Ask a Policeman Page 4

  “I might point out, sir, that he devoted fully as much space to denouncing the Faith of which the Archbishop of the Midlands is a distinguished champion,” replied the Commissioner meaningly.

  “Yes, but the Chief Whip! I can’t think what Hope-Fairweather was about. The Prime Minister will ask him some very pertinent questions, I expect, when he hears of this.” Sir Philip turned sharply upon Mills. “How long had Comstock known Sir Charles Hope-Fairweather?” he asked.

  “I—I was not aware that they were acquainted, sir,” replied Mills, with a return to his original awkward manner.

  “You were not aware that they were acquainted?” repeated Sir Philip impressively. “Then you have no knowledge of any previous interview having taken place, or of correspondence having passed between them?”

  “I have no knowledge of anything of the kind, sir. But Lord Comstock may have met Sir Charles Hope-Fairweather socially.”

  “I should be very much surprised to hear that the two had ever met in public,” remarked Sir Philip. “However, Hope-Fairweather himself can enlighten us on that point.”

  He picked up the telephone on his desk, and spoke to his private secretary. “That you, Anderson? Ring up the Whips’ Office, and get hold of Hope-Fairweather, will you? Give him my compliments and ask him if he can make it convenient to come and see me in half an hour from now. Thanks.”

  Sir Philip pushed the instrument aside, and turned once more to Mills. “Comstock being still engaged upon theological discussion with the Archbishop, how did you dispose of this second visitor?” he asked.

  “Farrant had told me that Sir Charles Hope-Fairweather was in the hall, sir. I went there, and found him waiting impatiently. He had not taken off a light coat that he was wearing, and he had a pair of driving gloves on his hands. He told me that he had driven from London in a great hurry, and that he positively must see Lord Comstock on the most urgent business.

  “I explained to him that Lord Comstock was extremely busy, and had given most definite instructions that he could see nobody. But Sir Charles refused to accept my statement. He insisted, very excitedly, that I should inform Lord Comstock of his visit. When I hesitated, he threatened to walk in and announce himself.”

  “He knew his way about the house, then?” asked Sir Philip sharply.

  “I think not, sir. But from the hall there was no doubt which room Lord Comstock occupied, since his voice was clearly audible. In order to save any unpleasantness, sir, I promised to inform Lord Comstock as soon as he was disengaged. Meanwhile, I asked Sir Charles to come into the waiting-room, which is a small room opening into my office.”

  Sir Philip glanced at the plan. “You mean the room with one door opening into the office and another into the hall?”

  “Yes, sir. I then went into my office, shutting the door between the two rooms. I could still hear Lord Comstock’s voice faintly through the wall, so that I knew that His Grace could not have left. After a few minutes it occurred to me that I had better tell Farrant to admit nobody else to the house. I was afraid that Lord Comstock might resort to violence if his orders were further disobeyed. I therefore went into the hall for this purpose. There, to my astonishment, I found Sir Charles Hope-Fairweather.”

  “Unable to resist the temptation to listen to the highly-edifying conversation between Comstock and the Archbishop, perhaps?” suggested Sir Philip.

  “I don’t know, I’m sure, sir. Before I could say anything, Sir Charles told me that he had just come out of the waiting-room because he wanted to take a message to his car that he might be kept longer than he had expected. I said that I would see that the message was conveyed, and waited till I saw Sir Charles re-enter the waiting-room.

  “I then went to the front door, and looked out into the drive, expecting to see Sir Charles’ chauffeur with the car. But there was no car in sight. I did not like to be absent from my office too long, in case Lord Comstock should summon me. I therefore came back into the hall, intending to call Farrant, and give him the message to the chauffeur and instruct him as to refusing admission to any further visitors. But at that very moment a car drove up; I imagined that it must be Sir Charles’ car. But the driver got out and confronted me, and I saw at once that he was not a chauffeur.”

  “What, a third visitor!” exclaimed Sir Philip incredulously. “I begin to have some sympathy with Comstock. It is outrageous that a man’s privacy should be invaded like this. And who was it, this time?”

  Mills’ eyes wandered furtively from the Home Secretary to the Commissioner. “It was the Assistant Commissioner of Police, Mr. Littleton, sir,” he replied.

  Sir Philip’s busy pencil stopped abruptly. The atmosphere of the room suddenly became tense as though a threat of thunder had overshadowed the bright afternoon. For several moments there was silence, and then the Home Secretary spoke in a curiously quieter tone. “You knew this, Hampton,” he said, as though stating a very ordinary fact.

  “Far from knowing it for certain, sir, I had only heard a suggestion that Littleton might have gone to Hursley Lodge,” replied the Commissioner, firmly enough, with a glance in the direction of Chief Constable Shawford.

  Sir Philip seemed to divine the direction of that glance, though he did not appear to intercept it. “Perhaps Littleton confided his intention to one of his subordinates,” he said icily.

  There was a pause before Shawford summoned up the courage to speak. He was conscious that the Commissioner’s eye was upon him, and, between that and the awe which he felt in the august presence of the Home Secretary, his manner was deplorably nervous.

  “The Assistant Commissioner was speaking to me first thing this morning, sir,” he said. “He was talking about the Little Cadbury case. I mean, sir, about the crime expert of the Daily Bugle. He was very heated about it, sir, and said it was intolerable.”

  Sir Philip looked up blandly. “Intolerable? Of course it is intolerable that a poor girl should be murdered in a lonely wood, and that her assailant should escape from justice.”

  “It is, indeed, sir,” agreed Shawford, positively squirming in his chair. “But that isn’t exactly what the Assistant Commissioner meant at the moment, sir. His meaning, so far as I could follow it, was that it was intolerable that the Yard should be dictated to by irresponsible journalists.”

  “He had evidently taken Comstock’s criticisms to heart. Well?”

  The sharp monosyllable increased Shawford’s distress. “I can’t say for certain what happened, sir. But the Assistant Commissioner went on to say that it would have to be stopped. He said that if the Government hadn’t got the pluck to stand up to Lord Comstock, he had a very good mind to go and have a few words with him himself. And as I left the room he rang for his car to be sent round, sir. He didn’t tell me where he was going.”

  “He may have thought that he had said enough for you to infer that for yourself,” remarked Sir Philip sardonically. “Why those in charge of Departments should habitually attempt to mystify me upon matters within their jurisdiction has always been an insoluble puzzle to me.”

  “I had no intention—” began the Commissioner sharply, but Sir Philip silenced him with a gesture. “Later, Hampton, later,” he said. “Mr. Mills has not yet completed his story. You hardly expected a visit from the Assistant Commissioner, I suppose, Mr. Mills?”

  “For a moment, sir, I was quite at a loss. I endeavoured to explain to Mr. Littleton that Lord Comstock already had two visitors, and could not possibly receive any more. But he refused to listen to me, sir. He deliberately pushed past me into the hall, saying that police officers were not on the same footing as ordinary callers. I did not like to ask him if he was in possession of a warrant, sir.”

  Sir Philip smiled slightly. “It’s a pity you didn’t,” he said. “The situation that would have ensued would probably have added interest to so strenuous a morning. So, in spite of all your precautions, a third element of unrest was introduced into the peaceful household! It must have taxed your ingenuity to
dispose of Littleton!”

  “I had the greatest possible difficulty in dissuading Mr. Littleton from going straight into the study, sir. He overheard Lord Comstock’s voice, as Sir Charles must have done previously. He asked me who he had got with him, and I replied that it was a visitor who had an appointment. On that Mr. Littleton said that he would wait till the fellow came out, and then go in.”

  “Littleton is a most determined person,” said Sir Philip gravely. “Did he carry out his threat?”

  “I couldn’t say, sir, for I had not the opportunity of speaking to Mr. Littleton again.”

  Something in Mills’ voice caused the Home Secretary to glance at him sharply. “Go on,” he said, in an encouraging tone.

  “I saw that it was no use attempting to argue with Mr. Littleton in his present frame of mind, sir. I therefore suggested to him that if he insisted upon waiting, it would be more comfortable for him to do so in the drawing-room. He allowed me to show him in there, sir.”

  “Why the drawing-room rather than the waiting-room?” Sir Philip asked.

  “Well, sir, Sir Charles Hope-Fairweather was in there,” replied Mills hesitatingly. “And Sir Charles had given me the impression that he did not wish his visit to be generally known.”

  “That I can easily understand,” remarked Sir Philip grimly. “I admire your handling of the situation, Mr. Mills. Comstock’s comments upon it should have been, worth hearing. His habitual method of expression lent itself admirably to lurid description. As I understand it, the position was now this. The Archbishop was closeted with Comstock in the study, presumably endeavouring to snatch him as a brand from the burning. Hope-Fairweather had at last settled down in the waiting-room, and Littleton had consented to be interned in the drawing-room. You, as stage-manager, returned to your office to await events, I suppose?”

  “I did, sir. It was striking the hour by the dock on my desk as I entered. I remained there for a few minutes. I was very apprehensive as to what Lord Comstock would say when he heard that two fresh visitors had been admitted, and I was wondering how best to put the matter before him. And then I remembered that I had not yet taken Sir Charles’ message to his chauffeur, nor had I seen Farrant. I was about to leave my office for the purpose when I distinctly heard a dull crash from the direction of the study.”

  “A crash, eh?” said Sir Philip, glancing almost involuntarily at the pistol on his desk. “This sounds as though it might interest you, Hampton.”

  “Could this crash you mention be described as a report, Mr. Mills?” asked the Commissioner quickly.

  “It might have been. It was certainly a sharp sound. But, as I have explained, the wall between the study and the office is very thick, and sounds heard through it are very deceptive. Although Lord Comstock was in the habit of speaking very loudly at times, it was only rarely that I was able to catch his actual words.”

  “Did you attach any significance to this crash at the time?”

  “I did not. Lord Comstock, when he was roused, had a habit of picking up, say, a chair and banging it down on the floor, in order to emphasise his remarks. If I thought about the sound at all, I attributed it to some incident of this nature. I left the office, and went into the hall. As I did so, the door of the study into the hall opened violently, and His Grace appeared. He slammed the door behind him, and seemed for some moments unaware of my presence. He strode towards the front door, and I heard him distinctly say, twice, ‘The wages of sin.’”

  “I overtook His Grace before he reached the front door, and asked him if he had a car waiting, or whether I should telephone for a taxi. But he seemed hardly to hear me. He shook his head, then walked rapidly down the drive towards the gate. I watched him until he passed out of sight, and then went back into the hall.”

  “The Archbishop’s interview seems hardly to have been satisfactory,” Sir Philip remarked. “But it is curious that he should have refused the offer of a taxi. He can hardly have proposed to walk all the way back to his Province. Ah, but wait a minute, though. Convocation is sitting at Lambeth Palace, isn’t it! I forgot that for the moment. That explains Dr. Pettifer’s presence in the neighbourhood of London. How far is Hursley Lodge from the nearest station, Mr. Mills?”

  “About a mile, sir, and it is almost twenty minutes from there to London by train.”

  Sir Philip nodded. “No doubt the Archbishop is at Lambeth Palace by now. But, after his departure, you had the other two visitors to deal with. How did you proceed, Mr. Mills?”

  “I had come to the conclusion that it would be best to introduce them without previously mentioning their presence to Lord Comstock, sir. They would then at least have a chance of explaining their insistence. As I passed through the hall after seeing His Grace off, I opened the drawing-room door. My intention was to tell Mr. Littleton that Lord Comstock was now disengaged, and that I would take the risk of showing him into the study. But then I remembered that Sir Charles Hope-Fairweather had the first claim, and that possibly Lord Comstock would be less displeased to see him than Mr. Littleton.”

  “What made you think that, Mr. Mills?” asked Sir Philip quietly.

  If he had expected to catch Mills out, he was disappointed. “It occurred to me, sir, that if Sir Charles was a personal friend, Lord Comstock’s refusal to see visitors might not apply to him.”

  “Very well, you determined to give Hope-Fairweather the preference. You fetched him from the waiting-room and ushered him into the lion’s den?”

  “Not exactly, sir. I had opened the door of the drawing-room, but on thinking of Sir Charles I shut it again, thankful that I was able to do so before Mr. Littleton had time to interrogate me. I had not seen him when I glanced into the room.”

  “One moment, Mr. Mills. I should like you to explain that point a little more fully. As I understand you, you opened the door, glanced in, and shut it hastily. Was the whole of the room visible to you from where you stood?”

  “Not the whole of it, sir. The half-open door hid the wall between the drawing-room and the study from me. If Mr. Littleton had been standing close to that wall, I might not have seen him.”

  The Commissioner glanced at Sir Philip, who nodded, almost imperceptibly. Then he addressed Mills sharply. “At the moment when you opened the door, you would have been surprised to find the room empty. Any suggestion that that was the case would have impressed itself upon you. Yet you shut the door again without making further investigations?”

  “I did. As I have explained, I was anxious to see Sir Charles before Mr. Littleton. I was still in the hall, when I heard a second crash, not dissimilar from the first. For a moment I thought it came from the study, and the thought flashed through my mind that Mr. Littleton, overhearing the departure of His Grace, might have carried out his threat, and entered the study unannounced through the door between that room and the drawing-room.”

  The Commissioner interrupted him, this time without ceremony. “But that door is concealed by a bookcase, is it not?” he asked.

  “On the study side, yes. The drawing-room is panelled, and the door is so arranged as to form one of the panels. It has no handle, but a concealed fastening, operated by sliding part of the framework of the panel.”

  “In fact, a stranger would not perceive that it was a door at all?”

  “Not at first sight, perhaps. But very little investigation would show him that the panel could be opened.”

  Sir Philip began to show signs of impatience. “That, surely, is a matter which can be decided on the spot,” he said. “Please continue your narrative, Mr. Mills. Did you proceed to investigate the cause of this second crash?”

  “I ran into my office, sir, and there, to my astonishment, found Sir Charles Hope-Fairweather. He was bending down and picking up a litter of papers which lay on the floor. The door leading into the waiting-room was open. Sir Charles, who appeared to be very much embarrassed, explained to me that he had entered the office to tell me that he could wait no longer. As he did so, he had steppe
d on a mat which had slipped beneath him on the polished floor. To save himself from falling he had clutched at a table which stood just inside the door, and on which was a wooden tray containing papers. This, however, had failed to save him, and he had fallen, dragging the table and tray down with him.”

  “Would this have accounted for the crash you heard?” inquired the Commissioner.

  “It might have done so. In fact, it seemed to me at the time a likely explanation of the crash.”

  “You said just now that Sir Charles was wearing gloves when he entered the house. Was he still doing so?”

  “Yes, he was. I noticed that as I dusted him down after his fall. A minute or two later, I escorted him through the hall to the front door, and immediately hurried back to the drawing-room.”

  “Littleton’s turn had come, certainly,” remarked Sir Philip.

  “That is what I thought, sir. My idea was to make one more effort to induce him to go away without seeing Lord Comstock, and if I failed, to introduce him. I walked into the drawing-room, to find it empty.”

  “Upon my word, your visitors seem to have wandered about the house as if it was their own!” exclaimed Sir Philip. “There was no doubt this time that the room was really empty, I suppose? Littleton wasn’t hiding under the sofa? You can never tell what a policeman may do, you know.”

  “The room was certainly empty, sir, and the concealed door into the study was shut. I could only conclude that Mr. Littleton had passed through it into the study. He had certainly not left the house, for his car was still in the drive when I saw Sir Charles off at the front door.”

  “Where was Littleton’s car standing?” asked Sir Philip, glancing at the plan.