features.
After a time his glance happened to fall idly on
the picture page.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 251
Almost the first thing that caught his eye was a
photograph the photograph of Pat Lloyd, the
Round Scotland Air Race winner.
At first he could hardly believe his senses, so
startling was his discovery. For the man seated so
calmly only a few feet in front of him was the origi-
nal of the photograph beyond doubt.
Hardly had the last echoes of the maroon died
away before Jim had started his heavy machine.
He realised that with a massed start of nearly fifty
riders a good get-away was essential if he was to
have clear roads ahead of him.
Although he had drawn No. 35, and was placed a
good sixty yards behind the first man, he managed,
by superb riding, to force his way up to seventh
place by the time he reached Quarter Bridge (1
mile) .
Then he slowed somewhat, taking things com-
paratively easy for the rest of the thirty-seven and a
half mile lap, knowing that the surest way to "nurse"
a "hot-stuff" engine for its heart-breaking task is
not to rev. it too unmercifully until it gets thor-
oughly warmed up.
Nevertheless, he picked up two more places before
the grand stand came in view again, clocking a lap
time of 29.45 s., which is a lap speed of 76.1 m.p.h.
Then on his second lap he began really to open
out. Riding like a man possessed, he had crept up
to fourth place by the end of it, this time clocking
29 minutes exactly, which equals a speed of 78.1
m.p.h.
252 THE "MOTH" MURDER
The next lap he covered at precisely the same
speed, and was rewarded by capturing third place.
But the men in front of him were veterans;
mounted on two of the fastest machines in the island,
mounts which give every promise of standing their
riders' drastic handling. And the lead they held
was one of over a minute.
On the completion of his fourth lap he stopped
to refuel. The leaders, he learned, had done like-
wise. In thirty-five seconds he was away again.
Three laps to go; and nearly eighty seconds to
make up. Could he do it? That was the question
he asked himself a hundred times in the next few
miles and the answer every time was "Yes."
Another fast lap 29 minutes exactly. Consist-
ency seemed to be his keynote. But the signal held
out to him from his pit, a white F on a blackboard,
meant faster still.
He was beginning to tire slightly. Surely he
could stick it? Only two more laps.
His cornering was automatic now; he had sub-
consciously become part and parcel of his machine.
Once more the stands once more he saw the little
white F held out to him from his pit.
How could they expect any more? Surely his
last lap was fast enough? He must be catching the
leaders. Even in his tired state he knew it had been
his fastest.
Still, he had to obey orders. Riding like an auto-
maton, he unleashed a tigerish lap.
Those who saw it will carry the memory to their
graves. His leap at Ballig Bridge was reported the
most daring ever seen there; his fiendish bounds
THE "MOTH" MURDER 253
down the mountain to Craig-ny-Baa were awe-in-
spiring ; and according to the experts he must count
himself extremely lucky in safely rounding Brandish
Corner at the speed he took it.
But it was left to the finish to provide the biggest
thrill of all.
He passed Cook, the second man, at Rectory Cor-
ner. Only a mile to go and the leader, Robertson,
in sight..
Victory was within his grasp. Tired, aching
joints and blistered hands were temporarily forgot-
ten. All that mattered now was the will to make a
final effort.
At the Nook he left his braking for the approach
to Governor's Bridge so late that all who saw him
could but think disaster imminent. But, no he had
the machine well under control, and had judged his
speed to the nih degree.
Then Governor's Bridge. A violent skid, which
he held then full bore again. He had his man now
not ten yards separated them and the remaining
three-quarters of a mile of his route was straight
and tree-lined.
But his rival's machine was still capable of amaz-
ing speed. Only by squeezing himself into the small-
est possible space was he able to lessen the wind
resistance, and make an impression on his leader.
Two hundred yards to the line ; and Jim had crept
up level to Robertson's back wheel. What a finish
for the spectators!
One hundred yards to go, and they were riding
bar to bar.
Then over the line. The crowd rose to them as
254 THE "MOTH" MURDER
one man. The most exciting finish ever seen to a
long-distance road race either here or elsewhere.
And few but the judge could say who was the
winner. But it was Jim the victor by a wheel's
breadth after a last lap in 28 minutes, or, for the
benefit of the uninitiated, 80.9 m.p.h.
XXV
ZERO HOUR
THE race over, Hunt lost sight of his man in the
rush from the stands, very few remaining seated to
see the third man, Cook, finish.
But the Inspector was not unduly worried; he
guessed that he would find him amongst the crowd
of admirers gathered around the Star pit.
He was correct in this, as he found when he ar-
rived there. Pat Lloyd was in the front of the crush,
talking to the excited manager.
As he watched, Hunt saw him take a card from
his case, scribble a few words on it, then hand it to
the man, who pocketed it with a nod.
Then, fearful of being seen, the Yard man hurried
back through the crowds of aimlessly wandering
spectators to the town and the Ceramo hotel.
Once safely within the precincts of the hostelry,
he hurried to his room, where he took up a position
by the window from which he could see plainly all
who entered or left by the front door.
He had not long to wait, for within five minutes
Lloyd arrived; alone.
Only a short time elapsed before the slamming of
a door told him that Lloyd had been shown into No.
44, immediately below him, as he had requested on
the card he had taken from the Boy Scout.
Passing to his dressing-table, Hunt picked up his
255
256 THE "MOTH" MURDER
automatic, carefully inspecting the mechanism be-
fore slipping half a dozen bullets into the clip in
the butt.
Then from his bag he took up his handcuffs, drop-
ping them into a handy pocket. His preparations
completed, he moved back to the window.
Again he had not long to wait. A flushed and
dirty-looking Jim Hucklesby rode up on a borrowed
motor-cycle (his own was being dismantled by the
A.C.U. officials in accordance with the rules), which
he leaned against the hotel wall.
A moment later, and he, also, had entered by the
front door.
Going back to his dressing-table, Hunt dropped
into a chair, after clipping on his headphones, which
were connected to the special dictaphone already
mentioned, and pulled down a little switch.
The microphone was, of course, cleverly hidden in
the room below. He could hear Lloyd quite plainly
he was pacing restlessly about the room.
Then came the sound of a knock on the door.
"Come in," called Lloyd.
Jim entered, closing the door softly behind him.
Lloyd started the conversation. "Did I see In-
spector Hunt here?" he asked.
"Probably," replied Jim. "He's here. If you
value your life, you'd better leave at once."
"I shall leave to-morrow," Lloyd answered calmly,
almost haughtily, it seemed. "I have arranged to
see the prize-giving. It'll take more than an ad-
dle-brained Inspector of Police to deter me, I can
assure you. I'm Pat Lloyd, the celebrated airman
everyone knows that."
THE "MOTH" MURDER 257
"Yes," agreed Jim. "You certainly look the
part."
"Look the part? I like that." His voice rose.
"/ am Lloyd. For years I've kept up my dual iden-
tity I guessed it would prove useful one day. I
am well known as Lloyd ; in fact, I can call hundreds
of witnesses to prove that I am that worthy airman.
I am in no danger whatsoever." Then, more softly
"Now I suppose I must tell you why I sent for
you. To congratulate you on the splendid race you
rode to-day."
The conversation was at an end; Jim was taking
his leave.
Hunt slipped off his 'phones and tiptoed to the
window.
The Senior winner came out through the door,
looking somewhat dazed, started up his machine, and
rode rapidly away.
Zero hour for Hunt had arrived.
Going softly back to the dictaphone, Hunt started
it up. He did not expect to find it a valuable help
to him, but he was not taking any chances; if his
plans did go wrong, Scotland Yard would have a
complete record of all that took place.
Then, passing to the door, he stole out, tiptoeing
along the corridor and down the stairs, then, even
more stealthily, along the passage to room No. 44.
His hand on the weapon in his pocket, he stooped,
gluing his eye to the keyhole.
What he saw satisfied him. Lloyd was sitting in
the far corner of the room, back to the door, read-
ing a newspaper.
258 THE "MOTH" MURDER
His arrest would be a matter of the utmost ease.
Rising to his full height, Hunt withdrew his au-
tomatic (not for nothing had he already tested his
adversary's mettle), slipped back the safety catch,
and laid his hand on the door-knob.
Then, bracing himself to meet any emergency, he
flung open the door, at the same time advancing into
the room.
"Sir Charles Stafford," he started, "I" But he
did not finish the sentence, for, with a thud, some-
thing struck him violently on the back of the head,
sending him sprawling, an inert mass, on to the
floor.
XXVI
CONFESSION
AFTER what seemed an eternity, Hunt started to
recover consciousness. Something cold and clammy
was wrapped around his forehead, and, as his senses
returned, he felt the trickle of water running down
his face.
Dazedly he attempted to lift his arm to brush the
bandage aside. To his surprise, he found he could
not move it. This discovery, no doubt, hastened his
return to full consciousness.
Dropping his head forward, he saw that he was
bound hand t,nd foot to the chair in which he was
seated. Then, lifting his eyes, he sought his captor.
Sir Charles Stafford, alias Pat Lloyd, was stand-
ing by the fireplace, watching him closely, an amused
expression in his eyes.
Presently, seeing his victim had recovered, he
spoke, slowly and deliberately, weighing each word
before giving it utterance.
"Yes you're quite right. I am Sir Charles Staf-
ford the murderer of my deadliest enemy, Dennis
Evans the stealer of his wife and the slayer of
Constable James."
He paused a moment before continuing. "It
\vould have been far better for you though, Inspec-
tor, had you not made your discovery it will only
mean my adding to my growing list of crimes for
259
260 THE "MOTH" MURDER
now I must also become the killer of Inspector
Hunt."
Hunt started to reply. But no words were forth-
coming; he was tightly gagged.
Sir Charles, observing his efforts, moved towards
him.
"I'm sorry to inconvenience you," he said, "but
I'm afraid that for my own safety you must remain
gagged. For all I know, you may have some more
of your sleuth-hounds within call."
He thought for a moment. "Have you ?" he asked.
"Answer me truthfully, and I'll see what I can do
about it."
Hunt shook his head.
"No, eh? Righto. If I take off the gag, will
you give me your word of honour that you will not
attempt to call for help?"
Hunt nodded again; this time in the affirmative.
Sir Charles moved nearer to him. "Understand
this. If you fail me, I'll shoot you like a dog, bound
hand and foot as you are."
He drew his revolver, covering the defenceless man.
"Remember, you're on your honour," he warned
again. "If you shout, you'll be a corpse before the
sound has had time to leave the room."
Hunt nodded. The situation was desperate. Like
a fool, he had blundered again, and fallen unsus-
pectingly into another trap.
Sir Charles was removing the gag. "You're prob-
ably wondering how you came to be caught so easily,"
he said. "Well, I'll tell you."
His eyes took on an expression of savage delight.
"You see that weight on the floor by the door?"
THE "MOTH" MURDER 261
Hunt nodded again.
"That's what hit you. You see, I expected your
visit, so I took the precaution of arranging a suit-
able reception for you. Rather crude, I admit. A
mere schoolboy's trick but effective nevertheless."
Hunt could but agree with the truth of this state-
ment. A 28 Ib. weight dropped from the height of
some feet on to a person's head as he passes through
a door can be relied on to cause a knockout.
"And, in case you entertain any hopes of being
rescued, I'll tell you now that I took the liberty of
locking the door once I had you safely inside." Then
as an afterthought he added, "If by any chance
anyone does try to break in, I shall have no option
but to terminate your life immediately.
"As you may also be wondering why I've kept
you alive to tell you all this, it's only because I feel
I owe you a grudge. If it hadn't been for your in-
terference, my poor Peggy would have been alive
to-day. So this afternoon, when I saw my chance
to delay your agony, I took it."
He paused for a space. "I suppose you have dis-
covered just how I carried out the murder of Dennis
Evans?" he queried.
Hunt realised he was fighting for time anything
he could say to delay the fateful moment increased
his chance of escape.
"No," he replied, "to be candid, I'm puzzled still.
I have only an inkling of the truth."
"Then," Sir Charles began boastingly, "as I've a
certain amount of admiration for your work, I'll
condescend to tell you how I did it.
"The whole thing was pre-arranged, as, I expect
262 THE "MOTH" MURDER
you know. I've been scheming how best I could rid
the world of Evans for several years past. But I'd
better start at the very beginning I suppose.
"As you have undoubtedly heard, I was studying
aeronautics on the Continent after I came down from
Oxford.
"I was young and irresponsible in those days
and, worst of all, practically penniless. Unfortu-
nately, though, my tastes were expensive too expen-
sive, I'm afraid.
"I was rather heavily in debt. Something had to
be done, and done quickly. I had to get money some-
how either honestly or dishonestly. It didn't mat-
ter which as long as I got it.
"I had spent some hours in the Montmartre dis-
trict of Paris one evening, and had got into con-
versation with a stranger rather a peculiar type
of man; he seemed in deadly fear of something all
the evening. But he had money to burn that was
the great thing.
"About mdinight we left the place together. We
neither of us had far to go, as he lived in the Rue
St. Lazare and I in the Rue de Lorette. So our
ways were the same for part of the walk.
"After a few minutes we came to the Rue de
Chateaudun, where he had to branch off to the left.
"Then, after bidding him good night and arrang-
ing to meet him on the morrow, I set off on the re-
maining hundred yards or so of my journey.
"Hardly had I started, though, when I heard a
shout for help from my friend of the cafe.
"Turning hurriedly, I ran as fast as I could in
the direction in which he had departed.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 263
"I had not far to go. I found him, back to a
doorway, stoutly defending himself with his walk-
ing-stick against three men whom I took to be
Apaches.
"I was always ready for a scrap in those days
nothing pleased me more than a good rough-and-
tumble.
"Well, to cut a long story short, my arrival turned
the tide of the battle (which had begun to run badly
for my friend with the walking-stick), his attackers
turning tail and bolting.
"Then my friend, who, I afterwards learned, was
known as Monsieur Dupree, insisting that I had
saved his life from an attempt he had feared for
some weeks, made me accompany him to his house
for a 'nightcap.'
"On the way there he repeated again and again
how indebted he was to me, for without my help, he
said, he would have long since been a corpse. Then
he made a startling statement. He would, as part
of my reward, show me the way to make a fortune
a fortune beyond my wildest dreams.
"A little later we arrived at the house. It was a
wonderful place, furnished regardless of cost, with
a host of well-trained servants everywhere.
"He caught my admiring glance. 'You're young,'
he said to me, 'and you, also, could do with great
wealth such as I have?'
"I assured him again that I could indeed that I
was at the moment in deadly need of even 500 francs.
'If you can show me the way to get even that,' I
said, 'you will more than repay me for my help in
the little affair we had in the Rue St. Lazare.'
264 THE "MOTH" MURDER
" 'Wait a minute, my boy,' he replied. 'I have
promised to do something for you and I will keep
my word. But I must know more of you first. You
may not like my scheme, so it would not do for me
to tell it to you yet. Tell me now about yourself
all there is to tell both good and bad.'
"I told him everything of my love of adventure ;
my ambition to become famous as an airman; my
insuppressible love of luxury; my title, which had
so far proved but a millstone round my neck.
"When I had finished, he was more than delighted.
'You're my man all right,' he said. 'Meet me here
to-morrow evening at eight o'clock. I must have
time to check your statements.'
"With that he bid me au revoir and escorted me
to the door.
"I was at his place the next evening at the ap-
pointed hour. He had checked my statements and
appeared perfectly satisfied.
"He came straight to business. He was, he said,
the head of one of the big international dope gangs.
The men from whom I had helped him to escape
were not Apaches, but members of a rival gang.
"The proposition he had to offer me was briefly
this. He was finding it increasingly difficult to hold
his connection in England. The customs officers
w r ere becoming more and more astute, and the quan-
tity of dope he could safely run out into the country
was decreasing monthly.
"With the aid of my title and education I could
help him to rebuild the business. He would furnish
me with enough capital to take a house near Lon-
don, and also buy me a couple of aeroplanes.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 265
"I was to spend a year in getting well known as
a pilot before my job began in earnest.
"I would then have to take charge of a celebrated
London dope gang which haunted the Tottenham
Court Road area. I was to be responsible for the
actual smuggling of the dope, bringing it by air
from various places on the Continent. As I should
have my own private landing-ground, I should be
able to keep my movements secret, and so avoid trou-
ble with the customs.
"Well, to cut a long story short, I accepted his
offer immediately, leaving Paris within the week to
take a place at Harrow.
"The remainder of that year I spent in undertak-
ing spectacular flights and competing in various air
races, which considerably added to my prestige
and also, to a certain extent, to my income.
"Then I turned my attention to the dope-running
proper. In a couple of years I had made a con-
siderable pile this in spite of my heavy expenses,
for I still kept up my flying.
"Then came the news that Dupree was dead had
been murdered, would be more correct.
"This meant the splitting up of the international
gang as we knew it but it was a red-letter day for
me. It meant that I became the 'boss' of, instead of
manager of, the English branch the Tottenham
Court Road traffickers.
"It was about this time that I first met Peggy
Mrs. Evans as you know her. She was living in
Wealdstone quite close to me. We got very keen
on one another right from the start. If ever there
was a case of 'love at first sight,' this was it.
266 THE "MOTH" MURDER
"All was going well until, one day when I called
for Peggy, she refused to see me. Later the same
day I saw an announcement of her engagement to a
certain Dennis Evans. I knew she had been friendly
with the man before I came on the scene, but I
thought all was over between them long since.
"The announcement simply flabbergasted me ; but
worse was to follow.
"In the course of my inquiries I found that Den-
nis was the head of the notorious Chelsea dope gang.
And the moment I heard that I began to plan my
revenge.
"Then, to cap everything, Peggy brought him
round to my place, suggesting that I should golf
with them.
"Why I eventually consented I can't say to this
day. It must have been solely because her proposal
offered me a few more hours in her company.
"I disliked Dennis intensely from the very first
moment I set eyes on him. It was only natural, I
suppose. I had already prepared myself to hate him.
"But I did not show it ; it suited my plans to play
up to him. I sensed a mystery, and determined to
get to the bottom of it.
"And so it went on. One invitation led to an-
other. I gradually began to get on more and more
intimate terms with him, with either golf, or bridge,
or dances, practically every day; while he, in his
turn, became very interested in flying.
"Then came the day of the wedding. By this
time I was inwardly a seething volcano the slight-
est excuse and I should have broken out into violent
eruption.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 267
"I had Peggy to myself for a few minutes just
before the ceremony (for the first time since the an-
nouncement of her engagement), and begged her not
to go through with the affair, for I could see she was
on the verge of a breakdown. But my appeal was
in vain she resolutely refused to change her plans.
"Then, the wedding over, I turned to my old love,
the air, in an endeavour to forget the past. But it
was no good of course I could not forget.
"So I decided to end it all hence my Australian
and Atlantic flights. Again it was not to be I was
fated to win through.
"I had completely lost touch with Peggy now
fifteen months' absence can help to cure the severest
heart-ache. But I decided not to return to Harrow ;
it would bring back too many painful memories.
"About this time Forest Court came into the mar-
ket. I liked the place the moment I saw it, and, as
money was no object, 1 decided to purchase it.
Within a fortnight I had moved in.
"A few afternoons later I set off for a round of
golf at Highcliffe. Who should I meet there but
Peggy Evans alone.
"She was feeling rather down, it seemed, and, to
my surprise, started to unburden her troubles to
me. Once she had started she said more than she
intended. In a few minutes it all came out the
reason of her sudden engagement. She had con-
sented to it to save me!
"It appeared that Dennis had discovered my con-
nection with the Tottenham Court Road dope gang
and had gone to her with irrevocable proof of my
doings. He had then threatened to hand this proof
268 THE "MOTH" MURDER
over to the authorities unless and it was a very big
unless unless she agreed to marry him.
"And, as you know, her choice was marriage
sacrificing herself to a man she did not love a man
she probably even loathed all to save me from years
of imprisonment.
"In that moment I saw everything saw how
Evans had become friendly with me merely to keep
an eye on my movements to blackmail me perhaps,
if the opportunity arose, and to scare me out of
business.
"And there and then I swore to kill him, kill him
slowly but surely ruin his business as he had ruined
my life, and finally, under the cloak of friendship,
send him to the most terrible death I could conceive."
XXVII
CONFESSION (continued)
As things turned out, it was fated to be simple. The
Evanses were living within easy reach, so now I was
able to keep my eye on him.
"I had completely reorganised my gang, and I
am certain no living man could have connected me
with it ; indeed, I am sure that even Dennis believed
my story that I had made a fortune from my flights
a true statement, I must remark in passing and
had retired from active business.
"Without undue trouble, I managed to get one of
the Chelsea men on my side. He did not, at first,
like to give his own companions away, but the reward
I offered was too tempting for him to refuse.
"So, from time to time, he sent me names names
of men the police would catch red-handed.
"These I gave to my old friend and companion in
crime, Claude Gascoigne, who, posing as 'Pro Patria,'
forwarded them to Scotland Yard.
"Evans stuck to his guns to the last, I must admit ;
even although he had long been fighting with his
back to the wall.
"Then, after a two years' battle, came ruin.
"Until now Peggy had not relished the idea of
murder it was only her fears for my safety that
had prevented her from eloping with me long before.
"But her husband's loss of his money proved the
269
270 THE "MOTH" MURDER
last straw. Like me, she could not live except in
luxury. And, to make her fight the easier, I had
been spending money like water each time she was
in my company. So she fell at last, agreeing to play
her part, whatever the consequences.
"The scheme I proposed was briefly this. We
would let the world think I was dead the result
of an air accident. She too, and Dennis, would also
have been presumed to have perished at the same
time.
"Then, with all three of us officially dead and me
buried, with civic honours, maybe, into the bargain
we should be free to set up, under a new name, as
man and wife, wherever we pleased. As I pointed
out, if we were careful we should run no risk what-
ever.
"This simple little plot took any amount of evolv-
ing but the reward was too great to risk making
the slightest mistake.
"For a whole week, I worked night and day but
at last I had it perfect. For every move we had to
make I thought out three alternatives, so, if things
went wrong at any stage, we should still be able to
make our get-away in comfort.
"I arranged for Peggy and Dennis to accompany
me on a tour to the U.S.A. By a certain amount of
scheming I also arranged for us to catch the Tro-
ganic at Plymouth at six o'clock on the morning of
May the 23rd.
"After planning that we should fly there, leaving
Lymington at 3 A.M. or thereabouts, and getting
Dennis and Peggy to agree to come to a party at
my place overnight, the rest was comparatively easy.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 271
"Dennis and I were both about the same build;
we both wore identical ftying suits I had seen to
that by changing my old one and, most important
of all, we both had false teeth.
"All I had to do was to get him into a complete
change of my clothing, and the trick was as good
as done.
"I will not trouble you by going into details as
to how this was accomplished, but, briefly, I tipped
him out of a motor-boat into the lake myself as
well, for that matter."
"What time was this?" asked Hunt, hoping to
lengthen the story which, he felt, was rapidly draw-
ing to a close. If he could only keep him talking,
all might yet turn out well.
He could not help recalling a slogan he had seen
stuck up in Whitfield's office at the Yard: "When
you're feeling down in the mouth, think of Jonah
he came out all right."
"Oh about 10.30," answered his adversary, "but
that doesn't really matter. The great point was,
Dennis had to dress in my clothes; his had all gone
on ahead to Plymouth Peggy saw to that.
"I had sent all my servants to bed; there was no
chance of this changing of clothing being discovered.
"Then, on a pretext of taking his w r et things down
to the kitchen to dry, I hurried along to the furnace
(central heating furnace) and threw them into it.
"By 2.30, the time that the servants were about
again, he had donned his flying kit, so his borrowed
suit was completely hidden.
"Then, I'm sorry to say, came our first mistake. I
refer to the exchanging of suit-cases by that drunken
272 THE "MOTH" MURDER
fool Day. In a way I was hoist with my own petard
there, for I drugged his drinks to get him out of the
way for a few hours.
"Now comes a little move that I should have men-
tioned earlier. After the burning of Dennis' clothes
I went up to my research rooms in the attic to the
room I call my art room I suppose you've inspected
it? bringing down a wax model of Peggy's head
and shoulders that I had made. Although it was of
my own fashioning, I think I can justly claim that
it was perfect, even to the leather flying coat-collar
with which I finished it off. This I concealed in the
locker of my 'Moth.'
"Then I hurried up the road to Mrs. Thornton's
house to borrow her car. I was very friendly with
her, and I had taken the liberty of providing my-
self with a duplicate key of her garage lock.
"I ran no risk, as the road is always deserted at
this hour and I knew Mrs. Thornton was away.
In case you think differently, I can assure you that
I had a reserve move up my sleeve had I been un-
able to obtain her car, I should have changed my
plans accordingly.
"However, I had no trouble, and obtained the
Singer, which I drove up the Green Lane, where I
turned it, leaving it in readiness.
"Next, I turned out the contents of Peggy's at-
tache-case, filling it instead with banknotes.
"At this stage I'd better explain that, whenever
we were all flying together, Peggy insisted on trav-
elling in my 'plane. Dennis had never objected to
this he thought the world of her, I must admit,
and always let her have her own way.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 273
"This fact, as you will see later, helped me with
my plans considerably; incidentally, it also helped
to confuse the police when they set to work to solve
the mystery."
He looked at Hunt amusedly. "I should like to
know what Walker had to say on the subject, but I
must forgo the pleasure time presses."
The Inspector winced involuntarily. Confound
the man ! Why must he keep reminding him of the
fact?
"Now, to come to our actual departure. Day,
who had recovered somewhat, as I said, changed bags
with Peggy exchanged a toothbrush and pyjamas
for a quarter of a million in hard cash.
"The loss alone, though serious, would not have
hindered us much it only meant us going to the
trouble of getting more. I'm sure, though, that if
Peggy had not been so excited and nervous she would
have noticed the lightness of her bag and remedied
matters.
"After we had taxied out of the hangar, I man-
aged to pass Dennis and get to the turning-point on
the other side of the park some time before him. Not
that it mattered much ; it was quite dark behind the
landing-light. Bailey could not see what was going
on there.
"As I said, I arrived first. Peggy immediately
climbed out, ran to the power-shed where we gen-
erate the electric current for this part of the estate
I had instructed her what to do beforehand and
pulled up the main switch, plunging the park into
darkness.
274 THE "MOTH" MURDER
"By this time Dennis had also taxied up. Every-
thing was ready for me to stage my fade-out.
"Walking quickly over to him, I hit him on the
head with a short, iron bar. If you were free to go
and search," he added tauntingly, "you'd probably
discover it lying in some furze-bushes not far from
the power-house, for that's where I threw it after it
had served its purpose. But as you're not and not
likely to be I'm only wasting time by mentioning
the fact.
"Of course, my blow only stunned him I did not
intend to let him die without experiencing the agony
I had planned for him.
"So then I dragged him unceremoniously from his
'plane, immediately starting to turn out the con-
tents of his pockets.
"As soon as I had finished, a few things I always
carried went in the place of the things I had re-
moved my watch, wallet, keys, handkerchief, and
one or two other odds and ends that, I see, you did
not even trouble to produce at the inquest, so sure
were you that the body was mine.
"Then, quickly, I pulled out his false teeth. Ex-
tracting my own unusual set I had another plain
set close at hand to replace them I pushed them
into his mouth. Next, I strapped an old, spare para-
chute round his body and the unconscious man was
ready for the end. All that remained for me to do
was to drag him to the 'Moth,' and drop him in the
front seat.
"Then, going back to the monoplane, I carefully
set the controls. And, after making sure that every-
thing was all right, I opened the throttle, sending
THE "MOTH" MURDER 275
it off on its own in the manner of a schoolboy's model.
"I had flown the 'plane many times myself, and
I felt sure that it would take off safely but I must
confess it was rather a nerve-racking moment for
me; if it should crash, it would be sealing Bailey's
death-warrant."
He looked at Hunt queerly. "You see, from the
beginning I determined to stop at nothing. I had
so much to gain and so little to lose. If, as I have
said, the 'plane had crashed before leaving the pre-
cincts of the park, Bailey would, almost certainly,
have run over to the wreckage.
"When he had discovered, as he was bound to dis-
cover, that Dennis was not in the cockpit, it would
have meant either silencing him, or years of black-
mail, or even imprisonment. As you'll probably
agree, silencing him would have been by far the best
of the alternatives."
He ruminated for a moment on the method of the
silencing. "I could easily have stunned him, as I
had Dennis, and placed them both amongst the debris
before putting a match to it. It would have been all
over in a few seconds.
" 'Bailey,' the papers would have said, 'died a
hero, sacrificing his life in a vain endeavour to save
Mr. Evans.' I might even have dedicated a bed to
his memory in the local hospital." He laughed at
the thought.
"But I'm wandering. The necessity did not arise.
The 'plane took off perfectly, Peggy, of course,
switching off the light at the main so that Bailey
was unable to see that the 'plane was empty. I
omitted to mention that she could time her actions
276 THE "MOTH" MURDER
perfectly, as there is a little window on the park side
of the shed, through which she could see me more
or less clearly, as I was between her and the bril-
liant beam of the landing-light.
"Then came my turn. Just before I got to the
illuminated portion of the park, Peggy played her
part once more. This gave me the opportunity to
turn back, and go over and curse Bailey the noise
of my exhaust, coupled with the violence of my lan-
guage, distracting his attention from the sound of
Peggy starting the Singer in the Green Lane.
"Of course, Bailey swore at the inquest that Peggy
was then in the 'plane. He was completely deceived
by my wax effigy of her, which I had pushed over
the head of her unconscious husband. He even
swore he saw me speak to her what he didn't notice,
poor boob, was that she didn't reply.
"Next time, of course, I took off in fine style ; the
light remaining on to let Bailey see the flowing hair
of my model, and assume Peggy was still in her place.
"I flew inland for a few minutes after getting clear
of Lymington, to give Peggy time to get to Totland
Corner. Then, when I saw by her headlights that
she had reached Highcliffe, I manoeuvred the 'plane
until I was over the meadow the papers refer to as
Angels.
"It was my plan now to set the 'plane on fire,
escape myself by parachute I always carry one,
except when I'm flying over the sea and leave my
half -unconscious victim to perish in the flames.
"I had hoped that the torture of the blazing petrol
would arouse him somewhat before the end giving
THE "MOTH" MURDER 277
him time to enjoy his roasting but not time to allow
him to attempt to jump.
"Unfortunately, again my plans miscarried. He
must have long since recovered consciousness,
and, recognising the seriousness of his position, was
quietly awaiting his chance to make a fight for life.
"My idea was to take the effigy of Peggy from
his head and place it in my cockpit. This would
prevent it melting over Dennis' face, where it would
perhaps have left traces. Also, guarded by the pro-
tecting film of wax, his features would undoubtedly
have been saved from much of the certain disfigure-
ment in the inevitable crash.
"But, as I say, he had already recovered full con-
sciousness.
"As I pulled the effigy off and dropped it at my
feet, he rose from his seat, attacking me savagely.
"It was all over quite quickly. He was weak from
the effects of his blow, and I had time to draw my
revolver. One shot settled the affair.
"As my petrol tanks were filled to their full capac-
ity, I didn't worry much, as I knew that in all prob-
ability his remains would be so charred that the
bullet-wound would pass undetected.
"Then I fired the 'plane and jumped, leaving the
blazing machine to crash when and where it liked
between Angels and the sea.
"My leap was a success the parachute opened
without trouble. I landed in the far corner of
Angels, the cows stampeding like wildfire in their
fright.
"Here I folded my parachute. There was little
wind, so the task was easy.
278 THE "MOTH" MURDER
"Then I walked across the meadow towards Tot-
land Corner hence the single set of footprints."
It was evident to Hunt that Sir Charles had been
keeping in close touch with the case through the
papers.
"Then, I'm sorry to say, I was challenged by Con-
stable James. He knew me, of course, so it was im-
perative to the success of my scheme that he be
silenced.
"After making sure that he was dead, I continued,
down by the hedge, to Totland Corner. A moment
later Peggy arrived with the car. Our plans by now
were practically assured of a successful conclusion
all that remained to be done was fix our make-up.
"We drove to Peggy's summer bungalow on the
banks of the Avon, and there, after helping her to
become a pretty brunette, I was transformed tem-
porarily into Dennis Evans, in case of accidents.
"As it happened, it was a wise move, for the
garage man, I understand, identified me as Evans.
"Then, following a carefully planned route, we
reached the village of Hanley.
"Almost immediately after our arrival we discov-
ered the loss of our money. Although not terribly
serious, it was a most regrettable occurrence. I de-
cided to make an attempt to retrieve it.
"Hence my appearance at my own inquest where
I hoped to learn what had become of our missing
suit-case besides ascertaining whether any suspicions
had arisen with regard to the identity of the body
found in the 'plane.
"Then, hearing no reference to the finding of the
money, I thought there was just a chance that Day
THE "MOTH" MURDER 279
had discovered his mistake before leaving my place,
and that the bag had been left at Forest Court, un-
opened. That evening I returned to Lymington,
disguised as my cousin, Henry Sandleson, who is, I
hear, under the impression that he is a baronet.
"I took Sturman in well, my little experience of
this kind of thing standing me in good stead. But
the money, I found, was not on the premises. Dis-
appointed, I returned to Hanley, as I had come, in
Mr. Watkin's car.
"Later, of course, came the second tragedy of my
life the loss of my poor Peggy a loss for which,
Inspector, I, rightly or wrongly, hold you responsible
a loss for which I have condemned you to death.
"After this terrible catastrophe I decided to fall
back on my last line of defence to appear again
openly as Pat Lloyd, the racing airman, the role I
had created as a bolt-hole in my early days with the
dope gang.
"I thought in this I was secure how you found
me out I can't for the life of me imagine."
"Quite by accident," replied Hunt. "I happened
to gaze into the window of a ladies' hairdressers."
"A ladies' hairdressers. I don't see the connec-
tion."
Despite the thin thread by which his life was hang-
ing, Hunt laughed. "In this particular window
there happened to be a lifesize wax model of the
head and shoulders of a woman. That immediately
suggested that Mrs. Evans wasn't in your 'plane at
all."
"But then why did you come to the Island?"
"Well it's rather a difficult question to answer
280 THE "MOTH" MURDER
but I fully expected you'd be here to see Jim ride.
And I knew that if he won you wouldn't be able to
resist congratulating him in person. That's all there
is to it. He won, and you sent for him. My deduc-
tions were correct."
"Clever. Damned clever," conceded Sir Charles.
"But now, I repeat, time presses. I'm afraid I must
bring this farce to an end."
He looked at his revolver. "I've never used a
silencer in so small a room before I suppose it will
be effective?"
"Quite," replied Hunt quietly. "It will make less
noise than the drawing of a champagne cork." As
he spoke he was looking beyond Sir Charles to the
door. Was he mistaken, or did the knob move
slightly ? No, it was no mistake the knob was mov-
ing.
"Just a moment," he continued. "Don't think
I'm afraid to die I'm not but, before I do, I'd
like to know what made Gascoigne give his own men
away to Scotland Yard. Your name was included,
you know."
Sir Charles smiled. "That was purely for our own
convenience. Gascoigne had taken over the gang
I had no further use for it I was quitting the game
for good. He imagined that these men were being
too closely watched by the police, and, fearing that
they might be arrested any minute, to prevent any
danger to himself he decided to dispose of them all
at one foul swoop.
"You see, he thought it would place him above
suspicion, and at the same time give confirmation
THE "MOTH" MURDER 281
should any be needed of my demise. In plain Eng-
lish, it was a put-up job.
"I can hardly credit it myself, but Gascoigne tells
me that the reverse has actually been the result.
Since the arrests, he has had more police attention
than ever."
"Then you mean Gascoigne knew of your mur-
derous plans?" Hunt queried boldly, his eyes once
more straying to the door.
It had started to open now. Sir Charles was still
standing back to it, totally unaware of his impend-
ing danger.
"Yes. He knew. He was what you call in your
police jargon 'an accessory after the fact.' But
what difference does that make, pray may I ask?"
"All the difference in the world. He'll have to
stand with you on the scaffold. You don't really
think you're going to get away with this, do you?"
asked Hunt, still in the same quiet tone. "Granted,
you will kill me but don't you think the Yard knows
now whose body was actually in the blazing 'Moth'?
Don't you think too that the police of the world are
on the look-out for Sir Charles Stafford, alias Pat
Lloyd, the racing airman a double murderer?"
"Possibly," granted the baronet, with a laugh
still unaware that the door was more than half open,
and that, framed in the aperture, stood Jim Huck-
lesby, a heavy stick in his hand. "But don't you
think I shall counteract these plans?"
"In a few hours' time I shall bear no more re-
semblance to either Sir Charles Stafford or Pat Lloyd
than you do."
282 THE "MOTH" MURDER
His voice changed. "I'm sorry, Inspector. Now
you've told me so much it will perhaps be wisest for
me to hurry." Then, more gently "Don't you
think it would be best for you to close your eyes?"
"No," replied Hunt. "I prefer to die with them
open, like a man."
"As you will, Inspector," his torturer said, start-
ing to raise the weapon. "I too should prefer it that
way. Now," he added callously, "just think what
my poor Peggy must have thought as she crashed
through those level-crossing gates : 'A moment more
and I shall have crossed the Vale.' "
But even as he spoke two things happened, both
of which coupled together helped to change the con-
ventional ending to a murder case.
One was that Inspector Hunt fainted whether
from relief, or the after-effects of his blow, it is hard
to say; and the other simply that Jim sprang.
XXVIII
EXPIATION
THIS time Hunt recovered consciousness more
quickly. He could almost have cried for joy when
he saw Sir Charles lying unconscious on the floor.
Jim, he noticed, was stooping down, bathing the
bleeding wound. Apparently Sir Charles had turned
at the last moment, catching the blow on his unpro-
tected forehead.
"Bravo," shouted the Inspector, or, rather, the
Inspector attempted to shout, for again no sound
passed his lips. The gag had been slipped into his
mouth once more.
This time it was obvious that Jim was to blame.
Seeing the Yard man had recovered, he looked up.
"Sorry, Inspector," he began. "I must apologise
for my ungentlemanly conduct, but I can't have you
interfering. This is my affair now. I've pulled you
out of a tight corner, and that's as much as you can
expect."
Without another glance at the irate Inspector, he
turned his attention again to the unconscious man.
For some moment he worked in silence, applying
bandage after bandage. At last his efforts were re-
warded ; Sir Charles began to stir.
His amazing vitality soon pulled him round.
"What has happened?" he gasped, staring in aston-
ishment at the still bound and gagged Inspector-
283
284 THE "MOTH" MURDER
Then, glancing aside, he saw Jim a white-faced,
stern-looking Jim, armed with his own revolver, the
business end of which was pointing menacingly in
his direction. "Don't move stay where you are if
you value your life," the lad ordered.
Sir Charles, who had been on the point of rising,
obeyed.
Jim spoke again. "I shall give you ten minutes
to get over the effects of your knock-out you'd bet-
ter make good use of it. Remember, you are not to
move or speak."
Going back to a chair, where he could wait in com-
fort and at the same time cover his man, Jim pulled
out his watch.
Slowly the hand crept forward. The ticking of
the timepiece was the only sound that broke the
silence of the room.
Presently Jim stood up, replaced his watch, and
spoke again.
"Mr. Lloyd," he said deliberately, "are you feel-
ing better now?"
"Yes, thanks," Sir Charles replied. "I'm feel-
ing O.K."
"How did you get here?" asked Jim.
"By 'plane," answered Sir Charles.
"Where is your 'plane?"
"Not far from here by the back of the grand
stand."
"Right. Now, Mr. Lloyd, I want you to under-
stand that unless I was heavily indebted to you I
shouldn't be doing this.
"My motor-cycle is outside. It's less than five
minutes' ride to your 'plane. To cover accidents,
THE "MOTH" MURDER 285
I'll allow you seven. I'm giving you a sporting
chance. In seven minutes exactly I shall release In-
spector Hunt. You know what that'll mean five
minutes later the police of the world will be warned.
Now go take my motorcycle don't thank me gro,
while the going's good."
Sir Charles had risen to his feet, facing Jim.
"Thanks," he said. "You're a sport. Now listen.
One good turn deserves another. Before I came
over here I took the precaution of drawing up a
will. As you know, I have no relatives that is,
relatives I care for. You are the sole beneficiary
under this will. It is lodged with Barclays Bank,
Liverpool in the name of Lloyd. Once again I
thank you. Good-bye."
A moment later he had gone, leaving the Inspec-
tor more livid with rage than ever. But as he passed
through the door Hunt noticed him glance hard at
the useless lock. What a slip he had made! The
most casual inspection would have revealed the fact
that the steel bolt had been sawn off flush with the
door edge.
Again Jim glanced at his watch.
In vain the angry Inspector squirmed in his chair,
squirmed till the cord cut deep into his flesh.
But Jim neither moved nor spoke until the full
seven minutes had elapsed. Then, moving over to
Hunt, he began, "I suppose I must place myself
under arrest, Inspector? But before I do so I'm
going to ask you not to get too excited for a few min-
utes. Mr. Lloyd will take a good half-hour to reach
land. By that time, even if you take things calmly,
all stations will have been warned. That's all."
286 THE "MOTH" MURDER
As he removed the gag, Hunt gave vent to his
passion. "You damned little fool," he started wildly,
"you've done something clever this time, to be sure !"
Jim remained calm. "So saving your life was
'something clever,' was it?"
Hunt's anger cooled somewhat. "I'm sorry," he
said, "but nevertheless I'm afraid you must consider
yourself under arrest on a charge of obstructing the
police in the execution of their duties."
"As you wish," replied Jim quietly.
The bonds were nearly off when the sound of an
aeroplane engine could be heard in the distance.
"Shall we go outside a minute?" suggested Jim.
"He's coming over."
"Yes," assented Hunt bitterly. "We might as
well see the last of him."
Sir Charles Stafford, after leaving the room in
which he had so narrowly missed committing an-
other murder, found Jim's motor-cycle propped up
outside the hotel.
In less time than it takes to tell he had started it,
and was off on his short run to the field in which
he had left the 'plane.
Although he knew that he had only seven minutes
to spare before the hue and cry for him began, it
was characteristic of the man that he did not hurry.
He could not be really frightened by anything on
earth.
Six minutes had passed before he reached the field
and climbed into his 'plane.
The machine was fitted with a self-starter. The
THE "MOTH" MURDER 287
engine woke to life immediately. As his nose was
already pointing into the wind, he was able to take
off straight away.
Giving his engine plenty of throttle, he taxied
rapidly up the field, the mad rush of the wind past
his cheeks clearing his aching head.
A few moments later he had left the ground and
was racing towards Douglas and the sea.
After his initial rise of a hundred feet or so he
kept the controls in a central position, seemingly
missing the housetops by a hair's-breadth a chal-
lenge to Hunt, and, did he but know it, a challenge
to fate.
Over the harbour he started to rise 200, 300,
400, 500, and soon 2,000 feet. Then, when the
watching crowds thought he had taken his spec-
tacular leave of the island, he turned turned to
give a last salute to Jim.
Once again the harbour was far below him; the
departing Mona, which had just left the quay, ap-
peared but the smallest model.
Then, pushing his stick right forward, he started
the steep dive with which he always preceded a loop.
And in the moment he attempted to pull his nose
up he knew his fate was sealed. For the stick re-
fused to move ; it was stuck stuck in a position that
forced his machine seawards with ever-increasing
speed.
Desperately he tried to shut off the engine. But
the throttle was immovable; someone had tampered
with the controls someone had deliberately planned
to send him to his doom, as he himself had planned
to send Evans.
288 THE "MOTH" MURDER
And in that fraction of a second the malignity of
his crimes came home to him his actions of the past
few years passed rapidly in unwholesome review be-
fore him.
How he regretted the absence of a parachute
remembered how he had boasted that he never car-
ried one when flying over water, as in a accident it
would prove only a hindrance.
But even as that fleeting vision passed he had time
to realise that what he might gain on the round-
abouts he would only lose on the swings even a
parachute would not save him from Inspector Hunt
and the gallows.
The sea was very close now. Instinct compelled
him to attempt to leap. But he had left it too late.
Before he could move, even slightly, the 'plane hit
the water and the last earthly thing he saw before
he was plunged for ever beneath the fleck-tipped
waves of Douglas Harbour was the hand of his air-
speed indicator. And that hand was tightly pressed
against the stop by the highest speed indicated on
the dial a speed of 200 miles per hour.
Hunt and Jim stood outside the Ceramo, rooted
to the pavement, watching a cascade of water, that
had been flung skywards by the last death-dealing
dive of the 'plane, descend again into the harbour.
For some moments after the last foam-frothed
ripple had vanished neither spoke.
It was Jim who broke the silence. "Am I still
under arrest?" he asked.
Hunt considered for a moment.
THE "MOTH" MURDER 289
"No," he replied at length, " I think not but
remember," he added smilingly, "I have a full con-
fession recorded on a dictaphone, if I ever want to
use it."
He could afford to smile now. His most difficult
case was ended ended, too, in the pleasantest way
for all concerned.
"Although you're not under arrest, there's one
think you are though so far you don't seem to have
realised it."
"What's that?" questioned Jim wonderingly.
"Practically a millionaire," was Hunt's reply. "If
you ever manage to trace all Sir Charles' accounts,
you'll probably find yourself quite a millionaire."
They started to move back to the hotel; Jim to
get washed in readiness for the prize-giving, Hunt
to attend to his dictaphone.
In the hall, the Yard man halted. "I must leave
you here," he said. "I've just remembered I've a
telegram to send." He held out his hand in fare-
well. "In case I've left by the time you return."
Jim grasped it warmly. "I shall certainly look
you up, Inspector, when you get back to Town," he
promised.
"Do," replied Hunt with enthusiasm. "I'll show
you round the Yard and let you see the dreadful fate
of those misguided persons who are stupid enough
to obstruct the police in the execution of their
duties."
He started to move away. After a couple of paces
he stopped, turned, and faced Jim. "You know,"
he began, "I shall often wonder in the years that are
290 THE "MOTH" MURDER
to come just what caused Sir Charles' 'plane to crash
at the psychological moment it did."
He proceeded a few paces nearer to the telephone,
then stopped, and turned again. "But somehow I
don't think I'm going to let myself wonder too hard."
DO
A 000 127 959 5
RARIEb
WEEKS
