Inspector French: Sir John Magill’s Last Journey. Freeman Crofts Wills
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find him our only suspect. On the other hand all we know of the history and character of Malcolm Magill is in his favour. That’s about it, I take it?’
‘That’s about it,’ French repeated, while M’Clung nodded appreciatively. ‘All the same, Superintendent, I shouldn’t put too much dependence on a man’s previous character in a case of this kind. I’ve seen too many cases of the most unlikely people going wrong, and I’m sure so have you.’
‘I agree and I don’t attach too much weight to it. All the same it counts. Now Inspector the only other point you learned was that someone named Coates, with a Belfast address, who was otherwise unknown to his household, had recently called on Sir John?’
French agreed.
‘Now I’ll tell you what we’ve done. We’ve gone over for the second time the whole story as M’Clung told it to you. We’ve learnt nothing to add to it but we’ve got a fairly complete corroboration as to its truth. First, with regard to Sir John himself. We find that he was practically under observation during his whole journey right from London up to the point at which he left the taxi in Sandy Row. You learn that he drove from his house to Euston and started in a sleeping berth on the 7.40 p.m. to Stranraer. We checked his arrival at Stranraer and his going on board the boat: we found the man who carried his luggage. At Larne he was seen leaving the boat and entering the train. Again at Belfast he was in sight of one or more people from the moment he left the train until he reached Sandy Row. So far as Sir John is concerned the story is absolutely confirmed.’
‘Jolly good to get all that independent evidence,’ French commented tactfully.
‘Principally a series of lucky flukes,’ Rainey corrected. ‘Now with regard to Major Malcolm Magill. Here also we’ve got practically complete confirmation as to his movements. M’Clung didn’t tell you that?’
‘Gilmore hadn’t finished, sir, when I left,’ the sergeant pointed out.
‘Neither he had,’ Rainey admitted. ‘Well, I’ll tell you now. Malcolm Magill’s statement was, if you remember, that he got a telephone from his father asking him to come to Whitehead to pick him up and that he, Sir John, would walk out along the Larne road to meet him. That call came, according to Malcolm, at a minute or two before nine. We have checked it up both at Whitehead Station, where it was made and, at the exchanges, and it was actually put through at 8.53.’
‘Good enough,’ said French.
‘Good enough, yes,’ Rainey repeated. ‘The major went at once and got the car. He estimates that he left his house, Lurigan, at about five minutes past nine, and this is confirmed both by his wife and the housemaid. Under the circumstances it was natural for Mrs Magill to look at the clock, and the housemaid states she heard the car leaving, about five minutes after the clock had struck. So that also is good enough.’
French again signified his agreement.
‘The major states that he drove at a fair speed until he was within a couple of miles of Whitehead, the extreme point to which he thought his father might have walked. Then he slowed down to ten or fifteen miles an hour, keeping a sharp lookout for foot passengers. He met no one and therefore went on into the town to make inquiries. He found that the post office was closed and he was directed to the station where there was a booth on the up platform. He saw the stationmaster, who told him about the elderly gentleman who had come off the Belfast train at 8.47 and who had made a call from the booth. That, the major states, was about 9.45, and this hour is confirmed both by the stationmaster and by an estimate of the time it ought to have taken Malcolm to come from Lurigan. So that was that.’
Superintendent Rainey glanced at French as if to invoke his commendation. French hastened to bestow it.
‘Major Magill imagined his father must have got a lift to Larne and he started home again. But he states he was unhappy about the whole affair, and when he had gone seven or eight miles it suddenly occurred to him that he might have missed the old man through the latter making a call in Whitehead. He therefore turned round and went back again. There were two families in Whitehead with whom the Magills were on fairly intimate terms and he drove first to one and then to the other. But neither knew anything of Sir John, and though they telephoned to other possible houses, no one had seen the old man. The major states that some considerable time was occupied with this telephoning, so that it was almost eleven when he left Whitehead. This again is not only confirmed by an estimate of the time these movements should have taken, but also by the exchange and the local residents. At the last house the daughter declared that she looked at the clock as the car started and that it was exactly ten-fifty-five.
‘The major states that he drove slowly back looking out again for foot passengers, and that again he saw no one. This time, however, he drove home, arriving about eleven-thirty, which once again checks in with distance and probable speed. When he had garaged the car and had a whisky and soda he rang up his friends in Whitehead to report progress, as they had asked him to do. This call has also been traced and it was put through at exactly eleven-forty-three. Incidentally the hour of his arrival home is confirmed both by Mrs Magill, who had waited up to meet Sir John, and by the servants, who slept over the garage and heard the car being put in.’
French made a gesture of astonishment.
‘I don’t think, sir,’ he declared, ‘I ever heard such complete confirmation of any story. Major Magill’s movements have been confirmed as absolutely as Sir John’s.’
M’Clung looked delighted by what he evidently took to be a compliment to the Belfast force. But Rainey shrugged.
‘More lucky flukes,’ he declared. ‘Next with regard to the secretary. Breene’s story seems also to have been true. He certainly travelled over by Liverpool on that night and went down to his brother’s at Comber. He left Comber, so his sister thinks, about half past nine, and as the only suitable train leaves at exactly 9.30, I think we may take it that he travelled by it as he says. That train arrives at 9.50 and he reached the Grand Central Hotel, ten minutes away, at 10.30. About half an hour of this time is therefore unaccounted for. He says he took a walk through the streets, and as that would have been an eminently likely thing for him to have done, I think we may accept that also. The staff at the hotel absolutely confirm his further statement. He arrived about 10.30, asked for Sir John and said he would be in the lounge if wanted. We have seen his bill and found waiters who served him at lunch, tea and dinner that day and at breakfast the next morning. We have also seen the chambermaid who called him.
‘Nothing there, sir,’ said French.
‘No,’ agreed Rainey, ‘there’s nothing there. But, French, I’m far from satisfied about Malcolm Magill. Things are very black against him.’
Of this French was by no means convinced.
‘I don’t know, sir,’ he answered. ‘Looks to me mighty like an alibi.’
‘You think so,’ said Rainey, thoughtfully lighting a cigarette. ‘I’m not so sure. Assuming Sir John has been murdered—for remember we don’t even know that yet—why could Malcolm not have done it?’
‘Well, there’s all this that you’ve been telling me. Besides that there’s the disposal of the body. I don’t see how he could have disposed of the body. Suppose he met Sir John, murdered him, staged the struggle and hid the hat. What would be do with the body? He couldn’t leave it on the road. He couldn’t take it in the car to those people in Whitehead, any of whom might have offered to accompany him on his search. Nor could he hide it, at least not without leaving some trace of beaten-down grass or something of that sort, and no trace was found.’
Rainey moved uneasily.
‘But hang it all, French, Sir John has disappeared. Malcolm Magill had the motive and the opportunity and so far as we know no one else had either. These difficulties that you raise …’ He held up his hand as French would have spoken. ‘Let’s go back to fundamentals. If he didn’t murder Sir John, where is Sir John? What’s happened to him?’
French shook his head.
‘I