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THE CLEVEDON : : CASE : :
THE CLEVEDON : : CASE : :
BY NANCY & JOHN OAKLEY PHILADELPHIA J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY Printed in Great Britain by Wyman & Sons Ltd., London, Reading and Fakenham. CHAPTER PAGE I. A Midnight Visitor 9 II. The Tragedy at White Towers 23 III. A Meeting in the Dark 34 IV. The Silver-headed Hatpin 45 V. Kitty Clevedon and Ronald Thoyne 59 VI. A New Sensation 70 VII. Evidence at the Inquest 80 VIII. The story of a Quarrel 94 IX. What Kitty Clevedon said 105 X. An Invitation from Lady Clevedon 117 XI. A visit f
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CHAPTER I A MIDNIGHT VISITOR
CHAPTER I A MIDNIGHT VISITOR
I became mixed up with the Clevedon case—the Cartordale Mystery, as it has been called—in curious fashion. True, it was to some extent in my line of business, though I do not actually earn my living by straightening out tangles. With me it is all a matter of “copy.” You may or may not have read my various books—there are eight of them now—on criminology. Their preparation has led me into all sorts of queer by-ways and has given me a curiously clear and analytical insight into the mind of the
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CHAPTER II THE TRAGEDY AT WHITE TOWERS
CHAPTER II THE TRAGEDY AT WHITE TOWERS
When I came down to Stone Hollow to take over my new inheritance, I found the house completely furnished on extremely comfortable if rather old-fashioned lines; and Martha Helter in possession. She had been my aunt’s housekeeper for over twenty years and had evidently every intention of being mine also. I was quite agreeable, since it saved me a lot of trouble, nor have I so far seen any reason to regret that decision. Mrs. Helter—the title had apparently been accorded her by courtesy, since s
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CHAPTER III A MEETING IN THE DARK
CHAPTER III A MEETING IN THE DARK
I had not long to wait before making further acquaintance with my pretty midnight visitor. Our second meeting took place within a few hours of the police call and on the same day. I had been out for a long walk across the hills and was tramping steadily along the high road towards Stone Hollow, when I saw, gleaming through the darkness—it was already dark though only late afternoon—at probably the loneliest and most desolate spot in the Dale, the headlights of a motor-car evidently at a stands
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CHAPTER IV THE SILVER-HEADED HATPIN
CHAPTER IV THE SILVER-HEADED HATPIN
The Midlington evening papers reached Cartordale about seven o’clock. To accomplish that they had to be printed somewhere about 3.30 p.m., and accordingly were rather early editions. Nevertheless, the one I saw contained a very good account of the Clevedon tragedy, though, as I could well see, reading between the lines, one which the police had carefully supervised. The press and the police work in very much closer accord than most people realise. They help one another, and the wise newspape
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CHAPTER V KITTY CLEVEDON AND RONALD THOYNE
CHAPTER V KITTY CLEVEDON AND RONALD THOYNE
I met Sergeant Gamley, the officer who had called on me in company with Detective Pepster, and I asked him whether the public would be admitted freely to the inquest. “Well,” he said slowly, “I suppose they have the right, but the accommodation is very limited, very. When the witnesses and the lawyers and the family and the police and the reporters and people who must be there are squeezed in there’ll not be a lot of room for outsiders. Did you want—ah, now, I am looking for another juryman.
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CHAPTER VI A NEW SENSATION
CHAPTER VI A NEW SENSATION
It was in Dr. Crawford’s surgery the day before the resumed inquest that I met Lady Clevedon again. A little to my surprise she recognised me, though, as far as I knew, she had only seen me in the dark, and greeted me by name. “I wanted to know you, Mr. Holt,” the old lady said. “You were a popular theme of conversation when your aunt’s will became known, and everybody wondered what this London nephew might be like.” “May I suppose that he, even though distantly, approaches expectation?” I sai
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CHAPTER VII EVIDENCE AT THE INQUEST
CHAPTER VII EVIDENCE AT THE INQUEST
I took my place at the jury table for the resumed inquest with considerably quickened anticipations. Dr. Crawford’s story had introduced new factors into the case which promised added interest and a still more involved mystery, though with a possibility of suicide and, it might be, a vivid and fascinating life story. Not that I indulged in any speculations. I wanted only facts and those I expected the inquest to afford. I was not disappointed. Of course, the doctor’s evidence startled every
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CHAPTER VIII THE STORY OF A QUARREL
CHAPTER VIII THE STORY OF A QUARREL
The inquest, as far as it had gone, afforded no leading at all. We had not even learned how the poison had been administered, for though there had been some suggestion of possible juggling with the whisky bottle and glass, there had been nothing definite. But it was the hatpin that puzzled me most. One might regard it as certain, at all events, that Sir Philip Clevedon, even if he had voluntarily taken the poison, had not thereafter stabbed himself. One could only suppose that it was the mur
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CHAPTER IX WHAT KITTY CLEVEDON SAID
CHAPTER IX WHAT KITTY CLEVEDON SAID
The next witness was Miss Kitty Clevedon herself and I confess I awaited her coming with more than ordinary interest. Of one thing I was certain, that she would say exactly what she wanted to say and not a word more, and that no intrusive scruples would confine her too urgently to the truth, unless, indeed, the fact that she was on oath might have any influence with her, which I doubted. I have always found that a woman’s conscience is in that respect far more elastic than a man’s. She took h
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CHAPTER X AN INVITATION FROM LADY CLEVEDON
CHAPTER X AN INVITATION FROM LADY CLEVEDON
“ Oh , Mr. Holt,” cried the young lady behind the counter of the little general shop that was also the village post office. “I have just taken a telegram for you. You can have it now if you like. It’s against the regulations, but that doesn’t matter.” I took the yellow slip and perused the message which was from a publishing firm with whom I was negotiating, offering me a price for a manuscript I had submitted to them. “It is a lot of money,” the girl said, with a touch of envy. “It would ta
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CHAPTER XI A VISIT FROM RONALD THOYNE
CHAPTER XI A VISIT FROM RONALD THOYNE
The “Waggon and Horses” in Cartordale was one of the best known inns in the district, with a history behind it that went far beyond the printed word into the mists and myths of legend and tradition. I believe, in fact, that it possessed its own duly authenticated ghost, that of a sailor on tramp towards the coast, who had been murdered for his gold by a rascally landlord and his wife. This was well over two centuries ago and it was a long time now since the sailor’s restless spirit had been se
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CHAPTER XII RONALD THOYNE DISAPPEARS
CHAPTER XII RONALD THOYNE DISAPPEARS
The next move in this very curious game was made by Pepster who called on me a few days after my interview with Ronald Thoyne. “I have a warrant for Tulmin’s arrest,” he announced. “Yes,” I said, “I am not surprised. I could see you were edging that way.” “It’s the right way. Tulmin has disappeared.” “Has he? That is interesting at least.” “Yes, he went from White Towers to Lennsdale—that is Mr. Thoyne’s house, you know. Thoyne engaged him the day after the inquest and he went at once. And
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CHAPTER XIII THE VICAR’S STORY
CHAPTER XIII THE VICAR’S STORY
It was by means of the Vicar that the story was carried a stage further. I had made the old man’s acquaintance soon after I first came to Cartordale and had conceived a great liking for the gentle, kindly old parson and his bustling, energetic, rather autocratic wife. The Rev. Herbert Wickstead was an elderly man, with a thin, colourless face, short-sighted eyes and a scholarly stoop. As a preacher, he was not very much, for, though he did some hard thinking and was now and again original, he
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CHAPTER XIV KITTY SENDS A TELEGRAM
CHAPTER XIV KITTY SENDS A TELEGRAM
“ And when will you arrest him?” Lady Clevedon demanded. “Ah, yes,” I returned slowly, “that is just it. You see, the difference between knowing and proving is several thousand miles and this brick wall—” “Oh, you and your brick walls!” the old lady cried, waving her hands with an impatient and fretful gesture. “I want to see the murderer hanged and the whole thing cleared away and forgotten. He was stabbed with my hatpin and there are people silly enough to—” “But, Auntie, Mr. Holt must be a
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CHAPTER XV ON RONALD THOYNE’S YACHT
CHAPTER XV ON RONALD THOYNE’S YACHT
Ilbay we discovered to be a very tiny village, hardly more than a cluster of cottages, a small inn and a church. There was a jetty, built of stone in a rough-and-tumble fashion that clearly betokened amateur workmanship, and flanked on either side by a semi-circular sweep of sandy beach that ended in a jumble of rocks lying at the bases of tall cliffs. The road came over the hills after threading its way through vast moorlands and dipped steeply down to the village and the sea. “The yacht is st
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CHAPTER XVI THE MYSTERY OF BILLY CLEVEDON
CHAPTER XVI THE MYSTERY OF BILLY CLEVEDON
“ Tell me,” I went on, “all you know about young Clevedon. His continued absence is certainly interesting.” “I am not sure that I know very much about him,” Pepster said. “You see, he never came under my survey professionally, though according to accounts that was rather by way of good luck than actual desert. When they were children, brother and sister were inseparable and were always up to mischief of some sort. Their parents died when they were babies and they went to live at White Towers
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CHAPTER XVII MORE ABOUT BILLY CLEVEDON
CHAPTER XVII MORE ABOUT BILLY CLEVEDON
Thoyne must have started off immediately for Cartordale because it was no later than the next morning, while I was seriously considering whether I should return home or follow Pepster to Dublin that I received a wire from Thoyne reading: “Can you see K.C. and self at C. to-morrow?” K.C. was Kitty and C. was Cartordale and I was not long in making up my mind. I wired off a prompt reply suggesting Stone Hollow as the place of meeting. They were awaiting me when I arrived and they had evidently
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CHAPTER XVIII THE ANONYMOUS LETTERS
CHAPTER XVIII THE ANONYMOUS LETTERS
The first thing I had to settle was as regards the entrance to White Towers of which Kitty Clevedon had spoken. We had to pick up Billy Clevedon’s tracks after he left Midlington, and if he really had gone to White Towers, it would probably be by that route. At all events there was absolutely no evidence he had been seen at any of the usual entrances. Kitty agreed to guide us, and told us to meet her the following morning at the main gates to White Towers; and she advised us also to put on so
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CHAPTER XIX THE HAIRPIN CLUE
CHAPTER XIX THE HAIRPIN CLUE
In point of fact the first real clue I secured in this case consisted of that hairpin I found on the floor of the lower cellar, though its bearing on the mystery was not at first apparent. But it introduced me to a new set of circumstances and took me a step or two on the road I wished to travel. Until then I had been wandering round and round in a circle. My first thought was that the hairpin belonged to Kitty Clevedon and that she had deliberately deceived me when she declared that she had
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CHAPTER XX STILL MORE ABOUT BILLY CLEVEDON
CHAPTER XX STILL MORE ABOUT BILLY CLEVEDON
And now I come to a very pretty and pleasant little adventure which has its own place in the sequence of events. Only part of it came under my own immediate observation; the rest I had to piece together by adroit questioning and the aid of a little imagination. It began with Kitty Clevedon, who, as she was crossing the park that partly surrounds Hapforth House, was a little startled to see an aeroplane coming rapidly to earth. It alighted only about sixty yards away, and a young man jumped out
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CHAPTER XXI WHY TULMIN BLACKMAILED CLEVEDON
CHAPTER XXI WHY TULMIN BLACKMAILED CLEVEDON
Sir William and Lady Clevedon settled down in Cartordale and very quickly made themselves popular with their neighbours. Billy himself was of a buoyant and friendly disposition, and even if he had been far less genial, Lady Clevedon would have pulled him through. I never met a sunnier person than she was, and if she had designedly set out to dissipate any possible suspicion that may have gathered round her husband, she could not have gone a better way about it. But if she had any such intent s
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CHAPTER XXII MORE ANONYMOUS LETTERS
CHAPTER XXII MORE ANONYMOUS LETTERS
I sent Stillman back to keep an eye on Tulmin until I could myself interview him and then set myself to arrange a meeting with Thoyne. He was staying at White Towers and I had no difficulty in finding him. “Hallo!” he cried. “You look very serious, Holt. What is the matter? Have you made a fresh discovery?” “Yes,” I said, “I have.” “Well, cheer up. I can’t say you look pleased about it.” “Thoyne,” I responded, looking him straight in the face. “Did you ever hear the name of Calcott?” He se
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CHAPTER XXIII TULMIN’S QUEER STORY
CHAPTER XXIII TULMIN’S QUEER STORY
During my journey to London I devoted careful and prolonged thought to the difficult problem of Mr. Ronald Thoyne, whose exact place in the story I had by no means satisfactorily determined. He had played a very curious game all through, and though there was an explanation in his anxiety to help Kitty Clevedon and relieve her anxiety regarding her brother, the facts as I knew them would equally have fitted a desire to throw pursuers off his own scent. I did not attach undue importance to the se
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CHAPTER XXIV THE WRATH OF RONALD THOYNE
CHAPTER XXIV THE WRATH OF RONALD THOYNE
“I want you to come with me to Midlington,” I said to Pepster, whom I met soon after I reached home. “I am going to try a long shot, and I would like you to be there.” “A long shot at what?” he demanded. “Well,” I replied, “I don’t quite know. I can’t quite reckon it up yet, but it seems worth trying, anyway.” Pepster nodded, and waited for me to continue. “Those anonymous letters,” I went on. “We are going to see their writer.” “Oh. And who may he be?” “Grainger, the chemist.” “But that’s—w
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CHAPTER XXV THE STORY OF MARY GRAINGER
CHAPTER XXV THE STORY OF MARY GRAINGER
At White Towers we found the family party assembled, apparently awaiting our coming, though old Lady Clevedon, grim, forbidding and unbelieving, flung up her hands as I approached. “And what may you be doing here, Mr. Detective?” she said. “This is a family council, and strangers—besides, what have you to do with this? It is the other mystery you are engaged on, and you might as well not have been, for all the good it has done.” “It is all right,” Billy Clevedon interposed, a little brusquely.
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CHAPTER XXVI NORA LEPLEY’S EXPLANATION
CHAPTER XXVI NORA LEPLEY’S EXPLANATION
“ And now,” Lady Clevedon said, “who was it killed Sir Philip? You promised to tell us, you know.” “I will,” I responded, “but I am not yet quite ready.” “No, but dinner is,” the younger Lady Clevedon interrupted. “Suppose we have that first.” “And after that,” I added, “I should like to see Nora Lepley again, but alone this time.” “That is easily arranged,” was the reply. “She is staying in the house to-night. But dinner first. Are you really going, though, to tell us—?” “I have every hope
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CHAPTER XXVII WHO KILLED PHILIP CLEVEDON
CHAPTER XXVII WHO KILLED PHILIP CLEVEDON
It has fallen to my lot to outline the solution of a good many mysteries, but never did I have a more appreciative or attentive or admiring audience than on this particular occasion. To them I was a wonder-worker, who had straightened out what looked like a hopeless tangle. I made no attempt to undeceive them. It wasn’t worth while, and it would have taken too long. But the reader who has followed my detailed recital will know how I really blundered through, how often I pursued false clues,
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