The Ponson Case. Freeman Wills Crofts
I rowed back up the river. By the time I reached the boat club it was quarter to eleven, and the place was closed. I had to root out the caretaker to get the boat in. Then I walked on to the Drews’, arriving about eleven, just as they were preparing for bed; I apologised, of course, for turning up at such a time, but when I explained the reason, Miss Drew cried out that the whole thing was a hoax. She hadn’t been out that evening, and she hadn’t written any notes. Furthermore, she knew the Franklyins had been called away unexpectedly the previous day to see their son who was ill, and had sent their servants home, and closed the house.
‘So there, Inspector, you have the whole thing. At the time, as I said, I thought it merely a stupid practical joke, but since I heard of this affair I cannot but wonder is there no connection. I recognise anyway that I am in an exceedingly unpleasant position, for I am quite unable to prove what I have told you.’
Beyond a murmured acknowledgment, Inspector Tanner did not reply for some moments, as he thought over what he had just heard. There were obviously two theories about it. First, if the story were true it cleared Austin, not merely as an alibi, but it accounted for his suspicious manner. And the Inspector could see no reason why it should not be true. Such a plant on the part of the murderer, with the object of throwing suspicion on Austin, and therefore off himself, would be quite possible. It would be proved that Austin took a boat, and went down the river, and was away long enough for him to have reached the Luce Manor boathouse and committed the murder. And the ruined Abbey was just the place the inventor of such a plant would choose, a deserted spot where Austin would be unlikely to meet anyone who could confirm his story.
On the other hand, Austin might really know the truth, even if he was not himself the actual murderer. If so, the story was a clever invention on his part, well designed and thought out. But whichever of these theories were true, it was obvious to Tanner that he must test the whole thing as thoroughly as he possibly could.
‘If you will allow me to say it, sir,’ he observed, ‘you did a wise thing in telling me this story. Had you not done so, and had I found out about your using the boat, I should have taken a very different view of the affair. And now for your own sake, as well as mine, I feel sure you won’t object to my testing your statement. You say the path to this ruin was muddy. There has been no rain since Wednesday. Your footprints will therefore be clear. Come into Halford with me now, and lend me the shoes you wore that night, and I will go out to the place and see the marks with my own eyes.’
Austin slapped his thigh.
‘Capital, Inspector!’ he cried. ‘The more you test it the better I’ll be pleased. It will be no end of a weight off my mind. I don’t deny I have been horribly worried.’
His manner did not belie his statement. As a few minutes later he drove Tanner and the sergeant into Halford, he seemed to have thrown off his depression, and chatted easily and almost gaily.
They drew up at the door of his small villa. It was opened by a butler rather resembling Parkes, but younger and slighter.
‘Come in, Inspector, and I’ll give you what you want. Will you wait here a moment?’
Austin led the way into a cheerful room fitted up as a study and workroom. A large table in the corner was littered with papers and manuscripts, there was a fine microscope in the window, while everywhere were strewn books and periodicals. The Inspector moved about noting and memorising what he saw, till Austin returned.
‘There you are,’ the latter exclaimed, holding out a pair of tan shoes, ‘and here’s a bag to put them in.’
‘New?’ queried Tanner as he took the shoes, and glanced at their soles.
‘Quite. I got them on Monday, and I have only worn them once.’
The Inspector nodded.
‘Thanks, Mr Ponson,’ he said, as he took his leave, ‘I’ll keep you advised how I get on.’
Remaining in the town only long enough to hire a car and buy some plaster of Paris, Inspector Tanner and the sergeant drove out once more along the London road. The weather had come in hot, and the air hung heavy and motionless beneath the trees. The cattle had moved into the shade, and except for an occasional impatient switch of their tails, remained standing rigid, the embodiment of placid unintelligence. Aromatic scents floated across the road, and masses of colour blazed out from the adjoining gardens. In the distance the hills showed faint and nebulous in the haze, while objects closer at hand quivered in the heated atmosphere. The car slid rapidly along, its rubber treads purring in a companionable way on the smooth road. On the left the sergeant pointed out the lane leading to the Old Ferry, then on the right the entrance to Mrs Franklyn’s villa. On the left again were the large gates of Luce Manor, and quarter of a mile past them, and on the opposite side, a grass-grown path branched off. At this the motor pulled up.
‘Abbey Lane,’ the sergeant explained, and having arranged for the car to wait, the two men dismounted and passed down the path.
At first the surface was hard, some traces of old macadam remaining. But as they went farther it grew softer and more grassy. They examined the ground, and for a long way could find no marks. But later they came on what they wanted. Not far from the ruins the path crossed a shallow valley where, the water having run down from each side, the bottom was soft and muddy. Here clear and distinct were two lines of footprints, one going and one returning. Tanner compared Austin’s shoes with the impressions. They fitted exactly.
Notwithstanding this discovery, the officers continued till they reached the ruins. Here a careful search revealed three prints of Austin’s shoes, but there were no traces of other visitors.
To check another point in Austin’s statement, Tanner noted the time it took them to walk quickly from the Abbey to Mrs Franklyn’s house. Here they made another search, with the result that at several points close to the building they found prints of Austin’s shoes. That he had been there also was beyond question, and his story was therefore true so far.
Having ascertained the time, occupied in walking from Mrs Franklyn’s to the Old Ferry, the two men were driven back to Luce Manor. Here they took plaster casts of the various footprints on the river bank. Then, re-entering the car, they returned to Halford, tired out from their day’s work.
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