‘Do you know, I rather take my hat off to Weldon about this. Ever seen a horse that has suddenly had fresh blood splashed all over it? Not pretty. Definitely not. Cavalry horses have to get used to it, of course but the bay mare could never have smelt blood before. When I realise that Weldon had to mount that squealing, plunging, terrified brute bareback from the top of a rock, and ride her away without letting her once plunge on to the sand, I tell you, I take off my hat.’
‘You mean, you would have had to, if it had happened that thick way.’
‘Exactly. A man who could seriously contemplate bringing that scheme off knew something about horses. He may even have known too much. I mean… there are ways and ways of subduing violent animals, and some ways are crueller than others….’
‘We’ll suppose he did it. ‘That he somehow got the mare untied from the rock and forced her straight out to sea. That would be the best way. That would tire her out, and at the same time wash the blood away. Then, having got control of her, he rides back as he came. But she has loosened a shoe in her frantic plunging and kicking, and on the way back she wrenches it off, altogether. Probably he doesn’t notice that. He rides on past his camp to wherever he left his clothes, looses the mare, gets dressed and hurries out to flag the Bentley on the return journey. I don’t suppose he gets there much before, say 12.55. He’s picked up and set down at the Feathers at one o’clock. Here we leave romance and come back to the facts. Then, after lunch, he goes down to his own place, burns the rope-bridle, which is bloody, and kicks out our friend Perkins, who seems disposed to take too much interest in the rope.’
‘He hadn’t the rope with him at the Feathers, had he?’
‘No; I expect he threw it down inn some handy, spot on his way back from the Flat-Iron — somewhere near the stream, I should imagine. Well, all he has to do after that is to get Polwhistle to come along and deal with the Morgan. He made another mistake there, of course. When he was putting those leads in his pocket he should have put them in his pocket and seen that they stayed put.
‘But you see that he, too, was intended to have three lines of defence.; First, of course, thee death was to look like suicide; secondly, the camper at Darley Halt was to be Mr Martin of Cambridge, having no connection with anybody; and thirdly, if Mr Martin was proved to be Henry Weldon, there was the alibi in Wilvercombe, with all the details about Bach and shirt-collars, and an absolutely independent witness in a Bentley car to swear to the story.’
‘Yes, but said Umpelty.
‘I know, I know — bear with me. I know the plan went all wrong, but I want you to realise what it was meant to be. Suppose all this had worked properly — what would have happened? The body would have been left on the rock at about noon, with the razor lying below it. By 12–30, the
murderer was well away, nearly at Darley. By one o’clock, he was at the. Feathers, eating and drinking, with a witness to swear that he had spent the whole morning in Wilvercombe. If the body was found before the tide turned, there would be no footprints, other than those of the corpse, and suicide would probably be presumed without a second thought — especially when the razor turned up. If the body was not found tilclass="underline" later, the footprints would be less important, but the medical evidence would probably establish the time of death, and then the alibi would come in.
‘It sounds a very risky plan, but it sounds riskier than it was. Its boldness was its strength. From the Flat-Iron and for a mile or more before you come to it the coast-road is visible from the shore. He could keep an eye on it and bide his time. If it looked dangerous, he could put it off to a more convenient season. Actually, the only real risk he ran was of being seen at the very moment of the murder and chased by car along the, coast. Otherwise, even if it turned out later that a horseman had been, seen on the shore about noon, who could prove who the horseman was? It could certainly not be Mr Haviland Martin, who had no connection with anybody and had spent the morning musically in Wilvercombe. And in any case, how many people did pass along that road? What were the odds that the body would be discovered under a few hours? Or that the death would be supposed to be anything except suicide?’
‘What are the odds now that it wasn’t suicide?’ said Inspector. Umpelty. ‘By your own showing it can’t have been anything else. But I see what you mean, my lord. You mean that all this plan was made out, and then, when Weldon got along to the Flat-Iron, something made him, change his mind.’ How’s this? When Alexis sees his Rider from the Sea, he recognises Weldon and asks him to explain, Weldon tells him how they’ve made a fool of him and somehow gets him to promise to chuck Mrs Weldon. Maybe he threatens him with the razor, Then Weldon goes away and Alexis is so disappointed that, after thinking it over a bit, he cuts his throat’
‘Weldon having thoughtfully armed him with the razor for that purpose?’
‘Well, yes — I suppose so.’
‘And what did the bay mare see?’ asked Harriet.
‘Ghosts,’ replied Inspector Umpelty, with a snort of in credulity. ‘Anyhow, you can’t put horses in the witness-box.’
‘Weldon made a mistake afterwards in coming to Wilvercombe,’ went on Wimsey. ‘With that identification mark on his arm, he should have kept away, mother or no mother. But he had to poke his nose in and see what was happening. and Morecambe — well, his possible appearance as a witness was foreseen, of course. I wonder, though, if he was really wise to answer that advertisement of ours. I suppose it was the best thing he could do but he ought to have smelt the trap, I think. But my private impression is that he wanted to keep an eye on Weldon, who was blundering about all over the place.’
‘Excuse me, my lord,’ said Inspector Umpelty, ‘but we’ve wasted a good hour now speculating about what these people might have done or meant to do. That’s very interesting to you, no doubt, but meanwhile we’re no nearer to knowing what they did do, and here’s three people in prison for doing something they can’t have done. If Alexis cut his own throat, we’ve either got to release these people with apologies, or get up a case against them for conspiring to procure by menaces or something. If some accomplice of theirs killed him, we’ve got to find that accomplice. In either case, I mustn’t waste any more time about it. ‘I only wish I’d never touched the bleeding case.’
But you’re so hasty, Inspector,’ bleated Wimsey. ‘I only said the plan went wrong; I never said they didn’t carry it out.’
Inspector Umpelty looked sadly at Wimsey, and his lips silently formed the word ‘loopy’. But aloud he merely observed:
‘Well, my lord, whatever they did, they didn’t murder Alexis at, two o’clock, because they weren’t there to do it; and they didn’t murder him at twelve o’clock, because he didn’t die till two. Those are facts, aren’t they?’
‘No?’
‘No.’
‘You mean, one or other of them was there at two o’clock?’ ‘No’
‘You mean, they did murder Alexis at twelve o’clock?’ ‘Yes’
‘By cutting his throat?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right through?’