THE CRIME AT TATTENHAM CORNER (Murder Mystery Classic). Annie Haynes
inquest on the body of Sir John Burslem had been opened at the Crown Inn at Hughlin's village, but only formal evidence of identity and medical evidence had been taken, and it had been adjourned until the following week, so that the police might have time for further inquiry. Stoddart and Harbord came out last. Stoddart's brows were drawn together in a heavy frown. Looking at him, his assistant felt sure that the case was troubling him more than he would have cared to confess. Somewhat curtly he declined the local superintendent's offer of hospitality, and motioned! Harbord into the run-about.
He did not speak until they had left Hughlin's Wood far behind, and were rapidly nearing London. Then he tossed an envelope over to Harbord.
"Think that can throw any light on the mystery?" Harbord opened the envelope and took out the contents. They consisted of various cuttings from newspapers. He read the first:
"Burslem, Sir John, first baronet, born 18—, eldest son of John Victor Burslem; married first Emma, daughter of Robert Somerville, by whom he had issue one daughter—Pamela Mary; married secondly the Honourable Sophie Charlotte Ann, younger daughter of the fourth Viscount Carlford. Residences: Greystone Hall, Meadshire, and 15 Porthwick Square. Clubs: Carlton Junior; Arts; St. James's."
Harbord put this back in the envelope and took out the smaller one; this was marked "From the Morning Herald":
"A marriage has been arranged, and will shortly take place between Captain Charles Stanyard, second son of Sir William Stanyard of Wilton Hall, and Sophie Charlotte Ann, youngest daughter of Viscount Carlford."
Clipped with this was another:
"The marriage arranged between Captain Charles Stanyard and Miss Sophie Carlford will not take place."
As Harbord put these back in the envelope he saw that there was yet one more. He picked it out: "A marriage has been arranged between Sir John Burslem, the well-known financier and racehorse owner, and the Honourable Sophie Charlotte Ann Carlford, younger daughter of Viscount Carlford. The marriage will take place early next month at St. Margaret's Westminster."
Harbord put it with the other and gave them to Stoddart.
The inspector looked at him. "You read a story there?"
"Yes and no," Harbord said slowly. "You don't mean—"
"I mean nothing, I think nothing," the inspector interrupted him. "How often am I to tell you that. It is my business to look for facts and to find them. Did you hear what won the Derby yesterday?"
Used as he was to the rapid workings of his superior's mind, Harbord looked his surprise at this change of subject.
"I don't take much interest in racing, sir, except that I have been hearing of nothing but Peep o' Day since we came here yesterday. But I did hear last night—yes, wasn't this Derby won by Perlyon, the second favourite. I thought I heard folks say he would not have stood a chance against Peep o' Day had he run."
"That's as it may be," the inspector observed sententiously. "I have known these hot-pots run nowhere more than once. But do you know who owns Perlyon?"
Harbord shook his head. "Haven't the slightest idea."
The inspector looked at him. "Sir Charles Stanyard, Captain Charles Stanyard—the sporting baronet, they call him. He came into the title on his father's death last year. His elder brother was killed a few months before in the hunting-field."
Neither of the men spoke again for a few minutes; at last Harbord said:
"Peep o' Day's scratching must have meant a good deal to him. But—"
"Thousands," said the inspector laconically. "Heard there was a row between two men at Wilton's the other night?"
"No. I was hard at work at the Barber-Astley case," Harbord answered, his interest growing.
"Well, there was a jolly row," Stoddart informed him. "And the two men who had it were Sir John Burslem and Sir Charles Stanyard, the sporting baronet. Ostensibly the quarrel was over the merits of their respective racehorses—Peep o' Day and Perlyon. In reality, rumour has whispered that the cause was very different. Therefore there are two things we must do to-day. First, we must ascertain, if we can, something of Sir Charles Stanyard's movements on the night of June 2nd and the early morning of June 3rd. Secondly, we must see Lady Burslem and hear what she can tell us of that night's tragedy; or perhaps we had better reverse the proceedings and see the lady first. We will drive straight to Porthwick Square."
He did not speak again as he steered the car carefully through the crowded roads as they entered London and made their way with all speed to Porthwick Square.
Drawn blinds shrouded the inhabitants of No. 15 from the public eye, but the inspector frowned as he saw the crowd outside. That the police were moving people on apparently made no difference. They merely went round and walked back another way.
The butler came forward when the door was open.
"Lady Burslem has promised us an interview this afternoon," Stoddart said, entering and beckoning to Harbord.
"Yes, her ladyship is expecting you, inspector," the butler said at once. "I was to take you to her directly you came. But I heard nothing of this—this—"
He glanced at Harbord as though hesitating as to what description must apply to him.
"That is quite right—I am answerable," the inspector said shortly. "Please to inform Lady Burslem that we are here."
The butler departed, looking as though the foundations of the earth must indeed be shaken when he had to take orders from a mere policeman. He returned immediately.
"Will you come this way, please."
He led them to a small room on the first floor.
Lady Burslem came to them at once. She walked very slowly; her slim shoulders were bent as if under an intolerable burden of grief. There was not one touch of colour in her face—cheeks and lips were alike ashen. There were great blue half-circles beneath her eyes, and her eyes themselves looked only about half their usual size. The eyelids were swollen, and drooped as though the young widow had cried until she did not know how to open them.
There was a great pity in the inspector's eyes as he watched her. He drew forward one of the big easy chairs and she sank into it wearily. Was it force of habit that made him place her so that the light fell on her face, Harbord wondered.
"You—you wanted to see me?" she said, her eyes not looking at him but wandering to the window which looked on to the Square garden and so was without the concealing blind.
"If you please, Lady Burslem."
The inspector went over and stood by the mantel piece, one arm resting on the shelf. Harbord waited; nearer the door.
"You will understand that, while we are anxious to spare you in every possible way, it is absolutely necessary that we should hear all that you can tell us of what took place the night before last."
"Yes, of course?"
Lady Burslem looked at him with wistful, tragic eyes. "Only there is so little I can tell you," she said, feverishly. "I can't understand it, and wonder and wonder until I think my brain will turn and that the mystery of it will drive me mad."
Her words, slow at first, began to come faster, her breathing grew more rapid; she twisted her hands together.
"I understand," the inspector said soothingly. "And that is where we want to help you. Now, if you would just tell us when you saw Sir John last!"
"Why, when we came home," Sophie Burslem said quickly. "We—we had been over to Oxley, you know. It was a lovely night and we had nothing particular on. At least, we had dances and receptions and things, but we made up our minds to go over to Oxley in the two-seater and see how Peep o' Day was getting on. So—so—"
Her voice failed. She fumbled in her bag, bringing out a small handkerchief, and began to dab her eyes.
"Yes?" the inspector prompted, after a pause. "Matt Harker has told us