received from Scotland Yard, a general call, sent, I understand, to all stations. This said that a young lady was missing, giving her description and asking for a lookout to be kept for her. When I read it I thought it probably referred to the deceased. I telephoned so to the Yard and there was a reply that an inspector would come down by the evening train to see if he could identify the remains. Inspector French arrived and did so. He said that the possibility of foul play must not be overlooked and suggested that a post-mortem should be made. With the consent of my superiors the matter was arranged. Inspector French then told me who the deceased was and where I should go to get a witness of identity.’
‘Has Inspector French returned to London?’
‘No, sir. He’s here.’
‘Here now? Good. Then call him.’
As French entered the box the little ripple of excitement was repeated. A full-fledged inspector of the famous C.I.D. was an unwonted sight in the local courts and people craned forward to see what manner of man he might be.
In the meantime French had made up his mind as to what he would say. He would of course tell the truth, but perhaps not the whole truth. In such matters his conscience was a trifle elastic. He justified his conduct by considering the admirable end for which his evasions were invariably made.
‘Now, Mr French,’ the coroner went on when he had noted the witness’s name and occupation. ‘Will you please tell us all you properly can of this matter.’
‘There is not much to tell, sir,’ French replied in his pleasant but respectful manner. ‘Some time ago I had occasion to visit the Milan Cinema in Oxford Street and I became acquainted with one of the young ladies in the box office, a Miss Thurza Darke.’
French, with an admirable air of candour, made a slight pause as if he had reached the end of a paragraph. Immediately he went on:
‘Yesterday I was again at the Milan, and I noticed that Miss Darke’s place was empty. I asked about her and what I was told did not seem quite satisfactory. As a result I made some inquiries and learned that Miss Darke had left the Milan at her usual time on the previous evening, quite in her ordinary frame of mind and without making any special remark to anyone there. From Mrs Peters, her landlady, who gave evidence here today, I learnt about the telephone message. The fact that the message was a false one confirmed my suspicion that all might not be well, particularly as no reason could be suggested for the girl’s disappearance. Considering all the circumstances, it was judged wise to issue a circular that she was missing. This was done and there was a reply from here, as you have heard. I came down and saw that the deceased was Miss Darke.’
‘And have you any idea as to how her body got into the sea?’
‘None, sir.’
‘What does the fact that fresh water was found in the deceased’s lungs convey to you, Inspector?’
‘Just what the doctor has said, sir; that she was drowned in fresh water and that her body was afterwards put into the sea.’
‘Can you account for that in any way other than that the girl was murdered?’
‘That is certainly the most probable explanation, though I think there are others. For instance, the girl might have been drowned accidentally or committed suicide, and her body might have been found by someone who feared that he might be accused of murder and, therefore, in a moment of panic, tried to get rid of it in a way that he hoped would keep him from suspicion.’
‘That doesn’t seem very probable.’
‘It does not, sir, but one has to consider all possibilities.’
The coroner continued asking questions, but without learning anything further of interest. Then he turned to the jury and made a short speech. Having surveyed the evidence he continued:
‘The questions which you have now to consider, gentlemen, are three in number. First, you have to find the cause of death, if in your opinion the evidence justifies you in doing so. Now to my mind there can be no doubt of this. Dr Hills has told us definitely that it was drowning. Secondly, you have to decide whether this drowning was caused accidentally or whether it was suicide or whether it was murder. Here the evidence is not so direct. It has been established, however, that the girl was drowned in fresh water and the body afterwards placed in the sea, because apart from Dr Hills’s testimony, we all know that there is no river hereabouts into which the deceased could fall and in that space of time be carried by the current to where she was found. It is difficult to see with what object this could have been done save that of hiding a crime. If you think that these views are borne out by the evidence you will return a verdict of wilful murder. If on the other hand you consider some other explanation tenable, such as the ingenious one advanced by Inspector French, you may return that of accidental death. If you consider that the evidence points to suicide, you will find accordingly.
‘Your third question follows from the answer you give to the second. If you find that murder has been committed you must state, if you can, the guilty party or parties. As to this it appears to me that no evidence of any kind has been placed before you. But here again you must form your own opinion.’
Contrary to French’s expectation, the jury elected to retire. For half an hour they considered the matter, then at last brought in the verdict which had seemed to him self-evident—wilful murder by some person or persons unknown.
‘I should like to introduce you to Major Bentley, our chief constable,’ said Sergeant Golightly to French as they left the courthouse.
The major was a small dark man with a rather Jewish cast of countenance. French had noticed him come in late to the inquest and had imagined he was a police official.
‘I was talking over this affair with the superintendent this morning,’ the major began. ‘He’s knocked up at present and I went to his house. That’s why you haven’t met him. In the absence of complete knowledge we rather took the view that the key to the matter lay in London and that Portsmouth came into it only as the result of an accidental selection. I should like to know, Inspector, if that’s your view also?’
‘As a matter of fact, it is, sir. I have some further information which I didn’t think it necessary to lay before the coroner, but which I should be pleased to give to you. It tends in that direction.’
The chief constable smiled.
‘I rather imagined your evidence was, shall I say, bowdlerised. It occurred to me that you were mighty quick in assuming that the girl had disappeared. All the details strictly accurate?’
‘Strictly, sir.’ French smiled also. ‘But if a meaning other than that I intended were taken from what I said, that would not be my fault, would it?’
‘Of course not. Naturally the energies of the police must be directed towards hoodwinking the courts, eh?’
French laughed outright.
‘It has its uses,’ he admitted, glancing with amusement at the sergeant’s scandalised countenance. ‘But this time I fear our adversaries are too wide awake to be taken in by it.’
‘That so? Well, come along, will you, to the sergeant’s office and let’s have our chat.’
When they were seated and had lit up three of the chief constable’s Egyptian cigarettes, French told in detail about his interview with the dead girl and the inquiries he had already made. Both men listened with keen attention and without interrupting.
‘What’s it all about, Inspector?’ Major Bentley said when he had finished. ‘Those three ruffians get these girls into their power, or try to. But what for? Have you any theory?’
‘I’ve