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‘I’ll ask her,’ replied Dr Thornborough doubtfully. ‘But you’ll understand that if she doesn’t feel up to it, it might be better to wait.’
He went out, and a minute or two later Mrs Thornborough entered the consulting-room. She was obviously very much upset but she made a brave attempt to smile at the superintendent. ‘I’m ready to answer any questions you like to ask me, Mr Yateley,’ she said.
‘That’s extremely kind of you, Mrs Thornborough,’ the superintendent replied. ‘I can imagine your feelings and I won’t keep you more than a minute or two. To begin with, where were you when Mr Fransham arrived?’
‘In the drawing-room, waiting for my husband to come back. And when Lucy showed Uncle Bob in, I was utterly flabbergasted. He’s never come down here unexpectedly like that and I was afraid that something must be wrong. And that’s the first thing I asked him.’
‘What was his reply, Mrs Thornborough?’
‘He seemed very much surprised. He asked me why I should think anything was wrong when he’d driven down to lunch on Cyril’s express invitation. This puzzled me more than ever, for Cyril had said nothing to me about it. And then Uncle Bob went on to say that he’d had a letter from Cyril this morning asking him to drive down to lunch today for he had something very particular to ask him about.
‘I couldn’t begin to understand this, for Cyril wouldn’t do a thing like that without telling me about it. And I was afraid that mother, who’d gone up a few minutes before to get ready for lunch, would come down any moment. So I told Uncle Bob that if he wanted to wash his hands he knew where to go, and then when I’d seen Lucy I went upstairs to tell mother that Uncle Bob was here. I said that if she didn’t care to meet him she could have a tray sent up to her, but she wouldn’t hear of that. She said that she wasn’t afraid of Uncle Bob or anyone else, and if he chose to make himself unpleasant, two could play at that game. She and Uncle Bob never got on very well, you know.’
‘So the doctor has told me, Mrs Thornborough. What did you do next?’
‘I came downstairs and waited for my husband. When he came in I told him about Uncle Bob and then went into the drawing-room. A minute or two later I heard him calling Uncle Bob through the cloakroom door. Then there was a crash and I wondered if I’d better go and see what was the matter. But before I’d made up my mind mother came downstairs and at the same time Mary sounded the lunch gong. So mother and I went into the dining-room, where we’ve been ever since. And after we’d waited for a few minutes Cyril came in and told us what had happened.’
At this moment Dr Thornborough entered the consulting-room. He went up to his wife and laid his hand on her shoulder. ‘Feeling all right, Betty?’ he asked.
‘Not too bad,’ she replied. ‘I’ve just been telling Mr Yateley what happened.’
‘Mrs Thornborough has been most kind,’ said the superintendent. ‘I’ll leave her in your care now, doctor. I wonder if you’d mind asking Coates the chauffeur to come and see me?’
Dr and Mrs Thornborough left the room and a few minutes later Coates appeared. He was a man of about forty-five, with a hoarse voice and a rather surly expression. In reply to the superintendent’s questions he said that he had been with Mr Fransham for five years, during which time he had lived in the house. Mr Fransham had always been a good master to him and very considerate. Mr Fransham never drove the car himself, but liked to go out most afternoons, either to visit friends or for a run in the country. He had very often driven Mr Fransham to Adderminster. Perhaps half a dozen times or more a year. Mrs Thornborough had frequently visited her uncle at No. 4, Cheveley Street, but Coates could not remember that Dr Thornborough had ever done so. It was fifty-three miles by mileage indicator from Cheveley Street to Epidaurus.
‘When did Mr Fransham tell you that he wanted you to drive him down here today?’ the superintendent asked.
‘Just after he had his breakfast this morning, sir,’ Coates replied. ‘He sent for me and told me that he’d have to cancel the orders given me yesterday, for he’d had a letter from the doctor asking him to drive down to lunch very specially.’
‘What orders had he given you yesterday, Coates?’
‘Well, sir, I’d told him that since the new car had done nearly a thousand miles, it was time that the makers looked over her to see that everything was right. So Mr Fransham had told me to take the car round to the Armstrong-Siddeley place in Cricklewood and leave her there over the weekend. But this morning he told me that would have to wait till Monday and said that a hundred miles one way or the other wouldn’t make much difference. So we started away at a quarter past eleven and were here sharp at one o’clock. Mr Fransham doesn’t like being driven too fast.’
‘You’ve heard that Mr Fransham has been killed, of course?’
‘The doctor told me so just now when he sent me in here, sir. And I’m bound to say that it sounds very queer to me.’
‘It is, very queer, Coates. You say that you got here at one o’clock sharp? Tell me exactly what you did when you arrived?’
‘I drove in at the gates, sir, stopped outside the front door, and rang the bell. Lucy opened the door and Mr Fransham went into the house. Then I drove the car round to the garage at the back. I looked round the car, then lit a cigarette. Then I waited where I was, knowing that somebody would come out and ask me into the house. I didn’t like to go in until I was invited, you understand, sir. And while I was waiting the doctor came along and spoke to me.’
‘Were you in the garage the whole time that you were waiting?’
‘Yes, sir, I was expecting somebody to come and call me into the house at any moment.’
‘Did anyone enter the carriage-way leading to the garage during that time?’
Coates shook his head with an air of decision. ‘No, sir, I’m quite sure that they didn’t,’ he replied.
‘How can you be so sure of that? You can’t have been looking down the carriage-way all the time? You told me yourself that the first thing you did after you got here was to look round the car.’
‘That’s quite right, sir. But all the time I was looking round the car I had an eye open for somebody coming out of the house. If there had been anybody in the carriage-way during that time I should have seen them, I’m quite certain of that. And after I’d finished looking round the car, which didn’t take more than a couple of minutes, I just stood inside the garage doorway smoking a fag. And I don’t see how anybody could have come into the carriage-way then, without my noticing them.’
This seemed reasonable enough. The distance from the garage door to the cloakroom window was not more than fifty yards in a direct line. It was incredible that anyone could have approached the window unknown to an observer at the door, himself on the alert for an expected summons. Yateley slightly changed the import of his questioning. ‘When you found the garage empty you guessed that Dr Thornborough was out on his rounds, I suppose?’
‘Well, I thought he might be, sir, but I couldn’t be sure. Sometimes when Mr Fransham was down here with his car, the doctor would leave his own somewhere in the town so as to leave the garage free for Mr Fransham’s car. There isn’t room for both, you see, sir.’
‘You saw the doctor’s car turn in at the drive gate, I suppose?’
‘Yes, sir, I caught sight of it as soon as it came round the corner. The doctor came straight down the carriage-way, stopped just outside the garage and then got out and spoke to me.’
‘Do you remember what he said?’
‘He said, “Why, Coates, I am surprised to see you! Did you drive Mr Fransham down?” I told him that Mr Fransham was indoors and he hurried into the house by the garden door.’
Yateley dismissed Coates and then joined his subordinate in the cloakroom. ‘Well, Linton, have you found anything?’ he asked.
‘Nothing very much, I’m afraid, sir,’ Linton replied. ‘Nothing that could possibly account for the wound, that is. I’ve been right through the room and I can’t find a stone or anything that could have been thrown. Nor is there anything that could have made a wound of the shape the doctor described. There are a couple of walking-sticks, but they are both round with a crooked handle. And there are a couple of lady’s umbrellas, but one has a round ball at the end and the other a plain handle with a strap. I’ve put them out in the corner, sir, for you to look at.’
‘Where did you find these things?’ the superintendent asked.
‘Hanging on the pegs, sir, behind the coats.’
Yateley very soon satisfied himself that the blow could not have been inflicted by any of the walking-sticks or umbrellas. ‘Have you been through Mr Fransham’s clothing?’ he asked.
‘Yes, sir, I have, but there’s nothing there. Nothing that could have caused the wound, that is. But I did find something else that I think you’ll like to see, sir.’
He opened his notebook and took out a folded sheet of paper. ‘I found that in Mr Fransham’s wallet, sir.’
Yateley took the paper and unfolded it. It was a single sheet of notepaper embossed with the address Epidaurus, Adderminster. Under this was typed a date, June 11, and a letter, also typewritten, followed:
‘DEAR UNCLE BOB, A situation has arisen here upon which Betty and myself should very much like your advice. The matter is urgent, since a decision will have to be reached upon it by Monday afternoon at the latest. I should have come up to London to see you, but you know how difficult it is for me to leave my practice at a moment’s notice. Could you possibly drive down to lunch tomorrow, Saturday, and we could discuss things afterwards? It would relieve Betty’s mind enormously if you would do this. We shall expect you unless we get a wire in the morning to say that you can’t come. But do try to manage it, for really it’s most important. Yours affectionately,’
The letter was signed in ink, ‘Cyril.’
Yateley frowned as he folded up the letter and put it in his pocket. ‘Have you had your dinner yet, Linton?’ he asked.
‘No, sir, I haven’t.’
‘Well, I’ll see that you’re relieved as soon as it can be managed. Meanwhile, I want you to stay here. If Dr Dorrington comes let him examine the body. But see that nothing whatever is taken from this room, or brought into it, either, for that matter.’
Yateley returned to the consulting-room where he found Dr Thornborough sitting at his desk. The doctor looked up as he came in.
‘Oh there you are, superintendent,’ he said. ‘I’ve been on to Dorrington and he’s promised to come along here as soon as he’s finished lunch.’
‘Thank you, doctor,’ Yateley replied. ‘We may find a second opinion useful. I wonder if you could let me have a sheet of notepaper? I want to jot down a couple of notes while they’re still fresh in my mind.’
Dr Thornborough stretched out his hand to a stationery rack which stood on his desk. ‘Here you are,’ he said. ‘I thought you fellows always carried notebooks?’
‘So we do, but for once I’ve left mine behind.’ Yateley scribbled a few words on the sheet of notepaper which the doctor had given him. ‘I shall have to get back to my office now,’ he said curtly. ‘You’ll see me later in the day.’ And with that he left the room.
He went out by the front door and thence by the drive to the carriage-way. It had occurred to him that some trace of the weapon might be found there. But after a few minutes’ investigation he was disappointed. The surface of the carriage-way was of concrete, and smoothly swept. Upon it was no sign of a missile, or of a weapon of any description.
He returned to his car and drove to the police station. His first care was to give orders to Sergeant Cload for Linton’s relief. This done he put a telephone call through to the Chief Constable of the County.
CHAPTER III (#u34dbf89f-eca2-5482-ac80-b4de7b6e871f)
As a direct result of Yateley’s telephone call, Inspector Waghorn, of the Criminal Investigation Department of the Metropolitan Police, found himself in the superintendent’s room at Adderminster Police Station just before six o’clock that afternoon.
Inspector Waghorn, popularly known at the Yard as Jimmy, was a Hendon graduate who had already gained the approval of his somewhat exacting superior, Superintendent Hanslet. It was Hanslet who had suggested Jimmy as the fitting person to answer the call from the Adderminster Police.
‘Go down and see what you can make of it,’ he had said. ‘If it’s all plain sailing, you know well enough what to do by this time. If it isn’t you can get on to me and I’ll come down and bear a hand. Away you go.’
Yateley gave Jimmy a detailed account of what had happened.
‘Those are the facts,’ he concluded. ‘Now, I’m going to be perfectly frank with you, inspector. We didn’t call in the Yard because we wanted any help in tracing the criminal.’
Jimmy smiled. ‘That’s what the CID is usually called upon to do, sir,’ he replied.
‘Yes, I know. But now it’s rather different. In this case, there isn’t the slightest doubt as to the identity of the criminal. The only problem—and that’s a very minor one—is precisely how he did it. To put it crudely, we’ve only sent for you to wash our dirty linen for us.’
‘I appreciate your meaning, sir,’ replied Jimmy solemnly. ‘But perhaps you would be good enough to tell me exactly what you want me to do?’
‘I should have thought you would have guessed that. We don’t want to arrest Dr Thornborough off our own bats, so to speak. He’s made himself very popular while he’s been here, and if we were to take action without calling in the Yard, we should arouse local feeling against us. Whereas if the Yard applies for a warrant, the responsibility can’t be thrown upon our shoulders.’
‘I see, sir,’ Jimmy murmured respectfully. ‘There’s no doubt about Dr Thornborough’s guilt, I suppose?’
‘There’s no room for the slightest particle of doubt!’ Yateley exclaimed. ‘Take the motive, to begin with. Mr Fransham was a total stranger to Adderminster. By that I mean, that although he had visited his nephew and niece several times previously, they were the only people in the town he knew. Nobody else in Adderminster could have had the vestige of a motive for murdering him.
‘Now, had the doctor a motive for murdering him? Most emphatically he had. I happen to know that although he’s got a pretty good practice here as Dr Dorrington’s partner, he’s been living a bit beyond his means. Neither he nor his wife have any money of their own. He built that house of his with the help of a Building Society, and he buys his cars on the hire purchase system. I won’t say that he’s in actual financial difficulties, but I do know that the tradesmen who supply him sometimes have to wait a bit for their money.
‘There’s no doubt that Mr Fransham was a rich man. For one thing he’s just bought a new car which can’t have cost less than a thousand pounds. For another he lives in Cheveley Street, which, as you know better than I do, isn’t exactly an impoverished neighbourhood. Mr Fransham was Mrs Thornborough’s uncle, and there seems very little doubt that she’ll inherit his money. In fact, the motive’s so adequate that it’s almost enough to hang the doctor by itself.’
Jimmy made no comment upon this. ‘You told me just now, sir, that you considered the doctor’s statement unsatisfactory,’ he remarked.
‘I did, and that was the mildest word I could think of. It was definitely misleading. To begin with, he pretended that Mr Fransham’s visit was a complete surprise to him. He maintained this even to his wife, for Linton happened to overhear their conversation. But Mr Fransham told at least two people, Mrs Thornborough and his chauffeur Coates, that the doctor had written to him asking him to drive down to lunch today.
‘As it happens this is one of the very rare cases in which luck plays up on the side of the policeman. By a sheer fluke Linton was sent up to interview the doctor, and was in the house at the very moment the crime was committed. If he hadn’t been there the doctor would have had a chance of removing the most incriminating piece of evidence. That is the very letter of invitation, which Mr Fransham happened to have in his pocket. Here it is, and here is a sample of the doctor’s notepaper which I tricked him into giving me.’
Jimmy compared the two. ‘They seem to me exactly similar,’ he said.
‘Of course they are. There’s not a shadow of doubt about that. You see that the letter is dated yesterday. If it had been posted here yesterday evening, it would have reached London by the first post this morning, and, according to Coates’ statement it was by that post that Mr Fransham received it. Now, what’s your opinion of the typing?’
‘Pretty accurate, sir,’ Jimmy replied. ‘I’m not an expert, but I should guess that it had been typed on one of the smaller portable machines.’
‘Oh, that’s your opinion, is it?’ said Yateley grimly. ‘That’s another nail in the coffin. I happened to notice a Smith Premier portable in the doctor’s consulting-room. Now then, have a look at this.’
He picked up a printed form and threw it across to Jimmy.
‘That’s a medical certificate excusing one of my men from duty,’ he said. ‘It’s signed by Dr Thornborough. Have a look at the signature and compare it with the one on the letter.’
Jimmy did so. The certificate was signed ‘Cyril J. Thornborough, M.R.C.S., L.R.C.P.’ The writing of the Christian name corresponded very strikingly with the signature of the letter.
‘So much for the doctor’s pretence that his uncle’s visit was unexpected,’ said Yateley. ‘Now we come to another point which also proves the doctor to be a liar. He returned to his house at ten minutes past one or thereabouts. In his statement to me he said that as he turned in at his drive gate, he saw a certain Alfie Prince crossing the road some yards in front of him. The doctor’s house is about three-quarters of a mile from the centre of the town in an easterly direction.
‘Now this Alfie Prince is one of the thorns in our flesh. He can always earn a decent wage by getting work on one of the farms round about. Normally he does so and is perfectly well-behaved, though he won’t stay more than a few weeks in the same place. But every now and then he gets fits of being an intolerable nuisance. He goes round to people’s houses asking for threepence to buy half a pint, or for a handful of cigarettes, or anything that comes into his head. If he gets it, he says “Thank you” very politely. If he doesn’t he uses bad language and refuses to go away.
‘He seems to be in that mood just now, for Sergeant Cload had a complaint about him this morning. In fact it was because of this complaint that Linton was sent up to the doctor’s house. Cload, who knows Alfie better than I do, had come to the conclusion that he’s not all there. He sent Linton to see the doctor about it and ask him to have a talk with Alfie.
‘Now, what I want you to understand is this. This morning’s complaint came from Colonel Exbury, who lives three miles out of the town in a westerly direction. He rang up directly after he had got rid of Alfie, and the call was received here at a quarter to one. If, then, Alfie was seen in the vicinity of the doctor’s house at ten minutes past one, he must have covered three and three-quarter miles in twenty-five minutes. I may as well explain that there is no bus route between the two points and that Alfie has never been known to ride a bicycle.’
‘Mightn’t he have got a lift on a car or lorry, sir?’ Jimmy suggested.
‘He might, but it isn’t in the least likely. No, I’m pretty sure that we shall find that the doctor made a false statement about seeing Alfie for some purpose of his own. Alfie can be questioned, of course, but it’s very difficult to get any sense out of him, when he’s in these wandering moods.
‘Meanwhile I’ve had another report upon the wound. It struck me that it might be a trifle awkward if the only medical evidence at the inquest were given by the criminal himself. So I suggested that Dr Thornborough’s partner should be called in. He came to see me this afternoon and described the cause of the fracture in exactly the same terms as Dr Thornborough had done. Mr Fransham was struck a violent blow by something cubical in shape. That something may have been either the head of a weapon or a missile—it is impossible to say which on the evidence of the wound alone.
‘But we know that it can’t have been a missile. I’m going to remind you once more of the circumstances. Linton was in the house at the time and he is ready to swear to these facts. First, that the door of the cloakroom was not opened from the time when Mr Fransham locked it behind him until Linton himself broke it open. Second, that he and the doctor entered the cloakroom together. Third, that the doctor had no opportunity of picking up the missile unobserved. Fourth, that the room contained nothing capable of having caused the wound at the time of his search.
‘The remote possibility occured to me that a missile, having struck Mr Fransham’s head, might have bounced out again through the window. I therefore searched the carriage-way outside but without result.
‘The possibility of a missile having been employed is thus ruled out, and we are driven back to the theory of a weapon. The doctor must have crept up to the window while Mr Fransham was washing his hands, put his arm through the opening and dealt him a heavy blow with an iron instrument of some kind. That instrument can’t be very far away, and, once it is found, the evidence will be complete.
‘I’ve seen to the usual formalities, of course. I have been in touch with the coroner and he has ordered an inquest at half-past eleven on Monday. And I’ve arranged for the body to be taken to the mortuary this evening. Now, is there anything else you want to know?’
‘How long has Dr Thornborough been in practice in Adderminster?’
‘Seven years. Dr Dorrington took him into partnership then. They’ve got a surgery between them in the town here, and for five years Dr and Mrs Thornborough lived in the house next door. Then a couple of years ago, he built that new house of his in Gunthorpe Road. Why he gave it a ridiculous name like Epidaurus I can’t tell you. Anything else?’
‘Not at present, thank you, sir,’ Jimmy replied. ‘Have you any objection to my visiting the scene of the crime?’
‘Not the slightest. You can’t miss the house. Turn to the right at the bottom of High Street and keep straight on till you come to it. You can’t make any mistake, for you’ll find the name painted on the gate. You’ll find Sergeant Cload on duty up there. He’ll be able to tell you anything else you want to know.’
Jimmy left the police station and walked down the busy little High Street, noticing, as he did so, the brass plate on the surgery door bearing the names of Drs Dorrington and Thornborough. Following the superintendent’s instructions, he turned to the right and found himself in Middle Street, a narrow thoroughfare bordered with shops on both sides. After half a mile or so the pavements came to an end, at which point Middle Street became Gunthorpe Road.
A couple of hundred yards farther on, Jimmy came to an imposing gateway on his right. A notice board affixed to this informed him that it was the entrance to the Gunthorpe public gardens and the Adderminster and District Museum. On the opposite side of the road was a single building, a small house or cottage, apparently of considerable age, and surrounded by a succession of orchards and meadow-lands. Another couple of hundred yards beyond the gateway and on the same side of the road was the first drive gate of Epidaurus.
Jimmy did not turn in here, but walked on until he reached the second drive gate, from which he could see straight down the carriage-way to the garage at its farther end. Jimmy, wishing to acquaint himself fully with the local topography, did not stop here. As he proceeded he found a high but ragged hedge on his right, above which towered an enormous board bearing the words, ‘Building plots for sale.’ Finally, about a quarter of a mile beyond Epidaurus, Gunthorpe Road ended abruptly at a five-barred gate, beyond which a track led to a farmhouse in the distance.
As he turned back Jimmy wondered what sort of a man this Dr Thornborough would turn out to be. One thing was already certain, that he possessed a sense of humour. Epidaurus, the shrine of Aesculapius! What more suitable name could have been chosen for a doctor’s house? Jimmy wondered how many people in Adderminster appreciated the allusion. Certainly the superintendent didn’t. But then the superintendent’s mind was concerned more with material facts than with classical allusions.
This time Jimmy turned in at the gate and walked down the carriage-way. When he reached the cloakroom window he became aware of a rubicund face surveying him through the opening.
‘Good-afternoon, Sergeant Cload,’ he said quietly. ‘My name’s Waghorn, and I’ve been sent down from the Yard to see if I can give you a hand. I’m just going to have a look round, then I’ll come in and have a chat with you. You can let me in without disturbing the household, I dare say?’
‘Yes, sir, I can manage that,’ Cload replied. ‘You come to the window when you’re ready and I’ll open the garden door and let you in that way.’
Jimmy nodded, and went on towards the garage. The two cars were still standing at the end of the carriage-way—Dr Thornborough’s twelve horse-power Masspro outside the garage, and Mr Frasham’s big twenty-five horse-power Siddeley limousine inside. Of the doctor or Coates there was no sign.
