THE CRYSTAL BEADS MURDER (Murder Mystery for Inspector Stoddart). Annie Haynes
he fell the arm hit the ground heavily and stopped the watch."
"It might ha' been a bit fast or a bit slow, though," the superintendent remarked wisely.
Stoddart's smile would have been a laugh but for the quiet presence lying there before him.
Harbord at the side was going through the pockets of the dead man's overcoat with quick, capable fingers. Suddenly he uttered a sharp exclamation. As Stoddart and the superintendent looked at him he held up something that gleamed for a moment in a ray of light that filtered through the shadows of the barn.
Stoddart beckoned him to the door, and while the superintendent replaced the sheet over the dead man the inspector glanced curiously at the object his assistant had in his hand. He saw three crystal beads linked together by a thin, gold chain.
Harbord looked at him.
"It must have dropped there when the pocket was searched."
The superintendent came up and elbowed them apart.
"No, beg pardon, it was not," he contradicted. "That wasn't in the pocket when I searched it this morning. It must ha' been put there since."
Harbord looked at him.
"It was the right-hand pocket beside which you found the book and the notes, wasn't it?"
The superintendent nodded. "Ay, it was the right-hand pocket sure enough, and it was pulled out, like, a bit, but the beads weren't in it then."
"The chain had caught in the lining. That must have been how you overlooked it," Harbord said shortly.
"It wasn't there at all," the superintendent said positively. "I turned that pocket inside out. There was nothing there, I will swear."
"Well, the thing is here now. What possibility is there of getting it into the pocket after you searched it?" Stoddart inquired sharply.
The superintendent scratched his head.
"I don't know. There was nobody but me and Constable Jones went into the hut, not until the ambulance men fetched the body away. I and the constable went across here to the barn to look round the place and give orders about the trestles. The gardeners were seeing to it and got a bit rattled, poor chaps. But we weren't gone more than a few minutes before the ambulance men arrived--but what would they go dropping glass beads about for?"
"Who were the ambulance men?"
"They weren't men as I know," the superintendent said thoughtfully. "Not as to say well, that is. They work at the Cottage Hospital on the hill, the two as brought the ambulance-stretcher, as they call it. It's on wheels. His lordship, he gave it to the hospital. They lifted him"--with a backward jerk at the stark form under the sheet--"the two men and Jones and a gardener that was passing. I gave a hand, steadying the stretcher and helping when they laid it on. But I don't see--I do not see"--pausing and endeavouring apparently to recall the scene--"as any of them had the chance to put those beads in the pocket, even if they wanted to, which don't seem likely."
It did not. As the inspector closed the door of the barn behind them his eyes had a puzzled, far-away look.
"Did you know the gardener who helped you?" Stoddart inquired as they crossed the churchyard and turned in at the private gate into the Holford grounds.
"No, I don't know as I do; he isn't a Holford man," the superintendent said, his broad, red face wearing the look of bewilderment that had come over it when he saw the beads. "He was just working in the rosery and saw them bring the ambulance, and came along to find out if he could help. He were likely enough one of the young men that's here to learn a bit of gardening from Mr. Macdonald, and lives up at the cottage at the back of the glass-houses."
"I see!" The inspector made a note in his book. "We will just have a word with this gardener. Who is that?"
"That" was a young man who had come out of the Hall and was walking a little way down the path across the lawn at a brisk pace. Seeing them, he had hesitated a minute, and then turned off sharply towards the big entrance gates.
The superintendent stared after him.
"That--that is young Mr. Courtenay, his lordship's cousin. I should ha' said he didn't want to see us."
"So should I!" the inspector assented grimly. "But unfortunately, as it happens, since the desire is apparently not mutual, Mr. Harold Courtenay is a young gentleman I particularly wish to interview. I fancy striking over here by the pine trees we shall manage to intercept him."
He set off at a brisk pace, Harbord by his side, the burly superintendent puffing and blowing behind.
They emerged from the grove of trees at the side of the Hall immediately in front of Harold Courtenay.
That young gentleman looked amazed to see them step out on the walk in front of him. The inspector, glancing at him keenly, fancied that he saw discomposure mingling with the surprise.
He went forward.
"Mr. Harold Courtenay, I think? I should be glad if I might have a few words with you."
Harold Courtenay glanced round as if seeking some way of escape, but nothing presenting itself apparently resigned himself to the inevitable.
"Inspector Stoddart, I think, isn't it? My cousin told me you had come down. I am quite at your service, inspector."
"Thank you, Mr. Courtenay."
Young Courtenay was looking very ill, the inspector thought. His face was sickly grey beneath its tan, his eyes had a scared, furtive look, two or three times his mouth twitched oddly to one side as the inspector watched him.
"Just a question or two I wanted to put to you," Stoddart went on. "Later on there may be other things, but now I shall not detain you more than a minute or two."
"That's all right," Courtenay said at once. "If anything I can tell you will help you I shall be only too glad. I am only afraid it won't. I had no idea even that Saunderson was likely to be in the neighbourhood last night." He stopped and swallowed something in his throat. "He was rather by way of being a friend of mine, you know, inspector."
Stoddart nodded, his keen eyes never relaxing their watch on the young man's face.
"So I have heard. When did you last see him, Mr. Courtenay?"
The young man hesitated a moment.
"Oh, just a few days ago," he said vaguely. "The beginning of the week, I think it was. Monday evening, I remember now. I called at his flat."
"Did he tell you he was coming down here in the near future?" the inspector questioned.
Courtenay shook his head. "Never even mentioned Holford so far as I can remember."
"Did he speak of anyone or anything that could have had any bearing on last night's tragedy?"
"Certainly not!" Courtenay said with decision.
"We only spoke on the most ordinary topics."
"Can you remember any of those topics?" the inspector questioned.
Harold Courtenay waited a moment before answering.
"Nothing much," he said slowly. "Most of the time it was about racing. We both of us cursed Battledore for letting us down over the St. Leger. And Saunderson said somebody had given him a tip for the autumn double--Cesarewitch and the Cambridgeshire, you know--White Flower and Dark Mouth; and he said he shouldn't do it, though the chap that told him generally knew what he was talking about. Dark Mouth is French--he'd never fancied a French horse, he said, since Epinard let him down over the Cambridgeshire."
"Did you tell him you were coming here?"
"N--o! I don't think so," the young man said with a momentary indecision that did not escape the inspector's keen eyes. "No, as a matter of fact I don't think I knew that I was coming here myself then."
"When did you come?" the inspector asked. "In the afternoon of Thursday, wasn't it?"
"Yes,