Inspector French: Sir John Magill’s Last Journey. Freeman Crofts Wills
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up the superintendent,’ said M’Clung. ‘He says we can’t open this up without an order from the Ministry of Home Affairs and he’ll get one tomorrow. He’ll come down first thing the day after. Meantime, Mr French, we’re to clear out now and these two men will watch the place.’
‘Right, Sergeant. What do we do then? Go back to Belfast?’
‘A matter for yourself, sir. You’d likely be more comfortable in Belfast, but if you stay over in Larne it will save you an early start. The superintendent is starting at six-thirty to get the major in before he leaves for town.’
‘You’re going back, are you?’
‘I am, sir.’
‘Then I’ll go too.’
At thirty-three minutes past six two mornings later a large car left the city. In it were French, Rainey, M’Clung, two constables and Dr Finley, the police doctor. They retraced the road along which French had driven a couple of days earlier. The morning was exquisitely fresh and the colouring warm and vivid in the light of the rising sun. At a good speed they ran to Carrickfergus, then after a slack through the town, they pressed on again, until in just an hour and four minutes after starting they pulled up outside the gates of Lurigan.
For some minutes Rainey moved about, examining the grave and the lie of the surrounding land. Then with French he walked to the door and knocked.
‘Is Major Magill about yet?’ he asked the somewhat surprised-looking servant.
‘He’s in at breakfast, sir.’
‘Then give him my card and say that I should like to see him as soon as he has finished.’
They were shown into a drawing room on the right of the hall, from the bow window of which there was a fine view out over the sea. But they had not long to enjoy it. A thin, dark energetic looking man soon bustled into the room.
‘Good morning, Superintendent,’ he said doubtfully, holding out his hand. ‘Nothing wrong, I hope?’
‘Let me introduce Detective-Inspector French of the C.I.D.,’ said Rainey gravely. ‘We want to see you, Major Magill, on rather serious business, but we can wait till you’ve finished your meal.’
Malcolm Magill’s face changed.
‘What?’ he exclaimed. ‘Is there any news? Anything about my father?’
‘There is some news,’ Rainey returned, ‘but, as I say, we can wait till you’ve breakfasted.’
‘Let’s get on right ahead with it now,’ said Malcolm briskly. ‘I was just finishing and I’ve had all I want. Will you smoke?’ He held out a gold cigarette case.
‘No, sir, thank you. We want you, if you’ll be good enough, to come out with us.’
‘Good Lord, but you’re darned mysterious,’ said Malcolm with a smile, though there was no laughter in his eyes. ‘Is it close by?’
‘Not five minutes away.’
As they left the house the Superintendent said in formal tones: ‘I have to tell you, Major Magill, that acting on information received, a search was made two days ago on this property.’ As he spoke his watch on the other was very keen. ‘A discovery was made, a very suggestive discovery, which may or may not prove important. Investigation of it was put off until this morning in order to have the benefit of your presence. This is the explanation of this early call. Here is the warrant under which we are acting.’
French, also watching keenly, saw the bewilderment in the major’s eyes change subtly to apprehension.
‘As I said, you’re darned mysterious,’ he repeated, but there was less assurance in his tone. ‘What is the nature of this discovery?’
‘You will see in a moment.’
By this time they had reached the point at which it was necessary to turn aside from the drive into the plantation. A moment more and they passed through the screen of trees and came in sight of the grave.
French found himself wondering whether anyone could show such signs of amazement as Major Magill did without really feeling it. Either the man did not know the grave was there or he was one of the best actors French had met. In somewhat shaky tones he gave vent to an oath and demanded of the superintendent what this thing meant.
‘That’s what we’re here to find out,’ Rainey answered. ‘We wondered if you would care to make any statement about it. You needn’t, of course, unless you like.’
‘Statement?’ Magill cried. ‘I? Good heavens, Superintendent, you don’t imagine I know anything about it, do you? I can assure you the thing’s an absolute mystery to me. What it means or who made it I haven’t the slightest idea!’
‘I’m glad to hear you say so,’ said Rainey. ‘The suggestion made is that this is a grave and it looks like a grave, so we’re going to open it. It was necessary for you to be present while we did so.’
The hint underlying the superindentent’s words was not lost on Malcolm Magill. He paled somewhat and was evidently acutely uneasy. Both French and Rainey continued to watch him keenly. Two or three times he made as if to speak, but finally relapsed into silence, while a troubled look settled down on his features.
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