June 9, 2025 • 19 mins
Imagine pulling over 26 miles outside Bordeaux and having your life transform forever. This is exactly what happens to Seymour Merriman. His ordinary halt spirals him into a whirlwind of mystery, illicit smuggling, chilling murder, and unexpected romance. With the clock ticking, two amateur sleuths scramble to solve the baffling enigma of alternating number plates and the dangerous dealings of the pit prop syndicate. If they fail, the notorious Inspector Willis from Scotland Yard will take over. Dive into this riveting narrative and see where the journey takes you.
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter thirteen of the Pit prop Syndicate by Freeman wills
Croft's This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter
thirteen A promising clue. The consideration which had thus suddenly
occurred to Inspector Willis was the extraordinary importance of the
fact that the tall traveler had spoken through the tube
(00:21):
to the driver. He marveled how he could have overlooked
its significance. To speak through a taxi tube, one must
hold up the mouthpiece, and that mouthpiece is usually made
up of vulcanite or some similar substance. What better surface
Willis thought, delightedly, But anxiously could be found for recording
finger prints. If only the tall man had made the
(00:42):
blunder of omitting to wear gloves, he would have left
evidence which might hang him. And he Willis, like the
cursed imbecile that he was, had missed the point. Goodness
only knew if he was not already too late. If so,
he thought grimly, it was all up with his career
at the yard. He ran to the telephone. A call
to the yard advised him that the taxi driver, on
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being informed he was no longer required, had left with
his vehicle. He rapidly rang up the man's employers, asking
them to stop the cab directly they came in touch
with it. Then, hurrying out of the hotel, he hailed
a taxi and drove to the rank on which the
man was stationed. His luck was in There were seven
vehicles on the stand, and his man, having but recently arrived,
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had only worked up to the middle of the queue.
The sweat was standing in large drops on Inspector Willis's
brow as he eagerly asked had the tube been touched
since leaving Scotland Yard, and his relief when he found
he was still in time was overwhelming. Rather unsteadily, he
entered the vehicle and ordered the driver to return to
the yard. On arrival, he was not long in making
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his test. Sending for his fingerprint apparatus. He carefully powdered
the vulcanite mouthpiece, and he could scarcely suppress a cry
of satisfaction when he saw, shaping themselves before his eyes
three of the clearest prints he had ever had the
good fortune to come across. On one side of the
mouthpiece was the mark of a right thumb, and on
the other those of a first and second finger lord.
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He muttered to himself, that was a near thing. If
I had missed it, I could have left the yard
for good and all. It's the first thing the Chief
would have asked about. His delight was unbounded. Here was
as perfect and definite evidence as he could have wished for.
If he could find the man whose fingers fitted the marks,
that would be the end of his case. He left
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the courtyard, intending to return to the peverrel and resume
the tracing of miss Cockburn. But before he reached the
door of the great building, he was stopped. A gentleman
had called to see him on urgent business connected with
the case. It was Merriman. Merriman, almost incoherent with excitement
and distress. He still carried the newspaper in his hand,
which had so much upset him. Willis pulled forward a chair,
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invited the other to be seated, and took the paper.
The paragraph was quite short and read Mystery of a
Taxi Cab, a tragedy which recalls the well known detective
novel The Mystery of the Handsome Cab. Occurred last evening
in one of the most populous thoroughfares in London. It
appears that about eight o'clock two men engaged a taxi
in Piccadilly to take them to King's Cross, near the
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Oxford Street end of the Tottenham Court Road. The driver
was ordered to stop. One of the men alighted, bade
good night to his companion, and told the driver to
proceed to King's Cross, where his friend would settle up.
On reaching the station, there was no sign of the friend,
and a search revealed him lying dead in the taxi,
with a bullet wound in his heart. From papers found
on the body, the deceased is believed to be a
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mister Francis Cockburn, but his residence has not yet been ascertained.
As spector Willis laid down the paper and turned to
his visitor. You are interested in the case, sir, he inquired.
I knew him, I think Merriman stammered, at least I
know some one of the name I. Willis glanced keenly
at the newcomer. Here was a man who must, judging
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by his agitation, have been pretty closely connected with Francis Coburn.
Suspicious of every one, the detective recognized that there might
be more here than met the eye. He drew out
his note book. I'm glad you called, sir, he said, pleasantly.
We shall be very pleased to get any information you
can give us. What was your friend like? His quiet,
conversational manner, calm to the other, rather tall, he answered anxiously,
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with a long, pale face and small, black pointed mustache.
I'm afraid, sir, that's the man I think. If you
don't mind, you had better see if you can identify him.
I want to, Merrimann cried, leaping to his feet. I
must know at once. Willis rose also. Then come this way.
They drove quickly across town. A glance was sufficient to
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tell Merriman that the body was indeed that of his
former acquaintance. His agitation became painful. You're right, he cried,
it is he, and it's my fault. Oh if I
had only done what she said, if I had only
kept out of it. He wrung his hands in anguish.
Willis was much interested. Though this man could not be
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personally guilty. He was not tall enough. For one thing.
He must surely know enough about the affair to put
the inspector on the right track. The latter began eagerly
to await his story. Merriman, for his part, was anxious
for nothing so much as to tell it. He was
sick to death of plots and investigations and machinations, and
while driving to the yard, he had made up his
mind that if the dead man were indeed Madeleine's father,
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he would tell the whole story of his and Hilliard's
investigations into the doings of the syndicate. When therefore they
were back in the inspector's room, he made a determined
effort to pull himself together and speak calmly. Yes, he said,
I know him. He lived near Bordeaux with his daughter.
She will be absolutely alone. You will understand that I
must go out to her by the first train. But
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until then I am at your service. You are a relation,
perhaps no only an acquaintance. But I am going to
tell you the whole story, and I may as well
say once for all that it is my earnest hope
some day to marry Miss Coburn. Willis bowed and inquired,
is Miss Coburn's name, Madeline? Yes, Merriman answered, surprise and
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eagerness growing in his face. Then Willis went on, you
will be pleased to learn that she is not in France,
at least I think not. She left the Peverrell Hotel
in Russell Square about eleven o'clock yesterday morning. Merriman sprang
to his feet in London, he queried, excitedly. Where what
a dress? We don't know yet, but we shall soon
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find her. Now, sir, you can't do anything for the moment,
and I am anxious to hear your story. Take your
own time, and the more details you can give me
the better. Merriman controlled himself with effort. Well, he said, slowly,
sitting down again. I have something to tell you, Inspector.
My friend Hilliard, Claude Hilliard of the Customs Department and
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I have made a discovery. We have accidentally come on
what we believe is a criminal conspiracy, and we don't
know for what purpose, except that it is something big
and fraudulent. We were coming to the yard in any
case to tell what we had learned, but this murder
has precipitated things. We can no longer delay giving our information.
The only thing is that I should have liked Hilliard
to be here to tell it instead of me, for
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our discovery is really due to him. I could see
mister Hilliard afterwards, meantime, tell me the story yourself. Merriman
thereupon related his and Hilliard's adventures and experiences, from his
own first accidental visit to the clearing when he noticed
the changing of the lory number, right up to his
last meeting with mister Cockburn, when the latter expressed his
intention of breaking away from the gang. He hid nothing,
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explaining without hesitation his reasons for urging the delay in
informing the authorities, even though he quite realized his action
made him, to some extent and accomplice in the conspiracy.
Willis was much more interested by the story than he
would have admitted. Though it sounded wild and unlikely, there
was a ring of truth in Merriman's manner which went
far to convince the other of its accuracy. He did
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not believe either that any one could have invented such
a story. Its very improbability was an argument for its truth,
and if it were true, what a vista it opened
up to himself. The solution of the murder problem would
be gratifying enough, but it was a mere nothing compared
to the other. If he could search out and bring
to nought such a conspiracy as Merriman's story, indicated he
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would be a made man. It would be the crowning
point of his career, and would bring him measurably nearer
to that cottage and garden in the country to which
for years past he had been looking forward. Therefore, no
care and trouble would be too great to spend on
the matter. Putting away the thoughts of self therefore, and
deliberately concentrating on the matter in hand, he set himself
to consider in detail what his visitor had told him
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and get the story clear in his mind. Then, slowly
and painstakingly he began to ask questions. I take it,
mister Merriman, that your ideas that mister Coburn was murdered
by a member of the syndicate. Yes, and I think
he foresaw his fate. I think when he told them
he was going to break with them, they feared he
might betray them and wanted to be on the safe
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side any of them. Tall stoutly built man. Captain Beamish
is tall and strongly built, but I should not say
he was stout. Describe him. He stooped and was a
little round shouldered, but even then he was tall. If
he had held himself up, he would have been a
big man. He had a heavy face with a big jaw,
thin lips, and a vindictive expression. Willis, though not given
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to jumping to conclusions, felt suddenly thrilled, and he made
up his mind that an early development in the case
would be the taking of the impressions of Captain Beamish's
right thumb and forefinger. He asked several more questions, and,
going over the story again, took copious notes. Then for
some time he sat in silence, considering what he had heard.
At first sight, he was inclined to agree with Merrimon
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that the deceased had met his death at the hands
of a member of the syndicate, and if so, it
was not unlikely that all or most of the members
were party to it. From the mere possibilit of this,
it followed that the most urgent thing for the moment
was to prevent the syndicate Suspecting his knowledge, He turned
again to his visitor. I suppose you realize, mister Merriman,
that if all these details you have given me are correct,
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you yourself are in a position of some danger. I
know it, but I am not afraid it is the
possible danger to miss Coburn that has upset me so much.
I understand, sir, the Inspector returned sympathetically. But it follows that,
for both your sakes, you must act very cautiously so
as to disarm any suspicions this people may have of you.
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I am quite in your hands, Inspector. Good. Then let
us consider your course of action. Now. First of all,
about the inquest. It will be held this evening at
five o'clock. You will have to give evidence, and we
shall have to settle very carefully what that evidence will be.
No breath of suspicion against the syndicate must leak out.
Merriman nodded. You must identify the deceased, and if asked,
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you must tell the story of your two visits to
the clearing. You must speak without the slap lightest hesitation.
But you must of course make no mention of the
changing of the lorry numbers or of your suspicions. Nor
will you mention your visit to Hull. You will explain
that you went back to the clearing on the second
occasion because it was so little out of your way,
and because you were anxious to meet the Cockburns again.
While your friend wanted to see the forests of Leyland's.
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Merriman again nodded. Then both you and your friend must
avoid Scotland Yard. It is quite natural that you should
rush off here as you did, but it would not
be natural for you to return, And there is no
reason why mister Hilliard should come at all. If I
want to see either of you, I shall ring up
and arrange a place of meeting. And just two other things.
The first is I need hardly warn you as to
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be circumspect in your conversation as in your evidence. Keep
in mind that each stranger that you may meet may
be Morton or some other member of the gang. The
second is that I should like to keep in touch
with you for the remainder of the day, in case
any question might crop up before the inquest where will
you be? I shall stay in my club rovers on
Cranbourne Street. You can ring me up, good willis answered,
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rising to his feet. Then let me say again how
pleased I am to have met you and heard your
story five o'clock. Then if you don't hear to the contrary.
When Merriman had taken his leave, the inspector sat on
his desk, lost in thought, this case begde fair to
be the biggest he had ever handled, and he was
anxious to lay his plan so as to employ his
time to the best advantage. To clearly defined lines of
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inquiry had already opened out, and he was not clear
which to follow. In the first place, there was the
obvious routine investigation suggested directly by the murder that compromised
the finding of miss Coburn, the learning of mister Coburn's
life history, the tracing of his movements during the last
four or five days, the finding of the purchaser of
the black cloth, and the following up of clues discovered
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during these inquiries. The second line was that connected with
the activities of the syndicate, and Willis was inclined to
believe that a complete understanding of these would automatically solve
the problem of the murder. He was wondering whether he
should not start an assistant on the routine business of
the tragedy, while himself concentrating on the pitprop business. When
his cogitations were brought to an end by a messenger
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a lady had called in connection with the case, Miss
Madeleine Coburn, thought Willis, as he gave orders for her
to be shown into his room, and when she entered,
he instantly recognized the original of the photograph. Madeleine's face
was dead white, and there was a strained look of
horror in her eyes, but she was perfectly calm and
self possessed, miss Coburn. Willis said, as he rose and bowed,
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I am afraid I can guess why you have called.
You saw the account in the paper? Yes, she hesitated,
Is it my father? Willis told her as gently as
he could. She sat quite still for a few moments
while he busied himself with some papers. Then she asked
to see the body. When they had returned to Willis's room,
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he invited her to sit down again. I very deeply
regret miss Coburn, he said, to have to trouble you
at this time with questions. But I fear you will
have to give evidence at the inquest this afternoon, and
it will be easier for yourself to make a statement now,
so that only what is absolutely necessary need be asked you. Then,
Madeleine seemed stunned by the tragedy, and she spoke as
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if in a dream. I am ready to do what
is necessary. He thanked her and began by inquiring about
her father's history. Mister Coburn, it appeared, had had a
public school and college training, but his father dying when
he was just twenty and leaving the family in somewhat
poor circumstances. He had gone into business as a clerk
in the Hopwood Manufacturing Company, a large engineering works in
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the Midlands. In this he had risen until he held
the important position of cashier, and he and his wife
and daughter had lived in happiness and comfort during the
latter's girlhood. But some six years previous to the tragedy
which had just taken place, a change had come over
the household. In the first place, missus Coburn developed a
painful illness and had dragged out a miserable existence for
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the three years before her death. At the same time,
whether from the expense of the illness or from other causes,
Miss Coburn did not know, financial embarrassment seemed to descend
on her father. One by one, their small luxuries were
cut off. Then their house had to be given up
and had moved to rooms in a rather poor locality
of the town. Their crowning misfortune followed rapidly mister Coburn
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gave up his position at the works, and for a
time actual want stared them in the face. Then this
pit prop syndicate had been formed, and mister Coburn had
gone into it as the manager of the loading station.
Miss Coburn did not know the reason of his leaving
the engineering works, but she suspected there had been friction,
as his disposition for a time had changed and he
had lost his bright manner and vivacity. He had, however,
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to a large extent, recovered while in France. She was
not aware either of the terms on which he had
entered the syndicate, but she imagined he shared in the
profits instead of receiving a salary. These facts, which Willis
obtained by as dute questioning, seemed to him not a
little suggestive from what mister Coburn had himself told Merriman.
It looked as if there had been some secret in
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his life which had placed him in the power of
the syndicate, and the inspector wondered whether this might not
be connected with his leaving the Engineering Works at all events.
Inquiries there seemed to suggest a new line of attack,
should such become necessary. Willis then turned to the events
of the past few days. It appeared that about a
fortnight earlier, mister Coburn announced that he was crossing to
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London for the annual meeting of the Syndicate, and as
he did not wish his daughter to be alone at
the clearing, it was arranged that she should accompany him.
They had traveled by the Giron Dean to Hull, and,
on coming to London, put up at the Peverrel. Mister
Coburn had been occupied off and on during the four
days they had remained there, but the evenings they had
spent together in amusements. On the night of the murder,
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mister Coburn was to have left for Hull to return
to France by the Giron Dein, his daughter going by
an earlier train to Eastbourne, where she was to have
spent ten days with an aunt. Except for what mister
Coburn had said about the meeting of the Syndicate, Madeleine
did not know anything of his business in town, nor
had she seen any member of the Syndicate. After leaving
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the ship, having taken notes of her statements, Willis spoke
of the inquest and repeated the instructions he had given
merriment as to the evidence. Then he told her of
the young man's visit, and, referring to his anxiety on
her behalf, asked if he might acquaint him with her whereabouts.
She thankfully acquiesced, and Willis, who was anxious that her
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mind should be kept occupied until the inquest, pushed his
good offices to the extent of arranging a meeting between
the two. The inquest elicited no further information. Formal evidence
of identification was given. The doctors deposed that death was
due to a bullet from an exceedingly small bore automatic pistol.
The cab driver and porter told their stories, and the
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jury returned the obvious verdict of murder against some person
or person's unknown. The inspector's precautions were observed and not
a word was uttered which could have given any hint
to any member of the pit prop syndicate that the
bonafides of his organization was suspected. Two days later, when
the funeral was over, Merriman took Miss Coburn back to
her aunt's at Eastbourne. No word of love passed his lips,
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but the young girl seemed pleased to have his company,
and before parting from her, he obtained permission to call
on her again. He met the aunt for a few
moments and was somewhat comforted to find her a kind,
motherly woman who was evidently sincerely attached to the now
fatherless girl. He had told Madeleine of his interview with
her father, and she had not blamed him for his
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part in the matter, saying she had believed for some
time that a development of the kind was inevitable. So
for them. The days began to creep wearily past. Merriman
paid as frequent visits to Eastbourne as he dared, and
little by little he began to hope that he was
making progress in his suit, but try as he would,
he could not bring the matter to a head. The
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girl had evidently had a more severe shock than they
had realized at first, and she became listling and difficult
to interest. In passing events, he saw there was nothing
for it but to wait, and he set himself to
bide his time with the best patience he could muster.
End of Chapter thirteen,
Chapter thirteen of the Pit prop Syndicate by Freeman wills
Croft's This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter
thirteen A promising clue. The consideration which had thus suddenly
occurred to Inspector Willis was the extraordinary importance of the
fact that the tall traveler had spoken through the tube
(00:21):
to the driver. He marveled how he could have overlooked
its significance. To speak through a taxi tube, one must
hold up the mouthpiece, and that mouthpiece is usually made
up of vulcanite or some similar substance. What better surface
Willis thought, delightedly, But anxiously could be found for recording
finger prints. If only the tall man had made the
(00:42):
blunder of omitting to wear gloves, he would have left
evidence which might hang him. And he Willis, like the
cursed imbecile that he was, had missed the point. Goodness
only knew if he was not already too late. If so,
he thought grimly, it was all up with his career
at the yard. He ran to the telephone. A call
to the yard advised him that the taxi driver, on
(01:04):
being informed he was no longer required, had left with
his vehicle. He rapidly rang up the man's employers, asking
them to stop the cab directly they came in touch
with it. Then, hurrying out of the hotel, he hailed
a taxi and drove to the rank on which the
man was stationed. His luck was in There were seven
vehicles on the stand, and his man, having but recently arrived,
(01:24):
had only worked up to the middle of the queue.
The sweat was standing in large drops on Inspector Willis's
brow as he eagerly asked had the tube been touched
since leaving Scotland Yard, and his relief when he found
he was still in time was overwhelming. Rather unsteadily, he
entered the vehicle and ordered the driver to return to
the yard. On arrival, he was not long in making
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his test. Sending for his fingerprint apparatus. He carefully powdered
the vulcanite mouthpiece, and he could scarcely suppress a cry
of satisfaction when he saw, shaping themselves before his eyes
three of the clearest prints he had ever had the
good fortune to come across. On one side of the
mouthpiece was the mark of a right thumb, and on
the other those of a first and second finger lord.
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He muttered to himself, that was a near thing. If
I had missed it, I could have left the yard
for good and all. It's the first thing the Chief
would have asked about. His delight was unbounded. Here was
as perfect and definite evidence as he could have wished for.
If he could find the man whose fingers fitted the marks,
that would be the end of his case. He left
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the courtyard, intending to return to the peverrel and resume
the tracing of miss Cockburn. But before he reached the
door of the great building, he was stopped. A gentleman
had called to see him on urgent business connected with
the case. It was Merriman. Merriman, almost incoherent with excitement
and distress. He still carried the newspaper in his hand,
which had so much upset him. Willis pulled forward a chair,
(02:52):
invited the other to be seated, and took the paper.
The paragraph was quite short and read Mystery of a
Taxi Cab, a tragedy which recalls the well known detective
novel The Mystery of the Handsome Cab. Occurred last evening
in one of the most populous thoroughfares in London. It
appears that about eight o'clock two men engaged a taxi
in Piccadilly to take them to King's Cross, near the
(03:14):
Oxford Street end of the Tottenham Court Road. The driver
was ordered to stop. One of the men alighted, bade
good night to his companion, and told the driver to
proceed to King's Cross, where his friend would settle up.
On reaching the station, there was no sign of the friend,
and a search revealed him lying dead in the taxi,
with a bullet wound in his heart. From papers found
on the body, the deceased is believed to be a
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mister Francis Cockburn, but his residence has not yet been ascertained.
As spector Willis laid down the paper and turned to
his visitor. You are interested in the case, sir, he inquired.
I knew him, I think Merriman stammered, at least I
know some one of the name I. Willis glanced keenly
at the newcomer. Here was a man who must, judging
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by his agitation, have been pretty closely connected with Francis Coburn.
Suspicious of every one, the detective recognized that there might
be more here than met the eye. He drew out
his note book. I'm glad you called, sir, he said, pleasantly.
We shall be very pleased to get any information you
can give us. What was your friend like? His quiet,
conversational manner, calm to the other, rather tall, he answered anxiously,
(04:24):
with a long, pale face and small, black pointed mustache.
I'm afraid, sir, that's the man I think. If you
don't mind, you had better see if you can identify him.
I want to, Merrimann cried, leaping to his feet. I
must know at once. Willis rose also. Then come this way.
They drove quickly across town. A glance was sufficient to
(04:45):
tell Merriman that the body was indeed that of his
former acquaintance. His agitation became painful. You're right, he cried,
it is he, and it's my fault. Oh if I
had only done what she said, if I had only
kept out of it. He wrung his hands in anguish.
Willis was much interested. Though this man could not be
(05:06):
personally guilty. He was not tall enough. For one thing.
He must surely know enough about the affair to put
the inspector on the right track. The latter began eagerly
to await his story. Merriman, for his part, was anxious
for nothing so much as to tell it. He was
sick to death of plots and investigations and machinations, and
while driving to the yard, he had made up his
mind that if the dead man were indeed Madeleine's father,
(05:28):
he would tell the whole story of his and Hilliard's
investigations into the doings of the syndicate. When therefore they
were back in the inspector's room, he made a determined
effort to pull himself together and speak calmly. Yes, he said,
I know him. He lived near Bordeaux with his daughter.
She will be absolutely alone. You will understand that I
must go out to her by the first train. But
(05:49):
until then I am at your service. You are a relation,
perhaps no only an acquaintance. But I am going to
tell you the whole story, and I may as well
say once for all that it is my earnest hope
some day to marry Miss Coburn. Willis bowed and inquired,
is Miss Coburn's name, Madeline? Yes, Merriman answered, surprise and
(06:12):
eagerness growing in his face. Then Willis went on, you
will be pleased to learn that she is not in France,
at least I think not. She left the Peverrell Hotel
in Russell Square about eleven o'clock yesterday morning. Merriman sprang
to his feet in London, he queried, excitedly. Where what
a dress? We don't know yet, but we shall soon
(06:34):
find her. Now, sir, you can't do anything for the moment,
and I am anxious to hear your story. Take your
own time, and the more details you can give me
the better. Merriman controlled himself with effort. Well, he said, slowly,
sitting down again. I have something to tell you, Inspector.
My friend Hilliard, Claude Hilliard of the Customs Department and
(06:54):
I have made a discovery. We have accidentally come on
what we believe is a criminal conspiracy, and we don't
know for what purpose, except that it is something big
and fraudulent. We were coming to the yard in any
case to tell what we had learned, but this murder
has precipitated things. We can no longer delay giving our information.
The only thing is that I should have liked Hilliard
to be here to tell it instead of me, for
(07:15):
our discovery is really due to him. I could see
mister Hilliard afterwards, meantime, tell me the story yourself. Merriman
thereupon related his and Hilliard's adventures and experiences, from his
own first accidental visit to the clearing when he noticed
the changing of the lory number, right up to his
last meeting with mister Cockburn, when the latter expressed his
intention of breaking away from the gang. He hid nothing,
(07:37):
explaining without hesitation his reasons for urging the delay in
informing the authorities, even though he quite realized his action
made him, to some extent and accomplice in the conspiracy.
Willis was much more interested by the story than he
would have admitted. Though it sounded wild and unlikely, there
was a ring of truth in Merriman's manner which went
far to convince the other of its accuracy. He did
(07:59):
not believe either that any one could have invented such
a story. Its very improbability was an argument for its truth,
and if it were true, what a vista it opened
up to himself. The solution of the murder problem would
be gratifying enough, but it was a mere nothing compared
to the other. If he could search out and bring
to nought such a conspiracy as Merriman's story, indicated he
(08:21):
would be a made man. It would be the crowning
point of his career, and would bring him measurably nearer
to that cottage and garden in the country to which
for years past he had been looking forward. Therefore, no
care and trouble would be too great to spend on
the matter. Putting away the thoughts of self therefore, and
deliberately concentrating on the matter in hand, he set himself
to consider in detail what his visitor had told him
(08:43):
and get the story clear in his mind. Then, slowly
and painstakingly he began to ask questions. I take it,
mister Merriman, that your ideas that mister Coburn was murdered
by a member of the syndicate. Yes, and I think
he foresaw his fate. I think when he told them
he was going to break with them, they feared he
might betray them and wanted to be on the safe
(09:04):
side any of them. Tall stoutly built man. Captain Beamish
is tall and strongly built, but I should not say
he was stout. Describe him. He stooped and was a
little round shouldered, but even then he was tall. If
he had held himself up, he would have been a
big man. He had a heavy face with a big jaw,
thin lips, and a vindictive expression. Willis, though not given
(09:28):
to jumping to conclusions, felt suddenly thrilled, and he made
up his mind that an early development in the case
would be the taking of the impressions of Captain Beamish's
right thumb and forefinger. He asked several more questions, and,
going over the story again, took copious notes. Then for
some time he sat in silence, considering what he had heard.
At first sight, he was inclined to agree with Merrimon
(09:50):
that the deceased had met his death at the hands
of a member of the syndicate, and if so, it
was not unlikely that all or most of the members
were party to it. From the mere possibilit of this,
it followed that the most urgent thing for the moment
was to prevent the syndicate Suspecting his knowledge, He turned
again to his visitor. I suppose you realize, mister Merriman,
that if all these details you have given me are correct,
(10:12):
you yourself are in a position of some danger. I
know it, but I am not afraid it is the
possible danger to miss Coburn that has upset me so much.
I understand, sir, the Inspector returned sympathetically. But it follows that,
for both your sakes, you must act very cautiously so
as to disarm any suspicions this people may have of you.
(10:33):
I am quite in your hands, Inspector. Good. Then let
us consider your course of action. Now. First of all,
about the inquest. It will be held this evening at
five o'clock. You will have to give evidence, and we
shall have to settle very carefully what that evidence will be.
No breath of suspicion against the syndicate must leak out.
Merriman nodded. You must identify the deceased, and if asked,
(10:56):
you must tell the story of your two visits to
the clearing. You must speak without the slap lightest hesitation.
But you must of course make no mention of the
changing of the lorry numbers or of your suspicions. Nor
will you mention your visit to Hull. You will explain
that you went back to the clearing on the second
occasion because it was so little out of your way,
and because you were anxious to meet the Cockburns again.
While your friend wanted to see the forests of Leyland's.
(11:19):
Merriman again nodded. Then both you and your friend must
avoid Scotland Yard. It is quite natural that you should
rush off here as you did, but it would not
be natural for you to return, And there is no
reason why mister Hilliard should come at all. If I
want to see either of you, I shall ring up
and arrange a place of meeting. And just two other things.
The first is I need hardly warn you as to
(11:39):
be circumspect in your conversation as in your evidence. Keep
in mind that each stranger that you may meet may
be Morton or some other member of the gang. The
second is that I should like to keep in touch
with you for the remainder of the day, in case
any question might crop up before the inquest where will
you be? I shall stay in my club rovers on
Cranbourne Street. You can ring me up, good willis answered,
(12:02):
rising to his feet. Then let me say again how
pleased I am to have met you and heard your
story five o'clock. Then if you don't hear to the contrary.
When Merriman had taken his leave, the inspector sat on
his desk, lost in thought, this case begde fair to
be the biggest he had ever handled, and he was
anxious to lay his plan so as to employ his
time to the best advantage. To clearly defined lines of
(12:25):
inquiry had already opened out, and he was not clear
which to follow. In the first place, there was the
obvious routine investigation suggested directly by the murder that compromised
the finding of miss Coburn, the learning of mister Coburn's
life history, the tracing of his movements during the last
four or five days, the finding of the purchaser of
the black cloth, and the following up of clues discovered
(12:46):
during these inquiries. The second line was that connected with
the activities of the syndicate, and Willis was inclined to
believe that a complete understanding of these would automatically solve
the problem of the murder. He was wondering whether he
should not start an assistant on the routine business of
the tragedy, while himself concentrating on the pitprop business. When
his cogitations were brought to an end by a messenger
(13:07):
a lady had called in connection with the case, Miss
Madeleine Coburn, thought Willis, as he gave orders for her
to be shown into his room, and when she entered,
he instantly recognized the original of the photograph. Madeleine's face
was dead white, and there was a strained look of
horror in her eyes, but she was perfectly calm and
self possessed, miss Coburn. Willis said, as he rose and bowed,
(13:31):
I am afraid I can guess why you have called.
You saw the account in the paper? Yes, she hesitated,
Is it my father? Willis told her as gently as
he could. She sat quite still for a few moments
while he busied himself with some papers. Then she asked
to see the body. When they had returned to Willis's room,
(13:52):
he invited her to sit down again. I very deeply
regret miss Coburn, he said, to have to trouble you
at this time with questions. But I fear you will
have to give evidence at the inquest this afternoon, and
it will be easier for yourself to make a statement now,
so that only what is absolutely necessary need be asked you. Then,
Madeleine seemed stunned by the tragedy, and she spoke as
(14:14):
if in a dream. I am ready to do what
is necessary. He thanked her and began by inquiring about
her father's history. Mister Coburn, it appeared, had had a
public school and college training, but his father dying when
he was just twenty and leaving the family in somewhat
poor circumstances. He had gone into business as a clerk
in the Hopwood Manufacturing Company, a large engineering works in
(14:38):
the Midlands. In this he had risen until he held
the important position of cashier, and he and his wife
and daughter had lived in happiness and comfort during the
latter's girlhood. But some six years previous to the tragedy
which had just taken place, a change had come over
the household. In the first place, missus Coburn developed a
painful illness and had dragged out a miserable existence for
(14:59):
the three years before her death. At the same time,
whether from the expense of the illness or from other causes,
Miss Coburn did not know, financial embarrassment seemed to descend
on her father. One by one, their small luxuries were
cut off. Then their house had to be given up
and had moved to rooms in a rather poor locality
of the town. Their crowning misfortune followed rapidly mister Coburn
(15:21):
gave up his position at the works, and for a
time actual want stared them in the face. Then this
pit prop syndicate had been formed, and mister Coburn had
gone into it as the manager of the loading station.
Miss Coburn did not know the reason of his leaving
the engineering works, but she suspected there had been friction,
as his disposition for a time had changed and he
had lost his bright manner and vivacity. He had, however,
(15:45):
to a large extent, recovered while in France. She was
not aware either of the terms on which he had
entered the syndicate, but she imagined he shared in the
profits instead of receiving a salary. These facts, which Willis
obtained by as dute questioning, seemed to him not a
little suggestive from what mister Coburn had himself told Merriman.
It looked as if there had been some secret in
(16:06):
his life which had placed him in the power of
the syndicate, and the inspector wondered whether this might not
be connected with his leaving the Engineering Works at all events.
Inquiries there seemed to suggest a new line of attack,
should such become necessary. Willis then turned to the events
of the past few days. It appeared that about a
fortnight earlier, mister Coburn announced that he was crossing to
(16:26):
London for the annual meeting of the Syndicate, and as
he did not wish his daughter to be alone at
the clearing, it was arranged that she should accompany him.
They had traveled by the Giron Dean to Hull, and,
on coming to London, put up at the Peverrel. Mister
Coburn had been occupied off and on during the four
days they had remained there, but the evenings they had
spent together in amusements. On the night of the murder,
(16:49):
mister Coburn was to have left for Hull to return
to France by the Giron Dein, his daughter going by
an earlier train to Eastbourne, where she was to have
spent ten days with an aunt. Except for what mister
Coburn had said about the meeting of the Syndicate, Madeleine
did not know anything of his business in town, nor
had she seen any member of the Syndicate. After leaving
(17:09):
the ship, having taken notes of her statements, Willis spoke
of the inquest and repeated the instructions he had given
merriment as to the evidence. Then he told her of
the young man's visit, and, referring to his anxiety on
her behalf, asked if he might acquaint him with her whereabouts.
She thankfully acquiesced, and Willis, who was anxious that her
(17:30):
mind should be kept occupied until the inquest, pushed his
good offices to the extent of arranging a meeting between
the two. The inquest elicited no further information. Formal evidence
of identification was given. The doctors deposed that death was
due to a bullet from an exceedingly small bore automatic pistol.
The cab driver and porter told their stories, and the
(17:51):
jury returned the obvious verdict of murder against some person
or person's unknown. The inspector's precautions were observed and not
a word was uttered which could have given any hint
to any member of the pit prop syndicate that the
bonafides of his organization was suspected. Two days later, when
the funeral was over, Merriman took Miss Coburn back to
her aunt's at Eastbourne. No word of love passed his lips,
(18:14):
but the young girl seemed pleased to have his company,
and before parting from her, he obtained permission to call
on her again. He met the aunt for a few
moments and was somewhat comforted to find her a kind,
motherly woman who was evidently sincerely attached to the now
fatherless girl. He had told Madeleine of his interview with
her father, and she had not blamed him for his
(18:34):
part in the matter, saying she had believed for some
time that a development of the kind was inevitable. So
for them. The days began to creep wearily past. Merriman
paid as frequent visits to Eastbourne as he dared, and
little by little he began to hope that he was
making progress in his suit, but try as he would,
he could not bring the matter to a head. The
(18:55):
girl had evidently had a more severe shock than they
had realized at first, and she became listling and difficult
to interest. In passing events, he saw there was nothing
for it but to wait, and he set himself to
bide his time with the best patience he could muster.
End of Chapter thirteen,
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