1937-06-03 — Page 55

A LESSON IN CRIME

(Continued from Page 7)

"Our family's like that, you know," the Marquis added. "We're all mad. And my uncle was quite excited about the case, because he was on the train when it happened. He even wrote to the "Times' about it.".

Wilson rejected the idea that he could solve a case which had utterly baffled Scotland Yard when the trail was fresh, now all that it was stone cold, and clues, presumably, varnished in- to limbo. Even the most lavish promises of shares in the fifty thousand pounds did not tempt him, and he sent the young Mar- quis away with a flea in his ear.

Marquis had But, after the gone, he found that he could not get the case out of his head. In common with everybody else, he had puzzled his brains over it at the time; but it was weeks since he had given it a thought. But now here it was again-bother- ing his mind.

Hang it all, it wasn't reason-

nature able it was against

that a man should be able to mur- der another man and get away without leaving any clue at all. So, at any rate, the Marquis's crazy old uncle seemed to think, unless, indeed, he was merely crazy. Most likely he was.

It

Wilson could not say exactly at what moment he decided to have one more shot at this im- possible mystery. Perhaps it was when he recollected, that, ac- cording to the Marquis, Mr. Acres-Noel had himself travelled on that train to Cornwall. might be that Mr. Acres-Noel had noticed something that the police had missed; he was just the sort of old gentleman who would en- joy keeping a tit-bit of informa- tion to himself. At any rate, it was one thing one could try.

Wilson rang up his old collea- gue, Inspector Blaikie, at Scot- land Yard, and Blaikie guffawed at him.

he

"Solve it, by all means," said. "We'll be delighted. We're sick of the sound of Newton's Yes, old Acres-Noel

name

was on the train-I don't know

anything more about him.

Oh, mad as a hatter.

ly

"Times," and

Complete- Yes, he wrote to the they printed it Three days afterwards, I think. Shall I have it looked up 'for you? Right you are. Let up know when you catch the mur- derer, won't you?"

Wilson sent for his own file of the "Times," and looked up the letter of Mr. Acres-Noel. The "Times" had not thought it worth the honour of the middle page, but fortunately had not degraded it into the "Points" column. “It

ran:

T

"Sir,-The methods of the police in dealing with the so- called Newton Mystery appear to show more than the usual.. official incompetence. As one of the passengers on the train on which Mr. Newton died, have been subjected to consid- erable annoyance and I may add compensated in part by some amusement at the fruit- less and irrelevant inquiries made by the police.

"It is plain the police have no notion of the motives which prompted the murder. Their in- quiries show that. If they would devote more attention to thinking what the motive was and less to the accumulation of

✓

useless information, the appar- ent complexity of the case would disappear. The truth is usually simple-too simple for idiots to see. Why was. New- ton murdered? Answers that, and it will appear plainly that only one person could have murdered him. Motive is essen- tially individual.

"I am, yours, etc., "R. D. ACRES-NOEL.” ” "Upon my word," said Wilson to himself, "that's a very odd letter."

He read it over several times. staring at it as if the name of the murderer was written be- tween the lines.

Suddenly he leaped to his feet, and with an excitement he seldom Whitehall showed, dashed down

to Inspector Blaikie's office. Within ten minutes he was mak- ing a proposition to that official which left him starkly incredulous.

"I know," Wilson persisted, "it isn't a certainty, it's a thou- sand to one chance. But it is a chance, and I want to try it. I'm not, asking the Department to commit itself in any way, only to let me have a couple of men- standing by. Don't you see, the whole point about this extraor- dinary letter is the way it stres- ses the question of motive? And, more than that, it suggests that the writer knows what the motive was. Now, how could he do that unless”

the

man's

"But, if that's so, mad!" Blaikie protested. "Who- ever heard of anybody murder- ing a complete stranger just to show him?"

"Well, he certainly is mad, isn't he? You said so yourself, and his family's notoriously. crazy."

"He'll have to be pretty well off his rocker," Blaikie remark- ed, "if he's to be kind enough to come and shove his neck in a noose for you.”

"One can but try," Wilson said, "If you won't help me I'm go- ing to try alone. I must have one shot at getting to the bottom of it." And agreed.

eventually Blaikie

The upshot was that Wilson, immediately after his interview, arranged for the posting of the following letter, forged with ex- the treme care so as to imitate handwriting of the supposed author. It was dispatched from the pillar-box nearest to Joseph cottage. It Newton's Cornish said:

"Dear Mr. Acres-Noël,

"Ever since our chance meet- ing a few months ago, I have been thinking over the very in- teresting demonstration you were kind enough to give me on that occasion. May I fess,

"not

con-

I

however, that I am still quite satisfied; and 1 should be even more deeply ob liged if I could induce you to repeat it. As it happens, shall be returning to London this week-end, and travelling down again to Cornwall on the Riviera express. next Wednes- day. If you too should chance to be travelling that way per haps we may meet again

"Yours very truly, "JOSEPH NEWTON.

Someone remarkably like the late Joseph Newton settled

self comfortably in the cornin-

of

a first-class compartment in the Cornish Riviera express. He had the compartment to himself, and,

THE CHINA MAIL FRIDAY SUPPLEMENT, JUNE 4, 1937

Where Were You Taught?

"Is that the way to spell teacher!"

although the train had begun to fill up, no other traveller had en- tered when the train drew out of the station. Very discreetly, passengers who came near it had been warned away by the station officials.

The train had not yet gathered ́ its full speed when the solitary traveller became conscious that someone was standing outside the compartment, and staring in at him. He raised his eyes from the magazine he

was "reading,

and looked back. Slowly, the newcomer pushed back the sliding door, entered the compartment, and sat down in the far corner.

He was a little old man, with a straggling beard, wearing very He flung down shabby clothes. on the seat beside him a rug and Un- pillow tied up in a strap. doing his bundle, he settled him- self with the pillow behind his head, the rug over his knees, and the strap on the seat beside him. Then he closed his eyes.

Wilson did and said nothing. It was nervous work, waiting for he his cue. But by this time knew he was right. The mil- lionth chance had come off.

The train flashed at length--- it seemed hours - through Mai- denhead Station. Suddenly the old man spoke.

"Talking of murders," he said. "it is my turn to apologise. am afraid I bungled it last time.” "Not at all," said Wilson, hop- ing that his voice would not give him away; "but if you would kindly just show me again how

"With pleasure," said the old

man.-

"He moved with alacrity to the corner opposite Wilson, took. from his pocket a jewelled cigar- proffered it. ette case, and Wilson took a cigarette, and did a second's rapid thinking before the match was produced. cigarette was something he had not allowed for, and it might even

turn out to be poisoned. How- ever, no use to hesitate now. He suffered Mr. Acres-Noel to light it, and the heavy sweetish taste confirmed his fears.

Fortunately, however, it was hardly alight before the other rose and went to the window.

"You won't mind my pulling . down the blinds, will you?” he said; and Wilson took advantage- of his movement to effect a light- ning exchange of the suspicious cigarette for one of his own. This was a relief, but clearly he must show some signs of being affected by it. Sleepiness seem- ed the most likely cue. He yawn- ed.

"You follow me so far, I trust,' said the other.

"Perfectly," said Wilson slow- ly."Please-g Slowly his eyes closed, and his head, began to wag.

The old man seized the rug strap.

"This is the next step," he said, attempting to cast it over Wilson's head. But Wilson sprang. to his feet, warded off the strap, and pressed a button beside him which had been fixed to communi- cate with the adjoining compart- ment.

Almost as he grappled with his now frenzied antagonist, two stalwart policemen in plain clothes rushed in to his aid. Mr. Acres-Noel, alternately · protest- shrieking ing his innocence and with wild laughter, was soon safely secured. The train-slow- ed down and stopped at the de- serted station of Newbury Ra course, where captors and captive descended almost unnoticed Then it sped upon its way.

Mr. Acres Noel, safe in Broad- moor, has only one complaint. The authorities will not supply him with Joseph Newton's new books. He wants to see whether that popular writer has benefit- ed by his lesson in ractical criminology.