“In the circumstances. Superintendent, it seems to me advisable to adjourn the inquest until you have completed your investigations. Shall we say, till to-day fortnight? Then, if you should see your way to making any charge against anybody in connection with this crime, or accident, or whatever it is, we may if you like adjourn the inquiry sine die.”
“I think that would be the best way, Mr. Compline.”
“Very well. Gentlemen, we will adjourn until today fortnight.”
The jury, a little puzzled and disappointed at not being asked for any opinion, filed slowly out from behind the long trestle table at which they had been seated — a table dedicated under happier circumstances, chiefly to parish teas.
“A beautiful case,” said Lord Peter, enthusiastically, to Mr. Venables. “Quite charming. I am uncommonly grateful to you for drawing my attention to it. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. I like your doctor.”
“We consider him a very able man.”
“You must introduce me to him; I feel that we should get on well together. The coroner doesn’t like him. Some trifling personal antagonism, no doubt. Why, here is my old friend Hezekiah! How do you do, Mr. Lavender? How’s Tailor Paul?”
There was general greeting. The Rector caught the arm of a tall, thin man hurrying past their little group.
“Just a moment. Will. I want to introduce you to Lord Peter Wimsey. Lord Peter, this is Will Thoday, whose bell you rang on your last visit.”
Hands were shaken. “Very sorry I was to miss that peal,” said Thoday. “But I was pretty bad, wasn’t I, Rector?”
“You were indeed. You don’t look to have quite got over it yet.”
“I’m all right, sir, except for being troubled by a bit of a cough. But that’ll pass away with the spring weather coming.”
“Well, you must take care of yourself. How’s Mary?”
“Fine, sir, thank you. She was for coming to this here inquest, but I said as it wasn’t no place for a woman. I’m thankful I got her to stop at home.”
Yes; the doctor’s evidence was very disagreeable. Children all right? That’s splendid. Tell your wife Mrs. Venables will be coming round to see her in a day or two. Yes, she’s very well, thank you — distressed, naturally, by all this sad business. Ah! There’s Dr. Baines. Doctor! Lord Peter Wimsey wants very much to make your acquaintance. You’d better come and have a cup of tea at the Rectory. Good day. Will, good day!… I don’t like the looks of that fellow,” added the Rector, as they turned towards the Rectory. “What do you think of him, Doctor?”
“He’s looking a bit white and strained to-day. Last week I thought he was a lot better, but he had a bad bout of it and he’s rather a nervous subject. You don’t expect farm-labourers to have nerves, do you. Lord Peter? But they’re human, like the rest of us.”
“And Thoday is a very superior man,” said the Rector, as though superiority conveyed a licence to keep a nervous system. “He used to farm his own land till these bad times set in. Now he works for Sir Henry — that is to say, he did. I’m sure I don’t know what will happen now, with only that poor child left at the Red House. I suppose the trustee will let the place, or put in a steward to run it for her. It doesn’t bring in very much these days, I fear.”
At this point a car overtook them and stopped a little way ahead. It proved to contain Superintendent Blundell and his assistants, and the Rector, apologising fussily for his remissness, made him and Wimsey acquainted with one another.
“Pleased to meet you, my lord. I’ve heard of you through my old friend Inspector Sugg. He’s retired now — did you know? — and got a nice little place the other side of Leamholt. He often talks about you. Says you used to pull his leg something cruel. This is a bad job, this is. Between you and me, my lord, what was it you were going to say when the coroner interrupted you — about this chap Driver’s not being a motor-mechanic?”
“I was going to say that he gave me the impression of having done most of his manual labour lately at Princetown or somewhere like that.”
“Ah!” said the Superintendent, thoughtfully. “Struck you that way, did he? How was that?”
“Eyes, voice, attitude — all characteristic, what?”
“Ah!” said the Superintendent again. “Ever heard of the Wilbraham emeralds, my lord?”
“Yes.”
“You know that Nobby Cranton’s out again? And it seems he ain’t reported himself lately, neither. Last heard of six months ago in London. They’ve been looking for him. Maybe we’ve found him. In any case, I wouldn’t be surprised if we was to hear of those emeralds again before very long.”
“Loud cheers!” said Wimsey. “I’m all for a treasure-hunt. This is confidential, of course?”
“If you please, my lord. You see, if somebody thought it worth while to kill Cranton and smash him up and bury him, and cut off his hands, where he keeps his fingerprints, there’s somebody in this village that knows something. And the less they think we guess, the more free they’ll act and speak. And that’s why, my lord, I was rather glad when the reverend gentleman suggested you coming down here. They’ll talk freer to you than to me — see?”
“Perfectly. I’m a terrific success at pottering round asking sloppy questions. And I can put away quite a lot of beer in a good cause.”
The Superintendent grinned, begged Wimsey to come and see him at any time, clambered into his car and drove off.
* * *
The great difficulty about any detective inquiry is knowing where to start. After some thought, Lord Peter made out the following list of queries:
Identity of the Corpse.
Was it Cranton? — Wait for report on teeth and police report.
Consider the question of the ten-centime piece and the French underclothing. Has Cranton been in France?
When? If not Cranton, is anyone known in the village also known to have been in France at any period since the War?
The destruction of the hands and features after death suggests that the murderer had an interest in making recognition impossible. If the body is Cranton, who knew Cranton (a) by sight? (b) personally?
(Note: Deacon knew him; but Deacon is dead. Did Mary Thoday know him?) Many people must have seen him at the trial.
The Wilbraham Emeralds.
Resulting from the above: Was Mary Thoday (formerly Mary Deacon, née Russell) really after all concerned in the theft?
Who really had the emeralds — Deacon or Cranton?
Where are the emeralds now? Did Cranton (if it was Cranton) come to Fenchurch St. Paul to look for them?
If the answer to 3 is “Yes,” why did Cranton wait till now to make his search? Because some fresh information had lately reached him? Or merely because he was continuously in prison till just lately? (Ask the Superintendent.)
What is the meaning of “Driver’s” interest in Batty Thomas and Tailor Paul? Is anything to be gained from a study of the bells and/or their mottoes?
The Crime.
What did deceased die of? (Wait for experts’ report.)
Who buried (and presumably also killed) him?
Can any clue to the time of the burial be gained by looking up the weather reports? (Snow? rain? footprints?)