Mystery on Southampton Water Read online

  INSPECTOR FRENCH AND THE MYSTERY ON SOUTHAMPTON WATER

  Freeman Wills Crofts

  Copyright

  Published by COLLINS CRIME CLUB

  An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain by Hodder and Stoughton Ltd 1934

  Copyright © Estate of Freeman Wills Crofts 1934

  Cover design by Mike Topping © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020

  A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

  Source ISBN: 9780008393274

  Ebook Edition © September 2020 ISBN: 9780008393281

  Version: 2020-07-16

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Map

  PART I: TRANSGRESSION

  1. Joymount is Perturbed

  2. The Fight Begins

  3. A Foolish Pact

  4. The First Attempt

  5. The Bowl of Sugar

  6. Disaster

  7. A Watertight Scheme

  PART II: DETECTION

  8. French Gets an Outside Job

  9. French Sees the Burnt Car

  10. French Learns of the Process

  11. French Gets Down to It

  PART III: MYSTIFICATION

  12. Joymount Makes a Fresh Start

  13. Joymount is Again Perturbed

  14. An Alliance with the Enemy

  15. Chayle Puts on the Screw

  16. Tragedy Comes Again to Chayle

  PART IV: ELUCIDATION

  17. French Returns to the Assault

  18. French Gets Help from Routine

  19. French Gets Help from a Theory

  20. French Gets Help from the Sea

  21. French Gets Help from his Wits

  22. French Gets Help from a Victim

  23. French Gets Help from the Enemy

  About the Author

  Also in this series

  About the Publisher

  Map

  PART I

  Transgression

  1

  Joymount is Perturbed

  ‘And now, gentlemen, I shall call upon our managing director for his report.’

  Sir Francis Askwith, chairman of the Joymoun Rapid Hardening Cement Manufacturing Company, Limited, put down his agenda paper, glanced at his colleagues, leant back in his chair, and waited.

  The faces of the seven men seated round the boardroom table were grave. This was no ordinary meeting of routine business to which they had been summoned. A crisis had arisen in the history of their company, and they were there to take decisive action.

  They were representative enough of the directors of a small firm. Four of them were ‘passengers.’ Sir Francis, though still a distinguished looking man, was bent from the weight of his seventy odd years. He was a retired County Court judge, personally charming, but as a chairman simply a figurehead. The two men seated on his left were also past their prime, too old indeed to take a useful part in the business. A fourth man, though only in the thirties, was obviously a son of sport, and seemed out of his element in this temple of diplomacy and finance.

  The other three, however, were of a different calibre. One was the very type and essence of the prosperous business man—middle-aged, quiet, efficient, and with that unmistakable air which comes from personality. A man whose opinion one would unhesitatingly take and whom one would be glad to have as a partner in a crisis. Unfortunately the Joymount Rapid Hardening Cement Manufacturing Company was small fry to him and he did not give its affairs sufficient attention greatly to influence their conduct.

  Next him sat the youngest of the party, a man still on the right side of thirty. This was Walter Brand, who as well as being a director, overlooked the financial affairs of the firm. Appearance and manner indicated that he was something of a live wire.

  The remaining member of the board sat at the foot of the table, opposite the chairman. His name was James Tasker and he was the managing director upon whom Sir Francis had called for a report. He was a clean shaven, slightly undersized man of about fifty, with a long nose, rather foxy eyes and a thin-lipped mouth like a trap. In him the critical observer would have recognised the real head of the concern, and the critical observer would have been right. James Tasker was an able man. There was nothing about the technique of his business that he didn’t know. He was an adept at encompassing sales and a genius in the handling of men.

  Slowly he now rose to his feet, still turning over the papers which lay on the table before him. The others watched him anxiously. They had come there to hear bad news and now they were going to hear it.

  ‘Mr Chairman and gentlemen,’ began Tasker in a dry but cultivated voice, ‘as we haven’t had a full meeting of the board since this matter arose, and as it was not convenient to give details on the notice summoning the meeting, I may perhaps recount the circumstances from the beginning, for the benefit of those who are not fully familiar with them.’

  He paused and looked at the chairman.

  ‘I think we should all like you to do so,’ Sir Francis returned, and Tasker with a little nod resumed.

  ‘I need scarcely go back to the start of our enterprise seven years ago. Then our prospects looked as promising as anyone could wish, and like many another firm, we set out to make our fortune. Like them, we found we had made a mistake. The memory of the depression is too recent and too painful to need recalling. As you know, we all but closed down last year. Almost, but happily, not altogether. For, again as you know, during the summer of 1933 our business began slowly but quite steadily to mend. I shall ask you to look at the graph I have prepared, a copy of which is before each of you. This covers the life of our enterprise, showing its early success, then its gradual decline, its sinking into the trough of the wave and its apparent recovery.’

  There was a slight movement as his hearers bent to study the sheets before them. The history of those later years had indeed been something of a tragedy, a tragedy of which they had not yet reached the end. As they looked at the sinister record, the mind of more than one went back to the circumstances under which the company had been formed.

  For many decades the use of Portland cement had been growing, till in the early years of the present century it had become the world’s chief building material. But it had one serious drawback: it took something like a month to set really hard. Then there came the French invention of ciment fondu, a product which grew hard in as many hours as the older material had taken days. Other similar inventions followed and soon various firms in England were making one form or another.

  The Joymount Company were producing a material of the ciment fondu type. The company had come into being through the observation and enterprise of the young man Brand, who as a reward was afterwards given his directorship. Bathing one day near the mouth of
the Hamble, a small stream with a large estuary which flows into Southampton Water not far below Netley Hospital, he noticed how like the slob left uncovered by the tide was to that used near his home for the manufacture of cement. Cement, he knew, was already made in the Isle of Wight, where they had the two prime necessaries, this kind of slob and chalk. Here on the Hamble the chalk was not so much in evidence, but he made enquiries and found that it was to be had within reasonable distance. Brand reported his discovery to his then chief, a chartered accountant in the City. This man had had investigations made, and Brand’s opinion was found to be justified. The young man had had the manufacture of ordinary Portland cement in his mind, but it turned out that he had done better than he knew. An unexpected deposit of bauxite supplied the further ingredient required for making the ciment fondu variety. A small company was formed, the necessary ground and rights were purchased, and in 1927 the new works were a going concern. From the first it had done well—until the slump, when as Tasker had just mentioned, it had all but closed down.

  ‘You will see from this,’ went on Tasker, demonstrating on his graph as he spoke, ‘that with the coming of the slump our profits began to fall. Up till September 1932 we kept on working at a profit, but then we unhappily crossed the line of solvency and for a year we worked at a loss. This loss increased until May 1933, when it amounted to something like £100 a week. That meant about £5,000 a year, and generous as you, gentlemen, and our shareholders have been, we could not stand such a drain for long. As you know, the question of closing down was considered again and again. We did not, however, take this desperate remedy because we believed that if and when recovery came, we had here a valuable property which in the long run would recoup our losses.’

  Tasker had the ear of his audience. All were listening with concentration. The bright July sunshine pouring in through the open windows contrasted with their gloomy faces. The silence of the room was broken only by the faint cries of seabirds, circling round the firm’s little wharf in the hope of getting their dinners with the minimum of toil. Brand, who was something of a philosopher, could not help thinking how similar were the aims of birds and men.

  ‘In June 1933,’ Tasker continued, ‘there came a welcome change. In July our average losses dropped to a little over £80 a week. In August it was down to £50 and in September to £10. In October, for the first time for over a year, we showed a profit—only £25 a week, but still £25 on the right side. In November the figures were better still: our profit had gone up to £60 a week. That is to say that from June to November we had a steadily increasing and highly gratifying improvement every month. In short in November last we had all the signs of a speedy return to real prosperity. So far I think all you gentlemen are aware of the facts.’

  Tasker glanced round and one or two of his hearers nodded.

  ‘But now,’ he went on, ‘we come to a disconcerting and unwelcome change. The direction of the curve, as you can see on the graph, changes suddenly. From November to the present moment it is going down as steadily as before that date it was going up. In December our profit of £60 a week dropped to £50. In January it had gone down to £35, and each succeeding month it has gone down still lower, until in April we were once again faced with an actual loss on our turnover. It was only the trifling figure of £15, but in May this deficit had risen to £45, and last month, June, it was £80. You will see from this that our losses are rapidly increasing. In fact it is not too much to say that if things continue in the same direction, we shall be faced in a short time with bankruptcy.’

  There was a slight movement among the other men as Tasker reached this conclusion. Then Bramwell, the type of the successful business man, spoke.

  ‘I was in South America when this matter was discussed and I didn’t hear the full details. What exactly has gone wrong? Is it increase of costs or shortness of sales or what?’

  ‘Sales,’ returned Tasker. ‘Our sales have gone down steadily.’

  ‘Costs all right?’

  ‘Our costs are perfectly satisfactory. Our plant, as you all know, is as modern as any, I think I may say, in the world. And we have adopted full scientific management, motion study, costing, office planning and labour saving devices of every description. I’m ready to stand over it that our costs will compare favourably with those of any works anywhere. I may add that we’ve a thorough good lot of men.’

  ‘I thought so,’ Bramwell returned. ‘From what I have seen of the works, everything seemed to me quite excellent. Thank you, Tasker.’

  ‘At our last meeting in June,’ went on Tasker, ‘when I reported how serious this matter was becoming—when you were in South America, Bramwell—it was decided that I was to make a special investigation into the affair, so as to be able, if possible, to put before you today, not only a full explanation of what was happening, but also a recommendation as to the best means of meeting the situation.’

  Tasker seemed to find a difficulty in proceeding. He was obviously a good deal perturbed. This question of a possible shutting down meant more to him than to any of the others. Tasker was not a rich man, and if his salary as managing director disappeared on the top of the money he had put into the concern, it would leave him really hard up. Brand, it was true, was also dependent on what he could earn, but Brand was a young man and unmarried, whereas Tasker would soon be past his prime, and he had a wife and son and daughter to support. It would not be an easy thing at his age to get another job.

  To the others the affair was not so serious. All were comfortably off, and though no one contemplates the loss of money with equanimity, the failure of the Joymount Works would be to them a comparatively small matter.

  After a momentary hesitation Tasker continued speaking.

  ‘The first thing, as Bramwell’s question just now has suggested, was to find out what had gone wrong. As far as we ourselves were concerned, there was no mystery about it. Our sales were simply dropping. The number of new buyers had fallen off and our regular customers were taking a smaller quantity. I got in touch with a number of these regular customers, but none of them would give me any satisfaction.

  ‘Then I approached certain of our rivals. Here also there was not much information to be had, but from one or two men whom I knew pretty well I learned something at last. And I will say that it was pretty surprising. In each case their sales had gone down too.

  ‘There seemed to be only one explanation for it: engineers and architects had for some reason become suspicious of rapid hardening cement and had gone back to the use of the older Portland. My friends and I studied the technical journals for an explanation of this—entirely without result. So far as we could see no failures had taken place, nor were there any articles or correspondence on the subject.

  ‘I then went to the Board of Trade and asked for the latest returns of the use of rapid hardening cement in this country. You will understand my astonishment on finding that so far from there having been a diminution in the amount used this had actually increased.’

  Tasker fumbled among his papers. ‘I don’t know if you would like the figures,’ he said. ‘If anyone would, they’re all there. Roughly speaking, they show that our output had dropped by some twenty per cent while the total used in the country had gone up by five per cent.

  ‘Where, then, had the extra stuff come from? It seemed to me at first that in spite of the tariff, cement must be being imported in large quantities. But I was wrong in this too. Careful enquiries through a friend in the Customs department showed that there had been no increase to speak of in the amount shipped into the country.’

  ‘Extraordinary,’ interjected Sir Francis, looking round on his colleagues.

  There was a little murmur of agreement, but no one seemed disposed for further comment and Tasker went on.

  ‘There seemed, therefore, to be only one solution left—that some British firm or firms were putting out a greatly increased amount of the stuff. I went to Robertson’s manager and put it to him straight—I may say that
he and I have been personal friends for many years, quite apart from business. I said, “Look here, Tony, your firm has been one of our best customers since we went into this business. Now you’ve cut down our orders by twenty per cent. What’s it all about?”

  ‘Well, he wouldn’t say for a while, but at last under a promise of secrecy he told me. We were being undersold. Not in the actual price charged, but rebates were being given for even lorry- or wagon- or ship-loads. They were not large rebates, but where things are so tight that every penny has to be counted, they were large enough to make the difference.’

  The chairman moved suddenly. ‘But,’ he said, ‘if we are being undersold, as you tell us, how is it that we are still able to sell our product at all? I understood you to say that our output is only down about twenty per cent.’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s not difficult to answer,’ Tasker returned with a grimace. ‘The amount available with these rebates is limited, and my friend’s firm can’t get all they’d like. Production, however, is increasing rapidly, and as it does so, Robertson’s will take more and our share will go down still further.’

  ‘It doesn’t look very rosy,’ Sir Francis remarked hesitatingly, with which opinion there were murmurs of agreement.

  ‘Did you find out who was underselling us?’ asked Bramwell.

  ‘I did,’ said Tasker slowly, ‘and I think it will surprise you more than anything else. It’s Chayle.’

  ‘Chayle?’ Bramwell retorted. ‘You don’t say so?’ while there were expressions of surprise from several other members.

  ‘Yes, Chayle. I shouldn’t have believed it, but it’s the fact.’

  Chayle, or to give it its correct name, Messrs Haviland & Mairs, Ltd, of Chayle, Isle of Wight, was the only other works in the district which were making the same rapid hardening cement as the Joymount Company. The works, which had been started two years before Joymount, were situated at Thorness Bay, on the Solent, some four miles along the coast to the west of Cowes. So far as was known, they were considerably larger than Joymount and equally efficiently organised, but none of the members of the Joymount staff had been over them. Tasker knew both Haviland and Mairs slightly, but neither seemed anxious to pursue the acquaintanceship, and they remained on distant terms.