Part 4 (1/2)
”Have you searched the quarries'?”
”Not yet. 'Tis no good turning fifty men into this jakes of a hole till we know whether it will be needful; but all points to somewhere else. A terrible strange job--so strange, in fact, that we shall probably find a criminal lunatic at the bottom of it. Everything looks pretty clear, but it don't look sane.”
”You haven't found the body?”
”No; but you can often prove murder mighty well without it--as now.
Come out to the bungalow and I'll tell you what there is to tell.
There's been a murder all right, but we're more likely to find the murderer than his victim.”
They went out together and soon stood in the building.
”Now let's have the story from where you come in,” said Brendon, and Inspector Halfyard told his tale.
”Somewhere about a quarter after midnight I was knocked up. Down I came and Constable Ford, on duty at the time, told me that Mrs.
Pendean was wishful to see me. I knew her and her husband very well, for they'd been the life and soul of the Moss Supply Depot, run at Princetown during the war.
”Her husband and her uncle, Captain Redmayne, had gone to the bungalow, as they often did after working hours, to carry on a bit; but at midnight they hadn't come home, and she was put about for 'em. Hearing of the motor bike, I thought there might have been a breakdown, if not an accident, so I told Ford to knock up another chap and go down along the road. Which they did do--and Ford came back at half after three with ugly news that they'd seen n.o.body, but they'd found a great pool of blood inside the bungalow--as if somebody had been sticking a pig there. 'Twas daylight by then and I motored out instanter. The mess is in the room that will be the kitchen, and there's blood on the lintel of the back door which opens into the kitchen.
”I looked round very carefully for anything in the nature of a clue, but I couldn't see so much as a b.u.t.ton. What makes any work here wasted, so far as I can see, is the evidence of the people at the cottages in the by-road to Foggintor, where we came in. A few quarrymenn and their families live there, and also Tom Ringrose, the water bailiff down on Walkham River. The quarrymen don't work here because this place hasn't been open for more than a hundred years; but they go to Duke's quarry down at Merivale, and most of 'em have push bikes to take 'em to and from their job.
”At these cottages, on my way back to breakfast, I got some information of a very definite kind. Two men told the same tale and they hadn't met before they told it. One was Jim Ba.s.sett, under foreman at Duke's quarry, and one was Ringrose, the water bailiff who lives in the end cottage. Ba.s.sett has been at the bungalow once or twice, as granite for it comes from the quarry at Merivale. He knew Mr. Pendean and Captain Redmayne by sight and, last night, somewhere about ten o'clock by summer time, while it was still light, he saw the captain leave and pa.s.s the cottages. Ba.s.sett was smoking at his door at the time and Robert Redmayne came alone, pus.h.i.+ng his motor bicycle till he reached the road. And behind the saddle he had a big sack fastened to the machine.
”Ba.s.sett wished him 'good night' and he returned the compliment; and half a mile down the by-road, Ringrose also pa.s.sed him. He was now on his machine and riding slowly till he reached the main road.
He reached it and then Ringrose heard him open out and get up speed.
He proceeded up the hill and the water bailiff supposed that he was going back to Princetown.”
Inspector Halfyard stopped.
”And that is all you know?” asked Brendon.
”As to Captain Redmayne's movements--yes,” answered the elder.
”There will probably be information awaiting us when we return to Princetown, as inquiries are afoot along both roads--to Moreton and Exeter on the one side and by Dartmeet to Ashburton and the coast towns on the other. He must have gone off to the moor by one of those ways, I judge; and if he didn't, then he turned in his tracks and got either to Plymouth, or away to the north. We can't fail to pick up his line pretty quickly. He's a noticeable man.”
”Did Ringrose also report the sack behind the motor bicycle?”
”He did.”
”Before you mentioned it?”
”Yes, he volunteered that item, just as Ba.s.sett had done.”
”Let me see what's to be seen here, then,” said Brendon, and they entered the kitchen of the bungalow together.
CHAPTER III
THE MYSTERY
Brendon followed Halfyard into the apartment destined to be the kitchen of Michael Pendean's bungalow, and the inspector lifted some tarpaulins that had been thrown upon a corner of the room. In the midst stood a carpenter's bench, and the floor, the boards of which had already been laid, was littered with shavings and tools. Under the tarpaulin a great red stain soaked to the walls, where much blood had flowed. It was still wet in places and upon it lay shavings partially ensanguined. At the edge of the central stain were smears and, among them, half the impress of a big, nail-studded boot.