THE CHINA MAIL FRIDAY SUPPLEMENT, JUNE 4, 1987
A LESSON IN CRIME:
ton puffed. Yes, they were good stuff, though rather heavy.
all far
"Now, in my view," the stran- ger was saying, "the essence of a really good murder is sim- plicity. All your books most people's books-have too much paraphernalia about them. A really competent mur- derer would need no special ap- pliances, and practically no pre- parations. Ergo, he would be in far less danger of leaving any clues behind him. Why, oh why, Mr. Newton, do you not write a murder story on those lines?"
Again, Newton laughed. He was disposed to humour the old gentleman. "It wouldn't make much of a story," he said, "if the murderer really left no clues."
"Oh, but there you are wrong,” said the other. "What is needed is a perfectly simple murder, followed by a perfectly simple solution-so simple that only a great mind could think of it, by
the penetrating to
utter sim- plicity of the mind of the
mur- derer."
"I can't abide those psycholo- gical detectives," Newton said.. "You'd better go and read Mr. Van Dine." ("Or some of those. fellows who would give their ears for a tenth of my sales," his. expression added.)
"Dear me, you quite misun- derstand me. That wasn't what I meant at all. There would be no psychology in the story I have. in mind. It would be more like William Blake's poetry.”
"Mad, you mean," said Newton. "Crystal sane," replied the other. "Perhaps it will help you if I illustrate my point. Shall I outline the sort of murder I have in mind?"
"If you like," said Newton, who found himself growing sud- denly very sleepy.
"Very well," said the stranger. "Then I'll just draw down the blinds."
He jumped up and lowered the blinds on the corridor side of the compartment.
"That's better," he said. "Now we shall be undisturbed. Now supposing only supposing, of course that there were two men in a railway carriage just like us, and they were perfect strang- ers, but one of them did not really care for the other's face- Are you listening, Mr. Newton?" "Yes," said Newton, very sleepily. He was now having real difficulty in keeping his eyeu
open.
"And, further, supposing nei- ther of them had brought any special paraphernalia with him, except what any innocent travel-' ler might be carrying-say, a rug, a pillow, and a rug-strap—”`
As he spoke, the stranger pick- ed up the rug-strap from the seat beside him.
"Hey, what's that
strap?" said out a rug-
roused, for
a moment by connection of ideas he was too sleepy to sort out.
"Except, of course, just one doped cigarette, containing an opiate strong, but in no wise fatál," the other went on bland- ly
"What the
murmured Newton, struggling now vainly against an absolutely stupefying drowsiness.
"There would really be nothing to. prevent him from committing a nice, neat murder, would there?". the old man continued rising as he spoke with startling
agility and flinging the loop of the rugstrap over Newton's head. "Now, would there?" he repeat-" ed, as he drew it tight around his victim's neck, and neatly fasten- ed
it. Newton's mouth came wide open; his tongue protruded, and he began to gurgle horribly; his eyes stuck out from his head.
"And then," said the stranger, "the pillow would come in so handy to finish him off He dragged Newton down on seat, placed the pillow firmly on his upturned face, and sat on it, smiling delightedly. The gurgl- ing. slowly ceased.
"The rug," the cheerful voice went on, "has proved to be super-
delayed express to proceed.
Only those travellers who had been actually in the carriage of which Newton's compartment had formed a part were kept back for further inquiries. But Newton's companion was not among them. name Having given his correct and address to the police, he pro- ceeded quietly upon his journey
in the empty first-class compart-
ment two-carriages-farther back to which he had moved after his successful experiment in simpli- city.
There were four hundred and the ninety-eight passengers on Cornish Riviera express whose names were taken by the police
A G.D.H. and M. Cole
fluous. Really, Mr. Newton, mur- der is even easier than I suppos ed though it is not often, I imagine, that a lucky chance en- ables one to do a service to the literary craft at the same time."
Newton said nothing; for he was dead.
The stranger retained his posi- tion a little longer, still smiling gently to himself. Then he rose, removed the pillow from New- ton's face, and, after a careful survey of the body, undid the strap. Next, he picked up a half- smoked cigarette and threw it out of the window, folded his rug neatly, did it and the pillow up in the strap, and, opening the door into the corridor, walked 'quietly away down the train..
"What a pity!" he murmured. to himself as he went. "It would make such a good story; and I am afraid the poor fellow will never have the sense to write
it."
The body of Joseph Newton was actually discovered by а - restaurant-car attendant who was going round to collect orders for the first lunch. Opening the door of a first-class compart- ment, which had all its blinds drawn down, he found Newton, no pleasant sight and indubit- ably dead, stretched out upon the seat where his companion had left him.
+
"
was
Without waiting to do more than make sure. the man dead, he scuttled along to fetch the guard. A brief colloquy of train-officials then took place în the fatal compartment, and it was decided to stop the train short of Newbury Station, and send for the police before anyone had a chance of leaving it..
It seemed clear, as there had been no stop since they left Pad- dington, that the murderer must still be on it, unless he had leap- ed from an express travelling at full speed.
an-
mur-
The police arrived, inspected the body, hunted the compart- ment in vain for traces of
the other passenger-for derer had taken the precaution of wearing gloves throughout his took the name demonstration and address of every person on the train, to the number of some hundreds, had the carriage in which the murder had occurred detached, with much shunting and grunting, from the rest of the train, and finally allowed the
THRILLER
at Newbury; or, if you count Newton, four hundred and ninety- nine. Add guards and atten- dants, restaurant-car staff, and the occupants of a travelling - Post Office van-total five hun-
dred and nineteen.
Of these one hundred and twenty-six were women; one hun- dred and fifty-three children, and the rest men. That allowed for quite enough possible suspects for the police to follow up. They were followed up, exhaustively. But it did not appear that any single person among them had any acquaintance. with Joseph Newton, or any connection with him save as. readers of his books.
-
(Continued from Page One)
Nor did a meticulous examina- tion of Newton's past suggest the shadow of a reason why he should have been murdered.
The police tried their hardest, and the public and the Press did their best to assist, for the mur- der of a best-seller, by a criminal who left no clue, was enough to excite anybody's imagination. Several individuals, in their en-" thusiasm, went so far as to con- fess to the crime, and gave Scot- land Yard several days' work in disproving their statements. But nothing helpful was forthcoming, and at long last the excitement died down.
the
It was more than three months later that the young Marquis of Henry Queensferry called upon Wilson, formerly the chief official of Scotland Yard, and now foremost private detective in England. His modest request was that Wilson should solve for him the mystery of Joseph New- ton's murder.
When Wilson asked him why he wanted it solved,' the Mar- quis explained that it was for a old bet. It appeared that his uncle, the Honourable Roderick Dominic Acres-Noel, had bet him fifty-thousand pounds to a penny he could not solve the problem, and he, who had the title but not the money, would be very willing to lay his hands on fifty thousand pounds which his uncle, who had the money but not the title, would never miss.. Asked the reason for so unusual a bet, he replied that the reason was Un- cle Roderick, who was always betting on something, the sillier the better.
(Continued on Page 8).
Equal to
fine liqueur"
"I can tell
White Horse
blindfold!
And to think that at one
time I used simply to ask for whisky-and-soda!
White Horse is just like a fine liqueur!
Sole Agents for S. China- JARDINE MATHESON & CO., LTD.