The Hampstead Mystery Read online

  THE HAMPSTEAD MYSTERY

  BY JOHN R. WATSON & ARTHUR J. REES

  1916

  TO ARTHUR BLACK IN MEMORY OF OLD TIMES

  CHAPTER I

  "Hallo! Is that Hampstead Police Station?"

  "Yes. Who are you?"

  "Detective-Inspector Chippenfield of Scotland Yard. Tell Inspector SeldonI want him, and be quick about it."

  "Yes, sir. Hang on, sir. I'll put you through to him at once."

  Detective-Inspector Chippenfield, of Scotland Yard, waited with thereceiver held to his ear. While he waited he scrutinised keenly a sheetof paper which lay on the desk in front of him. It was a flimsy,faintly-ruled sheet from a cheap writing-pad, blotted and soiled, andcovered with sprawling letters which had been roughly printed atirregular intervals as though to hide the identity of the writer. But theletters formed words, and the words read:

  SIR HORACE FEWBANKS WAS MURDERED LAST NIGHT

  WHO DID IT I DONT KNOW SO IT IS NO USE TRYING TO FIND OUT WHO I AM YOUWILL FIND HIS DEAD BODY IN THE LIBRARY AT RIVERSBROOK

  HE WAS SHOT THOUGH THE HEART

  "Hallo!"

  "Is that you, Inspector Chippenfield?"

  "Yes. That you, Seldon? Have you heard anything of a murder outyour way?"

  "Can't say that I have. Have you?"

  "Yes. We have information that Sir Horace Fewbanks has beenmurdered--shot."

  "Mr. Justice Fewbanks shot--murdered!" Inspector Seldon gave expressionto his surprise in a long low whistle which travelled through thetelephone. Then he added, after a moment's reflection, "There must besome mistake. He is away."

  "Away where?"

  "In Scotland. He went there for the Twelfth--when the shootingseason opened."

  "Are you sure of that?"

  "Yes; he rang me up the day before he left to ask us to keep an eye onhis house while he was away."

  There was a pause at the Scotland Yard end of the telephone. InspectorChippenfield was evidently thinking hard.

  "We may have been hoaxed," he said at length. "But I have been ringingup his house and can get no answer. You had better send up a couple ofmen there at once--better still, go yourself. It is a matter which mayrequire tactful handling. Let me know, and I'll come out immediately ifthere is anything wrong. Stay! How long will it take you to get up tothe house?"

  "Not more than fifteen minutes--in a taxi."

  "Well, I'll ring you up at the house in half an hour. Should ourinformation be correct see that everything is left exactly as you find ittill I arrive."

  Inspector Seldon hung up the receiver of his telephone, bundled up thepapers scattered on his desk, closed it, and stepped out of his officeinto the next room.

  "Anyone about?" he hurriedly asked the sergeant who was making entries inthe charge-book.

  "Yes, sir. I saw Flack here a moment ago."

  "Get him at once and call a taxi. Scotland Yard's rung through to saythey've received a report that Sir Horace Fewbanks has been murdered."

  "Murdered?" echoed the sergeant in a tone of keen interest. "Who toldScotland Yard that?"

  "I don't know. Who was on that beat last night?"

  "Flack, sir. Was Sir Horace murdered in his own house? I thought he wasin Scotland."

  "So did I, but he may have returned--ah, here's the taxi."

  Inspector Seldon had been waiting on the steps for the appearance of acab from the rank round the corner in response to the shrill blast whichthe sergeant had blown on his whistle. The sergeant went to the door ofthe station leading into the yard and sharply called:

  "Flack!"

  In response a police-constable, without helmet or tunic, came running upthe steps from the basement, which was used as a gymnasium.

  "Seldon wants you. Get on your tunic as quick as you can. He is in adevil of a hurry."

  Inspector Seldon was seated in the taxi-cab when Flack appeared. He hadbeen impatiently drumming his fingers on the door of the cab.

  "Jump in, man," he said angrily. "What has kept you all this time?"

  Flack breathed stertorously to show that he had been running and was outof breath, but he made no reply to the official rebuke. Inspector Seldonturned to him and remarked severely:

  "Why didn't you let me know that Sir Horace Fewbanks had returned fromScotland?"

  Flack looked astonished.

  "But he hasn't returned, sir," he said. "He's away for a month at least,"he ventured to add.

  "Who told you that?"

  "The housemaid at Riversbrook--before he went away."

  "H'm." The inspector's next question contained a moral rebuke rather thanan official one. "You're a married man, Flack?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "So the housemaid told you he was going away for a month. Well, she oughtto know. When did she tell you?"

  "A week ago yesterday, sir. She told me that all the servants except thebutler were going down to Dellmere the next day--that is Sir Horace'scountry place--and that Sir Horace was going to Scotland for theshooting and would put in some weeks at Dellmere after the shootingseason was over."

  "And are you sure he hasn't returned?"

  "Quite, sir. I saw Hill, the butler, only yesterday morning, and hetold me that his master was sure to be in Scotland for at least amonth longer."

  "It's very strange," muttered the inspector, half to himself. "It will bea deuced awkward situation to face if Scotland Yard has been hoaxed."

  "Beg your pardon, sir, but is there anything wrong about Sir Horace?"

  "Yes. Scotland Yard has received a report that he has been murdered."

  Flack's surprise was so great that it lifted the lid of official humilitywhich habitually covered his natural feelings.

  "Murdered!" he exclaimed. "Sir Horace Fewbanks murdered? Youdon't say so!"

  "But I do say so. I've just said so," retorted Inspector Seldonirritably. He was angry at the fact that the information, whether true orfalse, had gone direct to Scotland Yard instead of reaching him first.

  "When was he murdered, sir?" asked Flack.

  "Last night--when you were on that beat."

  Flack paled at this remark.

  "Last night, sir?" he cried.

  "Don't repeat my words like a parrot," ejaculated the inspectorpeevishly. "Didn't you notice anything suspicious when you werealong there?"

  "No, sir. Was he murdered in his own house?"

  "His dead body is supposed to be lying there now in the library," saidInspector Seldon. "How Scotland Yard got wind of it is more than I know.We ought to have heard of it before them. How many times did you go alongthere last night?"

  "Twice, sir. About eleven o'clock, and then about three."

  "And there was nothing suspicious--you saw no one?"

  "I saw Mr. Roberts and his lady coming home from the theatre. But helives at the other end of Tanton Gardens. And I saw the housemaid at Mr.Fielding's come out to the pillar-box. That was a few minutes aftereleven. I didn't see anybody at all the second time."

  "Nobody at the judge's place--no taxi, or anything like that?"

  "No, sir."

  The taxi-cab turned swiftly into the shady avenue of Tanton Gardens,where Sir Horace Fewbanks lived, and in a few moments pulled up outsideof Riversbrook. The house stood a long way back from the road in its owngrounds. Inspector Seldon and Flack passed rapidly through the groundsand reached the front door of the mansion. There was nobody about; theplace seemed deserted, and the blinds were down on the ground-floorwindows. Inspector Seldon knocked loudly at the front door with the big,old-fashioned brass knocker, and rang the bell. He listened intently fora response, but no sound followed except the sharp note of the electricbell as Flack rang it again while Inspector Seldon bent down with his earat the keyhole. Then the
inspector stepped back and regarded the housekeenly for a moment or two.

  "Put your finger on that bell and keep on ringing it, Flack," he saidsuddenly. "I see that some of the blinds are down, but there's one on thefirst floor which is partly up. It looks as though the house had beenshut up and somebody had come back unexpectedly."

  "Perhaps it's Hill, the butler," said Flack.

  "If he's inside he ought to answer the bell. But keep on ringing while Iknock again."

  The heavy brass knocker again reverberated on the thick oak door, andInspector Seldon placed his ear against the keyhole to ascertain if anysound was to be heard.

  "Take your finger off that bell, Flack," he commanded. "I cannot hearwhether anybody is coming or not." He remained in a listening attitudefor half a minute and then plied the knocker again. Again he listened forfootsteps within the house. "Ring again, Flack. Keep on ringing while Igo round the house to see if there is any way I can get in. I may have tobreak a window. Don't move from here."

  Inspector Seldon went quickly round the side of the house, trying thewindows as he went. Towards the rear of the house, on the west side, hecame across a curious abutment of masonry jutting out squarely from thewall. On the other side of this abutment, which gave the house somethingof an unfinished appearance, were three French windows close together.The blinds of these windows were closely drawn, but the inspector's keeneye detected that one of the catches had been broken, and there weremarks of some instrument on the outside woodwork.

  "This looks like business," he muttered.

  He pulled open the window, and walked into the room. The light of anafternoon sun showed him that the apartment was a breakfast room, welland solidly furnished in an old-fashioned way, with most of the furniturein covers, as though the occupants of the house were away. The daylightpenetrated to the door at the far end of the room. It was wide open, andrevealed an empty passage. Inspector Seldon walked into the passage. Thedrawn blinds made the passage seem quite dark after the bright Augustsunshine outside, but he produced an electric torch, and by its light hesaw that the passage ran into the main hall.

  His footsteps echoed in the empty house. The electric bell rangcontinuously as Flack pressed it outside. Inspector Seldon walked alongthe passage to the hall, flashing his torch into each room he passed. Hesaw nothing, and went to the front door to admit Flack.

  "That is enough of that noise, Flack," he said. "Come inside and help mesearch the house above. It's empty on this floor so far as I've been overit. If you find anything call me, and mind you do not touch anything.Where did you say the library was?"

  "I don't know, sir."

  "Well, look about you on the ground floor while I go upstairs. Call me ifyou hear anything."

  Inspector Seldon mounted the stairs swiftly in order to continuehis search.

  The staircase was a wide one, with broad shallow steps, thickly carpeted,and a handsome carved mahogany baluster. The inspector, flashing historch as he ran up, saw a small electric light niche in the wall beforehe reached the first landing. The catch of the light was underneath, andInspector Seldon turned it on. The light revealed that the stairs sweptround at that point to the landing of the first floor, which was screenedfrom view by heavy velvet hangings, partly caught back by the bent armof a marble figure of Diana, which faced downstairs, with its other armupraised and about to launch a hunting spear. By this graceful device thecurtains were drawn back sufficiently to give access to the corridor onthe first floor.

  Inspector Seldon looked closely at the figure and the hangings. Somethingstrange about the former arrested his eye. It was standing awry on itspedestal--was, indeed, almost toppling over. He looked up and saw thatone of the curtains supported by the arm hung loosely from one of thecurtain rings. It was as though some violent hand had torn at the curtainin passing, almost dragging it from the pole and precipitating the figuredown the stairs. Immediately beyond the landing, in the corridor, was adoor on the right, flung wide open.

  The inspector entered the room with the open door. It was a large roomforming part of the front of the house--a lofty large room, partlylighted by the half-drawn blind of one of the windows. One side was linedwith bookshelves. In the corner of the room farthest from the door, was aroll-top desk, which was open. In the centre of the room was a table, anda huddled up figure was lying beside it, in a dark pool of blood whichhad oozed into the carpet.

  The inspector stepped quickly back to the landing.

  "Flack!" he called, and unconsciously his voice dropped to a sharpwhisper in the presence of death. "Flack, come here."

  When Flack reached the door of the library he saw his chief kneelingbeside the prostrate body of a dead man. The body lay clear of the table,near the foot of an arm-chair. Instinctively Flack walked on tiptoe tohis chief.

  "Is he dead, sir?" he asked.

  "Cold and stiff," replied the inspector, in a hushed voice. "He's beendead for hours."

  Flack noted that the body was fully dressed, and he saw a dark stainabove the breast where the blood had welled forth and soaked the deadman's clothes and formed a pool on the carpet beside him.

  Inspector Seldon opened the dead man's clothes. Over his heart he foundthe wound from which the blood had flowed.

  "There it is, Flack," he said, touching the wound lightly with hisfinger. "It doesn't take a big wound to kill a man."

  As he spoke the sharp ring of a telephone bell from downstairsreached them.

  "That's Inspector Chippenfield," said Inspector Seldon, rising to hisfeet. "Stay here, Flack, till I go and speak to him."