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THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE


By J. J. Connington
DEATH AT SWATHLING COURT
THE DANGERFIELD TALISMAN
MURDER IN THE MAZE
TRAGEDY AT RAVENSTHORPE
MYSTERY AT LYNDEN SANDS
THE CASE WITH NINE SOLUTIONS
GRIM VENGEANCE
THE EYE IN THE MUSEUM
The Two TICKET PUZZLE


THE
TWO TICKET PUZZLE
BY
J. J. CONNINGTON i ■»

BOSTON
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
1930


Copyright, IQ30,
By Little, Brown, and Company
All rights reserved
Published August, 1930
Printed in the United States of America


O. F. Butler
1.
47-
ourq.to
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
PAGE
I ROMANCE AND THE 10.35
.
.
.
.
.
3
II THE PRIZE RAM .
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
III THE BULLETS . . .
.
.
.
.
.
.
IV
THE LENS
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
V IN SEARCH OF A MOTIVE .
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I21
.
VI THE LAWYER'S EVIDENCE
VII THE BANK . . . . . . . .
VIII THE PASSENGERS . . . . . . .
IX THE DOCTOR'S EVIDENCE ...
X THE MARKED NOTES . . . . . . .
XI MADGE WINSLOW'S EVIDENCE ...161
XII THE TELEGRAM . . . . . . . . 172
XIII THE CAR SNATCHERS .... . . 191
XIV THE Two TICKETS . . . . . . . 206
XV THE KEYSTONE ........ 216
XVI THE CHINK IN THE ARMOUR . . . . 233
.
.
.
.
.
.
XVII THE PIECES OF THE PUZZLE . . . . . 251
.





THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE





CHAPTER 1: ROMANCE AND THE 10.35
No luggage had come by the midday local; and
George Mossley, foreman porter at Kempsford
Junction, watched the passengers straggle past the
ticket collector and off the platform. When the last
of them had gone, he sauntered up to the gate to
continue an interrupted conversation.
“This Kipling we was talkin' about,” he resumed,
"I've got another book o' his out o' the Free
Library.”
The ticket collector showed no enthusiasm at the
news. George's new-born fervour for Kipling and his
habit of quotation had, willy-nilly, imprinted most
of "If” on his mate's resisting mind; and Ketton
shrank from the further tuition which he suspected
was in store. He contented himself with an absent-
minded gesture, by way of response.
“ 'E mentions railways in this un,” George hur-
ried on, lest the conversation should peter out. “ 'E
says-listen, Ketton!—'e says: 'And all unseen,
Romance brought up the nine-fifteen.”
"No 9.15 ever come to this junction," pointed out
Ketton, who was a literalist by nature. "Not in my
day, nor in yours either, George. You ought to 'ave
known that time-table of ours better nor that."
George, with difficulty, restrained a movement of
impatience.


4
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
"You don't get the idea, Ketton," he explained
laboriously. "You're just one o' the sort o' people
Kipling's writin' about. What 'e means is that things
may be right in front o' you, and yet you never see
'em at all."
As Ketton digested this, his glance travelled up
the platform and was caught by the figure of the
station master who was standing with his back to
them, peering into the mist which veiled the further
parts of the junction. Ketton seemed to derive in-
spiration from the sight.
"I get you," he admitted at last. "What you mean
is something like old Boyson's shirt tail. It's there,
right in front of you; but you can't see it, nohow.
I don't see much in that to make a song about,
George."
Much to Ketton's annoyance, George treated this
with contempt and refused to discuss it. Instead, he
approached the point from a fresh direction.
"Look at this last trainload o' passengers, Ketton,
and just think of what may be happenin' to them. I
seen you havin' a good look at that pretty girl that
lost 'er ticket. Engaged, she is—I seen 'er ring when
she took off 'er glove for to hunt in 'er bag. Dressed
up so fine; probably off to meet the bloke she's en-
gaged to, when 'e gets out of 'is office. There's ro-
mance a-starin' you in the face, you blind bat. And
perhaps the cove alongside her is off after a job
that'll bring him in ten pound a week. That would
be romance too. And the bloke I helped out o' the
front carriage—I know him by sight. He lost his
peepers at St. Hubert. Romance again. And these


ROMANCE AND THE 10. 3 5
5
two kiddies runnin' up the platform to meet their
daddy. Why, the whole train may have been packed
with romance and you'd never see it. F'r instance,
just ask yourself: the last man what give up his
ticket. Where was 'e goin'?"
"To the bar," declared the literalist triumphantly.
"I seen him make a bee line for it as soon as he got
through the gate. I'd be there myself, if I wasn't on
duty, to get something for to take the taste o' this
fog out o' my throat."
He paused to let this information sink in, then
continued:
"You're addlin' your brains with all this poetry
stuff, George. I'm sayin' that seriously, and I'm
sayin' it for your good. 'Romance brought up the
nine-fifteen' did 'e? Well, it must ha' been an express
that didn't stop at this here junction. All the ro-
mance you get, George, is walkin' up and down the
train, singin' out 'Kempsford Junction—Kempsford
Junction—' and varyin' that on the bay platforms to
'Kempsford Junction, all change!' There ain't no
romance in that, not that I can see. And this 'If,'
that's just the same. 'Ow does it go?
'If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch.'
"When are you like to talk with crowds, George,
I ask you? The only crowds you ever see are at
football matches and they wouldn't listen to you if
you did talk to them. And the nearest you ever come
to kings was once when the Royal Special went


6
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
through here at fifty miles an hour and nobody so
much as looked out of the window to see you
standin' with your cap off on the platform.
'If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you.'
"That would be last week, like enough, when you
pulled that silly old woman out o' the wrong train
just when the whistle went. She'd lost 'er 'ead, right
enough, and she blamed it on you quite accordin'
to the book, for I 'eard 'er from 'alfway along the
platform. But I don't see much romance in that.
It might 'ave 'appened to any one."
George's powers of repartee were feeble; and as
he gave up the contest and turned away, all he could
think of was:
"Well, some of it seems to 'ave stuck in your
mind, for all that, Ketton."
Ketton's uncompromising rejection of Kipling was
more of a disappointment than an annoyance.
George regarded "If" as a most valuable moral
tonic although, as Ketton had pointed out, few op-
portunities of practising its gospel seemed to come
his way; and being of the type which wants to share
good things with fellow creatures, he had done his
best to make a convert of Ketton.
The engine had been detached from the empty
train and had gone over the points to take in water
outside the station, so that only a block of deserted
carriages faced George as he walked up the plat-
form, brooding over his failure as a missionary of


ROMANCE AND THE 10. 3 5
7
culture. He opened the doors of the forward third-
class compartments, one after another; glanced in-
side to see if anything had been left behind; and all
the time he felt Ketton's sardonic glance in his back.
"Found any o' that romance o' yours, this time?"
Ketton would be sure to inquire, when he had fin-
ished his inspection. "No? Why, then, I suppose
they must ha' took an' throwed it out o' the window
on the road 'ere." He knew Ketton's heavy-handed
kind of humour.
The middle section of the train was made up of
a first-class carriage; and as he came to it, George's
interest increased. The first-class people often left
newspapers behind them; and George had to do his
reading on the cheap, if possible. The first compart-
ment yielded nothing; but from the floor of the next,
George rescued a copy of the Times. Then again he
drew blank; and at last he put his hand on the
handle of the rearmost first-class compartment and
swung the door open.
His routine was to glance first at the luggage
racks. Finding them empty, he lowered his gaze and
caught sight of a man's hat on the floor. Then,
Times in hand, he involuntarily stepped back a pace
on the platform. Two streams of blood flowed from
under the seat and soaked into the carpet of the
compartment.
George's nature had always inclined him to keep
out of fights if possible; and he had a physical
aversion to blood. At the sight of these ominous
rivulets, he suddenly gulped and felt sick. His first
inclination was to hurry off and put the responsi-


10
THE TWO TICKET PUZZI
relief that his responsibility was at an end. T
station master, at the first call, had run from 1
office, let himself through the barrier with his ke
and was hurrying up the platform towards the trai
At the gate, a rapidly increasing group of peop
had formed, and George could see their eager fao
turned in his direction. As he looked, Ketton and
policeman forced their way to the front, opened ti
gate and came on to the platform. The constab]
said something to Ketton, who remained on guard a
the barrier, whilst the uniformed man hurried foi
ward. "If" spurred George to one last effort i
efficiency. He glanced up-at the white dial of th
great clock and made a note of the exact time. Then
as the policeman joined the station master, Georg(
handed over his responsibility with a gesture
towards the compartment.
"I feel sick," he said simply. "I'll go over there
and sit down for a minute."
He walked across to one of the benches on the
platform, sat down, and watched the proceedings
with a wholly unfamiliar sensation of curiosity and
detachment. He wanted to see what they would find
to do; and at the same time his personal interest in
the affair had completely evaporated. What he most
desired was to be left alone for a while until he
had recovered control of himself; but something
occurred to him and he called across to the
constable.
"Mind that bit o' glass on the floor, will you? It
might be a clue or somethin'."
The constable nodded curtly, knelt on the foot-


ROMANCE AND THE I O. 35 11
board, and made a careful inspection of the in-
terior of the compartment; while the station master
craned over his shoulder to see anything he could.
Evidently they had stronger nerves than George.
After a few moments the policeman, yielding his
place to the station master, withdrew and pulled out
his notebook.
"Nothing much to be seen yet," he mused aloud,
as he jotted down the essentials. "Body of man
thrust under forward seat of first-class compartment.
Last first compartment in carriage . . ."
"Last in the train," the station master amplified.
"There's only thirds beyond this down to the van."
"I'll draw a picture of it," the constable assured
him. "What train's this? Where does it come from?"
"It's the 10.35 local from Horston," Boyson ex-
plained. "It stops at every station on the road and
gets in here at 12.04 by the time-table. Shade late
to-day, of course, owing to the fog."
The constable nodded and continued his note-
taking.
"Brown felt hat on floor of compartment. Looks
as if it had been knocked off in a struggle. Part of
footmark in dust on the brim and hat battered
rather out of shape. Bit of glass on floor. Looks like
spectacle lens. That ought to be a clue of sorts, for
there's no sign of a gold frame or anything like
that. Must have come from the murderer's glasses;
or it looks like that, anyway. No bag. No um-
brella. H'm!"
He reflected for a moment before continuing.
"Body dressed in dark blue tweed with thin


12 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
whitey stripe. Hair beginning to go grey. Wounds—
two at least—in head. No blood from anywhere else
that I can see. You don't recognise him, do you?"
The station master shook his head.
"Can't be sure till I see his face, of course; but
I don't think it's likely. I don't place him."
"Cushions," pursued the constable. "A hole torn
in the covers. Looks like a bullet hole. We'll leave
it alone just now. Windows, both shut. Glass frosted
over so that no one can see into the carriage very
well from outside, except at one small bit, here on
the platform-side window next the engine. Nothing
else that I can see just now. By the way, what's the
name of the man who found the body?"
"George Mossley."
The constable made a jotting, then closed his
notebook.
"No firearms that I can see. Now I'll need to go
off and ring up some one to look into the matter
thoroughly. You'll see that no one gets on to this
platform; and that this Mossley waits on the prem-
ises till the Superintendent comes along. He'll be
wanted then."
"What do you make of it?" the station master
demanded, as the constable turned away.
"Much the same as you do, I expect. If I was
committing suicide, I don't believe I'd tuck myself
away under the seat to do it; and I'm pretty sure my
dead body wouldn't get up and chuck the pistol out
of the window afterwards. Somebody murdered the
poor beggar, right enough, whoever he was."
The station master nodded his agreement.


ROMANCE AND THE 10. 3 5
13
"Whoever did it, he must have had a good nerve,"
he commented. "The longest clear run between sta-
tions that that train makes isn't more than seven
minutes anywhere; and he must have done his job in
that time, complete. Gosh! That's quick work,
that is!"
"Well, I'll be off to the 'phone," the constable
concluded.
With a final glance round the compartment, he
turned away and passed George, still clutching the
copy of the Times, as he followed the constable's
figure with an incurious eye.


CHAPTER II: THE PRIZE RAM
"That's the best we can do for you," said Super-
intendent Ross. "It should be enough, along with
what you have already, I think; and if I were in
your shoes, I'd be inclined to pull him in now, with-
out waiting for anything else. You'll get a con-
viction. And if you wait much longer, he may clear
out; and then you'll have a lo* of bother in picking
him up again."
As though to mark the close of the discussion, he
rose from his chair, crossed over to the fire, and bent
down to warm his hands. Superintendent Campden
blotted his last note and stowed away his papers
in a drawer of the desk at which he was sitting.
"I think we'll risk it," he concurred.
The matter on which they were engaged was a
minor one, but it had been tricky; and Campden
was relieved to find that his colleague's view re-
inforced his own. Ross's judgment had seldom been
at fault. He seemed to have an uncanny knack of
gauging exactly how evidence would look from the
standpoint of the jury box; and when he was pre-
pared to take a case into court, it generally meant
that a conviction was as nearly certain as it could be
made, with the facts available. The Superintendent
from Horston never overlooked the human factor in
the final arbitrament. "Don't forget," he used to


THE PRIZE KAM
point out to his subordinates, "don't forget that it's
no good proving a case to your own satisfaction.
That cuts no ice. What you've got to do is to prove
it so that it will convince the jury; and jurymen are
neither fools nor geniuses, usually, so far as my
experience goes."
Superintendent Campden closed the drawer of
his desk and turned to the hearth.
"Thanks for coming down," he said. "Beastly
cold morning for the journey. I suppose the fog's
made all the trains late. You came down on the ex-
press, didn't you?"
Superintendent Ross nodded as he straightened
his big figure and turned his back to the fire.
"The express was late at Horston," he explained,
"and after that we got held up once or twice. The
fog signals were going off every minute or two; it's
pretty thick here and there on the line. We passed
the local betwet. ^even Sisters and Hammersleigh,
so it was just as well I took the express."
Campden glanced at his watch.
"Want to catch the 1.22 back to Horston?" he
inquired. "You might just manage it. Or will you
have lunch first and take the 2.55?"
Before Ross could answer, a constable knocked
at the door of the office and gave Campden a mes-
sage in an undertone.
"Oh, show him in," the Superintendent ordered in
a tone which betrayed a certain weariness.
He turned to Ross.
"This is Mr. Chepstow come to see me about some
trouble over a ram, Ross. It's really not in our dis-


10
THE TWO TICKET PUZZ
relief that his responsibility was at an end. 1
station master, at the first call, had run from
office, let himself through the barrier with his ki
and was hurrying up the platform towards the tra
At the gate, a rapidly increasing group of peoj:
had formed, and George could see their eager fac
turned in his direction. As he looked, Ketton and
policeman forced their way to the front, opened tl
gate and came on to the platform. The constab
said something to Ketton, who remained on guard;
the barrier, whilst the uniformed man hurried fo
ward. "If" spurred George to one last effort i
efficiency. He glanced up at the white dial of th
great clock and made a note of the exact time. Ther
as the policeman joined the station master, Georg
handed over his responsibility with a gestur<
towards the compartment.
"I feel sick," he said simply. "I'll go over then
and sit down for a minute."
He walked across to one of the benches on thf
platform, sat down, and watched the proceedings
with a wholly unfamiliar sensation of curiosity and
detachment. He wanted to see what they would find
to do; and at the same time his personal interest in
the affair had completely evaporated. What he most
desired was to be left alone for a while until he
had recovered control of himself; but something
occurred to him and he called across to the
constable.
"Mind that bit o' glass on the floor, will you? It
might be a clue or somethin'."
The constable nodded curtly, knelt on the foot-


ROMANCE AND THE 10.35 11
board, and made a careful inspection of the in-
terior of the compartment; while the station master
craned over his shoulder to see anything he could.
Evidently they had stronger nerves than George.
After a few moments the policeman, yielding his
place to the station master, withdrew and pulled out
his notebook.
"Nothing much to be seen yet," he mused aloud,
as he jotted down the essentials. "Body of man
thrust under forward seat of first-class compartment.
Last first compartment in carriage . . ."
"Last in the train," the station master amplified.
"There's only thirds beyond this down to the van."
"I'll draw a picture of it," the constable assured
him. "What train's this? Where does it come from?"
"It's the 10.35 local from Horston," Boyson ex-
plained. "It stops at every station on the road and
gets in here at 12.04 by the time-table. Shade late
to-day, of course, owing to the fog."
The constable nodded and continued his note-
taking.
"Brown felt hat on floor of compartment. Looks
as if it had been knocked off in a struggle. Part of
footmark in dust on the brim and hat battered
rather out of shape. Bit of glass on floor. Looks like
spectacle lens. That ought to be a clue of sorts, for
there's no sign of a gold frame or anything like
that. Must have come from the murderer's glasses;
or it looks like that, anyway. No bag. No um-
brella. H'm!"
He reflected for a moment before continuing.
"Body dressed in dark blue tweed with thin


12 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
\
whitey stripe. Hair beginning to go grey. Wounds—
two at least—in head. No blood from anywhere else
that I can see. You don't recognise him, do you?"
The station master shook his head.
"Can't be sure till I see his face, of course; but
I don't think it's likely. I don't place him."
"Cushions," pursued the constable. "A hole torn
in the covers. Looks like a bullet hole. We'll leave
it alone just now. Windows, both shut. Glass frosted
over so that no one can see into the carriage very
well from outside, except at one small bit, here on
the platform-side window next the engine. Nothing
else that I can see just now. By the way, what's the
name of the man who found the body?"
"George Mossley."
The constable made a jotting, then closed his
notebook.
"No firearms that I can see. Now I'll need to go
off and ring up some one to look into the matter
thoroughly. You'll see that no one gets on to this
platform; and that this Mossley waits on the prem-
ises till the Superintendent comes along. He'll be
wanted then."
"What do you make of it?" the station master
demanded, as the constable turned away.
"Much the same as you do, I expect. If I was
committing suicide, I don't believe I'd tuck myself
away under the seat to do it; and I'm pretty sure my
dead body wouldn't get up and chuck the pistol out
of the window afterwards. Somebody murdered the
poor beggar, right enough, whoever he was."
The station master nodded his agreement.


ROMANCE AND THE I O. 3 5
13
"Whoever did it, he must have had a good nerve,"
he commented. "The longest clear run between sta-
tions that that train makes isn't more than seven
minutes anywhere; and he must have done his job in
that time, complete. Goshl That's quick work,
that is!"
"Well, I'll be off to the 'phone," the constable
concluded.
With a final glance round the compartment, he
turned away and passed George, still clutching the
copy of the Times, as he followed the constable's
figure with an incurious eye.


CHAPTER II: THE PRIZE RAM
"That's the best we can do for you," said Super-
intendent Ross. "It should be enough, along with
what you have already, I think; and if I were in
your shoes, I'd be inclined to pull him in now, with-
out waiting for anything else. You'll get a con-
viction. And if you wait much longer, he may clear
out; and then you'll have a lo* of bother in picking
him up again."
As though to mark the close of the discussion, he
rose from his chair, crossed over to the fire, and bent
down to warm his hands. Superintendent Campden
blotted his last note and stowed away his papers
in a drawer of the desk at which he was sitting.
"I think we'll risk it," he concurred.
The matter on which they were engaged was a
minor one, but it had been tricky; and Campden
was relieved to find that his colleague's view re-
inforced his own. Ross's judgment had seldom been
at fault. He seemed to have an uncanny knack of
gauging exactly how evidence would look from the
standpoint of the jury box; and when he was pre-
pared to take a case into court, it generally meant
that a conviction was as nearly certain as it could be
made, with the facts available. The Superintendent
from Horston never overlooked the human factor in
the final arbitrament. "Don't forget," he used to


THE PRIZE RAM IS
point out to his subordinates, "don't forget that it's
no good proving a case to your own satisfaction.
That cuts no ice. What you've got to do is to prove
it so that it will convince the jury; and jurymen are
neither fools nor geniuses, usually, so far as my
experience goes."
Superintendent Campden closed the drawer of
his desk and turned to the hearth.
"Thanks for coming down," he said. "Beastly
cold morning for the journey. I suppose the fog's
made all the trains late. You came down on the ex-
press, didn't you?"
Superintendent Ross nodded as he straightened
his big figure and turned his back to the fire.
"The express was late at Horston," he explained,
"and after that we got held up once or twice. The
fog signals were going off every minute or two; it's
pretty thick here and there on the line. We passed
the local betwet. ^even Sisters and Hammersleigh,
so it was just as well I took the express."
Campden glanced at his watch.
"Want to catch the 1.22 back to Horston?" he
inquired. "You might just manage it. Or will you
have lunch first and take the 2.55?"
Before Ross could answer, a constable knocked
at the door of the office and gave Campden a mes-
sage in an undertone.
"Oh, show him in," the Superintendent ordered in
a tone which betrayed a certain weariness.
He turned to Ross.
"This is Mr. Chepstow come to see me about some
trouble over a ram, Ross. It's really not in our dis-
1


l6 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
trict and I've stirred your people up about it; but
he lives close by here—he's a farmer in a biggish
way—and he looks on me as his information office
instead of going to your people direct. I've been
pestered out of my life with him lately. He's con-
tinually wanting to know what's being done in the
matter; and when he drops in twice a day it gets
a bit difficult to invent progress enough to satisfy
him—specially when there's been no progress made
at all in the affair. Let him get his wind out to you,
will you, if you don't mind? I'm getting sick of it.
Perhaps you'll be able to soothe him down a bit and
take him off my hands."
He dropped his voice just in time, as the door
opened and a big man was ushered into the room. A
well-meaning friend had once described Chepstow
as "a face like a full moon with a smile on it, and
some curly hair on top." The description was ac-
curate enough up to a point, though it had not alto-
gether pleased the farmer. Ross, glancing up as
Chepstow entered the office, thought he had never
seen any one who came so close to the typical John
Bull. Only the clothes differed from the model. A
big, likeable, hearty, open-air sort of man, with
honesty written broad on his face: that was the im-
pression Chepstow conveyed at the first glance.
"'Morning, Superintendent," he said to Campden,
with a glance at Ross, who was still standing with
his back to the fire. "I've just dropped in again
about that ram of mine, just to see if you've got any
further forward. He's in a bad way, poor beast, a
very bad way indeed, I'm sorry to say. The vet takes


THE PRIZE RAM 17
a very serious view of it; thinks he's done for, in
fact, I can see, though he won't say so in just so
many words. Now have you got on the track of
the scoundrel who did it yet; or can you make out
what's at the back of it all? Phew! This room of
yours is hot when one comes into it from the cold."
He pulled out a coloured silk handkerchief and
mopped his brow with it. Campden pushed forward
a chair and Chepstow sat down, restoring his hand-
kerchief to his pocket. Campden seized the oppor-
tunity which the pause gave him and instead of
answering the questions, he diverted the farmer's
attention to his colleague.
"This is Superintendent Ross, Mr. Chepstow."
The farmer swung round a little in his chair and
inspected Ross's big clean-shaven face with an
obvious mixture of interest and approval.
"I've heard of you, sir," he said, with evident
respect. "You're the man that hanged that scoundrel
Hyndford, aren't you? Now that was a good bit of
work, if you'll let me say so. It was indeed. And
I'm sure if I could get you interested in this ram of
mine, you'd soon get to the bottom of the affair. Not
but what the Superintendent here's doing his very
best, I'm sure," he added unfortunately, though
clearly with the intention of being complimentary
to Campden.
"You'd better tell Superintendent Ross the whole
story, Mr. Chepstow," Campden suggested, with an
impish glance at his colleague. "He's got half-an-
hour to spare just now; and it's really in the Hors-
ton district, you know, not in ours. The Horston


THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
people are working on it; and any details you can
give Superintendent Ross at first-hand will always
be a help to them."
Ross's glance at his colleague betrayed no par-
ticular pleasure at the prospect; but when he turned
to the farmer only friendly interest showed in his
face.
"Let's hear all about the trouble, Mr. Chepstow,"
he said cordially. "No miracles promised, of course;
but we like to do our best for people, you know."
"The trouble's just this, Mr. Ross," Chepstow be-
gan, crossing one leg over the other and leaning for-
ward to enforce his story on his auditor. "Last sum-
mer I bought an Oxford Down ram, 'Frolic 6th.'
You may have heard about it; his picture was in the
Kemps ford Advertiser at the time, and a very good
likeness it was, too. He was bred by Mr. Alford of
Richmind Maisey, in Gloucestershire; and he took
second prize at last year's Royal Agricultural So-
ciety's Show, so you can understand that he's a fine
beast. I've seldom seen a ram I like the looks of so
well; and I had to give a stiffish price for him, I can
tell you. He didn't come cheap; but Oxford Downs
do well in this part of the country, and I wanted
him, and I could pay the price for him, and I got
him."
Chepstow's face showed that his pride was in his
purchase and not merely in the fact that he had
been able to afford its price. Superintendent Ross,
unlike Campden, was not bored by these details.
Rams he cared nothing about; but he had an acute
interest in humanity; and if Chepstow was inter-


THEPEIZEEAM 19
ested in rams, then Ross was prepared to listen
sympathetically to him. He was learning something
about Chepstow; and he was also smoothing down
a man who evidently felt a certain grievance against
the police because they had not managed to produce
results.
"Well, that was how it was, Mr. Ross," the farmer
continued. "I bought the ram and brought him up
here. Most of my land's round about Kempston;
but I've got a nice bit of pasture just on this side of
Seven Sisters. Likely you've seen it yourself; for the
railway runs through it and you must have passed it
often enough. I've got a very good man there; and
I put him in charge of Frolic 6th. Tarland's got his
head screwed on right; and I'd trust him just as
soon as I'd trust myself—thoroughly reliable, I've
always found him. Now, that was all right; and the
ram did very well down there."
Chepstow's face grew clouded as he continued his
tale. It was clear that he was both puzzled and
deeply wounded by the turn of events.
"I've no enemies that I know of, Mr. Ross. I
treat people well, and they treat me well, and I never
had reason to think that any one wished me ill.
That's just the plain fact; and that's what puzzles
me and worries me so much over this affair. This
last week, I've turned it over and turned it over in
my head and tried to think of any one who could
even think I'd done him a bad turn, and I can't
bring to mind a single case. Not one. I'm not saying
that by way of a boast, you understand, Mr. Ross;
it's just the honest truth. I don't know any one that


20
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
has a grudge against me. That's what makes it so
perplexing."
He broke off and stared at the two officials in
obviously honest perturbation and bewilderment.
Campden, who had heard the whole story before,
hardly concealed his boredom; and the farmer
turned directly to Ross as he continued his story.
"It was just a week ago to-day, on the 16th of
November, Mr. Ross. Tarland has the ram in a field
close to his cottage; and he says that he saw Frolic
6th about eleven o'clock in the morning—within a
few minutes one way or the other—and Frolic was
all right then, just grazing quietly somewhere be-
tween the house and the railway. Tarland was
cutting down a tree in his garden that morning; it
had got a bit shaken by a storm a day or two be-
fore, and he was afraid of it coming down altogether
if the wind got up again. He was busy with that, and
while he was working, Frolic 6th moved a bit across
the field and got out of his sight. Tarland went on
with his job and after a while he knocked off to rest
himself and to keep himself from catching a chill—
he was pretty hot, you understand—he took a
turn up the garden. The wind was blowing pretty
cold, he told me. When he came in sight of the ram
again, there was the poor beast lying on its side,
kicking like anything and any one could see some-
thing had hurt it. So Tarland jumped over the
fence and made for it as hard as he could go."
"Has he any idea of what time it was then?" Ross
demanded.
"It would be somewhere about twenty past eleven,


THE PRIZE RAM
21
he says," Chepstow answered. "Well, as I was say-
ing, Mr. Ross, he ran to where poor Frolic was
lying; and then it was plain enough what had hap-
pened. The poor beast had been shot. There was a
wound in his side and some blood on the fleece."
"Not a shotgun then? A single bullet, eh?"
"A single bullet, as you say. Well, you can guess
how Tarland felt, being in charge of the ram. He
was just completely taken aback, and I don't blame
him for that—or for anything else, either. There's
no question of blame in the matter, so far as he goes.
He sent off posthaste for the vet at once; and in the
meantime he did what he could for the poor beast.
By and by Mr. Lorton—that's the best vet in that
neighbourhood, as I expect you know—he came
along and examined Frolic 6th. There's no question
about it—the beast has been shot with a fairly heavy
bullet, to judge from the size of the wound; and it's
touch and go whether anything can be done for the
ram. He's alive still; but the bullet's gone pretty
deep—Lorton won't risk trying to extract it—and he
frankly won't answer for anything. All we can do
is just to let things take their course and hope that
the poor beast will pull himself together again."
"The ram's insured, of course?" Ross asked.
"You're not going to lose financially over it, I
suppose?"
Chepstow confirmed this with a nod.
"Frolic was insured, just as you say; and at the
worst, I daresay the Company'll pay up without a
word. It's not that that's worrying me, Mr. Ross.
Just look at it from my point of view for a moment.


THE PRIZE RAM
"We can't trace any one owning a rifle in the
neighbourhood," Campden contributed. "Shotguns if
you like, but not a rifle; and the wound wasn't
made with a shotgun. We've accounted for all the
military rifles round about there. It wasn't done with
one of them." .
"It doesn't look like an accident, then, does it?"
Chepstow pursued. "Not to my mind. But if it
wasn't an accident, then it was mischief or else
malice. If it was mischief, then the man who makes
mischief ought to pay for his fun; that's my idea
about it, and I want him caught before he does any
more in that line. I've heard of these cattle-maiming
cases before now; and if it's that, then it's a public
danger. If it isn't mischief and if it isn't accident,
why then it can't be anything else than personal
spite. That's what makes me so uncomfortable, Mr.
Ross. How would you like it if you'd gone on think-
ing for years that every one liked you and that you'd
always dealt straight with every one—and sud-
denly you'd found that some one had a grudge
against you, a bad grudge? I don't like the idea. I
don't want to think about it. If I did, I'd soon get to
asking myself when I met any one: 'Is this him?'
And that would be the end of any peace of mind to a
man like me. That's what makes me so desperate
keen to get this thing sifted to the bottom."
Ross nodded understandingly.
"I quite see it," he assured the farmer. "You can
count on us doing our best. But," he added, with
a whimsical expression on his face, "I've got to re-
peat what I said at the start. We don't promise


22
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
Here's somebody shot a ram of mine that was well
known all over the countryside . . ."
"Just a moment," interrupted Ross. "Did Tar-
land see any one in the neighbourhood when he went
down to the ram first of all? Could any one have
shot the ram and got away without being spotted?"
Chepstow shook his head.
"That's the funny bit of it, Mr. Ross. From Tar-
land's garden you get a fair view over the neigh-
bouring fields and he says there was no one in sight
anywhere. I've fences on my ground, you see, and
no hedges; so there wasn't any cover to speak of
anywhere. Tarland's quite convinced that there
wasn't anybody lurking about anywhere. Now, com-
ing back to what I said before, there's only three
ways out of it: either it was malice or it was mis-
chief or it was an accident. You'll agree with that?"
Ross nodded in agreement, without making any
comment.
"Well, then," Chepstow went on, "suppose it was
just an accident. Somebody with a rifle must have
been shooting away off in the distance and not caring
a damn—excuse me!—where his bullets were going.
If that's how it happened, then I want that man
found and warned about his foolishness. It's bad
enough having a valuable ram killed, but it might
just as easy have been Tarland or any of his family,
just as easy. That sort of thing needs putting down.
And the insurance people will likely have some-
thing to say too, if the man's laid by the heels."
The tone of his voice showed, however, that he
regarded this hypothesis as being unlikely.


THE PRIZE RAM
23
"We can't trace any one owning a rifle in the
neighbourhood," Campden contributed. "Shotguns if
you like, but not a rifle; and the wound wasn't
made with a shotgun. We've accounted for all the
military rifles round about there. It wasn't done with
one of them." „,
"It doesn't look like an accident, then, does it?"
Chepstow pursued. "Not to my mind. But if it
wasn't an accident, then it was mischief or else
malice. If it was mischief, then the man who makes
mischief ought to pay for his fun; that's my idea
about it, and I want him caught before he does any
more in that line. I've heard of these cattle-maiming
cases before now; and if it's that, then it's a public
danger. If it isn't mischief and if it isn't accident,
why then it can't be anything else than personal
spite. That's what makes me so uncomfortable, Mr.
Ross. How would you like it if you'd gone on think-
ing for years that every one liked you and that you'd
always dealt straight with every one—and sud-
denly you'd found that some one had a grudge
against you, a bad grudge? I don't like the idea. I
don't want to think about it. If I did, I'd soon get to
asking myself when I met any one: 'Is this him?'
And that would be the end of any peace of mind to a
man like me. That's what makes me so desperate
keen to get this thing sifted to the bottom."
Ross nodded understandingly.
"I quite see it," he assured the farmer. "You can
count on us doing our best. But," he added, with
a whimsical expression on his face, "I've got to re-
peat what I said at the start. We don't promise


24
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
miracles. And you haven't given us much to go on,
remember."
"That's all admitted," said Chepstow cordially.
"And, if you don't mind my saying it, you've seen
my point of view, I'm sure. It's a worrying sort of
thing to have happen, isn't it? It's not a money mat-
ter at all, with me; I'm covered, so far as that goes.
But I'd been counting on that ram, you understand?
And over and above all that, it's the mysteriousness
of it all that bothers me. I'm a man that likes to
have things plain; and this business isn't a bit plain
to me. It leaves a taste in my mouth that won't go
away until the whole thing gets cleared up."
"Well, you can count on me to do my best in the
matter," Ross assured him.
At this moment came an interruption. A constable
hurried into the room and gave some message to
Campden in an undertone. Campden nodded and
then turned to Ross.
"That's a message from the station," he explained.
"A man's been shot on the 10.35 train from
Horston."
Chepstow's face expressed rather mingled emo-
tions which were explained by the comment which
broke from him involuntarily:
"There! Now, wasn't I right in saying the sooner
you got to the bottom of this affair, the better it'd
be? Here's some more of this shooting going on,
right under your noses. First my ram, and now some
poor beggar or other."
Campden ignored the comment.
"It's been done on the Horston train, Ross. Likely


THE PRIZE RAM
enough it may turn out to be linked up with your
district. You'd better come along with me now to
the station and have a look into things for yourself,
just in case."
Superintendent Ross nodded a slow agreement
with this proposal.
"It may concern either your district or mine,"
he admitted. "It won't do any harm if we both look
into it. If it's my case, I'll be all the better off if
I've had your ideas as well as my own at the start."
"The police surgeon's been rung up. He'll follow
on as soon as possible," Campden explained. "We'd
better go now."


CHAPTER III: THE BULLETS
"This isn't my show," Superintendent Ross pointed
out to his colleague as they passed through the book-
ing hall. "I'll stand by, while you do the questioning.
There's no use both of us butting in."
He left Campden's side for a moment and crossed
over to the bookstall.
"Here, boy. Give me a local time-table—the
penny one."
Stuffing the booklet into his pocket, he rejoined
Campden, who was making his way, under the guid-
ance of a porter, to the bay platform at which the
carriages of the 10.35 train were still standing.
Under Campden's incisive questioning, the main
facts in the case were elicited from George Mossley,
the station master, and the constable.
"That's that, then," said the Superintendent as
he turned away, greatly to George's relief. "Now
we'll have a look at the carriage. Lucky nothing's
been touched."
Ross noted that the train was composed of a first-
class carriage sandwiched between two pairs of
thirds. The body lay in what had been the rearmost
first-class compartment. Campden walked towards
it, opened the door which the constable had shut,
and looked keenly about the interior for a few mo-
ments. Then he pulled an inch tape from his pocket


28
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
He handed the broken disc to Campden for safe
keeping.
"We might do worse than take it round to an
optician's by and by," he suggested, as he did so.
"He'd be able to tell us at once what sort of sight
the owner had, and that might be useful if it be-
longed to the murderer."
The next object to attract Campden's attention
was the soft brown hat lying on the floor of the com-
partment. He picked it up gingerly, turned it over,
and inspected the lining.
"'Thursby and Son, Brazenhall Street, Hors-
ton,' " he read out. " 'Best Quality.' And the initials
inked on the band are O. F. P. It shouldn't be hard
to identify the owner at this rate."
As Ross made no comment, Campden laid the
hat down on the seat for safety and continued his
quest. Pulling out a pocket flashlight, he threw its
light under the rear seat of the compartment.
"Somebody's been burning paper," he reported.
"The ash is all scattered about."
Groping laboriously, he succeeded in retrieving
two unconsumed fragments which he handed up to
Ross.
"The rest's all burned away, so far as I can see,"
he said at last, straightening himself up. "Make any-
thing of it?"
"Not much," Ross confessed. "The irregular bit's
out of to-day's Horston Advertiser. The other bit
looks like a strip of the edge of a letter, but there's
no writing on the paper. It might be the margin of
a note or else it might have been torn off a plain


THE BULLETS 20
sheet of notepaper. Torn off, in any case, I'd say;
and charred after it was torn, because it's singed
on both edges."
"There's nothing to be made out of the ash,"
Campden said regretfully. "It's all in flinders—im-
possible to patch together now. I'll have another
look."
He peered about under the seat for a while, but
when he raised his face again it was clear that he
had found nothing of interest.
"It's all fine stuff," he announced. "Newspaper
ash is all I can see; thin, light stuff with the printing
showing on it here and there, when it isn't too curled
up in the burning. Now we'll take the other side of
the compartment."
He put his flashlight back into his pocket, stepped
into the carriage, and began to examine the up-
holstery.
"Ah, here's something 1" he exclaimed after a sec-
ond or two.
Ross saw him feel for some object which had
pierced the cloth at the back of the seat.
"This is something definite, at any rate," Camp-
den said with a tinge of triumph, as he turned and
held out a nickel-covered bullet between his fingers.
Ross inspected his colleague's find.
"A .38 by the look of it," he commented. "The
kind of thing that fits these automatic pistols. I
wonder, now—" he stopped, abruptly, and continued
in a rather different tone. "Are there any more of
them about?"
Campden was ferreting among the cushions.


28
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
He handed the broken disc to Campden for safe
keeping.
"We might do worse than take it round to an
optician's by and by," he suggested, as he did so.
"He'd be able to tell us at once what sort of sight
the owner had, and that might be useful if it be-
longed to the murderer."
The next object to attract Campden's attention
was the soft brown hat lying on the floor of the com-
partment. He picked it up gingerly, turned it over,
and inspected the lining.
"'Thursby and Son, Brazenhall Street, Hors-
ton,' " he read out. " 'Best Quality.' And the initials
inked on the band are O. F. P. It shouldn't be hard
to identify the owner at this rate."
As Ross made no comment, Campden laid the
hat down on the seat for safety and continued his
quest. Pulling out a pocket flashlight, he threw its
light under the rear seat of the compartment.
"Somebody's been burning paper," he reported.
"The ash is all scattered about."
Groping laboriously, he succeeded in retrieving
two unconsumed fragments which he handed up to
Ross.
"The rest's all burned away, so far as I can see,"
he said at last, straightening himself up. "Make any-
thing of it?"
"Not much," Ross confessed. "The irregular bit's
out of to-day's Horston Advertiser. The other bit
looks like a strip of the edge of a letter, but there's
no writing on the paper. It might be the margin of
a note or else it might have been torn off a plain


THE BULLETS
29
sheet of notepaper. Torn off, in any case, I'd say;
and charred after it was torn, because it's singed
on both edges."
"There's nothing to be made out of the ash,"
Campden said regretfully. "It's all in flinders—im-
possible to patch together now. I'll have another
look."
He peered about under the seat for a while, but
when he raised his face again it was clear that he
had found nothing of interest.
"It's all fine stuff," he announced. "Newspaper
ash is all I can see; thin, light stuff with the printing
showing on it here and there, when it isn't too curled
up in the burning. Now we'll take the other side of
the compartment."
He put his flashlight back into his pocket, stepped
into the carriage, and began to examine the up-
holstery.
"Ah, here's something!" he exclaimed after a sec-
ond or two.
Ross saw him feel for some object which had
pierced the cloth at the back of the seat.
"This is something definite, at any rate," Camp-
den said with a tinge of triumph, as he turned and
held out a nickel-covered bullet between his fingers.
Ross inspected his colleague's find.
"A .38 by the look of it," he commented. "The
kind of thing that fits these automatic pistols. I
wonder, now—" he stopped, abruptly, and continued
in a rather different tone. "Are there any more of
them about?"
Campden was ferreting among the cushions.


28
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
He handed the broken disc to Campden for safe
keeping.
"We might do worse than take it round to an
optician's by and by," he suggested, as he did so.
"He'd be able to tell us at once what sort of sight
the owner had, and that might be useful if it be-
longed to the murderer."
The next object to attract Campden's attention
was the soft brown hat lying on the floor of the com-
partment. He picked it up gingerly, turned it over,
and inspected the lining.
"'Thursby and Son, Brazenhall Street, Hors-
ton,' " he read out. " 'Best Quality.' And the initials
inked on the band are O. F. P. It shouldn't be hard
to identify the owner at this rate."
As Ross made no comment, Campden laid the
hat down on the seat for safety and continued his
quest. Pulling out a pocket flashlight, he threw its
light under the rear seat of the compartment.
"Somebody's been burning paper," he reported.
"The ash is all scattered about."
Groping laboriously, he succeeded in retrieving
two unconsumed fragments which he handed up to
Ross.
"The rest's all burned away, so far as I can see,"
he said at last, straightening himself up. "Make any-
thing of it?"
"Not much," Ross confessed. "The irregular bit's
out of to-day's Horston Advertiser. The other bit
looks like a strip of the edge of a letter, but there's
no writing on the paper. It might be the margin of
a note or else it might have been torn off a plain


THE BULLETS
29
sheet of notepaper. Torn off, in any case, I'd say;
and charred after it was torn, because it's singed
on both edges."
"There's nothing to be made out of the ash,"
Campden said regretfully. "It's all in flinders—im-
possible to patch together now. I'll have another
look."
He peered about under the seat for a while, but
when he raised his face again it was clear that he
had found nothing of interest.
"It's all fine stuff," he announced. "Newspaper
ash is all I can see; thin, light stuff with the printing
showing on it here and there, when it isn't too curled
up in the burning. Now we'll take the other side of
the compartment."
He put his flashlight back into his pocket, stepped
into the carriage, and began to examine the up-
holstery.
"Ah, here's something!" he exclaimed after a sec-
ond or two.
Ross saw him feel for some object which had
pierced the cloth at the back of the seat.
"This is something definite, at any rate," Camp-
den said with a tinge of triumph, as he turned and
held out a nickel-covered bullet between his fingers.
Ross inspected his colleague's find.
"A .38 by the look of it," he commented. "The
kind of thing that fits these automatic pistols. I
wonder, now—" he stopped, abruptly, and continued
in a rather different tone. "Are there any more of
them about?"
Campden was ferreting among the cushions.


30 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
"Here's a second one," he announced. "I got it
lying loose between the cushion and the side of the
carriage. Same calibre as the first one, apparently."
He handed it to Ross for comparison.
"Yes, the same calibre," Ross confirmed, placing
the two missiles side by side on his palm, so that the
constable and the station master could inspect them.
"Pretty things, aren't they? A bit dented at the
point, but otherwise as good as new. Not a scratch
on them. Have a good look at them in case you're
asked to identify them," he suggested, with a faintly
sardonic glance at his colleague as the two spectators
wrinkled their brows in an effort to memorise the
appearance of the projectiles.
"Now I think we'd better get him out from under
the seat," Campden suggested. "I've gone over
everything that might have got disturbed while we
were moving him, so we can do as we like. Here!
Porter!"
George Mossley woke suddenly from his torpor.
"Get a long luggage truck," Campden ordered.
Then turning to the constable he added, "You'd bet-
ter go and clear all these gaping idiots away from
the gate there. Shove them right out of the station
for a minute or two. We'll need to take him into one
of the waiting rooms and I've no use for a lot of
rubbernecks pushing around as if it was a circus
procession. Some people could do with a bit more
manners and decency. Give them a lesson."
The constable set off, nothing loath; and suc-
ceeded in dispersing the crowd of would-be sight-
seers who thronged about the gate of the platform.


THE BULLETS 31
The last of them were still arguing their right of
access to the station when the rumble of wheels an-
nounced George's return with the truck; and this
stimulated the constable to more drastic measures.
With the assistance of the grinning Ketton, he per-
sonally conducted the ultimate pair of Paul Prys
to the booking-hall entrance, put them outside, and
turned the key in the lock.
By the time they reached the train, George Moss-
ley had again retired to the bench on the platform,
where he sat with averted eyes, looking even paler
than before. Superintendent Campden was covering
the body on the truck with a tarpaulin.
"I'll have one more look round," he said to Ross,
as he completed his task. "There might be something
left under the front seat."
Examination with the help of the flashlight, how-
ever, revealed nothing fresh.
"No bag, or umbrella, or anything of that sort,"
Campden reported, as he switched off his lamp.
"We seem to have got all that's to be found. Now
we'd better take him to the Third Class Waiting
Room."
When the dead man had been transported there
and laid out, Campden posted the constable outside
to keep off intruders and despatched Ketton to un-
lock the closed door.
"We can go through his pockets while we're wait-
ing for the surgeon," Ross suggested. "It may save
time."
"I'd just like to have a look at the wounds,"
Campden said, going over to the body. "The sur-


30 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
"Here's a second one," he announced. "I got it
lying loose between the cushion and the side of the
carriage. Same calibre as the first one, apparently."
He handed it to Ross for comparison.
"Yes, the same calibre," Ross confirmed, placing
the two missiles side by side on his palm, so that the
constable and the station master could inspect them.
"Pretty things, aren't they? A bit dented at the
point, but otherwise as good as new. Not a scratch
on them. Have a good look at them in case you're
asked to identify them," he suggested, with a faintly
sardonic glance at his colleague as the two spectators
wrinkled their brows in an effort to memorise the
appearance of the projectiles.
"Now I think we'd better get him out from under
the seat," Campden suggested. "I've gone over
everything that might have got disturbed while we
were moving him, so we can do as we like. Here!
Porter!"
George Mossley woke suddenly from his torpor.
"Get a long luggage truck," Campden ordered.
Then turning to the constable he added, "You'd bet-
ter go and clear all these gaping idiots away from
the gate there. Shove them right out of the station
for a minute or two. We'll need to take him into one
of the waiting rooms and I've no use for a lot of
rubbernecks pushing around as if it was a circus
procession. Some people could do with a bit more
manners and decency. Give them a lesson."
The constable set off, nothing loath; and suc-
ceeded in dispersing the crowd of would-be sight-
seers who thronged about the gate of the platform.


THE BULLETS
3>
The last of them were still arguing their right of
access to the station when the rumble of wheels an-
nounced George's return with the truck; and this
stimulated the constable to more drastic measures.
With the assistance of the grinning Ketton, he per-
sonally conducted the ultimate pair of Paul Prys
to the booking-hall entrance, put them outside, and
turned the key in the lock.
By the time they reached the train, George Moss-
ley had again retired to the bench on the platform,
where he sat with averted eyes, looking even paler
than before. Superintendent Campden was covering
the body on the truck with a tarpaulin.
"I'll have one more look round," he said to Ross,
as he completed his task. "There might be something
left under the front seat."
Examination with the help of the flashlight, how-
ever, revealed nothing fresh.
"No bag, or umbrella, or anything of that sort,"
Campden reported, as he switched off his lamp.
"We seem to have got all that's to be found. Now
we'd better take him to the Third Class Waiting
Room."
When the dead man had been transported there
and laid out, Campden posted the constable outside
to keep off intruders and despatched Ketton to un-
lock the closed door.
"We can go through his pockets while we're wait-
ing for the surgeon," Ross suggested. "It may save
time."
"I'd just like to have a look at the wounds,"
Campden said, going over to the body. "The sur-


32
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
geon'U give us an expert opinion after he's done his
P.M., but we may as well see what's what before
he starts on his job."
He stooped over the body and scanned it closely,
turning it as he did so.
"Five wounds, so far as I can see; and all of 'em
in the head," he reported at length. "It seems to
have been a fair bombardment the poor beggar went
through. Slight wound behind right ear—like a
glancing shot. Serious wound under left eye—the
surgeon'll be able to tell us more about it. Another
wound on left forehead—"
He bent closer and passed his finger lightly over
the dead man's face.
"Look here, Ross, the bullet's lying just under
the skin. I can feel it; it's just the same calibre as
the ones I found in the carriage."
"Is it?" said Superintendent Ross.
If his tone sounded slightly absent-minded, Camp-
den paid no attention to it, but continued his enumer-
ation.
"And two wounds below the left ear: one of them
looks a good deal worse than the other. There's some
sign of singeing, I think, round about the wound on
the forehead."
"Is there?"
This time Superintendent Ross's voice betrayed
quite clearly that something was puzzling him; but
Campden had discovered a fresh detail which ar-
rested his attention to the exclusion of other matters.
"Poor devil!" he exclaimed, startled out of his
professional stolidity. "The shots—or some of them


THE BULLETS
33
—seem to have been fired from behind; and the poor
beggar had pulled up his coat collar—trying to pro-
tect himself. See! The shot's gone clean through the
cloth, before it got into him. He was alive when
that shot was fired, anyhow. Lord! How helpless the
average man is against a really determined mur-
derer. Think of what the poor soul must have gone
through in that carriage. And yet, if we get our
hands on him, there'll be plenty of well-meaning
blighters who'll sign petitions for a reprieve, you
bet. Well, I'm all for the Frenchy who said, 'Let
Misters the Murderers commence.' If they don't
like hanging, then, damn it, let them stop before
they start murdering."
Superintendent Ross had a more vivid imagina-
tion than his colleague. He could conjure up the
scene well enough: the helpless victim shrinking
from his assassin and pathetically sheltering him-
self with the collar of his overcoat, as though the
bullets had been hailstones,,
"We'd better see if we can identify him," he said
brusquely.
Campden agreed with a nod and began an exami-
nation of the dead man's personal belongings, lay-
ing each article down by itself as he proceeded with
his enumeration.
"Right-hand pocket of overcoat," he began, "a
pair of gloves, fur-lined. 'Made in France' on one
metal clip and a lot of hieroglyphics and J.R. on the
other. Nothing much there."
He laid down the gloves.
"Left-hand pocket, a box of Swan vestas, half


THE BULLETS
35
Esq., and some to Prestons, Ltd., Great Deacon
Street, Horston. H'm! Prestons? Isn't that the firm
that manufactures weighing machines for shops,
Ross? Scales and so forth? You ought to know."
Superintendent Ross nodded.
"Yes, that's the firm. Their head office is in
Deacon Street; but their factory's out at Hammers-
leigh, which would account for the Hammersleigh
ticket you found in his overcoat pocket. He must
have been going out to the factory on business this
morning."
"That limits things down a bit, then," Campden
pointed out, as he pursued his search. "If he was
going to get out at Hammersleigh, then he must have
been shot before the train reached there, somewhere
between Horston and Hammersleigh. He would
know the line well enough not to get carried past his
station, even in a fog like the one this morning, one
would think."
A moment or two later he added:
"There's nothing more of any importance in his
pockets: just keys, fountain pen, cigarette case,
some loose money in the trouser pockets, cigarette
holder, and handkerchief. Well, we've got something
definite to start on, at any rate; we know who
he is."
The constable put his head in at the door to an-
nounce the arrival of the police surgeon. Doctor
Kegworth was a clean-shaven, hard-faced, com-
petent-looking man, who wasted no time.
"All the wounds are in the head, the constable
says," he said, as he took off his hat and put down


36
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
his bag. "We'll need to make sure of that. I don't
want to be biassed by suggestions, if you don't mind,
Superintendent. I'll hand you my report as soon as
possible. You don't want to stay now, do you? All
right."
And with very little ceremony he dismissed them
from the room.
"The constable here can give me a hand if I
need it, I suppose?" he said, as he ushered them
out.
Superintendent Ross glanced round the station
and picked out a remote bench on one of the plat-
forms.
"Suppose we postpone lunch for a while?" he sug-
gested to his companion. "I'm not exactly keen on
food at this moment, somehow. Let's spend a minute
or two trying to pull this thing into shape, first of
all. Then I think we might do worse than drop into
an optician's shop and see what he can tell us about
that bit of spectacle lens. By that time, perhaps,
we'll be more in a mood for lunch."
Campden made no objection and they walked
over to the isolated seat, where they could talk with-
out the risk of being overheard. As he sat down,
Ross took from his pocket the time-table he had
bought at the bookstall, opened it at the page show-
ing the service between Horston and Kempsford
Junction, and ran his finger across the columns
until he reached the figures for the 10.35 am-
train. Alongside them were the times for the
express by which he himself had travelled that
morning.


THE BULLETS
35
Esq., and some to Prestons, Ltd., Great Deacon
Street, Horston. H'm! Prestons? Isn't that the firm
that manufactures weighing machines for shops,
Ross? Scales and so forth? You ought to know."
Superintendent Ross nodded.
“Yes, that's the firm. Their head office is in
Deacon Street; but their factory's out at Hammers-
leigh, which would account for the Hammersleigh
ticket you found in his overcoat pocket. He must
have been going out to the factory on business this
morning.”
“That limits things down a bit, then," Campden
pointed out, as he pursued his search. "If he was
going to get out at Hammersleigh, then he must have
been shot before the train reached there, somewhere
between Horston and Hammersleigh. He would
know the line well enough not to get carried past his
station, even in a fog like the one this morning, one
would think.”
A moment or two later he added:
“There's nothing more of any importance in his
pockets: just keys, fountain pen, cigarette case,
some loose money in the trouser pockets, cigarette
holder, and handkerchief. Well, we've got something
definite to start on, at any rate; we know who
he is."
The constable put his head in at the door to an-
nounce the arrival of the police surgeon. Doctor
Kegworth was a clean-shaven, hard-faced, com-
petent-looking man, who wasted no time.
"All the wounds are in the head, the constable
says,” he said, as he took off his hat and put down


36
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
his bag. "We'll need to make sure of that. I don't
want to be biassed by suggestions, if you don't mind,
Superintendent. I'll hand you my report as soon as
possible. You don't want to stay now, do you? All
right."
And with very little ceremony he dismissed them
from the room.
"The constable here can give me a hand if I
need it, I suppose?" he said, as he ushered them
out.
Superintendent Ross glanced round the station
and picked out a remote bench on one of the plat-
forms.
"Suppose we postpone lunch for a while?" he sug-
gested to his companion. "I'm not exactly keen on
food at this moment, somehow. Let's spend a minute
or two trying to pull this thing into shape, first of
all. Then I think we might do worse than drop into
an optician's shop and see what he can tell us about
that bit of spectacle lens. By that time, perhaps,
we'll be more in a mood for lunch."
Campden made no objection and they walked
over to the isolated seat, where they could talk with-
out the risk of being overheard. As he sat down,
Ross took from his pocket the time-table he had
bought at the bookstall, opened it at the page show-
ing the service between Horston and Kempsford
Junction, and ran his finger across the columns
until he reached the figures for the 10.35 am-
train. Alongside them were the times for the
express by which he himself had travelled that
morning.


THE BULLETS 37
Local
Express
Horston
io-3S
10.47
Acton Holm
10.42
Poppleford
10.49
Nottage
10.53
Ingstone
10.58
Summerfield
11.05
Hilton-le-Gay
11.10
Seven Sisters
11.16
Hammersleigh arr.
11.22
11.10
"" dep.
11.25
11.14
Morpledene
11.29
Nether Kinton
".33
Forest Forge
11.40
Menham
11.47
New Keyling
".53
High Catton
".59
Kempsford Junction
12.04
".37
Campden leaned across
and examined the figures.
"Must have been pretty quick work, that murder,
wherever it was done," he pointed out, after a few
seconds spent in mental arithmetic. "The longest
time between stops anywhere on the line is seven
minutes."
"Less than that," Superintendent Ross corrected.
"Your seven-minute difference includes the stop at
the station and that would be round about a minute
on the average, I should guess. Besides, he'd have to
be well away from the station before he started;
and he'd have to get everything cleared up by the
time he ran into the next station. Allow another min-


38 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
ute for these two items, and your maximum time
allowance drops to five minutes."
"Five minutes to shoot a man several times and
then stuff his body under the seat? It's quick work.
But hold on a moment! That fog held up the local,
you said, didn't you? Perhaps he had more time than
that, really."
"Possibly he had," Ross conceded, "but whether
he had or not, he's a cool card and he backed him-
self to manage it, even in the five minutes that the
time-table allowed him."
"You seem to know a lot about him," Campden
commented with a tinge of irony. "An old friend of
yours who took you into his confidence beforehand,
perhaps?"
Superintendent Ross grinned broadly.
"Just for that, Campden, I'll leave you to worry
this out for yourself, instead of telling you now.
I'll give you my views, just the inferences without
the evidence. First, this affair was deliberately
planned beforehand by a rather clever—no, I'll
stop there. I'm practically sure of that much, on the
evidence we've got up to the present; and I'll be
very much surprised if Kegworth's P.M. doesn't
confirm what I say. Just wait till you see his report
on the fatal wounds."
"I'll wait," said Campden sardonically. ""It'll be
a treat to look forward to, won't it. A bright spot in
my young life. Go on."
"Well, it's obvious enough that if the thing were
planned in advance, the fog was outside the cal-
culation. No one could predict that beforehand. A


THE BULLETS
39
fog in town doesn't imply a fog all along the line,
so that even if the preparations had been made that
morning, the fog was an unforeseeable factor at the
point on the line where the murder had been pre-
arranged. But the preparations weren't made this
morning. So the time-table was the schedule for the
scheme."
"Ah, indeed?" Campden interjected, in a sceptical
tone.
"Indeed, indeed," Ross retorted chaffingly. "And
if you admit all that—"
"Not I," said Campden bluntly. "I never was keen
on fairy stories, not even when I was a child."
"Who's telling you fairy stories? I'm giving you
the plain facts of the case in a way suitable to my
hearers, leaving all the hard parts out. And the fact
that this was a prearranged affair limits it a good
deal. For one thing, the murder must have been done
before the train reached Hammersleigh, because
Preston's ticket took him only that length and there
was no foreseeable chance that he'd go past his sta-
tion. Ergo, Campden, we needn't pay much attention
to the strip of line between Hammersleigh and here,
so far as the murder itself goes. All we can look for
there is traces of people leaving the train after the
murder was done. And that reminds me, you'd better
arrange for an S.O.S. on the wireless, asking all
passengers to communicate with the police. That's
our best chance of raking in evidence on that
side."
"I'll see about that," Campden agreed. "Go on
with the fairy story. I'm beginning to get a taste for


40
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
these things. I'll have a look at my little girl's Hans
Andersen to-night, like enough."
Superintendent Ross ignored this.
"If the murder took place before the train reached
Hammersleigh, then it must have been done on one
of three stretches of line: between Horston and
Poppleford; or between Ingstone and Summerfield;
or else between Hilton-le-Gay and Hammersleigh.
On all the rest of the line the stops are too frequent
to allow time for a man to be shot and stuffed under
the seat and a piece of newspaper to be burned to
ashes."
"That newspaper ash puzzles me a bit," Campden
admitted grudgingly. "What would any man want to
burn a bit of newspaper for? If it had been letters
or anything like that, one could understand. But
newspaper—"
Ross laughed at the expression on his colleague's
face.
"I don't know why it was burned," he volun-
teered, "but I can make a guess at it, perhaps. Sup-
pose somebody got blood on their hands in man-
handling the body when it was pushed under the
seat. It needn't have been much blood, if care was
taken; but it would be safest to get rid of it. The
natural thing to do would be to clean it off with a
handkerchief, if you were a man—a woman's hand-
kerchief wouldn't go far in that job. But whoever
planned this affair had brains; and blood on a hand-
kerchief sometimes takes a bit of explaining away.
Why not use a newspaper—and burn it afterwards
to destroy both the blood traces and any fingerprints


THE BULLETS
41
you may have left on the paper? That's what I'd do
myself, I think; and I should think that's just what
happened in that carriage."
"That sounds all right," Campden conceded read-
ily enough. "In fact, it sounds pretty certain. I
almost begin to think you've got your reputation
honestly, Ross. Ah! But what d'you make of the
second bit of paper—the edge of the sheet of note-
paper? That needs explaining too. You don't tell me
the murderer wiped his hands on a bit of notepaper
when he'd got newspaper handy. That won't wash."
He glanced up and detected, with some irritation,
a quickly suppressed smile on Ross's face.
"The notepaper?" Ross retorted. "You want
everything explained at once, Campden. This case
has hardly begun yet, you know. Did you notice
anything interesting about the bit of notepaper, by
any chance, apart from its being singed?"
Campden pondered over his recollections for a
few moments, as though he were trying to visualise
the scrap of paper.
"It was about half an inch wide," he announced
at last, weighing each statement as he uttered it. "It
was plain white notepaper. It had a sort of curl on
it, as if it had been rolled up into a spill. And it was
singed at both edges, though the straight line of the
paper edge wasn't burned into on the original edg-
ing side."
"Quite accurate," said Ross, approvingly. "You
have a sound pair of eyes in your head, Campden,
I'll say that for you. It's what's behind the eyes that
counts, though, in a case like this."


43
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
"Meaning brains, I suppose?" Campden said in-
dignantly. "I haven't the kind of brains that make
up fairy tales, I admit. I suppose by your way of it,
the murderer, after he'd done his job, felt he wanted
a smoke. So he screwed a bit of paper into a spill,
walked over to the drawing-room fire, and lit his
pipe with it. Funny world you must live in, with
chimneypieces and railway carriages all mixed up
together."
"That nasty sneering habit," said Ross depre-
catingly. "Don't let it grow on you, Campden. Here
it's robbed you of another bit of priceless informa-
tion; for now I'll just wait till Kegworth's finished
his job before I tell you what I think. I can't be
quite sure myself, till I see his results; so we're not
losing anything by waiting. But I bet I'm right."
He rose to his feet as he spoke.
"Now, what about an optician's shop? You know
the nearest one where we're likely to get the infor-
mation we want."


CHAPTER IV: THE LENS
As they emerged from the station, the sight of a
telephone box suggested a fresh ramification of
affairs to Superintendent Campden.
"Now that we're sure it's Preston," he pointed
out, "we ought to notify his relations, whoever they
are. Some one will have to identify him, just to be
on the safe side."
Superintendent Ross had followed Campden's
glance towards the telephone box. Before answer-
ing, he paused for a moment to make a mental cal-
culation.
"Rather a brutal way to break news of that sort,"
he suggested, with a gesture towards the telephone
box. "It's not a pleasant job; but some one has to
do it, and it may as well be me. I'll be back in Hors-
ton again quite soon enough to go over to his house
and explain things before they see it in the evening
papers. No one but ourselves knows who he is yet,
and if a reporter tackles you, you can always for-
get that point for an hour or two, can't you?"
"I daresay I could," Campden agreed. Then, with
a change in tone, he added, "Talk of the devil!
Here's one of them already. You can do your own
lying, Ross. I'm off to ring up our people and get
them to 'phone Scotland Yard about that S.O.S.
on the wireless."


44
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
He walked off in the direction of the telephone
box, but before he had taken half a dozen steps
he was intercepted by a middle-aged man who had
just come up.
"Sorry, Mr. Wolvey, I can't spare a moment
just now," Campden apologised. "You'd better
speak to Superintendent Ross here; he knows all
about the affair. Ross, this is Mr. Wolvey of the
Kempsford Herald. I won't keep you a minute; and
then we must hurry along," he added meaningly,
as he turned away towards the public telephone.
Ross had often been indebted to newspapers for
help in his cases; and he believe^ in keeping on the
right side of the press. He dictated to the reporter
a concise account of the whole affair so far as it had
gone, with the exception of the name of the mur-
dered man.
"You can amplify that if you get hold of the
porter who found the body; and the station master
can probably give you further information. Of
course, you won't mention anything specific in the
way of clues. We don't want the murderer to learn
how much we know, naturally."
"Who's the victim?" Wolvey demanded. "You
forgot to tell me that."
"The body hasn't been identified yet by any one
who knew him," Ross said, covering his evasion
with a firm tone. "But I tell you what, Mr. Wolvey.
The Herald's a morning paper, isn't it? And there's
no evening paper in this place? Well, if you'll look
up Superintendent Campden about six o'clock, I
think we'll be able to give you the name. That'll be


THE LENS
45
in plenty of time for your purposes, so you're losing
nothing. Awkward for all of us if you published the
wrong name, you know; and deuced awkward for
us, at any rate. Call him a well-known business man
and you'll be quite safe. It's a good general de-
scription."
Wolvey had the sense to see that nothing more
was to be extracted from the Superintendent at the
moment; and Ross took care to make it clear that
no one else would get the information before the
hour he had named.
"So you needn't be afraid of being done out of a
scoop," he pointed out.
"I'd meant to wire one of the Horston evening pa-
pers," Wolvey explained regretfully, "and it makes
a poorer story without the name."
"Nobody here recognised the poor beggar," Ross
responded disingenuously. "He doesn't belong to
this neighbourhood."
Campden emerged from the telephone box and
rejoined them.
"Well, what about it?" he demanded. "Time we
were moving along, isn't it?"
He turned to Wolvey with a broad smile.
"No use sleuthing around, Mr. Wolvey, to see
what we're going to do next. We're on the road to
Palmer's restaurant; and then Superintendent Ross
is going to take the first train home."
Ross explained the matter of the six o'clock ap-
pointment to his colleague, who reassured the jour-
nalist.
"Come and see me at six o'clock and I'll prob-


46 THETWOTIC K E T PUZZLE
ably have some news for you. And now, Ross, I'm
hungry."
Wolvey went into the station to hunt for further
details.
"And now," said Ross, "what about this optician?
I sort of gathered from your frank and honest state-
ment that his shop's on the road to Palmer's res-
taurant."
"It is. I'm always strictly truthful. We go down
this street here."
Their call at the optician's did not occupy much
time. There was quite enough glass left to identify
the type of lens.
"Write down the technical formula for the thing,
please," Campden asked the man behind the coun-
ter, after the examination had been made.
When the slip of paper was passed across to him,
he read on it:
— 5.50 sph. + 0.50 cyl.
"Of course I can't say what the position of the
axis may have been," the optician pointed out.
"You need to see the thing in the frame to tell
that."
"What sort of sight would a person have who
needed a glass of this sort?" Campden inquired.
"From the look of the lens, I'd be inclined to
think it came out of a pair of tortoise-shell-rimmed
reading glasses. I can't swear to that, of course;
it's just an opinion. But in that case, the lens would
suit somebody with a fairly short sight and a quite
perceptible amount of astigmatism."


THELENS 47
"I'm not quite clear about astigmatism," Ross in-
terjected. "Suppose these are reading glasses. I take
it that whoever wore them was short-sighted and
would need other glasses for his ordinary use in
the street. Now would these other glasses have a
cylindrical curve on them too, or would ordinary
spherical lenses serve well enough?"
The optician looked rather doubtful.
"I think it's likely that both sets would need to
be made to suit the astigmatism; but I shouldn't
care to swear to it. You'd better try an oculist for
an answer to that; all I do is to test people's eyes
and give them the lenses that seem to fit their sight.
I'm not an expert, really."
Campden recovered the lens fragment, picked up
the paper with the technical description on it, and
bade the optician good afternoon.
"Now, we'll have some food," he suggested.
"That'll leave us just time to get back to the sta-
tion and hear if Kegworth's found anything
startling, so far; and then it'll be time for your
train."
Their meal did not take long; and they reached
the station again in plenty of time for the Horston
train. Doctor Kegworth was still engaged on his
gruesome task; but he had already a fair amount
of information to give them.
"All the wounds are in the head," he explained
curtly. "Five of them. If only four shots had been
fired, the man might have lived, though one of the
wounds is serious. The fifth shot was fired from
behind and below. The bullet went in behind the


48 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
left ear and lodged somewhere in the anterior part
of the brain. It killed him. As to the other wounds,
one of them is purely superficial. The shot entered
the tissues but didn't damage the bone. A scalp
wound merely. I haven't found the bullet. Probably
it glanced off the bone and emerged again."
"That would be one of the bullets we found in
the carriage, likely," Campden confirmed. "Yes, go
on, Doctor."
"There's another wound, much the same, behind
the right ear. I found no bullet there, either."
"We found two bullets in the compartment."
"Then there's a third wound on the left fore-
head," the surgeon continued. "There was no injury
to the bone. It's a purely superficial wound. Here's
the bullet. I found it lying just under the skin."
He held up a nickelled bullet similar to those
which had been found in the compartment.
"Same calibre as the others," Campden com-
mented, taking it from the doctor and inspecting it
closely.
"The fourth wound's much more serious," Keg-
worth continued. "It's under the left eye. I've ex-
tracted the bullet. It's not the same as the others—
a leaden one, not nickel-covered, and bigger calibre.
Here it is."
He produced the projectile and handed it to
Campden. But Campden, instead of examining
it, turned to stare at Ross with marvel in his
eyes.
"You guessed something of this sort?"
Ross nodded.


THELENS 49
"It was fairly simple, if you just happened to
look at the facts in a particular way," he said.
"This complicates things a bit," Campden mused,
turning the leaden projectile absently between his
fingers. "Two pistols of different calibre—does that
mean two murderers or was it one man with two
pistols?"
"Neither," said Ross, with a suppressed smile.
"Neither?" echoed Campden, in unashamed sur-
prise. "It must be one or the other."
"The whole thing was done by one man with
one pistol," Ross asserted confidently. "Look at the
facts and you'll see the thing staring you in the
face. There are five wounds in all. The fatal
one was probably made by a leaden bullet, but
as we haven't got it in front of us yet, we'll
leave it out and confine ourselves to the four
projectiles that we've actually seen with our own
eyes."
"Three nickelled bullets from an automatic pis-
tol and one heavy-calibre leaden bullet fired from
a revolver, I should say," Campden emphasised.
"You said the automatic bullets were point thirty-
eighths yourself; and this leaden one looks to me
like a point forty-five or thereabouts."
"i'll come to the bullets immediately," Ross ex-
plained. "First of all, consider the wounds made by
the nickelled set. One hits him behind the left ear
but doesn't damage the bone at that place. Same in
the case of the wound behind the right ear. Then
in the third case, the bullet strikes him on the left
forehead, doesn't injure the bone, and actually


SO
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
comes to rest under the skin. And in this last case
the shot was fired so close to the head that there
were actually slight signs of burning on the skin
and hair. You'd never make me believe that a nor-
mal automatic would produce results like that,
Campden. It's got a fairly high muzzle velocity and
you couldn't persuade a village idiot that a bullet
from it would stick in the skin six inches from
where the pistol was fired. The shot might have
glanced off the bone; but it would have had far too
much speed on it even then to lodge under the skin
of the forehead. It's simply incredible, that's all
about it."
"Damn it! I ought to have seen that!" Campden
admitted frankly. "And I suppose you've got some-
thing further?"
"Take the nickelled bullets themselves, that you
were so eager about a moment or two ago. Where are
the marks of the pistol's rifling on their castings?
There's hardly a scratch on them, so obviously they
never were fired from the pistol they were meant to
fit. They must have come through a barrel of a much
bigger calibre; and the leakage of gas between the
bullet and the barrel accounts for the low pene-
trating power. They had nothing like the full energy
of the cartridge behind them; and one shot—the one
that made the forehead wound—was hardly better
than a misfire."
"Now I see what that strip of paper was for,"
Campden interrupted. "You mean that the mur-
derer used a heavy-calibre revolver and he rolled
strips of paper round the .38 bullets to bring them


THE LENS
Si
up to the diameter of the revolver barrel? Then
why did we find only one strip?"
"Perhaps he picked up the rest; or perhaps they
stuck in the revolver rifling. I expect he picked
them up and missed the one we found, because it
had blown under the seat somehow. He was in
something of a hurry, remember, Campden, with a
five-minute time limit on his work."
"I think I see how it was done now," Campden
went on. "The murderer had a .45 revolver. The
first chamber was loaded with an ordinary .45 car-
tridge with a leaden bullet; the next three had the
paper-rolled .38 bullets in them; and the fifth cham-
ber had a .45 normal cartridge. He attacked Pres-
ton suddenly and shot him in the face with leaden
bullet No. 1. It wasn't fatal; and Preston turned
round and buried his face in the corner of the
carriage. Then the murderer came up close to him.
Preston instinctively turned up his overcoat collar,
poor beggar, to shield himself; and the murderer
blazed thrice at him at close range without doing
much damage, since the .38 bullets had no pene-
trating power. Then he finished the job with leaden
bullet No. 2, fired upward from somewhere on the
left side. Is that it?"
"It's as near as we're likely to get, I expect,"
Ross confirmed. "And now you see why I said it
was a put-up job, all thought out beforehand? A
man might have a revolver in his pocket by acci-
dent. But he wouldn't accidentally have a revolver
ready loaded in a peculiar way like this. Premedita-
tion's as plain as the nose on your face, thank good-


THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
ness. We've so much to go on. It isn't merely a
homicidal lunatic on the loose. And I expect to get
some more evidence yet—perhaps in a day or two.
If it turns up, then we can convince any jury that
this was a completely cold-blooded affair, thought
out long beforehand—and that helps a lot towards
a conviction."
Superintendent Campden's nod gave assent to this
view of the case.
"It's going to be a matter of pure circumstantial
evidence," he said reflectively, "and that's always
a tricky thing to put to a jury unless you've plenty
of it and all hanging together nicely. The bother
is that except for that bit of spectacle lens—which
may belong to Preston, after all—there doesn't
seem to be a single thing in the compartment that
puts us on the track of the criminal, not one."
"He's had plenty of time to think things out,"
Ross said confidently, "and he's made no mistakes,
apparently."
Campden thought he saw a possible flaw in his
colleague's assertion.
"H'm!" he grunted. "I'll admit that he must
have made his arrangements before he got on to
the train—the bullets more or less prove it. But
that carries you back only to about 10 a.m. this
morning and you talk as if you thought this had
all been planned much longer ahead than that."
"I can't prove it," Ross confessed frankly, "so
there's no use going into it just now. But I expect
to get the evidence before long, from what I've
seen."


THE LENS
53
He turned to the police surgeon and took his
leave. Campden followed him out on to the plat-
form.
"My train's in a minute or two," Ross said,
glancing up at the clock dial. "Let's run over the
next moves. If the murder was done on the stretch
between Horston and Hammersleigh, then it's a
case for us in Horston. We'll need to hunt up all
the information we can at intermediate stations
along the line, to see if we can pin down the mur-
derer amongst people who left the train at any of
these places. I'll put a detective-inspector on to that
jot)—Mornington's a good man. He'll work up from
Horston to Hammersleigh, including Hammersleigh
station. Would you put some one of your lot to do
the same for the stretch between here and Ham-
mersleigh? It'll save time to work from both ends.
We'll need to get the ticket collectors and porters
while their memories are fresh, or else they'll begin
recollecting dozens of things that never happened
at all."
"They'll do that anyhow," Campden interjected.
Ross glanced again at the clock.
"Would you mind ringing up Mornington now
and telling him to meet me on the platform at
the terminus when my train gets in? Then I can
start him on his job at once, before I go out to
Preston's house. It'll save time."
"All right," Campden assured him, as Ross turned
to hurry towards the waiting train. "I'll fix that
up for you; and I'll send a man down the line from
this end."


CHAPTER V: IN SEARCH OF A MOTIVE
Superintendent Ross secured a carriage to him-
self; and as the train steamed out of the Junction, he
lit his pipe and settled down to an undisturbed con-
sideration of the Preston case. Very little reflection
satisfied him that he had extracted from the known
facts everything that he judged valuable. So far as
he had gone, he felt on firm ground.
Dismissing that side of the subject, he began to
turn over in his mind the points which were still
lacking in the story of the crime, and the type of
evidence which would be needed to fill the gaps.
Obviously, the murderer and his victim had trav-
elled together, for some part of the journey at
least. Inquiry would have to be made in the hope
that some one who knew Preston might recall see-
ing him in company with the criminal. Superintend-
ent Ross had little real hope in this direction. He
knew too well the unobservant nature of the ordi-
nary town dweller when in a crowd at a railway
station. Still, there was always a chance, he reflected.
Mornington could be trusted to rake through the
whole station staff at the terminus and unearth any
information that could be got.
It was on the cards, though, that the murderer
had not joined the train at Horston, but had got
into Preston's compartment at one of the stations


IN SEARCH OF A MOTIVE 55
farther along the line. Putting himself mentally into
the murderer's shoes, Ross felt inclined to dismiss
this hypothesis. A man might pass unnoticed at a
big terminus; but on the platform of some sleepy
little wayside station he would be conspicuous and
easily remembered. The murderer had evidently
laid his plans skilfully; and Ross felt fairly sure
that a point like this would not have escaped him.
The chances were that he joined the train at Hors-
ton. But in any case, Mornington's investigations
along the line would throw some light on the sub-
ject, if they had any luck.
Where had the murderer arranged to leave the
train after committing his crime? Clearly enough,
Ross concluded, he would get out at the next sta-
tion. Nobody in his senses would travel a yard far-
ther than he was forced to do in company with the
body of a victim and with the chance of a fresh
passenger getting into the carriage at any stop. But
that seemed to imply that the murderer would hold
a ticket to the station just beyond the site of the
assassination; for if he gave up a ticket for any
other destination, it might attract the special atten-
tion of the collector, even if no excess fare had
to be paid.
Remained the motive behind the crime. Ross knew
quite well that if circumstantial evidence is strong
enough, the Crown need not suggest a motive in
its case for the prosecution; but he knew also
that juries were apt to shy when no sound
motive was put before them to account for the
crime. A motive would have to be discovered, if


$6 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
the prosecution was to make a certainty of getting
a conviction.
Superintendent Ross's experience had convinced
him that at the root of almost every murder lay
one of four primary causes: mania, revenge, money,
or a woman; and now he examined each of them
in turn to see which could be eliminated. Homicidal
mania he dismissed almost immediately; this mur-
der had nothing in it to suggest a disordered mind
acting on the spur of the moment. Revenge, also,
the Superintendent felt inclined to exclude from his
problem, or at least to leave in the background
until he had explored the other possibilities. If it
were a case of revenge, then—as things went in this
country—a murderess seemed more probable than
a murderer. But only an exceptionally cool and de-
termined woman could have planned and executed
a crime like that on the 10.35 train. On the face
of things, Ross inclined to doubt plausibility of
any such hypothesis.
This left only money or a woman as a probable
cause of the murder. One was as likely as the
other, so far as the available evidence went; and
Superintendent Ross was on the lookout for fresh
indications pointing to either. It was, in fact, with
this at the back of his mind that he had volunteered
to carry the news to Preston's family. In the initial
confusion produced by the announcement, some-
thing might leak out which would help him to choose
the right trail. If money were at the root of the
affair, direct questioning would bring out something
of value; whereas if passion underlay the mystery, a


IN SEARCH OF A MOTIVE
57
hint might be got from even the demeanour of those
who had been most closely associated with the
murdered man.
At the Horston terminus, Ross found the detec-
tive-inspector awaiting him on the platform. Morn-
ington was one of the Superintendent's favourite
sleuthhounds; and Ross had once given three rea-
sons for his preference. "Mornington looks more
like the Man-in-the-Street than any one else I
know, so he attracts no attention when he's at
work. Then, he can pick up more bits of useful
information in a given time than most people. And,
finally, he never gets mixed up between the actual
evidence he collects and the inferences he draws
from it; so I can rely on getting the plain facts
altogether apart from any superstructure of theory,
if I want them. Show Sergeant Sparkford—that
cocksure devil—a basin of soapy water and a wet
cake of soap. He'll tell you at once that somebody
had been washing his hands and he'll probably back
it up by saying the towel was damp, too. How does
he know any one washed his hands in the basin?
That's not a fact; it's an inference. But Morning-
ton would have more sense. He'd say: 'There was
soapy water in the basin; the cake of soap was
moist; and the towel was damp. I should imagine
somebody had been washing his or her hands; but
it's quite possible that somebody had been shaving
without a shaving pot: either notion would fit the
case.' By the Mornington method you never get
confused between what's definitely provable and
what's only surmise."


58 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
A few minutes sufficed to lay before Mornington
the rough outline of the investigation which was
needed to clear up, as far as possible, the railway
side of the case. When he had finished this, Super-
intendent Ross added what seemed to the Inspector
an unrelated piece of work.
"By the way, since you're going down there, you
might kill two birds with one stone. Just beyond
Seven Sisters Station a prize ram was shot a week
ago; it belongs to Mr. Chepstow and it's in charge
of a man called Tarland—you'll easily find out
about it. Make any inquiries that occur to you—
the more zeal you show, the better; Chepstow's
under the impression that we're not doing enough.
Now here's the important point. If that ram dies,
we're to be notified at once; and the vet's not to
start any investigation on his own. I want the
bullet out of the beast; and we must have it taken
out in such a way as to leave no doubt about its
identity. You understand? Then that's all just
now."
Hailing a taxi, the Superintendent drove off to
Preston's address. Now that he was actually on the
verge of it, he began to wish he had left to some
one else the task of breaking the news.
Abbey Road was a broad avenue in the best
quarter of Horston, and Hillcrest proved to be a
good-sized house standing in a roomy garden. Tell-
ing his taxi to wait, Superintendent Ross walked up
the drive and rang the front doorbell, feeling even
more uncomfdrtable at the emotions which he ex-
pected to rouse by his tidings.


IN SEASCH OF A MOTIVE 59
A neat maid opened the door, and Ross looked
into a wide hall with Persian rugs scattered about
the parquet. On one side was a broad, thick-car-
peted stairway; and as Ross moved forward, a
pretty, dark-haired girl of about twenty ran lightly
down the steps, glanced in passing at the figure in
the doorway, and vanished into one of the rooms
leading from the hall. As she opened the door, Ross
heard the notes of a piano, obviously reproduced
from a loud speaker.
"I'm Superintendent Ross," he explained, bring-
ing his attention back to the maid, who was looking
at him rather doubtfully. "Is Mrs. Preston in?
I've an important message for her."
He had taken the chance that Preston was mar-
ried, to save explanations to the maid, and he was
relieved to find his guess was right.
"Mrs. Preston's at home," the maid admitted,
with a glance of curiosity at the unexpected visitor.
"I'll give her your card."
She held out her hand. But this did not suit
Ross's plans. He had no intention of being shep-
herded into a room and left there to wait while
the mistress of the house used the maid as a go-
between. If he was to learn anything, he would need
to be there when the blow fell. He produced his
card; but as the maid examined it he put an end
to her obvious hesitation.
"This is urgent," he said authoritatively. "Take
me to your mistress at once. I must see her imme-
diately."
His manner convinced the maid, and she led him


60 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
towards the door through which the dark-haired
girl had disappeared. As she opened it to usher him
into the room, the loud speaker within lifted its
voice.
"This is London calling. Here is an S.O.S. message
which has just come in. Will any passengers on the
10.35 a.m. train from Horston to Kempsford Junc-
tion this morning, please communicate immediately
with the Chief Constable, Horston, (Telephone num-
ber, Horston 3981,) or with any Police Station?"
The maid hesitated for a moment on the
threshold. Then when the machine paused and al-
lowed her voice to be heard, she announced the
Superintendent.
Ross found himself in a drawing-room softly lit
by shaded lamps. At his entrance, the girl whom
he had seen on the stair rose from a Chesterfield
and crossed over to switch off the wireless. Beside
the bright-burning fire, a second girl was sitting in
a big comfortable easy-chair with a fashion paper
on her knee; and as the Superintendent appeared at
the door she looked up swiftly with a blend of sur-
prise and misgiving in her expression. Then, as he
came forward, she put down the paper and rose to
her feet. Her attitude made it clear that she ex-
pected him to address her and not her companion.
Apparently she was Preston's wife. Who the other
girl might be, Ross could not guess; for she was
obviously not a daughter of Mrs. Preston and there
was no resemblance to suggest that the two might
be sisters.
Though he did not betray it, the Superintendent


IN SEARCH OF A MOTIVE
61
was momentarily taken by surprise. Preston was a
man in the fifties; and Ross, naturally enough, had
formed a mental picture of a Mrs. Preston about
the same age. This fair-haired young beauty would
not fit into the frame. Disconcerted, he took in
with an unobtrusive glance the girl's lithe figure,
her beautifully kept hands, her clean-cut features
with their faint suggestion of plaintiveness.
"She'd be a pretty toy for any man," he reflected
crudely, "and she looks just the sort that might
like to be played with."
Superintendent Ross believed in telling the whole
truth as soon as possible, in cases of this kind; and
now he gave his message with as little beating
about the bush as he could.
"Mrs. Preston? I'm sorry I've brought you bad
news. You'll need to prepare yourself for a severe
shock, very severe. Mr. Preston was found dead
in the train at Kempsford Junction this afternoon."
The Superintendent had but little belief in facial
expression as a guide to mental processes; but he
watched keenly to see the effect of his thunderbolt.
Mrs. Preston's reaction to the news gave him some-
thing to think about; but it certainly failed to yield
any definite information. The startled gesture, the
twitch of the lips, the whole attitude of the girl
spoke clearly of a shocking surprise. But in her eyes
there seemed to be something more. Their look
gave Ross the impression that apprehension was
mingled with the other emotion. She seemed to
have grasped his news and instantly to have fallen
afraid.


62
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
"Dead?" she exclaimed incredulously. "How did
it happen? Quick, tell me!"
Again Superintendent Ross found himself con-
fronted by the unexpected. The tone was one of
acute anxiety rather than of the grief which might
have been anticipated. Some people have the fac-
ulty of facing bad news courageously and keeping
their feelings under iron control, even when con-
fronted with the worst; but Ross doubted if Mrs.
Preston was one of these. Her voice suggested that
her interest was concentrated almost entirely on
the manner of her husband's death to the exclusion
of any great sorrow at the event itself.
"She was completely staggered by the news.
Therefore, she had no foreknowledge of the mur-
der." This flashed through Ross's mind on the in-
stant. "And yet, by the look of her, she must have
had an inkling that something of the sort was on
the cards, or at least within the possibilities. And
what's more, she's afraid. Afraid of what? That
some one she's interested in may have had a hand
in the business?"
Superintendent Ross's attention had been so con-
centrated on Mrs. Preston that the personality of
the other girl had escaped his attention. She recalled
herself to him by coming over to Mrs. Preston and
putting an arm round her as though to soothe her.
As she did so, the two exchanged glances; and Ross
had the feeling that the younger girl guessed the
real reason underlying Mrs. Preston's attitude.
And in that unguarded silent communication he
caught something in the older girl's face and in her


IN SEARCH OF A MOTIVE
63
wide-opened eyes. Fear was plainly there now:
fear verging on panic.
Whether it was the sympathetic touch of the
younger girl or merely that she had reached the
end of her resources, Mrs. Preston's self-control
suddenly failed. She made two unsteady steps to
the chair and then buried her face in the soft
cushions, while her whole body shook with the vio-
lence of her sobbing. Her companion knelt beside
her for a few moments; and then, failing to calm
her, turned to Ross.
"How did it happen?" she asked, in a trembling
voice.
"I don't know," the Superintendent admitted.
"I'm sorry to have to tell you that Mr. Preston was
found shot—no, not suicide. His body was discov-
ered when the train reached Kempsford Junction.
It was identified by some letters he had in his
pocket. That's really all we know at present."
The girl nodded, without commenting directly.
After a few seconds she made a suggestion.
"I think you'd better go and wait in the study
for a minute or two, while I look after Mrs. Pres-
ton. Then I'll come and talk to you, if there's any-
thing you want to know. You can't worry her just
now; and I can tell you anything just as well as
she could. Please ring the bell, and the maid will
show you where to go."
Superintendent Ross raised no objection to this
course. Mrs. Preston was clearly on the verge of
hysteria; and no good could come of any attempt
to question her at that moment. Besides, he thought,


64 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
he could spend his time better in dealing with
other witnesses just then. An indirect approach
would probably yield quicker results than
any attempt to go too fast along the direct
path. He allowed himself to be conducted to
the study.
During the quarter of an hour he was kept wait-
ing, he had considerable difficulty in refraining
from theory building. It all looked so simple, if
one examined the facts from one point of view.
But Ross had an ingrained mistrust of solutions ar-
rived at before all the facts were available; and
now he held his imagination in check lest it should
run away with him.
At last the younger girl came into the study and,
seeing the Superintendent still on his feet, she in-
vited him by a gesture to find a chair.
"I don't want to be away from her too long," she
pointed out. "It's been a terrible shock to us both,
as you can guess; and she's not really fit to be left
alone just now. So would you mind being as "uick
as you can?"
Superintendent Ross acquiesced at once.
"I quite understand," he said sympathetically,
"and I'll not detain you long just now. I want to
ask only a few questions. It's rather awkward,
though, for you see I don't even know who you
are."
The girl forced a faint smile.
"I'd forgotten that," she said. "My name's Madge
Winslow, and I'm a sort of ward of Mr. Preston—
no relation at all, but I've no one in the world now,


66
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
"We'll say no more about it," he conceded, as
gracefully as he could. "Now I want, if possible, to
find out exactly what Mr. Preston did to-day. You
probably know something of his routine. What did
he usually do?"
Madge Winslow again looked at the carpet as
though to occupy her eyes while her mind was con-
centrated on the question he had asked. When she
looked up this time, however, it was with a differ-
ent expression; and Ross gathered that she was
giving him the truth to the best of her knowledge.
"This is Friday, isn't it?" she began. "Then he
usually left the house after breakfast and walked
to the tram going into town."
Superintendent Ross was slightly surprised.
"Didn't he drive into business?"
Madge shook her head.
"He had a motor accident a year or so ago and
nearly killed some one. After that, he sold the car
and he would never use a motor if he could help
it. He always took the tram into town."
"Ah, that explains itl You see, I told you that I
did not know anything about any of you; and it
seemed strange that a man like Mr. Preston should
go in by tram. Please go on."
Madge Winslow nodded and continued.
"He used to go first to his office. Then, when the
bank opened, he went there and drew a cheque for
the amount of his employes' week's wages at the
factory. That left him just enough time to catch
the train to Hammersleigh. The factory's at Ham-
mersleigh, you know."


IN SEARCH OF A MOTIVE 67
"You mean he used to take the money down to
the factory himself? Surely a clerk could have
done that."
"He was faddy about a good many things,"
Madge retorted in an impatient tone. "That was
one of his fads—taking the money down himself and
handing it over to the manager. That's why I asked
if to-day was Friday—I wasn't sure. Friday was the
day for going down to Hammersleigh, every week."
"Then he would have had this money with him
to-day?" Ross demanded, recalling that no such
amount of cash had been found at Kempsford Junc-
tion.
"Oh, yes. The men's wages would have to be
paid, so of course he'd have the money for that."
She paused for a moment, and then added:
"You think it might have been a case of rob-
bery?"
"I can't say," Ross answered, repaying her in
her own coin. "Do you suppose any one knew that
he carried such a sum? Did he never delegate the
money-carrying to some one else?"
"Never," Madge declared in a tone of conviction.
"He had his own way of doing things and nothing
would make him alter that. I'm quite certain he
would have the money with him."
The Superintendent did not feel inclined to lay
too much weight on this opinion. He had seen a
faint sign of relief in the girl's face when the money
point was brought up; and he inferred that she
wished to lay stress on it in the hope that she
might be spared further probing into the possible


68
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
motives in the case. He decided to make a pre-
tence of sharing her views.
"If I understand things, Miss Winslow, the case
is this: there was no concealment of the money
being secured at the bank; any one might have got
that information by watching him when he cashed
his cheque; he travelled always with the money
on Fridays; and he went down to Hammersleigh
invariably by the same train each week—the 10.35.
Is that right?"
"That's quite right. I see what you mean, Mr.
Ross. Any one might have laid plans to secure the
money, since they would know every move before-
hand?"
"If he never diverged from that routine, as you
tell me."
"Except when he was on holiday. Then the fac-
tory manager carried the money."
Ross had made up his mind that nothing of value
was likely to be extracted from Madge Winslow.
Quite obviously she had decided to be guarded in
her answers until she had time to consider the situa-
tion; and he had the impression, rightly or wrongly,
that she had not been over-fond of her trustee.
From the stress laid upon Preston's fads and ad-
herence to routine, the Superintendent suspected
that he had been a person with but little give-and-
take in his methods; and possibly he had antag-
onised Madge Winslow by making her conform to
his ideas whether she liked them or not.
"Can you give me the name of his lawyer?" he
asked. "There will be a number of things—legal


IN SEARCH OF A MOTIVE
69
affairs—which he could take off your hands. I don't
want to trouble Mrs. Preston more than is neces-
sary."
"It's Mr. Iverson of Arthur Street."
Ross had no desire to detain Madge Winslow any
longer. He had another source of information in
reserve; and now he led up to this in such a way
as to avoid suspicion of his real motive.
"There's just one question I wanted to ask Mrs.
Preston," he explained. "We must have every de-
tail checked as far as possible, you understand?
Now, can you tell me when Mr. Preston left the
house this morning—I mean within a few minutes
of the exact time, if possible."
Madge Winslow shook her head, and Ross was
delighted to find that his excuse for questioning the
servants was ready-made.
"Mrs. Preston would know nothing about that,"
the girl answered frankly. "She always breakfasts
in her own room and never sees—never saw him,"
she corrected herself hurriedly, "in the morning
at all."
"Then perhaps you could tell me?" Ross asked.
"No, I can't, as it happens. I was at a dance
last night and didn't get up for breakfast at the
usual time this morning."
"That's a pity," the Superintendent said in a re-
gretful tone. "You see, I must get the information
somehow. Perhaps one of your maids could tell me?"
"Quite possibly," Madge Winslow answered
coldly; but she did not offer to summon the maid.
"Then with your permission, I'll ring the bell,"


70 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
Ross said, suiting the action to the word, before
the girl had time to raise any objection. "And now,
Miss Winslow, I won't keep you any longer; Mrs.
Preston should have some one with her, as you
said."
The girl bit her lip. Quite obviously she had in-
tended to stay in the room while Ross examined
the maid; but he had turned her own weapon
against her so skilfully that she could not protest.
After having laid so much stress on Mrs. Preston's
need for her, she could hardly linger, now that the
Superintendent had released her. She took her dis-
missal rather ungraciously; but when the maid ap-
peared, she left the room, throwing a suspicious
glance behind her as she went.
Superintendent Ross believed in suiting himself
to his company when he went in search of informa-
tion; and if Miss Winslow could have watched
him, she would have seen a sudden transformation
in his manner when he came to deal with the maid,
who now stood waiting in the doorway.
"Come in, come in," he said genially, "and shut
the door, please. Don't be afraid, now. It's nothing
to do with you. Mr. Preston's met with an accident
—a bad accident, and we're looking into the mat-
ter."
He had made up his mind to keep the news of
the murder from the maid for the present. Later
on, he might be able to use it with effect.
"I suppose Mr. Preston left the house as usual
this morning. That would be about what o'clock
would you say?"


7a
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
married to a man like that, I'd think I'd made a
poor bargain, for all his money. Not but what there's
ways of squaring the account," she added, with a
sly glance.
"This is the kind of talk I like to hear," the
Superintendent encouraged her. "It needn't go any
further, of course; just between you and me, eh?
I can make a guess at what you mean. Mrs. Pres-
ton's a bit younger than the man she married."
Evidently the maid's spiteful tongue carried her
away.
"That's another reason why I'm leaving here. It
does no girl's character good to be mixed up in a
divorce case, no matter if it's no affair of hers.
That's the way I look at it, and I don't see as how
you can blame me for it. No one wants a maid
that's been up in the divorce court giving evidence.
'Might be my turn next,' they say, and whose fault's
that? Not that I mind a bit if she amuses herself
with that doctor; it's no affair of mine and I
wouldn't throw a stone at her, not me. Preston's just
been asking for it, with his rule-o'-thumb way of
doing things. Nice and convenient—isn't it—when
you can tell to a tick when your husband's coming
home; no chance of being caught out, is there? Fine
goings-on there's been in this house, I can tell you;
it's high time I left it, I think."
The Superintendent's expression suggested that
he was revelling in the baser aspect of these dis-
closures. He was not inclined to credit Poole with
exactitude; she was too obviously the sort of person
who can make a mountain out of a molehill at a


74
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
dances so much-enough to set any girl against
him, take my word for it. And, of course, he has
the whiphand of her over her money till she's twen-
ty-five. She'll come into a pile then-my word!
but just now he cuts the money down as low as
he can. He just hates seeing people enjoying them-
selves.”
Superintendent Ross reflected for a moment.
Facts—if they were facts—were pouring in on him
now quickly enough; but he wanted something more
definite than this mass of scandal.
"About Doctor Selby-Onslow," he demanded, as
the maid stopped to take breath after her tirade.
“When did you see him here last? Within the last
day or two?”
"He hasn't been here for a couple of days,” Poole
admitted. "He rang up this morning, though, be-
fore May got out of her bed.”
"What time was that—when he rang up, I
mean?”
“After the old man had gone off to business, as
you can guess," Poole answered, with a meaning
smirk. “It was about a quarter past nine or so. I
took the message; that's how I know what it
was.'
“And what was it?"
“Oh, nothing much. Just that he'd been called
away unexpectedly to Morpledene and wouldn't be
able to get back in time to see her this afternoon.
She was more than a bit sulky when I took that
message up to her room-a bit of a disappointment
for my lady, that was.”


IN SEARCH OF A MOTIVE
75
Superintendent Ross paid no apparent attention
to the incident.
"Now, there's another thing I want to know," he
pursued. "When Mr. Preston left the house this
morning, was he carrying anything—an umbrella,
or a bag, or an attache case, anything of that sort?"
"He had an attache case with him—a thing about
that size." She illustrated with her hands. "He al-
ways takes it with him on Fridays. He hadn't an
umbrella with him that I remember."
Ross had secured all the information that he
expected to get from this source, and he had no
further time to waste.
"I want to use your telephone for a minute," he
said. "You might let me see where it is, will
you?"
Rather reluctantly, Poole allowed herself to be
ushered out of the room.
"To-morrow's my evening out," she volunteered,
as she led the way across the hall. "If there's any-
thing else that you'd like to know, perhaps we'd
have more time then. I generally go to the pic-
tures."
Superintendent Ross ignored the tacit invitation.
Poole, apart from her use as a mine of information,
was not a very attractive personality.
"I'll let you know in good time if there's any-
thing further," he said, leaving the matter appar-
ently open.
"The telephone's in the cloakroom—in here,"
Poole directed.
Rather to her obvious annoyance, the Superintend-


76 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
ent closed the door after him, leaving her outside.
He had quick ears; and a smile twitched his lips
as he realised that the maid was waiting outside in
the hope that she might catch what he said over
the 'phone.
"A bit dry for her, poor thing," he reflected whim-
sically, as he took up the directory. "She's welcome
to all she hears."
He looked up Iverson's address in Arthur Street
and from the next entry he obtained the lawyer's
home telephone number.
"This is Superintendent Ross, of the Central Po-
lice Station, speaking," he explained, when he had
got his connection. "Is Mr. Iverson in?"
There was a moment's hesitation at the other
end of the wire; then came the formal reply:
"Mr. Iverson is speaking. What do you want?"
"I should like to see you for a few minutes, as
soon as convenient, Mr. Iverson."
The lawyer appeared to be considering this re-
quest. After a few seconds he demanded again:
"What do you want?"
"I can't explain fully over the 'phone. An acci-
dent's happened to one of your clients, and I must
see you about it as soon as possible. It's a serious
matter."
Superintendent Ross had reverted to his more
formal style of conversation.
Again there was a pause, then the answer came
in a tone of some annoyance.
"I'm just going to sit down to dinner. Is it im-
portant enough to interrupt that?"


CHAPTER VI: THE LAWYER'S EVIDENCE
At the gate of Hillcrest, Superintendent Ross di-
rected his taxi to drive to Number 83 Warlingham
Road; and in about a quarter of an hour he found
himself outside a small villa set back from the
street. Evidently he was expected, for the maid ad-
mitted him at once, without asking either his name
or business.
An old-fashioned hat-and-coat stand in the hall
attracted the Superintendent's glance, and he no-
ticed that it held only men's sticks and umbrellas.
"Bachelor, apparently," Ross inferred almost me-
chanically, as the maid led him to a room and
switched on the light.
"Mr. Iverson's at dinner just now," she ex-
plained. "He left a message that if you thought the
matter urgent, he would come out and see you; but
he's got three guests to-night, come to play bridge;
and if it's convenient, he'd rather not be interrupted
for twenty minutes or so."
Ross glanced at his watch. After all, he reflected,
what did twenty minutes matter? So far as he could
see, there was nothing further that he could do
that night. Mornington's facts would not be avail-
able till the following day. If he insisted in dragging
the lawyer away in the middle of dinner, he would
gain nothing vital, and he would certainly be faced


80 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
ported Havanas, the cigars. There must be a lot
more money in the law than I ever got out of it, if
he can afford to splash that kind of stuff on a casual
visitor."
He lit his own Gold Flake cigarette with a satis-
faction that was mainly moral. It was against his
principles to accept any gifts while he was on offi-
cial work; but Iverson's tobacco tempted him
sorely. He turned away from the boxes and cast a
glance round the room, which was lined with book-
shelves.
Superintendent Ross was one of those peculiar
people who are fond of books; and the sight of this
ample library made him even more envious than
the cigars had done. Also, he guessed immediately
that this was the library of a reader and not merely
a collection of complete editions of the classics,
bought as furniture and never opened after their
purchase.
Having time on his hands, the Superintendent
moved over to the nearest set of shelves, vaguely
wondering what sort of books he would find there.
Books, he believed, gave a fair indication of their
owner's tastes and character; and it amused him
to guess, from an inspection of a library, what sort
of man collected it.
The first tier suggested nothing except Iverson's
profession, for it was stacked with purely legal
works, among which Ross noticed a number of vol-
umes on Medical Jurisprudence.
"Funny line, that, for a solicitor in private
practice," he mused. "He can't find much use


82
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
From the peculiarities of the lawyer's library,
Ross had unconsciously pictured Iverson as a keen-
faced man with perhaps a suggestion of that spruce-
ness which characterises the fashionable surgeon;
and it was almost a disappointment to find that his
involuntary host was a very ordinary-looking per-
son who would have passed quite unnoticed in a
crowd.
Iverson's annoyance seemed to have passed away
under the influence of his dinner; and as he came
forward to greet the Superintendent, he half-apolo-
gised for keeping Ross waiting so long.
"When you rang me up, I thought at first it was
this business of my car," he explained, "and natur-
ally I wasn't over-pleased at being bothered about
it just at dinner time."
"Your car?" Ross said interrogatively.
"Yes. It was stolen to-day while I had left it
standing outside a house—a most annoying busi-
ness. Of course I rang up the police and gave them
the particulars; and naturally when you 'phoned, I
took it that some one was coming to make further
inquiries."
He dismissed the matter of the car with a gesture
and turned to the immediate business.
"What's this about an accident to one of my
clients?"
"Accident was only a word to use over the
'phone," the Superintendent explained. "It's a mur-
der case, Mr. Iverson. Mr. Oswald Preston was
found shot on the 10.35 tram to Kempsford Junc-
tion this morning."


THE LAWYER'S EVIDENCE 83
"Found shot?" Iverson echoed, raising his voice
half an octave in his excitement. "Well, I'm—"
He bit off the expression in the middle, with the
evident feeling that it was hardly the proper phrase
to use.
"Let's hear about this," he demanded.
Superintendent Ross gave the lawyer a summary
of the facts, including the bald statement that he
had already visited Hillcrest. Iverson had the knack
of listening without interrupting; and he gave Ross
his full attention while the narrative unfolded itself.
When the Superintendent had finished, Iverson with
a movement of his hand invited him to sit down,
while he himself walked to and fro for a moment
or two, apparently reconsidering the various points
which Ross had detailed.
"A bad business," he summed up at last, sitting
down in an easy-chair opposite the Superintendent.
"The 10.35, of course. I shouldn't be surprised
if I was the last man—bar the murderer, of
course—to speak to him alive. That's a strange
coincidence, isn't it? I haven't been near that
station for weeks, lately; and to-day of all days I
went there—to see Preston, too. It's a weird
world."
He looked up and noticed that Ross was examin-
ing him sharply. At the sight of the Superintendent's
expression, the lawyer allowed a faint twinkle of
amusement to appear in his eyes.
"No, you haven't got the murderer, Superintend-
ent. I didn't travel by the train at all."
Ross, rather annoyed at having let his suspicions


84 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
appear so plainly in his face, laughed a little to cover
his vexation. Iverson smiled in his turn.
"No offence taken, Superintendent. It's your busi-
ness to suspect, I know."
He settled himself in his chair and then, after
a moment's consideration, spoke again.
"I think it would save time if I told you what
took me to the station? Very well, then. Poor Pres-
ton and I are trustees—funny how one's tongue be-
trays one!—were joint trustees in the matter of the
estate of Miss Madge Winslow. You met her just
now at Hillcrest, didn't you? Well, as it happens,
some bonds that we held for her have been re-
deemed; and we've had to think of reinvesting the
cash that came in from them. Preston's a busy man;
so am I, and we hadn't had an opportunity of dis-
cussing the matter thoroughly lately—couldn't hit
off a time when we were both at leisure. And we
did not see quite eye to eye over the business. He
wanted to put the money in Water Board stock, and
I had a fancy for the 4% Funding Loan. That's by
the way."
The Superintendent interrupted him for a mo-
ment.
"You don't mind my taking notes of this?"
"The Judges' Rules, eh? Certainly take notes,
and I'll sign them afterwards if you wish it. A law-
yer doesn't need to be in criminal practice to know
that part of the procedure."
Ross availed himself of the permission; pulled
out his notebook and, resting it on the chair-arm,
looked up to show he was ready.


THE LAWYER'S EVIDENCE
85
"As it happened," the solicitor continued, "I had
to go out this forenoon to look over a house belong-
ing to a client—out Hammersleigh way. My client's
abroad; the place is shut up at present and some al-
terations are wanted; so I'd arranged to see the
contractor on the spot this morning and talk things
over with him."
The Superintendent made a jotting, and Iverson
paused until he had finished it.
"I was going down in my car, naturally, since the
place is rather out of the way; and it occurred to
me that I might kill two birds with one stone if I
could get Preston, poor chap, to come along with
me in the car and talk over the investment affair
on the road. Do you know anything about
Preston?"
"Not much," the Superintendent admitted.
"Well, one mustn't speak ill of the dead, of
course; and I'm not depreciating him. But he was
a creature of routine—a perfect slave to prearrange-
ments. For instance, for years past he's travelled
every Friday by the 10.35, although the express
starts later and gets to Hammersleigh sooner. His
reason was that the express was sometimes late, and
that didn't suit him. He insisted on carrying down
personally the money for the men's wages at the
Hammersleigh factory. I don't know how often I've
pointed out to him the risk he ran in dragging that
attache case full of notes and silver about with him
every week and travelling invariably by the same
train on the same day. Any unscrupulous devil
could have held him up on one of these prearranged


86
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
journeys and got away with the loot easily enough.
That's by the way, though."
He paused to give Ross time to make a jotting.
"As to-day's Friday," he continued, "of course I
knew that poor Preston would be taking the 10:35
as usual; so I went to catch him at the sta-
tion. I meant to take him down to his factory at
Hammersleigh, discussing the investment affair en
route; and then, after dropping him, I intended to
cut across to keep my appointment with Tenbury,
the contractor, at Oxenden Grange—my client's
place. It wouldn't really have taken me much out
of my way; Oxenden Grange is about a couple of
miles this side of Hammersleigh, you know.
"Preston banked with the United Mercantile and
Trinity Bank—the branch in Garfield Street; so I
knew he'd go into the main entrance to the station
in Grosvenor Street. I didn't see any sign of him as
I went in; so I walked over to the bookstall, think-
ing he might go there. Then I remembered that he
had some fad about not reading in the train—afraid
of hurting his eyes."
"Did he wear glasses?" the Superintendent in-
terjected.
"Glasses? No, he'd perfectly good sight. This
no-reading-in-the-train idea was just one of his
health crotchets. That's by the way. The 10.35 was
at the platform waiting—it starts from Number 1—
so, as I didn't see him anywhere about, I took a
platform ticket, went through the barrier, and
walked up the train. He was one of those people
who are always about a quarter of an hour early


THE LAWYER'S EVIDENCE 87
for a train, even if it's a local. 'Making sure,' and
all that sort of thing, you know? I knew where to
look for him, for he always travelled in the last
first-class compartment in the train—another of
those cranky ideas of his. He was sitting in his usual
place, back to the engine, with an attache case on
the seat beside him."
"About what size was the attache case?" inquired
the Superintendent.
"Oh, quite a small one: a foot by eight inches,
or thereabouts. One of these smooth leather things.
I expect he carried the money in it. I spoke to him
through the carriage window and made my sugges-
tion about the car; but he wouldn't hear of it at
any price. What a pity! He'd have been alive now,
if he hadn't insisted on sticking to that train. It
seems he'd had an accident with his own car, and
he'd lost his nerve so far as motors were concerned:
so there was no persuading him.
"There was nothing to detain me there, so I
didn't wait long; just made an appointment with
him for to-morrow to square up that investment
business and get this money off our hands. Then I
said good-bye to him and went away to pick up my
car. I'd parked it just outside the station; and I
didn't care about being away from it too long.
There's no one in charge of that parking place; and
I felt a bit uneasy about it, owing to the amount
of car snatching that's been going on lately. And
now I've lost it, after all!"
"About what time did you leave Mr. Preston?"
Ross inquired.


88
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
"Only a minute or two before the train was due
to start—about 10.35 or later, I should think."
"There was no one with him in his compartment
when you saw him, I suppose?"
Iverson shook his head.
"No, he had the place to himself."
Superintendent Ross seemed to consider for a
moment before asking his next question.
"Did you see any one you knew on the platform or
on the train, by any chance?"
The lawyer hesitated, as though doubtful about
replying. Then something crossed his mind, appar-
ently.
"I don't— Oh, well, I heard your S.O.S. on the
wireless to-night, so he'll be speaking for himself,
no doubt. Just as I was turning away, I caught sight
of Doctor Selby-Onslow coming along from the front
of the train towards me. He'd come in at the Camp-
bell Street entrance—the one under the railway
bridge, you know, at the other end of the platform
from the main entrance. Now I come to think of
it, I noticed him as he came up the stairs from that
lower booking hall, just beside where the engine
was standing."
"You didn't see him get into the train, did you?"
Iverson shook his head.
"No, he was a few doors away from me when I
turned to walk back to the entrance. I happened
to look around a second or two later, but by that
time he'd found a carriage and got in."
"Had he got into the same carriage as Mr. Pres-
ton?" Ross demanded bluntly.


THE LAWYER'S EVIDENCE 89
"Can't say!" Iverson retorted with equal blunt-
ness. "That's just what made me hesitate about
answering your question at the start. I won't be
made to suggest something that I don't mean to
suggest, Superintendent; take that for granted! I
tell you what I saw; but I'm not going to have it
twisted further than the words go. Besides, you've
sent out your S.O.S. It's up to the doctor to come
forward and tell you what he saw himself."
Superintendent Ross accepted the rebuke without
comment. He had no desire to rasp a man who would
obviously be called as a witness for the prosecu-
tion and who was quite alert enough to prevent
words being put into his mouth.
"Was he carrying anything—an attache case or
anything of that sort?" he inquired, as though to
slip away from the contentious matter.
"He had an attache case in his hand," Iverson
admitted. "A thing about twenty inches by ten, or
so—rather larger than Preston's, I should say. But
I won't swear to figures on the strength of a casual
glance, remember."
Superintendent Ross seemed to have gone off on
a fresh line of thought.
"I don't know much about Doctor Selby-Onslow,"
he explained, "I understand, however, that he keeps
a car and a chauffeur too, perhaps. Rather curious
that he should take the local train, surely, seeing
that Morpledene's only about twenty miles away.
His car would have got him there more comfortably
and just about as quick, one would think."
Iverson looked up quizzically.


90
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
"You officials always try to pretend that your
short suit is brains. I can't imagine that you've over-
looked possibilities like a breakdown or an overhaul
or even a car theft. Any one of these would account
for Doctor Selby-Onslow preferring to take the
train, wouldn't it?"
Superintendent Ross turned the point by asking
another question.
"Was the 10:35 crowded this morning?"
"Crowded?" the lawyer said doubtfully. "That's
one of those words that might mean anything, really.
If you want facts, I should say that I saw one or
two empty compartments in the third class and the
first next to Preston's was empty when I turned
away."
"Was it?" the Superintendent said with a touch
of eagerness, as though he had got a fresh idea from
the fact.
He made a note in his book before continuing.
"You're supposing that the murderer may have
been next door at the start and got along the foot-
board while the train was in motion?" Iverson asked.
"Or vice versa," Ross amplified. "One's as likely
as the other, isn't it?"
"I suppose so, provided the murderer kept his
eye open for people entering the next-door com-
partment during the journey."
"He was quite sharp enough to do that," Super-
intendent Ross declared. "Now, Mr. Iverson, this
isn't a civil law business. It's a serious affair; and
it's every one's duty to help. You were associated
with Mr. Preston?"


92 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
spoke to him about it once; but he was one of these
people who never listen to anything that goes against
their routine, unfortunately."
Superintendent Ross put out a feeler in his next
question, though he did not expect to get much, in
view of what Iverson had already said.
"Money's often at the root of these things; but
I've seen other cases where a woman was at the
bottom of the business. What about that aspect of
the affair?"
"Oh, women? Women are the very devil," Iver-
son replied, with all the contempt of a case-hardened
bachelor.
He paused for a moment or two, as though think-
ing over something; then at last he evidently made
up his mind to speak out.
"It doesn't take much to see what's in your mind,
Superintendent. Well, I think you're barking up
the wrong tree; that's my honest opinion. You're
hinting that Mrs. Preston had a hand in this affair,
if I'm not misreading you. Take my advice and look
elsewhere. I grant you that she married him for
his money—that stares you in the face. And he's
anything but an ideal husband; he's made her miser-
able with his routine and his fussiness and all the
rest of it. And she'll come out very well under his
will; I know that, because I witnessed it myself.
But she's had a dog's life of it, poor girl, and it
would be the last straw now if people began to
chatter and suggest that she had any hand in this
business. I'm sure she hadn't; she hasn't enough
backbone for anything of the sort. I know her fairly


THE LAWYER'S EVIDENCE
93
well; and, like every one else, I was sorry for her.
She couldn't stand up to Preston, even over trifles;
she just caved in for the sake of peace, every time-
not that it helped her much.”
Superintendent Ross's eyes ranged over the book-
shelves for a moment.
"I see you've got the Crumbles case and the
chicken farm affair amongst these trials, up there,”
he remarked, with apparent irrelevance. “In both
these affairs a man murdered a girl because he
couldn't screw himself up to tell her he was tired
of her. Found it too difficult to say "No!' and cut
the knot by killing her instead. Human nature's a
rum affair, Mr. Iverson.”
The lawyer's gesture was that of a pinked fencer;
there was no denying the aptness of Ross's par-
allelism.
"I'll need some one to identify Preston's body,
just for form's sake,” the Superintendent pointed
out. "I suppose you won't mind doing that? It may
save Mrs. Preston and Miss Winslow from having
to give evidence at the inquest.”
"I don't mind,” Iverson said, by way of consent.
Ross rose to his feet, but paused before taking
his leave.
“About this motor car of yours; you've lost it?"
“I left it standing at the gate of this house I
had to go over with the contractor-Oxenden
Grange. We drove up to the place together and as
we had to look about the grounds as well as the
house, we left our cars at the gate. When we got
out again, his car was there, but mine was gone.


94
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
I've given your officials all the facts already and
a description of the car."
"I mustn't keep you any longer from your guests,"
Ross said, half-apologetically, as he moved towards
the door. "Thanks for the help you've given me."
He cast a final glance of envy at the bookshelves.
"I wish I'd that library of yours," he confessed.
Iverson caught his meaning.
"Oh, the criminology stuff?" he said. "I never
lend books to any one—that's one of my principles.
I've lost too many volumes through generosity in
that line. But if there's anything here that you'd
like to consult, I've no objection to your coming up
and having a look at it. That's absolutely as far as
I ever go with any one, nowadays."
The Superintendent expressed his gratitude for
this unexpected favour; and then, being anxious to
leave a good impression, took himself off with the
least possible delay, so as to allow the deferred
bridge party to begin.
Before going to bed, Ross took a sheet of paper
and, as was his habit, set down in diagram form
the characters in the tragedy, so far as they had
come within his purview:

*- MISS WINSLOW
t
PRESTON >- MRS. PRESTON
BANK OFFICIALS DR. SELBY-ONSLOW


THE LAWYER'S EVIDENCE
95
He examined the result discontentedly. All in all,
it seemed a very meagre gleaning after so many
hours of hard work.


CHAPTER VII: THE BANK
On the morning after the murder, Superintendent
Ross found that his S.O.S. on the wireless had
yielded a fair crop of responses, some by letter,
others over the telephone. These he turned over to
Mornington for checking and comparison with the
facts which the detective-inspector was gathering
from the personnel of the stations along the line. He
himself proposed to follow up some of the lines of
inquiry suggested by the facts he had acquired from
Iverson and at Hillcrest.
His first objective was the branch of the United
Mercantile and Trinity Bank in Garfield Street
which the lawyer had indicated as the place where
Preston drew the money for the factory wages.
Here, as soon as the staff were on the premises, Ross
interviewed the manager and asked for an oppor-
tunity of questioning the person who had actually
paid over the cash to Preston.
After a few minutes, an alert-looking man with
eyeglasses came into the manager's room.
"Mr. Sancroft?" the Superintendent inquired. "I
think you attended to Mr. Oswald Preston when he
came in to cash a cheque yesterday morning? About
what time was that, can you remember?"
"Between ten and a quarter past—about ten past
ten, as near as I can make it. You see, he always


THE BANK
97
came on Fridays almost as soon as the doors were
opened.”
“What was the amount of the cheque he cashed?"
"He cashed two cheques yesterday," Sancroft
replied, to Ross's surprise. “One of them he pre-
sented to me direct; the other one was brought me
by the manager, Mr. Linsey."
"Let's take them in turn,” Ross suggested. “What
was the amount of the cheque he cashed with you
across the counter?”
"£133-9-6. Here's the cheque he presented; I
thought you'd like to see it, so I got it for you.”
“Was that about the figure he used to draw
weekly—his wages bill?”
"It was.”
“Can you remember how you paid him?”
"I can. I gave him this.”
Sancroft produced a jotting on a scrap of paper
and Ross read:
One Pound Notes £83-0-0
Ten Shilling Notes £38-0-0
Silver
£11-8-0
Copper
£ 1-1-6
£133-9-6
“You haven't the numbers of the notes, I sup-
pose?”
“No, I have not. I have the numbers of the notes
I gave for the other cheque.”
“We'll leave it aside for a moment,” the Super-


98
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
intendent suggested. "I want to keep this transac-
tion by itself. Can you remember anything further
about this £133-9-6?"
"I can. I handed him the copper in a paper bag—
like this one here."
He produced a small square paper bag and
handed it to the Superintendent.
"The silver I gave him in a white canvas bag
with the name of the bank on it and 'Please Return
This Bag' as well. Here is a bag like the one I
gave him."
"Do you always get these bags back?" the Su-
perintendent asked sceptically.
"Not invariably."
"Then they may get into the hands of people
who are not clients of yours? H'm! Then bags like
these won't be much use as clues, I'm afraid. Now
what about the notes?"
"I counted them and handed them across to Mr.
Preston. He recounted them twice—he was always
very particular about his money. Then he slipped
each set between two cardboard strips and snapped
a couple of rubber bands over them to hold them
tight. Then he put the whole cash into his attache
case."
"You saw the attache case close at hand?"
"I did. It was about twelve inches long by eight
inches broad, I should say. I remember that, because
once I happened to wonder whether it would hold a
piece of foolscap paper without crumpling, and I
couldn't make up my mind about it."
"Did you see any initials on the outside?"


THE BANK 99
"I did not. But he had one of his visiting cards
gummed to the lid inside, I remember."
"And after cashing that cheque he left the Bank?"
"He did."
"Had you any conversation with him during the
transaction?"
"We spoke about the fog that morning and the
weather. That was all."
"H'ml" said Ross. "Now about this second
cheque. What do you remember about it?"
"That was brought me by Mr. Linsey before Mr.
Preston came to the counter at all. Mr. Preston saw
Mr. Linsey in his private room. Mr. Linsey came out
with the cheque in his hand and told me to give him
notes for it and make a jotting of the numbers of
the notes I gave him. He particularly asked me not
to give him notes in a series—he wanted the num-
bers to be at random."
"What was the value of the cheque, do you re-
member?"
"I have it here for you to examine. It was for
£5-10-0. I handed over four one-pound notes and
three ten-shilling notes. Here is the memorandum I
made of the numbers:
Treasury Note (fi)
Bank of England Note (fi)
!) JJ JJ JJ JJ
Bank of England Note (10/-)
» » >J JJ JJ
Si/85
S2/77
D50
D45
X14
T12
Xio
809241
157128
174236
92064
I47S63
177972
.4


100
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
Mr. Linsey took the notes away with him to his
private room."
Superintendent Ross refrained from asking any
further questions on this point, since obviously he
could get fuller information at first-hand from the
manager himself. He copied the two memoranda
which the teller had presented.
"I suppose you didn't notice whether there was
any one else at the counter when Mr. Preston pre-
sented his cheque?"
"There were two or three other people waiting
their turn. I didn't notice them particularly, but I
daresay I might recall them if you give me time.
They were all known to me and none of them had
any interest in Mr. Preston, if that's what you
mean."
"That's what I meant."
"Well, I hope you'll get the murderer, Superin-
tendent. But if you ask me, I think Mr. Preston was
just asking for trouble, by his methods. Any one
could have got to know about his carrying that
money up to the factory each week—just like clock-
work. I'd never think of doing a thing like that,
myself."
Superintendent Ross made no comment on this
criticism.
"Thanks, Mr. Sancroft. I wish everybody could
be as clear about things as you've been. It's a pleas-
ure to get some one who can say what they mean
and stop when they've said it. And now I'd like to
see the manager again, if you'll let him know."
When Linsey reentered the room, Ross took up


THE BANK
101
the matter of the second cheque; and again he was
delighted to find he had come across a man who
could tell a plain story.
"There's no difficulty in giving you details about
that," the manager answered the Superintendent's
question. "Mr. Preston insisted on my making
a special note of the affair, because he wanted
to leave no loophole for any misunderstanding later
on, if it came to a police-court case. Here are the
facts:
"He came in here yesterday morning as soon as
the Bank opened and explained that he had been
troubled by thefts in the office at the Hammersleigh
factory. It was a small matter, a few shillings now
and again, with occasional rises to a pound or thirty
shillings once or twice. They hadn't been able to
trace the thief, though they had some suspicions; so
he made up his mind to try marked money and then
get the possible people to turn out their pockets. He
was rather fussy in some ways, poor fellow; and he
insisted on doing this sort of thing himself instead
of leaving it to his subordinates.
"Well, the upshot was that he gave me a cheque
for £5-10-0, and got us to take the numbers of the
notes. The teller has a list, but Mr. Preston insisted
on my taking the numbers as well. Not only that,
but he asked me to put private marks on the notes
so that I could identify them, even if the numbers
were torn off—quite excessive precaution, obviously.
To please him, I put a pinhole through the eye of
the horse on note No. 809241, a blot of ink on the
left-hand leaf on the back of note D50 157128—


THE BANK
103
"He had a disagreement with the people at Ham-
mersleigh a long time ago," Linsey explained, "and
after that he boycotted the Hammersleigh branch
completely—wouldn't deal with them even for the
sake of convenience.”
The manager's tone showed that his sympathies
in the matter lay entirely with his colleagues; and
Superintendent Ross noted mentally that so far as
he had gone in the case, Preston's death had yielded
only the most perfunctory expressions of regret from
those whose evidence had been taken.
"He can't have been a very likeable creature, evi-
dently," was his inference. “And quite clearly his
wife must have had a thin time of it—the Winslow
girl too, probably. But if unlikeableness justified
murder, I suppose a fair proportion of the human
race would be out of existence to-morrow."


CHAPTER VIII: THE PASSENGERS
DETECTIVE-INSPECTOR MORNINGTON fingered the
mass of papers which he had laid on the desk before
Superintendent Ross.
"That was a bit of a job,” he said ruefully, by way
of prelude to his report.
Ross, who knew that his subordinate revelled in
intricate details, was not deluded by Mornington's
tone.
"I knew as much when I put you on to it,” he
pointed out blandly. "Now tell me something fresh.
Go ahead.”
Mornington's method of presenting a report was
characteristic. In a series of curt sentences, each
ascertained fact stood isolated, so that it could be
discussed independently if it gave rise to a question.
"I went first to the booking office at the terminus
here," he began. “I asked them to find out what
tickets for stations up to Kempsford Junction had
been sold on Friday morning before the 10.35 a.m.
train started. They were able to tell me that they ,
had sold forty-seven third-class tickets and five first-
class tickets. That total includes the sales at the
main booking office on the platform level and also
the sales at the low-level booking office under the
bridge at the Campbell Street end of the platforms.


THE PASSENGERS 105
That makes fifty-two people who could have trav-
elled by that train."
"Fifty-two people at least," Ross interrupted.
"Some others might be using the return halves of
tickets bought the day before at Kempsford Junc-
tion and the other stations on the line."
"I'm coming to that," Mornington explained.
"Next, I got hold of the ticket collector who was on
duty at the far end of the platform, where the stairs
come up from the lower booking office. Rather a
stupid chap called Smith. He could remember
nothing about any one who had passed the barrier.
He was quite certain that he'd punched no return
halves of tickets. My impressibn was that he was
probably accurate.
"Then I got hold of the collector who was on duty
at the other end of the platform. He's quite a live
wire. But he might be inclined to embroider a bit, I
think. He'd punched no return halves, either. That
disposes of return halves."
Mornington allowed himself a faint expression of
triumph as he refuted the Superintendent's sugges-
tion. Then his face relapsed into its customary
woodenness and he continued:
"The second ticket collector is James Hutton. I
questioned him about the ticket holders who had
t passed his barrier. In addition to ordinary tickets,
two platform tickets had been presented. I asked
him if he could describe the holders. One was a man
in a brown suit. Hutton remembered him because he
saw him bump into a man just at the gate. The man
in the brown suit was looking back as he came to
1'


106 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
the barrier and he ran full tilt into a passenger
entering through the gate. I had some difficulty in
identifying the man in the brown suit. I find he's a
lawyer of the name of Iverson. The collector remem-
bers him passing the barrier outwards. Iverson con-
firmed this without knowing I'd seen the collector.
"The other holder of a platform ticket was a girl,
Hutton says. He can't describe her accurately.
Dark-haired, smartly dressed—that's about as far as
he goes. He didn't see her after the train left. I
haven't got her identified."
Superintendent Ross's face betrayed a slight dis-
appointment at this admission, but he made no
comment. Mornington, he knew, had done his
best.
"I went back to the other ticket collector, Smith,"
the inspector continued. "When I put it to him
direct, he remembered that two people had presented
platform tickets at his end. He could give no descrip-
tion of them, whether they were men or women.
That makes fifty-six people on the platform, fifty-
two of them with tickets entitling them to travel by
the train.
"I got hold of the station master. He gave me a
description of the train as it was made up every
week day. I made a note of the position of the com-
partment in which Preston's body was found. A man
might have got into it from the next first-class com-
partment, while the train was in motion, without
much risk. With more risk, a man might have got
into Preston's compartment from the forward third-
class compartment of the next carriage."


THE PASSENGERS
107
"The windows were heavily frosted that morn-
ing," Superintendent Ross contributed. "There
would not have been much chance of a man on the
footboard being seen by any one in adjacent com-
partments. He might have been seen from the
projecting window of the guard's van; but, after all,
a guard can only be on one side of the train at a
time."
Mornington waited until his superior had finished
and then continued his report:
"That finished the job here in Horston for the
time being. I'd got a list of the tickets sold. The next
thing to do was to check the collection of them at
the different stations along the line. I did that by
telephone, first of all. All the forty-seven third-class
tickets were given up. Four out of the five first-class
tickets were collected. The fifth first-class ticket
must be the one you found in Preston's pocket. That
accounts for all the tickets.
"All the first-class tickets had been given up at
the proper stations. One third-class passenger had
got out at Hammersleigh and had given up a ticket
entitling him (or her) to travel to the next station:
Morpledene. That may have no importance in the
case. Morpledene and Hammersleigh are only two
miles apart. The passenger may have been bound for
a spot halfway between them. He (or she) may have
meant to get out at Morpledene, when the ticket
was taken; but changed his (or her) mind at the last
moment and got out at Hammersleigh instead.
"Over the telephone, I checked the point about
return halves of tickets previously sold. Nothing of


108 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
the sort had been collected. All tickets surrendered
bore that date of Friday. Any return tickets were
outward halves. That checks up with the statements
by the ticket punchers at this end. No excess fares
had been paid by any passengers on that train.
"I made inquiries about tickets sold at intermedi-
ate stations along the line. No first-class tickets had
been sold for the 10.35. Here's a list of the third-
class lot. I've checked the collection of them also.
They've all been collected at the proper stations.
They throw no light on the matter, as you'll see
immediately."
"Wait a moment," Ross interrupted. "Let's see
if I've got this right. Leave the intermediate station
tickets out of account just now. The Horston book-
ing offices issued fifty-two tickets in all, for the
10.35. One 01 these was Preston's. That leaves fifty-
one. Fifty of these were given up at the proper sta-
tions, and no excess fares were paid. One ticket for
Morpledene was given up at Hammersleigh instead.
That's right?"
"That's right," echoes Mornington. "Now about
the pistol. While I was on the telephone, I got all the
surface men warned to search for it. It hasn't turned
up anywhere on the permanent way or within throw-
ing distance of the line, so far as we've gone. So if
it was thrown out of the carriage window after the
murder, it must have been missed by the search or
else the murderer hunted it out himself and col-
lected it."
Superintendent Ross seemed rather downcast at
the news.


THE PASSENGERS IO9
"I'd feel more comfortable if we could lay our
hands on it," he admitted.
"It may turn up yet," Mornington argued, though
in a doubtful tone. "They're still searching. I'd
better get on with this report. I went down to all the
stations between here and Hammersleigh and ques-
tioned the staffs. Dyce from Kempsford covered
the ground between his end and Hammersleigh. We
got nothing suspicious. Barring Hammersleigh,
they're all tiny wayside stations where the porters
know everybody in the neighbourhood by sight. No
strangers—except Doctor Selby-Onslow—joined or
left the train at any of these places. Dyce and I got
lists of everybody. There's nothing in it. Hammers-
leigh's the only weak spot, being a bigger place; but
I don't think we've missed anything there. I checked
up the tickets received at Hammersleigh with my list
and there's no sign of any one landing there who's
not accounted for, one way or another, so far as the
wayside stations go."
Superintendent Ross was taking a certain intel-
lectual pleasure in the Inspector's report, quite apart
from its criminal importance. He liked to see a piece
of work done methodically and described accu-
rately; and of all his subordinates, Mornington was
the man who could be most relied on for both of
these features.
The Inspector turned over the papers on the table
and extracted one or two of them before he con-
tinued his statement.
"I concentrated on the people who joined the
10.35 at Horston. Fifty-two passengers—fifty-one


no
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
plus Preston—had to be accounted for. That's a bit
of a job. But I had a fair amount of information.
First of all, the S.O.S. on the wireless brought in
seventeen messages. I saw these people. Some of
them knew other people whom they'd seen at the
train, or else they were travelling with a friend or
two. That brought the total up to twenty-nine. The
extra dozen were able to give me more names. That
brought it up to thirty-seven. Then the station staff
remembered some regular passengers not on the list;
and when I got hold of them, I got one or two more
names. Then I took the other end—the stations
where the tickets showed that people had got out.
That brought the final total up to forty-nine. That
leaves three unaccounted for still. Here's the list of
the forty-nine names and addresses."
"I don't wonder you took some time to get all
that stuff together," Ross commented, as he glanced
over the list.
"Most of it was time wasted," Mornington ad-
mitted glumly. "Hardly any of these people had so
much as heard of Preston before the murder.
Obviously they're just ciphers in the case."
He cleared his throat, as though coming to some-
thing more important.
"Once I'd got on the track of the passengers, I
concentrated on their places in the train. Extraordi-
nary, how little people remember about where they
really sat in a train. At the front or at the back is
about as much of it as most of them can tell you.
Luckily it was only a case of two carriages: the
one a first-class with Preston's compartment at the


THE PASSENGERS
III
back end of it; and the other the third-class just
behind it in the train. Each carriage had six com-
partments. Here's the list of the occupants, so far as
I can fill it in."
Mornington laid down a paper in front of the
Superintendent.
FRONT OF TRAIN
1. Empty Compartment
2. Miss Ackworth
3. Empty Compartment
4. Mr. and Mrs Sowerby
5. Doctor Selby-Onslow
6. Mr. Preston
A.?
B. Mr. Hadlow, Mr. Sibsey, and Mr. Gils-
land
C. Mr. Yardley and Mr. Cromford
D. Mrs. Dymock and child
E. Empty Compartment
F. Mr. Fenton
REAR OF TRAIN
"I've found out something about each of them,"
Mornington explained. "Take them as they come on
the list. Miss Ackworth's a sort of late Victorian old
maid. She's still all in a twitter because she travelled
in a train with a murderer, though she knew nothing
at the time, naturally. She heard of Preston first
through the newspapers. Mr. and Mrs. Sowerby are
FIRST J
CLASS!
THIRD]
CLASS 1


112
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
an old couple, very well off. He's half-crippled with
rheumatism and physically incapable of getting into
or out of a railway carriage without help. Then
there's Doctor Selby-Onslow. I'll deal with him later.
"So far as I can make out, no one saw any one in
Preston's compartment except Preston himself. That
means nothing much. People don't notice things
much unless they've a reason for observing. Besides,
the windows were frosted and difficult to see
through. We can't be sure whether he was alone in
the compartment at the start or not.
"That finishes the first-class coach. Take the
third-class one now. I can get no information about
compartment A, the one next Preston's. Nobody
seems to have noticed anything about it. There may
have been some one in it or there may not. In
compartment B, there were three men. They were
all going through to Kemps ford Junction. They were
old acquaintances, and they spent the time playing
cutthroat bridge. One of them knew Preston by sight
and remembered seeing him on the platform. They
heard fog signals going off frequently, but nothing
suggested a pistol shot to them. In compartment C,
the two men were strangers to each other, but their
stories tally completely. One of them got out at
Forest Forge; the other at High Catton. That's
checked. Compartment D gave me some trouble.
This Mrs. Dymock couldn't remember exactly where
she was in the train, except that she was at the back.
But she did remember showing a picture of Dens-
more Abbey to her kid. I've seen the train, and the
only picture of Densmore Abbey is in compartment


THE PASSENGERS 113
D. That fixes that. Mr. Fenton's a commercial trav-
eller, well known on the line. He knew Preston by
reputation only."
"What about the three so-called empty compart-
ments?" demanded the Superintendent. "What
grounds have you for being so positive about them,
while you can't be sure about compartment A?"
"The doors of compartments numbered 1 and 3
were open as the train moved off. I found the porter
who slammed them. He was quite sure both com-
partments were empty. This man Fenton told me he
came up late for the train, just as it was going to
start. He opened the door of compartment E and
was going to get in, when he noticed it was a non-
smoker. I've checked that. So he went next door,
into compartment F. He looked out of the window
at once, as he was expecting a friend who might be
travelling by the 10.35; so no one could have
got into compartment E without being seen by
Fenton."
Mornington's face, as he closed this part of his
report, showed that he knew he had done his work
well and was quite confident that it would stand
scrutiny.
"And now what about this Doctor Selby-
Onslow?" inquired the Superintendent. "He was
next door to Preston, you say."
"I'll give you-facts, first of all, if you don't mind,"
the Inspector suggested. "I'd rather keep the infer-
ences separate. It was Iverson the lawyer who put
me on to Selby-Onslow being at the station. He'd
caught a glimpse of him as he was looking back


114 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
towards Preston's carriage, just when he ran into
some one at the barrier, you remember. No one else
recognised the doctor at the station. He's a fashion-
able physician. He holds no hospital appointment
and doesn't come into contact with the working man
much, except by accident. Naturally no one would
pick him out, unless a patient of his happened to be
travelling, or a friend of his happened to be on the
train.
"I haven't gone to see him. I left that to you. It
seemed best. I got my information about him from
his servants, mostly. He's got a fine wireless set. He
invariably switches on for the news at 6.15 p.m. He
was at home at 6.15 on Friday. His maid heard the
wireless going. He reads the newspaper at breakfast
every day. Both our morning papers had a big splash
heading on Saturday morning, dealing with the
murder. But he did not reply to the S.O.S. message.
And he did not trouble to let us know that he was a
passenger on the 10.35."
"Anything else?" Superintendent Ross inquired,
as Mornington paused for a moment.
"When he came to the station, he was carrying an
attache case rather larger than the one Preston had
the notes in. He travelled to Morpledene and got out
there. The station staff didn't know him personally
but they noticed him particularly. After he gave up
his ticket, he hung about for a while. They say he
looked worried about something. Then, after a while,
he crossed the line and waited for the next up train.
When it came along, he travelled in it back to
Horston."


THE PASSENGERS IIS
"Rather curious," was all that Ross thought
necessary in the way of comment.
"I've made some inquiries about his personal
affairs," the Inspector went on. "He's got a fine ex-
pensive practice, makes a big income, and spends
every penny of it. He's a bachelor. He knew Pres-
ton. He knew Mrs. Preston even better. Rumour
is that she's his mistress. Facts are that he and
Preston were on bad terms, though not openly
enemies."
"And your inferences?" Ross inquired, as the In-
spector seemed to have completed his summary of
the facts.
"Well, then, Number i. He hoped he hadn't been
spotted on the train and identified; so although he
knew we wanted every passenger, he decided to keep
quiet. That's not inconsistent with innocence, of
course. But it's a rum procedure. And he can't com-
plain if it leads him into trouble.
"Number 2. His attache case was a bit bigger than
Preston's. Preston's case is missing. It might have
gone inside of Selby-Onslow's and no one would
have been the wiser. Even if it wouldn't go in whole,
a surgical knife would make short work of it and the
bits would fit into the doctor's case, all right. In
other words, he could have carried off the case and
left no trace. And if he did that, the affair would
look like a murder for loot.
"Number 3. He's got a motive for clearing Preston
out of the way. I'd prefer a safer method myself;
but nothing surprises me when a man gets mixed up
badly with a woman. They seem to lose their heads,


THE PASSENGERS
117
of the length of the stop the express made when it
was held up by the signal."
Mornington made a gesture of agreement.
"It was done by some one on the local. That's my
view."
"Then we're down to three possibilities. It must
have been done by the doctor in the next carriage, or
else by some one who was in Preston's carriage, or
else by some one in compartment A. It's damned
annoying we can't be certain about compartment A,
Mornington. One can't ask for impossibilities; but
it is an infernal nuisance that the one vital spot is the
one we can't get sure information about. If it hadn't
been for the frost that morning, some one would
have looked into the compartment window and we'd
have had the evidence."
"It may have been some one in Preston's own
compartment that did the trick," Mornington con-
tributed. "I did my best to find out if any one joined
the train at the very last moment; but no one had
bothered to note that, of course. According to the
guard, two or three people were hanging about on
the platform till the last moment and jumped in just
as he blew his whistle; but he couldn't tell me
exactly which carriages they got into. That's
the botheration of dealing with the public;
they never seem to use their eyes except at the
pictures."
Superintendent Ross shrugged his shoulders. The
deficiencies of witnesses were all in the day's work.
He turned to a fresh subject.
"What about that prize ram of Chepstow's—the


Il8 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
one that got shot? Campden up at Kempsford
shunted the whole affair on to our shoulders; and
Chepstow has been ringing up here, wanting the
blood of the man who shot it. Did you find anything
special when you went down there?"
Moraington shook his head definitely.
"Nothing whatever," he admitted gloomily. "It
seems to have been either an accident or a bit of
wanton mischief. The ram was a sound article, so it
wasn't insurance that Chepstow was after. The man
Tarland has an excellent character. Quite above sus-
picion, I should say. Chepstow's in a great state,
with all the signs of working up further if nothing's
produced to satisfy him."
"What about the ram. Isn't it dead yet?"
"Not yet," Mornington explained. "But if it re-
covers, it'll give the vet the surprise of his life, I'd
imagine. I made it quite clear that if it died, we'd
send a representative to the autopsy. Nothing will be
done except under our eye, so far as hunting for the
bullet's concerned. They understand that quite
well."
He looked inquisitively at the Superintendent.
"You've got some notion about this ram. I can
see that, or you wouldn't have given me that job on
top of all this other stuff. Any one could handle the
ram case, for all that's come out of it so far. There's
something behind it, isn't there?"
Superintendent Ross's good-humoured face showed
a faint smile.
"Between ourselves," he confided, "I'm prac-
tically certain that Chepstow's ram was shot with


THE PASSENGERS II9
the same revolver as Preston. That's why I want the
bullet—for comparison. But I'm not sure about it;
and to cut up a prize ram, even a deteriorated one,
might come a bit expensive. So we'll have to wait
till the brute dies, as it seems likely to do. If it
doesn't, the bullet's always there, ready to be fished
out and used as evidence when we've laid hands on
our friend with the revolver."
"But the ram was shot a week before the murder
of Preston," Mornington objected.
"Of course it was," Superintendent Ross con-
ceded gracefully. "That's what gives me some notion
of the murderer's character. He was a person, Morn-
ington, who was prepared to take devilish big risks
—the biggest, in fact. But he didn't take any more
risks than he absolutely had to. Hence the ram
shooting. A sort of preliminary canter. At least,
that's how I read it."
"Oh, indeed?" said Mornington in a blank tone,
as though the Superintendent's words had given him
a good deal to think over.
"There's another point you'd better look into,"
Ross directed. "You spoke about a girl on the plat-
form. 'Dark-haired, smartly dressed,' was the
description you got. Suppose you go and have a look
round Preston's house—Hillcrest's its name—in Ab-
bey Road. There's a dark-haired, smartly dressed
girl lives there—a Miss Winslow. See if she was at
the station that morning. And you can have a talk
with the maid Poole too, about the 'fine goings-on,'
as she calls them chastely, at Hillcrest in the past.
She'll open her mouth wide enough if you give her


CHAPTER IX: THE DOCTOR'S EVIDENCE
In the collection of evidence, Superintendent Ross
bound himself by the Judges' Rules, but by no
others. In some cases, it paid best to give a witness
due warning, so that he might have time to put his
ideas in order before examination. In other circum-
stances, a sudden pounce on an unprepared man
was more likely to elicit the truth. Ross considered
that Doctor Selby-Onslow stood in the second cate-
gory; so he descended on him without warning at a
time when he knew the medico would be at home
and disengaged. His card gained him immediate ad-
mission to the house; and he was shown into the
doctor's study without delay.
If Doctor Selby-Onslow was surprised by the Su-
perintendent's unheralded appearance, he showed no
outward sign of it. In his student days he had read
Osler's "Æquinimitas”; and from that essay he had
drawn the lesson that one of the best weapons in the
medical armoury was a masklike facial expression,
behind which a man could conceal his real ner-
vousness or uncertainty. A doctor may permit
himself to look grave at times. That impresses his
patient's relations at the moment and enhances the
credit of the ultimate cure, if one be achieved. But
no medical man can risk appearing unmanned
or embarrassed, if he wishes to retain public


122
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
confidence; still less can he afford to be obviously
puzzled.
Having absorbed this idea from Osier, Doctor
Selby-Onslow had applied himself whole-heartedly
to carrying it into practice. In his professional
hours, he deliberately cultivated a sphinxlike
appearance, behind the screen of which he could
conceal his real emotions. The battered copy of
"iEquinimitas" still stood on his bookshelves; for
even now he had recourse to it from time to
time.
As the Superintendent was shown into the room,
Doctor Selby-Onslow put down a book and rose to
his feet. Before greeting his visitor, he deliberately
removed a pair of horn-rimmed reading spectacles,
deposited them on the mantelpiece beside him, and
replaced them by gold-rimmed glasses. Through
these, he inspected Ross with a certain professional
gaze which was among his assets.
"Well?" he inquired at last, in a perfectly non-
committal tone which was something of a master-
piece.
The Superintendent guessed that Doctor Selby-
Onslow preferred, in this case at least, to let the
other man do most of the talking.
"Doctor Selby-Onslow? We haven't met before,
Doctor."
"No."
The tone faintly suggested that the doctor would
have felt it no loss if the Superintendent had never
come across his path. Quite obviously the under-
lying suggestion was that Ross should get straight


THE DOCTOR'S EVIDENCE
123
to business and not waste time over preliminaries.
The Superintendent took the hint.
"I'm in charge of the investigations which are
being made in the Preston case—the murder on the
10.35 train."
"Ah? Sit down."
Doctor Selby-Onslow made a gesture towards an
easy-chair on the other side of the hearth, reseated
himself in his own chair, and waited for Ross to
continue. If the Superintendent had expected to sur-
prise anything in Doctor Selby-Onslow's expression,
he was completely balked by the sphinxlike mask
which had served the doctor so well in his career.
For a moment or two, Ross considered whether he
should hold up his trump card and keep the doctor
in ignorance of the fact that he was known to have
been on the 10.35; Dut finally he decided on more
direct methods.
"You were a passenger on the 10.35 tram that
morning, I believe, Doctor?"
"Who told you that?" Doctor Selby-Onslow de-
manded, though with no particular emphasis.
Ross was becoming faintly annoyed by the doc-
tor's methods. "Damn the man, one would think /
was the witness and he was cross-examining me!"
he reflected. "We'll never get on at this rate."
Aloud, he answered curtly: "We received infor-
mation to that effect. It's correct, I believe?"
"It's quite correct," Doctor Selby-Onslow con-
firmed in a tone which simulated indifference fairly
well. "And what then?"
Evidently the doctor intended to keep the initia-


124
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
tive in the conversation so long as it suited him.
Ross, after an instant's reflection, changed his
ground.
"You were a friend of Mr. Preston's, I under-
stand."
"Indeed? Who told you that?"
The doctor's tone was almost one of faint curios-
ity; but Ross thought that it was overdone.
"We received information to that effect," he
stated. "Of course, in a case of this kind, we start
from scratch. We have to find out what sort of man
Mr. Preston was and all that kind of thing. It might
lead us somewhere. Can't you tell me something
about him, anything you think might be of use to
us?"
Ross was in hopes that by this road he would be
able to make his way round some of the doctor's de-
fences. His host stretched his legs, leaned back in his
chair, put his finger tips together, and seemed to
sink into a fit of abstraction. It was an attitude
which Doctor Selby-Onslow habitually adopted
when considering the case of a new patient—
impressive without being exactly rude. It merely
irritated the Superintendent. At last, after a brief
period of brooding, the doctor pronounced his
opinion:
"Preston was a crank—a disagreeable crank. He
wasn't a patient of mine, though his wife was. He
was a homoeopathist. A vegetarian too, of the propa-
gandist type."
Suddenly the doctor became almost communi-
cative.


THE DOCTOR'S EVIDENCE 125
"That man's mind was simply a confusion of
complexes. He had a money complex—a penny out
in his accounts would have sent him half crazy till
he'd found the error. He had complexes about his
food—he lived almost entirely on fruit and raw
vegetables and quarrelled acrimoniously with any
one who didn't share his ideas. He had another
complex about routine—he seemed to live by time-
table and expect every one else to do the same. And
he had about a dozen other complexes as well—he
was hag-ridden by them. I wouldn't have shared
rooms with that man if you'd paid me five thousand
a year. It wouldn't have been worth it."
The Superintendent noted that the doctor had not
taken the trouble to feign any regret at Preston's
tragic end. After all, he reflected, the affairs of
Doctor Selby-Onslow and Mrs. Preston were evi-
dently sufficiently obvious; and in such circum-
stances any expression of pity for Preston's death
would have rung false from the lips of the doctor.
That meant neither one thing nor another, except
that it showed Doctor Selby-Onslow to be something
better than the worst brand of hypocrite.
As to the repressed animus behind the doctor's
description of Preston, that was easy enough to un-
derstand. Every one of the facts mentioned was
something which would affect Mrs. Preston closely;
and the whole thing was evidently merely a sum-
mary of the grievances of Preston's wife which had
been poured into the sympathetic ears of Doctor
Selby-Onslow.
"A difficult man to live with evidently," the Super-


126
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
intendent admitted. "Mrs. Preston can't have had
an easy time."
The doctor refused to rise to this too obvious bait.
He kept silence and waited for Ross's next remark.
"Miss Winslow—"
"She loathed him," said Doctor Selby-Onslow
abruptly, and then looked as though he regretted
this display of candour.
Superintendent Ross stared at the doctor for a
moment or two. But the professional mask was on,
and he gauged that he would gain nothing by push-
ing inquiries further along this line. He was learning
little that he had not already guessed. Without
troubling to arrange for a gradual transition, he re-
turned all at once to the original subject.
"You were on the 10.35 train that morning,
Doctor. I need the evidence of every passenger we
can identify, naturally; and I'd like to hear what
you have to say."
Doctor Selby-Onslow, whose attention had seemed
concentrated on his joined fingers, turned his head
slightly and gave the Superintendent a cold glance.
"Well, ask your questions," he suggested, in a
tone which faintly betrayed the hostility he was
striving to conceal.
Superintendent Ross accepted with satisfaction
the opening given him. The Doctor would have been
wiser if he had volunteered a statement and refused
to amplify it. By suggesting questions, he threw the
game into Ross's hands. The Superintendent made
no attempt to conceal the notebook which he drew
from his pocket.


128
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
Whitacre was to pick me up at Morpledene in his
own car."
"I see," Ross admitted. "So you went straight
down to the station in your own car, I suppose?"
"I don't see the point of these questions," Doctor
Selby-Onslow said testily. "What does it matter how
I went to the station?"
"It's just the stupid sort of thing I might be
asked," Ross explained apologetically. "I don't want
to have to come back and trouble you again,
Doctor."
"Well, then, if you think it's important, I wanted
a pair of gloves; so I told my chauffeur to drop me
at Crossens' shop in King Street and take the car
home without waiting for me. I bought a pair of
gloves at Crossens'; and after that I went round to
the station."
"Which entrance did you go in by?" asked the
Superintendent. "Crossens' shop's about a hundred
and fifty yards from the main entrance."
"And about a hundred and forty-nine from the
low-level entrance in Campbell Street. It's six and
half-a-dozen. I went in by the low-level entrance
in Campbell Street, took my ticket at the booking
office there, and went up the stairs to the platform.
But what's that got to do with you?"
"I was just going to ask you if you noticed any
one you knew, going by the train," Ross explained.
"We're trying to identify every passenger, if
possible."
"I saw no one on the way upstairs, no one that
I knew."


THE DOCTOR'S EVIDENCE
129
“What part of the train did you get into, Doctor?”
Doctor Selby-Onslow shrugged his shoulders.
“Somewhere at the back end of the firsts. I never
notice exactly what compartment I get into.”
“Any one in the carriage with you?".
"Nobody. When we came to Morpledene, I got
out."
Glove
Shop
GARFIELD ST.
KING STREET
To No.1 Platform IIII
100 Yardo
Bank
GROSVENOR STREET
Main
Entranco
60 80
Low Level Entrance
CAMPBELL STREET
STATION
Low Level
Booking oice
40
20
ESPERANZA STREET
Rails and bridge over Campbell Street
omitted for simplicity
“You heard nothing suspicious on the journey, did
you? Nothing like a pistol shot?”
"I heard a lot of fog signals going off--at least,
I took them for fog signals and not pistol shots."
Superintendent Ross nodded as though satisfied.
“And when you got out at Morpledene?” he
pursued.
“When I got out there, I found nobody to meet
me. Whitacre hadn't turned up. Naturally, I was
angry. I'm not used to having people let me down in
that way. I waited about for a long while, expecting


130 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
his car to come. It was a cold morning, bitterly cold.
I went into a telephone box and tried to get on to
Whitacre—he lives three miles out of the village—
but his 'phone was still out of order. I couldn't leave
the station for fear he turned up. I didn't know the
name or address of his patient. At last it was pretty
clear he wasn't coming; and by that time my temper
had gone. There was nothing more for me to do at
Morpledene, so I crossed over to the other platform
and took the first train back to town."
"Yes?" said the Superintendent, in a tone of
friendly interest.
"When I got back here, I rang up Whitacre again.
His line had been repaired by that time. He knew
nothing of the telegram I'd got; he'd never sent any.
He's a fidgety man, and he seemed more interested
in his 'phone than in my time having been wasted.
He told me some long story of how his line had
broken down on Thursday afternoon, late; and all
the bother he'd had to get the telephone people to
fix it up. When they did come, they found some one
had snipped off about ten feet of the wire and car-
ried it away. It looks as if there was a gang of
practical jokers infesting that countryside."
"Haven't you made any inquiries?" demanded
Ross. "What about the telegram; it might throw
some light on the business."
Doctor Selby-Onslow rose from his chair, searched
in a drawer, and produced a telegram form.
"There it is," he said. "I don't see what inquiries
you can make. A piece of paper can't talk."
Superintendent Ross picked up the form.


THE DOCTOR'S EVIDENCE 131
"I'll make some inquiries about this," he said,
folding it up and slipping it into his pocket. "People
have no right to use the Post Office for practical
jokes."
He watched Doctor Selby-Onslow narrowly as he
spoke, to see how his proposal was received.
"I'm not sure I want that done," said the doctor
in a hesitating tone. "I've kept the thing to myself;
I don't want it to get about. It makes me look rather
undignified, having been hoaxed like that. I think
you'd better let the matter rest where it is."
He put out his hand for the telegram, but Ross
affected not to see the gesture.
"I'll take good care it doesn't become public prop-
erty," he said reassuringly. "You needn't be afraid
of that."
On entering the doctor's study, the Superintend-
ent had noticed a typewriter standing ready for use
on a side table; and now his glance swung in its di-
rection. He seemed to find himself in trouble with
his fountain pen. The trouble was genuine enough,
since he had taken care to rub his forefinger over his
hair as though by accident, and had then surrep-
titiously transferred some of the film of natural oil
to his pen nib.
"I see you've got a typewriter there," he said.
"My pen seems to have gone wrong. Do you mind if
I use your machine to copy this wire, and then I
needn't take it with me?"
Without waiting for a refusal, he stepped over to
the typewriter and, taking up a sheet of paper, did
as he had suggested. Doctor Selby-Onslow's face


132 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
was not sufficiently masklike to conceal what he
thought of the Superintendent's manners.
Having completed the copy, Ross turned back to
the fireplace and handed the official form to the
doctor, who received it with a bad grace. Then, in-
stead of reseating himself in his chair, Ross turned
his back to the fire and rested his elbow on the
mantelpiece for a moment. An apparently uncon-
scious movement of his arm dislodged the doctor's
reading glasses and sent them tinkling on the tiling
of the hearth.
The Superintendent seemed completely taken
aback by the mishap. He swooped down on the
spectacles, discovered that the lenses had been shat-
tered in the fall, and broke into a flood of apologies
and self-reproaches for his clumsiness.
"Don't worry about it, please," Doctor Selby-
Onslow said icily, though a quiver in his voice
showed that the dicta of "^Equinimitas" were being
subjected to an exacting test. "It's nothing. These
things are always giving trouble. I lost my last pair
a week ago."
But the Superintendent refused to let the matter
drop.
"Extremely clumsy of me," he asserted, with con-
siderable injustice to the deftness with which he had
contrived the mischance. "You must let me replace
these, Doctor; I'd no right to be so careless. I've
got all the pieces; and luckily the frame—no, I'm
afraid it's got a crack in it too. Most unfortunate!"
Doctor Selby-Onslow objected strongly.
"I really shouldn't feel comfortable if I didn't


THE DOCTOR'S EVIDENCE 133
replace them," Ross insisted, running his eye along
the mantelpiece in search of something. "Ahl Here
it is!"
He picked up the spectacle case and read the gold-
lettered address on the flap:
"Irlam and Holmes, King Street. I'll call there on
my way down town and tell them to send you a fresh
pair as soon as possible."
And, as though closing the matter, he slipped the
spectacle fragments into the case, which he thrust
into his pocket without paying the slightest attention
to Doctor Selby-Onslow's protests. Then, with a
complete change of tone, he demanded abruptly:
"And now, Doctor, tell me this. Why did you not
come forward with the other passengers and say you
were on the 10.35 that day?"
Doctor Selby-Onslow's practice of the principles
of "iEquinimitas" came to his rescue under this
direct attack. His face took on a sphinxlike im-
passivity and his voice was well under control as
he replied.
"What advantage would it have been to any one
if I had come forward? You've questioned me for
a considerable time, and you've secured absolutely
nothing that helps you in the case, obviously. We've
both wasted our time, to put it bluntly. I knew I had
nothing worth telling, so I didn't volunteer evidence
Which had no value."
"No value in your eyes, perhaps; but it had some
value to us," Ross pointed out. "We have to identify
every passenger, if possible. Preston's murderer
must have been on the train and if we have a com-


134 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
plete list, his name will be on it. By not coming
forward, you left a blank on my list."
Doctor Selby-Onslow glanced shrewdly at the
Superintendent.
"But before you came into this room, you knew
I was one of the passengers. Therefore my not com-
ing forward didn't hinder you in any way. And since
you came here, you've learned nothing of the slight-
est importance."
He suddenly changed his tone.
"If I'd had anything to tell, I'd have rung you up
at once. I'd nothing to tell. And if I went to you,
then I'd have had to explain all about this hoax
which some one has played on me. I'd rather have
kept that to myself, obviously. People talk—even
the police—and it's the sort of story that would
make me look ridiculous. I can't afford to look
ridiculous, in my position."
Ross had to admit that the doctor had the logic
of facts on his side, from a purely personal point of
view. But he inferred that Doctor Selby-Onslow
must be a peculiarly self-centred man if he weighed
factors of this sort when murder was in question.
There was something rather repulsive in the doctor's
solicitude for his own reputation at that particular
moment.
It was clear that any further inquiries would be
useless. He had got all the information that Doctor
Selby-Onslow intended to yield, and there was no
point in prolonging the interview.
After leaving the doctor's house, Ross's first visit
was to Irlam and Holmes's shop in King Street.


CHAPTER X: THE MARKED NOTES
On most official occasions Inspector Mornington's
face suggested that he, like Doctor Selby-Onslow,
had once been influenced by "iEquinimitas"; but
at times, when he had scored an obvious success, his
expression relaxed considerably. As he entered
Ross's room, the Superintendent saw at a glance
that Mornington had good news for him.
The detective-inspector made his report in his
customary staccato fashion, isolating facts from
inferences:
"It's the Preston case. The Bank of England one-
pound note, numbered D50:157128 has turned up.
It was reported to us by a pawnbroker, Leo Allen.
He got it from a man who was redeeming some
pledges. Allen handed it over to me. I took it to the
United Mercantile and Trinity Bank in Garfield
Street. The manager identified it at once by a blot
of ink he'd made on the back. The teller confirmed
this from his list of the numbers of the notes in
Preston's packet. There's no question about it being
one of the notes Preston had in his attache case that
morning.
"Allen knew the man who handed it in by sight.
We got the fellow identified, after some trouble.
He'd been pawning things under a false name.
Nothing much in that; lots of people do it. His real


THE MARKED NOTES
137
name's Maddox-John Henry Maddox. I went over
the records in Allen's books. So far as I can trace,
Maddox began pawning stuff on September tenth,
and he went on pawning one thing after another
right up to November twenty-eighth, five days after
the murder. He was hard up, obviously. Amongst
other things he'd pawned his wife's engagement ring,
a suit of clothes, boots, some silver spoons—things
he could take to Allen's without any one knowing,
light stuff.
"Five days after the murder, the pawning
stopped. Then, a couple of days ago, he came round
and redeemed a lot of things at once his wife's
ring, his clothes and boots, the spoons. Amongst the
money he handed over in payment was that marked
Bank of England note.
"When I got him identified, I went round the
shops where he'd been dealing and got them to let
me look at any notes they'd taken over the counter
lately. I found a Treasury note amongst them, a
pound note numbered $1/85:809241. The horse's
eye had a pinhole in it. The Bank officials identified
it as one of those in Preston's packet.
"That seemed pretty fair. I made inquiries about
Maddox. He was a clerk in Preston's Hammersleigh
factory. It appears Preston suspected him of thiev-
ing and dismissed him without a character in
August. That's confirmed by the factory manager
so far as the dismissal without a character's con-
cerned. They also say that Maddox was quite aware
of Preston's routine in bringing down the wages
money each week. Maddox and his wife used to live


I38 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
with an aunt of hers at Morpledene. After he was
dismissed, they came up to Horston. No one at
Hammersleigh station recognised him, if he trav-
elled by the 10.35 that day. He wasn't a regular
traveller at any time. He walked over from his aunt's
house to the factory, when he was at work there.
"I've identified every passenger on the 10.35 now,
bar one. None of them travelled in the third-class
compartment next Preston's. If Maddox was on
the train, then he may have been in that compart-
ment."
"Even if he was, that doesn't prove that he was
the murderer," Ross cautioned his subordinate.
"No," Mornington admitted, "it doesn't. But at
any rate I've got fifty-one out of the fifty-two pas-
sengers identified. That's better than I expected at
the start. And since the notes were on the train and
one of them at least was in Maddox's possession,
there's a very fair likelihood that he was Number
Fifty-two."
"Well, go ahead," the Superintendent suggested.
"What else do you know about him?"
"Today I went round to his house," Mornington
continued. "I asked him to account for the note
D50:157128 which he had had in his possession. He
turned white about the gills as soon as I mentioned
it. Apparently he thought he'd got away with it, and
it was a bit of a shock to find the game was up. I
suggested he might like to make a statement to you.
At that he pulled himself together a bit. I suppose
he'd expected to be arrested at once. So as soon as
he'd got his boots on—under my eye, of course—I


THE MARKED NOTES
139
brought him along here. He's outside now, if you'll
see him."
"Bring him in," the Superintendent directed.
Mornington went out and in a few moments ush-
ered the suspect into Ross's room. The Superintend-
ent was case-hardened to situations of the sort, and
his swift examination of the newcomer's aspect was
untinged with any obvious prejudice. Maddox was
a little man of about thirty-five, plainly of the clerk
class. He was neatly, but rather shabbily dressed;
and his stiff collar was slightly frayed and obvi-
ously home-laundered. It needed no second glance
to diagnose him as a man down in his luck. He was,
naturally enough, very nervous, and seemed hardly
to know what to do with his hands.
"Sit down, Mr. Maddox," the Superintendent di-
rected, with a gesture towards a chair facing the
light. "Inspector Mornington tells me you wish to
make a statement. I'm going to have your statement
taken down in writing; and after it's finished,
I'll give it to you to read over and check. You
understand? Good. Now what we want to know
is how you came into possession of a Bank of
England one-pound note numbered D50:157128
which you handed over to Leo Allen, the pawn-
broker."
Maddox, like a trapped animal, glanced mis-
trustfully from the face of one official to the other;
and his Adam's apple worked convulsively once or
twice before he could find his voice.
"I don't quite know where to begin," he said
faintly, at last.


I38 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
with an aunt of hers at Morpledene. After he was
dismissed, they came up to Horston. No one at
Hammersleigh station recognised him, if he trav-
elled by the 10.35 that day. He wasn't a regular
traveller at any time. He walked over from his aunt's
house to the factory, when he was at work there.
"I've identified every passenger on the 10.35 now,
bar one. None of them travelled in the third-class
compartment next Preston's. If Maddox was on
the train, then he may have been in that compart-
ment."
"Even if he was, that doesn't prove that he was
the murderer," Ross cautioned his subordinate.
"No," Mornington admitted, "it doesn't. But at
any rate I've got fifty-one out of the fifty-two pas-
sengers identified. That's better than I expected at
the start. And since the notes were on the train and
one of them at least was in Maddox's possession,
there's a very fair likelihood that he was Number
Fifty-two."
"Well, go ahead," the Superintendent suggested.
"What else do you know about him?"
"Today I went round to his house," Mornington
continued. "I asked him to account for the note
D50:157128 which he had had in his possession. He
turned white about the gills as soon as I mentioned
it. Apparently he thought he'd got away with it, and
it was a bit of a shock to find the game was up. I
suggested he might like to make a statement to you.
At that he pulled himself together a bit. I suppose
he'd expected to be arrested at once. So as soon as
he'd got his boots on—under my eye, of course—I


THE MARKED NOTES I39
brought him along here. He's outside now, if you'll
see him."
"Bring him in," the Superintendent directed.
Mornington went out and in a few moments ush-
ered the suspect into Ross's room. The Superintend-
ent was case-hardened to situations of the sort, and
his swift examination of the newcomer's aspect was
untinged with any obvious prejudice. Maddox was
a little man of about thirty-five, plainly of the clerk
class. He was neatly, but rather shabbily dressed;
and his stiff collar was slightly frayed and obvi-
ously home-laundered. It needed no second glance
to diagnose him as a man down in his luck. He was,
naturally enough, very nervous, and seemed hardly
to know what to do with his hands.
"Sit down, Mr. Maddox," the Superintendent di-
rected, with a gesture towards a chair facing the
light. "Inspector Mornington tells me you wish to
make a statement. I'm going to have your statement
taken down in writing; and after it's finished,
I'll give it to you to read over and check. You
understand? Good. Now what we want to know
is how you came into possession of a Bank of
England one-pound note numbered D50:157128
which you handed over to Leo Allen, the pawn-
broker."
Maddox, like a trapped animal, glanced mis-
trustfully from the face of one official to the other;
and his Adam's apple worked convulsively once or
twice before he could find his voice.
"I don't quite know where to begin," he said
faintly, at last.


I38 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
with an aunt of hers at Morpledene. After he was
dismissed, they came up to Horston. No one at
Hammersleigh station recognised him, if he trav-
elled by the 10.35 that day. He wasn't a regular
traveller at any time. He walked over from his aunt's
house to the factory, when he was at work there.
"I've identified every passenger on the 10.35 now,
bar one. None of them travelled in the third-class
compartment next Preston's. If Maddox was on
the train, then he may have been in that compart-
ment."
"Even if he was, that doesn't prove that he was
the murderer," Ross cautioned his subordinate.
"No," Mornington admitted, "it doesn't. But at
any rate I've got fifty-one out of the fifty-two pas-
sengers identified. That's better than I expected at
the start. And since the notes were on the train and
one of them at least was in Maddox's possession,
there's a very fair likelihood that he was Number
Fifty-two."
"Well, go ahead," the Superintendent suggested.
"What else do you know about him?"
"Today I went round to his house," Mornington
continued. "I asked him to account for the note
D50:157128 which he had had in his possession. He
turned white about the gills as soon as I mentioned
it. Apparently he thought he'd got away with it, and
it was a bit of a shock to find the game was up. I
suggested he might like to make a statement to you.
At that he pulled himself together a bit. I suppose
he'd expected to be arrested at once. So as soon as
he'd got his boots on—under my eye, of course—I


THE MARKED NOTES 139
brought him along here. He's outside now, if you'll
see him."
"Bring him in," the Superintendent directed.
Mornington went out and in a few moments ush-
ered the suspect into Ross's room. The Superintend-
ent was case-hardened to situations of the sort, and
his swift examination of the newcomer's aspect was
untinged with any obvious prejudice. Maddox was
a little man of about thirty-five, plainly of the clerk
class. He was neatly, but rather shabbily dressed;
and his stiff collar was slightly frayed and obvi-
ously home-laundered. It needed no second glance
to diagnose him as a man down in his luck. He was,
naturally enough, very nervous, and seemed hardly
to know what to do with his hands.
"Sit down, Mr. Maddox," the Superintendent di-
rected, with a gesture towards a chair facing the
light. "Inspector Mornington tells me you wish to
make a statement. I'm going to have your statement
taken down in writing; and after it's finished,
I'll give it to you to read over and check. You
understand? Good. Now what we want to know
is how you came into possession of a Bank of
England one-pound note numbered D50:157128
which you handed over to Leo Allen, the pawn-
broker."
Maddox, like a trapped animal, glanced mis-
trustfully from the face of one official to the other;
and his Adam's apple worked convulsively once or
twice before he could find his voice.
"I don't quite know where to begin," he said
faintly, at last.


I38 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
with an aunt of hers at Morpledene. After he was
dismissed, they came up to Horston. No one at
Hammersleigh station recognised him, if he trav-
elled by the 10.35 tflat day. He wasn't a regular
traveller at any time. He walked over from his aunt's
house to the factory, when he was at work there.
"I've identified every passenger on the 10.35 now,
bar one. None of them travelled in the third-class
compartment next Preston's. If Maddox was on
the train, then he may have been in that compart-
ment."
"Even if he was, that doesn't prove that he was
the murderer," Ross cautioned his subordinate.
"No," Mornington admitted, "it doesn't. But at
any rate I've got fifty-one out of the fifty-two pas-
sengers identified. That's better than I expected at
the start. And since the notes were on the train and
one of them at least was in Maddox's possession,
there's a very fair likelihood that he was Number
Fifty-two."
"Well, go ahead," the Superintendent suggested.
"What else do you know about him?"
"Today I went round to his house," Mornington
continued. "I asked him to account for the note
D50:157128 which he had had in his possession. He
turned white about the gills as soon as I mentioned
it. Apparently he thought he'd got away with it, and
it was a bit of a shock to find the game was up. I
suggested he might like to make a statement to you.
At that he pulled himself together a bit. I suppose
he'd expected to be arrested at once. So as soon as
he'd got his boots on—under my eye, of course—I


140 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
"Then we'll go back to the beginning," Ross sug-
gested, in an encouraging tone. "Not a bad place to
start from, usually, Mr. Maddox. Let's see. You
were employed in the office at Preston's factory
down at Hammersleigh, weren't you? And at that
time you were living—you and your wife—with a
relation of yours at Morpledene? Then there was
some trouble at the factory, wasn't there? Suppose
you tell us about that."
The kindliness of Ross's tone seemed to take
Maddox by surprise; evidently he had not expected
to be handled in quite this fashion: and though it
by no means put him at his ease, it took the sharp
edge off his alarm.
"It was this way," he began, clearing his throat
and speaking with some difficulty. "I mean, I was
a clerk in the office there; and there was some
thieving going on; money was missing now and
again, not big sums, but just a few shillings now
a few shillings again. I had nothing to do with it,
I'll swear that any time you like; I was as innocent
as you are, that's the honest truth and nothing but
the truth, really. Mr. Preston got it into his head
that I was to blame, though he hadn't an atom of
proof to show for it; and he was that sort of man
that if he once got an idea into his mind, nothing
would ever get it out again, nothing. He was a hard
man, Mr. Preston, just as hard as a bit of stone if
you came up against any of his notions. So one day
he called me into his office and he said: 'Maddox, I
sha'n't require your services after to-day. The
cashier will pay you instead of notice. And,' says


THE MARKED NOTES
141
take
Disch would
he, 'you needn't send any one to me about your
character.'”
In the recital of his grievances, Maddox had lost
some of his nervousness; and his repetition of Pres-
ton's speech was evidently a not wholly unsuccess-
ful attempt at mimicry.
“Well, that was a nice tale to take home to the
wife,” he went on. “Wasn't it, now? Discharged
without a character! I knew pretty well what would
happen, I can tell you. Preston was a vindictive
swine-oh, yes, he was, even if he's dead now
and I knew pretty well he'd got it in for me. He
wouldn't give me a bad character-oh, no! He was
a bit too clever for that and wouldn't risk me having
him up for slander. He'd just look down his nose
and say nothing, if any one asked if I was trust-
worthy; just do the thing in the meanest little way
it could be done. But if you look down your nose
just the right way, you can say a lot without
opening your mouth, can't you? Of course you
can.”
He paused for a moment and moistened his lips.
Now that he had got fairly into his tale, he showed
no sign of cutting it short.
"Well, there it was, and a nice affair for a man
with a wife to keep and only a few pounds saved.
What chance had I of getting another job in Ham-
mersleigh after that? Just about as big as you could
put in your eye and not feel it tickle you. I knew
Preston well enough for that. He'd got a down on
me because I told him what I thought of his meth-
ods when he flung me out; and he'd take mighty


THE MARKED NOTES 143
money and getting nothing for it. What about get-
ting Aunt Emma to take us in for a bit? She won't
want to make a profit off us, with things like this.'
So we talked it over, and she got me round to her
ideas, and we settled that I'd go down to Morple-
dene and talk it over with her aunt and «see if we
could go back there for a bit."
Maddox's anger seemed to have died down again
and now a tinge of nervousness reappeared in his
voice as he approached the crucial part of his state-
ment. He glanced doubtfully from Mornington to
the Superintendent, as if momentarily undecided
whether to go on or not. Mornington, who was tak-
ing down his words, merely glanced up as though he
was impatient at the interruption; but Superintend-
ent Ross showed a more human expression, which
seemed to encourage the clerk.
"That was what took me down to Hammersleigh
the day that Preston was done for," he continued.
"I'd come to the end of things here in Horston, so
far as I could see, anyway; and for all I was get-
ting out of it, we might just as well be at Morple-
dene, and it would cost less to live there. So I made
up my mind to take the 10.35 that morning, see
Aunt Emma at Morpledene, and then have a look
round Hammersleigh on my way back and see if I
couldn't pick up a job, no matter what it was. I was
fair desperate, by that time; I'd have taken nearly
anything that offered.
"I went down to the station and took my ticket.
Then as I was going along the train, I saw Preston
coming along the platform towards me, carrying his


144
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
little attache case; and I remembered this was his
day for bringing down the factory wages. I was up
against it hard then, just about cracked up with
the worry of getting no job; and when I saw him,
I'd half a notion to stop him and sort of throw
myself on his mercy—anything to get a fresh start,
you understand? That'll give you an idea of how
bad things had got with us. But when he came
abreast of me, he just looked down his nose, the
way he used to do; and I could see him grinning
in a sort of self-satisfied way—you know what I
mean—like as if he was saying, 'Well, I've fixed
you, my lad.' And when I saw that on his face, I
knew it was no good; and I walked past him and
got into the next compartment I came to; and he
got into the first-class carriage next door to me; and
that was the last I saw of him—or ever shall, now."
"Just a moment," Ross interrupted. "I want to
be clear about this. You were in the third-class com-
partment immediately behind Preston's first—next
door to him?"
"Yes, next door," Maddox admitted. "There was
nobody else in my compartment all the way. I don't
remember anything much on the journey till we got
past Seven Sisters station; and then I happened to
let down the window and look out. Just as well I
didn't look out very far; for the next thing I knew
was a big thing flying past my face along the train,
and that gave me a bit of a jump, I can tell you. I'd
just time to see what it was, when it pitched amongst
some bushes by the side of the track; but I didn't
need two looks at it to know it well; for it was Pres-


THE MARKED NOTES
MS
ton's attache case—the one he used to bring the
cash down to the Hammersleigh factory, the one I'd
seen in his hand when I met him on the platform."
Maddox paused after making this last statement,
evidently in the expectation that the two officials
would voice their surprise; but neither the Superin-
tendent nor the Inspector betrayed any special in-
terest. Mornington took advantage of the interlude
to scrutinise his pen nib and remove a minute hair
from it. The lack of astonishment in his hearers
seemed to excite Maddox's misgivings again; and it
was in a more nervous tone that he pursued his nar-
rative.
"I was more than a bit surprised to see that at-
tache case flying out of the train, that way," he
went on. "My idea was that Preston had let it drop
out of the window, somehow; and I just wondered
how he'd managed to be such a clumsy ass as to do
it. Then—"
He broke off sharply, as though he had sudden
doubts as to the wisdom of going further with his
story.
Superintendent Ross seemed to wake up all at
once.
"You'd better go on, Mr. Maddox," he suggested
in a neutral tone. "We have definite evidence that
you got hold of that attache case, so it's no use try-
ing to pretend you didn't. You may as well make a
clean breast of things while you're at it."
Maddox apparently digested this advice for a mo-
ment or two before making up his mind to accept it.
"Well, that's just how it happened," he said, with


146 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
a tinge of defiance in his tone. "You may not swal-
low it, but it was so. I saw that attache case flying
through the air and landing in a clump of bushes;
and I did some quick thinking on the spur of the
moment. First thing I did was to pull in my head
from the window, in case Preston was looking out
and noticed me. I'd marked the spot where the at-
tache case fell, pretty fairly. Then I— Well, you
know how Preston had treated me. I didn't owe him
much except a grudge; and here was a grand chance
to get square with him. If I could get out of the
train at Hammersleigh and beat him back to where
the case was lying, then I could collar it before he
got on the scene and hold it up until he had to offer
a reward for it. That idea just flashed through my
mind as the train was running into Hammersleigh;
and as soon as we stopped at the platform, I hopped
out of the carriage and scurried off to the gate, so
as to be out of the road before Preston got out.
Naturally, I didn't want him to see me and be re-
minded of me at Hammersleigh station, for then
when the attache case turned up missing, he might
think of me."
"You'd taken a return ticket to Morpledene,
hadn't you?" Superintendent Ross interjected.
The question seemed to increase Maddox's nerv-
ousness. It was clear that he had not imagined the
police knew quite as much as this.
"Yes, I'd taken a Morpledene ticket. I told you
I was going down to see my wife's aunt, didn't I?
And she lives at Morpledene; I told you that too.
I'm not keeping anything back; I'm giving you the


THE MARKED NOTES
147
whole story, just as it happened. I know it sounds
funny; but that's just how it happened, as far as I
can remember."
"Go on," Superintendent Ross ordered. "What
happened next?"
"As soon as I got out of the station, I hurried
round the first corner, for fear Preston was coming
out behind me and might see me making a bee-line
back along the line. After I was out of sight of the
station, I doubled back and took the road to Seven
Sisters. It's about two-and-a-half miles from Ham-
mersleigh to Seven Sisters, and I reckoned the case
was dropped out of the carriage window about half
a mile, or maybe three quarters, after we'd left
Seven Sisters station. That meant I'd not more than
a half-hours' walk in front of me; and to make sure
of keeping ahead of Preston, I hurried for all I was
worth. It was a misty morning and I was pretty
sure he couldn't spot me in front of him on the
road, even at the bits where you can see a good bit
ahead of you."
"How thick was the mist?" Superintendent Ross
asked suddenly.
"Oh, pretty thick here and there and sometimes
there was a clear patch."
"How far ahead could you see? I mean when it
was thick."
Maddox reflected for a moment or two.
"Where it was thickest, you could hardly see a
couple of yards in front of you," he answered at
last. "More like a ground fog than a mist, in parts,
it was; but patchy."


148
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
"Yes, go on," Ross directed, as though satisfied
about the mist.
"Well, in twenty minutes I guessed I was some-
where near the place where I'd seen the thing fall,
so then I got off the road into the fields and walked
over to the railway line. I started to walk along it
towards Seven Sisters when I heard some one com-
ing in my direction, so I slipped off the permanent
way and slid down the embankment a bit. Just about
there, the mist was very thick, and I didn't need to
go far to be out of sight of the line."
"How far?" demanded the Superintendent. "Try
to be accurate in that sort of thing."
Maddox's nervousness increased at the sharp tone
of Ross's voice.
"Oh, it would be about ten feet or so—three or
four yards, I should think. The mist was quite thick
enough to hide me at that distance, unless any one
was specially on the lookout."
Ross seemed satisfied with this and gave a nod
to stimulate Maddox to further revelations.
"A man came up the line, as I was saying," the
clerk continued. "He didn't see me, because I was
down the bank; and all I could see of him was just
a sort of outline in the mist against the sky. I sup-
pose he was a plate layer or something of that sort,
going along the line to make sure things were all
right. Or he may have been laying fog signals, for
all I know. I crouched down until he was past; and
then I got up and went along again towards Seven
Sisters.
"I'd hit the place all right, more by accident than


THE MARKED NOTES 149
anything; for I hadn't gone ten yards farther be-
fore I came to the clump of bushes I recognised at
once as the spot where Preston's case had dropped.
So I began rummaging around after it, and it wasn't
another couple of minutes before I stumbled right
on to it amongst a lot of evergreens close beside
the line."
"Wait a moment," Ross interrupted. "How far
was this clump of evergreens from the rails, as near
as you can guess?"
Maddox rubbed his cheek as though rather per-
plexed by this inquiry.
"I'd say it was about six feet or eight feet from
the nearest rail," he hazarded at length. "Eight feet
perhaps, or—well, about eight feet or nine at the
most, I should think. But you can find the place for
yourself if you want to measure it; it's about fifty
or sixty yards on the Seven Sisters side of a road
bridge over the line, and there's only one road bridge
between Seven Sisters and Hammersleigh, so far as
I remember. There's a bit of embankment just be-
fore you come to the bushes, just as I told you."
"Very well. Go on with the story."
"When I got my hands on the attache case, I went
off the line into the fields at once, for fear the plate
layer—or the surface man, whichever it was—
might come back and catch me with it. When I was
well into the mist and out of sight of the line, I
opened up the case; and there were the notes, right
enough. Besides, Preston's visiting card was stuck
to the leather of the inside of the lid. I scraped that
off with my finger nail! There weren't any initials


THE MARKED NOTES
hearer to the other, as though he were trying to
gauge the effect he was making. Met by complete
impassivity on Mornington's part and a grave look
from the Superintendent, he hurried on with the rest
of his narrative.
"I just couldn't leave that money. And then, be-
sides, no matter how well I hid it, somebody else
might stumble on the attache case; and where would
I have been then? Not a penny the better for all
my trouble. So that turned the scale in my mind;
and I made sure that, come what might, I'd have
something out of the business. I took some of the
silver out of the bag and left the coppers alone; and
then it struck me that it might look queer to be
paying everything in silver and nothing but silver.
Preston would never know the numbers of the
notes, I felt pretty sure; and it would be safe enough
to take a few of them. So at last I helped myself to
some of the loose notes as well as two or three
pounds' worth of the loose silver; and then I hunted
about till I found a good place to hide the attache
case in, somewhere safe. It took a while, that; but
at last I got it stowed away in the thick of a clump
of bushes a hundred yards or two away from the
line."
Again Superintendent Ross interrupted.
"And what about the pistol? Wasn't it in the at-
tache case?"
Maddox seemed to shrink into himself at the
Superintendent's question.
"The pistol?" he said, in a quavering voice. "I
never saw any pistol. You don't think / murdered


150 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
on the outside of the case to give me away if I was
seen carrying it."
"What about the notes?"
"Some of the notes were done up in packets with
rubber bands round them, and some of them—just
a few—were lying loose in the case; and there
were a couple of bags of money as well. Out in the
field, I opened them and found one had coppers in
it and the other was full of silver.
"I thought for a bit what to do next. I didn't
much care to carry the case back through Hammers-
leigh in daylight, for some one might notice it and
mention they'd seen me with an attache case. I knew
there'd be sure to be a hullaballoo raised about it
and I wanted no risks. The best thing to do would
be to hide it securely somewhere and come back
for it later on, in the dark when no one would be
likely to notice it in my hand. And then, just as I
was standing there in the fields, the sight of all that
money was too much for me. The wife and I were
at our wits' ends to pay some accounts we were
owing in Horston; and here was I, with all this cash
in front of me, and nobody to know I had it. 'Why
not cop the lot?' I thought to myself. Preston owed
me more than a bit, for the way he'd treated me.
Well, I stood there like a dummy for minute after
minute, trying to make up my mind what I'd do
about it; and at last it was more than I could do, to
go back to the wife with empty hands when there
was all this stuff here, just for the picking up, as
you might say."
He broke off and his glance roved from one


THE MARKED NOTES
hearer to the other, as though he were trying to
gauge the effect he was making. Met by complete
impassivity on Mornington's part and a grave look
from the Superintendent, he hurried on with the rest
of his narrative.
"I just couldn't leave that money. And then, be-
sides, no matter how well I hid it, somebody else
might stumble on the attache case; and where would
I have been then? Not a penny the better for all
my trouble. So that turned the scale in my mind;
and I made sure that, come what might, I'd have
something out of the business. I took some of the
silver out of the bag and left the coppers alone; and
then it struck me that it might look queer to be
paying everything in silver and nothing but silver.
Preston would never know the numbers of the
notes, I felt pretty sure; and it would be safe enough
to take a few of them. So at last I helped myself to
some of the loose notes as well as two or three
pounds' worth of the loose silver; and then I hunted
about till I found a good place to hide the attache
case in, somewhere safe. It took a while, that; but
at last I got it stowed away in the thick of a clump
of bushes a hundred yards or two away from the
line."
Again Superintendent Ross interrupted.
"And what about the pistol? Wasn't it in the at-
tache case?"
Maddox seemed to shrink into himself at the
Superintendent's question.
"The pistol?" he said, in a quavering voice. "I
never saw any pistol. You don't think / murdered


152 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
Preston, do you? I never laid a finger on him; that's
the whole truth."
Superintendent Ross avoided a direct answer.
"You say you found no pistol in the attache case?
Very well. Go on and tell us what you did next."
"I never killed him," Maddox persisted. "I didn't.
I didn't."
Ross shrugged his shoulders.
"I'm not asking you whether you did or not. I
want to know what you did after you hid the at-
tache case. If you don't choose to tell me, it's your
own lookout."
There was no mistaking the underlying menace
in the last few words; and Maddox shrank again at
the Superintendent's tone.
"Very well, then," he said, licking his lips to mois-
ten them, "I'll tell you, for fear you think there was
anything worse behind it; and there was nothing
wrong in it, anyway. I've told you the bad bit al-
ready. As soon as I'd hidden the attache case, I got
back to the road again without being seen, so far as
I know; and I started to walk in to Hammersleigh.
I was on the lookout for Preston, because I expected
him to be along on my heels, hunting for his case;
and I dodged off the road when I saw any one come
along to meet me. I only had to get out of the way
twice, before I got to the outskirts of Hammersleigh;
and after that, it didn't matter if he saw me. I was
a bit surprised when I saw no signs of him; I
couldn't make head or tail of it, for a man doesn't
leave hundreds of pounds of money lying by the
side of a railway line for any one to pick up. I


THE MARKED NOTES
thought perhaps he'd got permission and walked
back along the line itself to the place where the case
fell out of the window."
Mornington interjected a question for the first
time.
"See any motors on the road?"
"One passed me just as I was getting into Ham-
mersleigh," Maddox replied, after thinking for a
moment or two. "A big closed car painted dark
blue, it was; and it had two fellows on board that
looked like—well, like anybody else, so far as I
saw when they passed me. They were driving fast,
that's all I really noticed; and they hooted me out
of the way as if the road belonged to them."
"You didn't notice the car's number?"
"No, I never bother about the numbers of cars;
and besides, it just came out of the mist and dis-
appeared again before I had a good look at it. I'd
other things to think about, just then."
As Mornington made no comment, the clerk con-
tinued his story.
"I went on into Hammersleigh and took the Mor-
pledene road. By and by I got to my wife's aunt's
house. It turned out she'd taken in a lodger after
we left; and she couldn't take us in until she'd given
him notice. She gave me some food."
"What time was it then?"
"Round about two o'clock, I should think, but I
couldn't be sure. She'd had her own dinner before I
got there, I remember that. I stayed a while there,
talking to her; and then I walked back to Ham-
mersleigh, meaning to see if there wasn't a job to


154 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
be found there. But by the time I'd got there, I
wasn't in the mood for looking for jobs. I was wor-
ried over the—over the money business. All the
way along the road I'd been thinking it over; and
now I'd think it would be best to put the money
back and hang on for a reward; and then again I'd
make up my mind I'd go the whole hog and stick
to the lot. I wish I'd never touched the stuff now."
"You came back to Horston by train?"
"In the end, I did. I caught the 3.23 at Ham-
mersleigh."
"Didn't you learn then that Mr. Preston had been
murdered?"
Maddox shook his head.
"How could I? I talked to nobody. I was that
worried over the business, turning it over and over
in my mind and trying to settle what I'd really do,
that I never noticed anything till I got home again.
I was just in a sort of brown study, kind of dazed
with what I'd done, if you understand."
"I don't understand this," the Superintendent
pointed out. "You took the money from the at-
tache case; and yet for some days after that you
were still pawning things. How do you account for
that?"
Maddox had his answer ready.
"What do you think?" he replied, with a certain
appearance of cunning in his tone. "I wasn't going
to be such a fool as to tell any one I'd been taking
Preston's money—not me. I didn't breathe a word
about it to the wife, even. That was just where the
shoe pinched, you see? She knew we were on the


156 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
charge? You are not obliged to say anything unless
you wish to do so, but whatever you say will be
taken down in writing and may be given in evi-
dence."
For a moment, Maddox was unable to speak. He
gulped once or twice and then found his voice.
"And that's all you're charging me with?" he
asked anxiously.
"That's the charge I'm holding you on," Ross
answered.
"I never murdered him—I'll swear that."
"I never said you did," the Superintendent
pointed out. "Now Inspector Mornington will read
over that statement to you and you can check it."
At a gesture from Ross, the Inspector led his pris-
oner out of the room, and Ross settled himself at
his desk. In a few minutes Mornington returned.
"You ran the Judges' Rules pretty fine, didn't
you?" he suggested, with a sardonic smile, as he
came into the room.
"Did I? How?" Ross demanded, with an assump-
tion of innocent surprise.
"Well, hadn't you made up your mind to charge
him, as soon as he confessed he'd taken the money
from the attache case?"
"You don't generally jump to conclusions like
this," the Superintendent pointed out. "He con-
fessed to taking the money out; but until we got
his whole story, we didn't know whether he'd thought
better of it in the end and put it back again. Then
some one else might have lighted on the attache
case and put the note in circulation. See?"


THE MARKED NOTES
"You're too deep for me," Mornington confessed.
"I never had any doubts about what he did."
"Doubts come in handy at times," Ross said
blandly. "Now, what do you think of that evidence
of his? I have my doubts; but probably you've got
none."
"A damned fishy story, if you ask me. It might
be true, but it sounds like the other thing. I didn't
like his manner much."
"I doubt if my own manner would be quite satis-
factory if I felt some one was just on the edge of
arresting me for a murder," the Superintendent
mused aloud. "It's always a rather trying experience,
from what I've seen. I shouldn't lay too much stress
on that, if I were you. Put yourself in Maddox's
place, and you'll feel rather funny about the throat
too, if you've any imagination."
He reflected for a moment and then turned to a
fresh subject.
"If this story of Maddox's is true, then that at-
tache case was flung out of the carriage window by
the murderer."
"Unless Preston himself dropped it out when he
saw the attack coming," Mornington suggested, as
an alternative. "He seems to have been the sort of
man who'd take care of his money in any circum-
stances."
"It wasn't dropped out of the window," Ross as-
serted. "If Maddox's yarn's true, it must have been
flung out with enough vim to carry it nine feet away
from the side of the train. The case itself weighed,
say, three pounds; the silver must have run to about


158 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
another three pounds; and a quid's worth of coppers
comes to somewhere round about four pounds
weight, I should guess. That's ten pounds in all,
plus the weight of the notes. A ten-pound attache
case isn't a bit of paper that can drift on the wind.
It must have been flung out by some one who wanted
to land it well off the permanent way. That's clear."
Mornington's gesture admitted the force of this.
"I doubt if Preston was given time to throw
things out of the window," Ross went on. "If Mad-
dox's story is true, then the murder took place be-
tween Seven Sisters and Hammersleigh; and the
train only spends about five minutes on that stretch.
The murderer must have got to work almost as soon
as the 10.35 Seven Sisters station and there
wasn't time for a struggle in which the case could
get pitched out of the window. I can understand the
murderer pitching it out after he'd shot Preston:
for the attache case would be an awkward thing
to carry with him when he left the train—too
easily remembered by any one who happened to
notice it."
"So if it was robbery at the bottom of it all, you
think the murderer pitched the case out and went
back to pick it up later; and if it wasn't robbery,
the case was pitched out of the window to suggest
robbery as a motive?" Mornington questioned.
"Something of that sort," the Superintendent ad-
mitted in a cautious tone. "Now there's another
point. You've got fifty-two tickets sold; and you've
got fifty-two passengers. But I'm not sure that each
person who bought a ticket used that ticket. It's


THE MARKED NOTES
159
just on the cards that two of them may have ex-
changed tickets."
"You mean a man might have bought a third-
class ticket and swopped it for the first-class ticket
of another passenger?"
"Something of the sort," Ross repeated in an even
more cautious tone. "Now let's see what's still to
be done in the next stage of this business. I'll see
Miss Winslow myself. You needn't bother about
her. You'd better check up Maddox's story as soon
as you can: see if his aunt confirms the times he
gave us; find out if a plate layer or surface man
was on the line at the time he said he saw one;
have a hunt for the attache case at the place where
he said he hid it finally. Then there's another affair
in the same neighbourhood. You might kill two birds
with one stone while you're about it. Look into the
case of that motor that this lawyer Iverson lost at
Oxenden Grange. I've a use for Iverson; and I want
to keep on good terms with him. And when you're
at it, you'd better make inquiries at Doctor Whit-
acre's—about three miles from Morpledene—about
the cutting of his telephone wire lately. It seems
worth looking into. Let's see. Morpledene, Whit-
acre's, Oxenden Grange, the line between Ham-
mersleigh and Seven Sisters: they're all within a
ten-mile drive, if you take a taxi at Hammersleigh.
You can make inquiries about the plate layer at
Hammersleigh and get him fished out in time to see
you on your way back; then go on to Morpledene;
after that to the doctor's; then back to Oxenden
Grange. It's about a mile off the railway line, some-


l6o THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
where between Hammersleigh and Seven Sisters, so
after you've had a look round there to see what
the place is like, you can cut across to the line and
check Maddox's statements about the bushes and
so forth. Then you can see the railway people again
at Hammersleigh on your way back. It won't really
take long and it's not worth while sending a second
man down to deal with the motor theft separately."
"I'll have to search Maddox's house for the pis-
tol and the notes," the Inspector suggested. "I'd bet-
ter do that first?"
"It would be just as well," Ross agreed. "Though
I don't think you'll find much except the notes."


162 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
Madge Winslow contented herself with a con-
firmatory nod.
"And Mrs. Preston had breakfast in her own
room, which was her usual custom?"
Another nod formally corroborated this.
"And you yourself were late in coming down, be-
cause you had been at a dance the night before?
When did you actually come downstairs, Miss
Winslow?"
If Madge Winslow was surprised by this ques-
tion, she succeeded in concealing it.
"Shortly after Mr. Preston left the house," she
answered, without comment.
Ross switched off to a fresh subject.
"You told me that Mr. Preston and Mr. Iverson
were your trustees. What is the exact state of af-
fairs in that matter?"
Madge Winslow's eyebrows arched slightly at the
question.
"Are my private affairs really essential?" she de-
manded.
"Everything connected with Mr. Preston is of
value to us," the Superintendent pointed out in a
neutral tone.
Madge Winslow seemed to consider this statement
in all its possible bearings before she spoke again.
"Then the position is this," she said. "My father
left a certain capital and appointed as trustees Mr.
Preston and the firm of solicitors of which Mr. Iver-
son is now head. The senior partner died last year,
and now Mr. Iverson manages things. The arrange-
ment under the will is that I have the life rent of


MADGE WINSLOW'S EVIDENCE 163
the estate, and the capital will be distributed after
my death among any children I happen to have, if
I get married. I can't touch the capital itself. I'm
not a trustee myself till I'm twenty-five. When
I'm twenty-five, I can draw the full interest on the
capital; but until my twenty-fifth birthday my
trustees pay me what the will calls 'an allowance
sufficient in the opinion of the trustees' for my
expenses."
Ross, in his turn, considered for a few moments
before putting further questions.
"Perhaps you did not quite see eye to eye with
Mr. Preston about the amount you were allowed?
Mr. Iverson may be more generous in his ideas,
perhaps?"
Madge Winslow's expression showed plainly that
she regarded these questions as impertinent.
"I fail to see what my private affairs have to
do with Mr. Preston's death," she said, stiffly.
"Very well, then," Ross hastened to assure her,
"we'll leave the matter. You say you came down-
stairs that morning shortly after Mr. Preston left
the house. Was that before or after a telephone
message came for Mrs. Preston?"
The Superintendent, keenly on the watch, de-
tected a sudden dilation of Madge Winslow's pupils
as he brought out this question. She kept her fea-
tures composed, but clearly the inquiry had touched
a tender spot.
"I didn't answer the telephone," she pointed out.
"Did you know about that call?" the Superintend-
ent pressed.


164 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
Madge Winslow took longer than necessary be-
fore she replied.
"Yes."
"How did you hear about it?"
Again there was a pause, as though the girl took
time to consider.
"Mrs. Preston sent a message asking me to go
to her room."
"And she told you about the message the maid
had given her?"
A nod confirmed this. - p
"Who telephoned to Mrs. Preston?"
Madge Winslow examined her neatly shod foot
for a moment or two before answering.
"It was Doctor Selby-Onslow," she said, at
last.
"Mrs. Preston told you what his message was?
What had he said?"
"Hadn't you better get that from Doctor Selby-
Onslow himself?" Madge Winslow suggested coldly.
"I understood that evidence should be first hand, if
possible. You're asking me about a thing I could
only know at third hand."
"I'll put it differently if you wish," Ross said
patiently. "What did Mrs. Preston tell you about
the message?"
Madge Winslow evidently felt that she had made
a slip in handling the situation. Her coolness did not
desert her, however, and her voice was quite level
as she answered.
"Mrs. Preston told me that Doctor Selby-Onslow
had been called away unexpectedly and might not be


MADGE WINSLOW'S EVIDENCE 165
able to come here that afternoon as she had ar-
ranged."
"How did that information concern you?"
"Because I intended to make arrangements that
afternoon so that Doctor Selby-Onslow and I could
go to the Plaza that night."
Something in the manner of this statement ex-
cited Ross's suspicions.
"You and Doctor Selby-Onslow alone together?"
"And Mrs. Preston," Madge Winslow amplified
reluctantly.
"This proposed arrangement was an afterthought,
then. Why?"
"Because we had just learned that Mr. Preston
was going out to a Masonic dinner that evening,"
Madge Winslow admitted frankly.
Ross had no doubt whatever that this, at least,
was the truth. Quite obviously Mrs. Preston had
snatched at the chance of spending an evening with
the doctor. Madge Winslow's part in the affair was
merely subsidiary.
"You learned this from Mrs. Preston. What hap-
pened after that?"
"I had some breakfast and then went out to do
some shopping."
"When did you leave the house?"
Madge Winslow's patience was evidently fraying
under the strain of this continued examination.
"At about a quarter to ten. May I ask if you have
a roving commission to inquire into all my private
affairs?"
But the Superintendent had guessed what lay


THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
Madge Winslow took longer than necessary be-
fore she replied.
"Yes."
"How did you hear about it?"
Again there was a pause, as though the girl took
time to consider.
"Mrs. Preston sent a message asking me to go
to her room."
"And she told you about the message the maid
had given her?"
A nod confirmed this. . p
"Who telephoned to Mrs. Preston?"
Madge Winslow examined her neatly shod foot
for a moment or two before answering.
"It was Doctor Selby-Onslow," she said, at
last.
"Mrs. Preston told you what his message was?
What had he said?"
"Hadn't you better get that from Doctor Selby-
Onslow himself?" Madge Winslow suggested coldly.
"I understood that evidence should be first hand, if
possible. You're asking me about a thing I could
only know at third hand."
"I'll put it differently if you wish," Ross said
patiently. "What did Mrs. Preston tell you about
the message?"
Madge Winslow evidently felt that she had made
a slip in handling the situation. Her coolness did not
desert her, however, and her voice was quite level
as she answered.
"Mrs. Preston told me that Doctor Selby-Onslow
had been called away unexpectedly and might not be


MADGE WINSLOW'S EVIDENCE 165
able to come here that afternoon as she had ar-
ranged."
"How did that information concern you?"
"Because I intended to make arrangements that
afternoon so that Doctor Selby-Onslow and I could
go to the Plaza that night."
Something in the manner of this statement ex-
cited Ross's suspicions.
"You and Doctor Selby-Onslow alone together?"
"And Mrs. Preston," Madge Winslow amplified
reluctantly.
"This proposed arrangement was an afterthought,
then. Why?"
"Because we had just learned that Mr. Preston
was going out to a Masonic dinner that evening,"
Madge Winslow admitted frankly.
Ross had no doubt whatever that this, at least,
was the truth. Quite obviously Mrs. Preston had
snatched at the chance of spending an evening with
the doctor. Madge Winslow's part in the affair was
merely subsidiary.
"You learned this from Mrs. Preston. What hap-
pened after that?"
"I had some breakfast and then went out to do
some shopping."
"When did you leave the house?"
Madge Winslow's patience was evidently fraying
under the strain of this continued examination.
"At about a quarter to ten. May I ask if you have
a roving commission to inquire into all my private
affairs?"
But the Superintendent had guessed what lay


i66
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
behind this; it confirmed his original vague
surmise.
"Don't fence with me, Miss Winslow," he said
bluntly. "You went to the station, to the 10.35.
Didn't you? Yes or no?"
This was evidently a home thrust, as he could
see from the girl's face; but she did not lose her
composure.
"You seem to be fairly well informed," she ad-
mitted, with a faint sneer. "I did go down to the
10.35. What of it?" ^
"To meet Doctor Selby-Onslow?" >
"Yes."
"Because you could go there and give him a mes-
sage which Mrs. Preston couldn't take herself, since
her husband was in that train and she might have
been seen?"
"If that interpretation pleases you, I have no ob-
jection."
"You got on to the platform with a platform
ticket?"
"Naturally."
"After the train left, what did you do?"
"I did some shopping in town."
"What shops did you visit?"
Madge Winslow favoured the Superintendent with
something which could only be described as a stare.
"How do you expect me to remember, after all
this time?" she demanded coolly. "I was doing ordi-
nary shopping—odds and ends. I don't profess to
recall where I went or what I bought. Where were
you yourself at half-past two on September 23rd?


l68 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
"I've nothing more to say," Madge Winslow as-
sured him formally, as she rose and stepped across
to the bell.
But by this dismissal she made an error in tac-
tics. The Superintendent wanted to see the maid
again, and Madge Winslow had saved him from dis-
closing that fact. As he followed Poole down the
hall, he made no attempt to start a conversation.
He knew his witness; and he was sure that, left to
herself, she would seize the opportunity.
"Just a minute," she said, stopping him at the
door. "I've got something to tell you, something
that'll perhaps put you onto the track. I didn't tell
you it the last time I saw you, 'cause then I didn't
know about the murder, you see? And I didn't tell
that wall-faced man you sent round here, 'cause I
didn't care for the look of him. But I'll tell you
about it. It's this."
She glanced back at the closed door of the room
in which Ross had interviewed Madge Winslow and
dropped her voice a little.
"Just before the murder, Mr. Preston sent me on
a message to the office of that lawyer of his, a Mr.
Iverson. When I got there, I was kept waiting for a
good while; and when I was taken into the law-
yer's own room, there was Mr. Preston waiting for
me. Then the two of them started questioning me,
fair trying to turn me inside out, all about the doc-
tor's goings-on here, and had I ever gone into the
room suddenly or had I ever happened to glance in
at the window, and all that sort of thing, you un-
derstand. Well, they kept me there for a long while,


MADGE WINSLOw's EVIDENCE 169
and the lawyer taking notes of all that I said; and
after that they went over the whole story again,
with the notes, and tried to trip me up, but
they didn't manage it, for I'd stuck to the truth
all the way through. And at the end of it the
lawyer says to Mr. Preston, 'This young woman
will make a valuable witness.' So then they
packed me off, and they told me to say nothing
about it."
"And when did this happen?" Ross demanded.
"The day before the murder or earlier?"
"About a week—no, ten days or a fortnight be-
fore the murder. Call it a fortnight and that would
be about it."
"What day of the week was it?"
"I can't remember now."
"And what happened after that?"
"Well, it's a free country, isn't it? Nobody's got
a right to tell me what I'm to say and what I'm not
to say, have they? If they'd given me something
to keep my mouth shut, it might have been all right;
but Mr. Preston was too mean for one to expect
that from him. So they'd no claim on me, not the
very least bit."
"I see," Ross agreed. "I'd feel much the same
myself, I'm sure. So—?"
"So I thought about it, and it was pretty plain
what the two of them were after; and I've no wish
to be dragged into the witness box in a dirty case of
that sort, with my name in the papers to spoil my
chance of getting a good place when I left here.
I'm not so green as that, I can tell you. And after


THE TELEGRAM
173
"He had a fair nerve to sit there with that thun-
derbolt in his pocket and talk away about how sure
he was that Preston's wife had nothing to do with
the case!"
Superintendent Ross rang up Iverson's office and
made an appointment for the same evening at War-
lingham Road. This time he took care to avoid the
dinner hour and to make sure that the lawyer would
be alone.
"Good evening," Iverson greeted him, when Ross
was shown into the study he had seen before.
"You've taken me at my word, apparently. Well, the
books are there for you to consult if you want to."
His tone was rather more genial than it had been
on the Superintendent's earlier visit.
Superintendent Ross looked rather blankly at the
shelves.
"I'm afraid it would take me some time to find
my way about a library of this size," he said diffi-
dently. "I'd better tell you what information I'm
after, and perhaps you could put me on the right
track."
Iverson made a gesture offering the silver boxes of
cigars and cigarettes. When they were refused by
his guest, he took a cigar himself, cut it, and went
back to his chair.
"My trouble is this," the Inspector pursued, when
his host was ready to give him his attention. "I
want to know if two documents come from the same
hand."
The lawyer's eye turned lovingly towards the
bookshelves.


174 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
"H'm! Gross isn't much good to you. You read
German? No? Well, it doesn't matter. What about
French?"
"I think I can plough my way through that,"
Ross admitted modestly.
"Let's see, then," said Iverson, rising to his feet.
"You might find something useful in Locard's books
—I've got three of them there. My edition of Reiss
hasn't got the length of the forgery volume yet, un-
fortunately. But I expect Locard might help you;
though I must say I'm not altogether sure about
some of his methods unless they were applied by
himself. If it's a matter of inks, or anything of that
sort, his tests seem sound enough to a non-expert
like myself. But that's by the way."
"It's a case of typewriting," the Superintendent
volunteered.
"Oh, typewriting?" said Iverson, in the tone of
one who is relieved to find a problem easier than
he expected. "There's only one book here that's
of any use in that line. Here you are: Osborn's
'Questioned Documents.' You'll get everything you
could possibly use in it—and probably a good
deal more," he added, as he passed the massive
volume over to the superintendent. "You'll find
it all in the chapter called 'Questioned Type-
writing.'"
Clearly the lawyer bought his books to read, and
not merely to fill shelf room. Ross accepted "Ques-
tioned Documents"; but instead of opening it, he
laid it on the table beside him and drew from his
note case the two documents which he had brought


THE TELEGRAM
175
with him. They had no obvious connection with the
Preston case.
Iverson half-unconsciously held out his hand.
"If they're not confidential, I'd like to have a
look at them, just to see if I can make anything of
them," he explained, to account for his tentative
gesture.
Ross showed no reluctance in the matter, but
passed over the papers.
"Please come for urgent consultation Friday
morning. Shall meet 10.35 train with my car at
Morpledene Station. Whitacre," Iverson read out
from Ross's copy.
Then, as he turned to the original telegram form
and saw Doctor Selby-Onslow's name and address
at the head, his eyebrows rose sharply. Evidently
it cost him an effort to refrain from a question. The
Superintendent took compassion on his obvious
curiosity.
"I may as well put my cards on the table," he
said, "since I'd like your opinion on one or two
points. You see the original telegram form is filled
in by typewriting, not by hand. It wasn't handed
in over the counter, I find, but came by post in an
envelope, with stamps to pay for the transmission.
Now it turns out that it's a hoax; and naturally
the Post-office people want to know who's been using
their machinery to play practical jokes. I've come
across a typewriter which may have been used to
produce that fake wire; and it's a question of see-
ing whether one can prove that these two documents
were written with the same machine."


176 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
Iverson reread the telegram thoughtfully.
"So Selby-Onslow was off on a wild-goose chase
that morning when I saw him at the station?" he
commented. "That accounts for his being in the
train. I couldn't understand why he didn't take his
car, instead of going by rail."
Superintendent Ross fidgeted slightly, as though
he had no wish to linger over this part of the prob-
lem. Iverson noticed his impatience and dropped the
subject. He picked up Osborn's book and turned
over the pages until he came to the paragraph he
wanted.
"Let's see. Here he collects all the points one
ought to look for—"
As he read, his face clouded slightly.
"The worst of it is, half these things don't apply
to a telegram form. 'Depth of indention of para-
graphs,' 'arrangement of conclusion,' 'arrangement
of heading,' and so forth; it's no good bothering
about them. The spacing after punctuation's quite
normal; and there are no erasures that I can see.
All that seems to be relevant is what he says about
the use of the shift key, heavy impressions of some
letters and light ones of others, and the alignment,
vertical or horizontal, of the type. Let's have a look
at the two things side by side."
He placed the two papers in juxtaposition and
studied them intently for a time, while Ross pa-
tiently waited to see what inferences the lawyer
would draw.
"The shift key for capitals seems to be slightly
out of adjustment," he said at last. "In both docu-


THE TELEGRAM
177
ments, the capitals P, F, S, M, and W, are just a
shade above the normal alignment. If you got these
things enlarged photographically you might be able
to show that the upward displacement was the same
for the two documents—it's identical so far as naked
eye can see.'
"I daresay we could manage that, all right," Ross
said, thinking of the microphotographic outfit
owned by his former collaborator, Groombridge.
Iverson appeared to pay little attention, as he
was engrossed in a fresh matter.
"There's a spot of dirt lodged in the loop of the
lower-case letter 'a,' " he continued. "It makes the
loop print almost as a solid block in all the 'a's' of
the telegram; and there's precisely the same flaw
in the corresponding 'a's' of your copy. That's a bit
beyond normal probability, surely, unless they're
both from the same machine."
Ross was not particularly impressed by this dis-
play of observational power, for he had noticed the
same thing himself, almost at the first glance.
"All the 't's' in the telegram have a very slight
defect in their tails," Iverson continued. "And each
't' is slightly depressed below the normal type level.
The bar of the't' is in the same line as the ceriph
of the T in 'tion,' instead of being slightly above
it, as it ought to be. There's the same defect in
your copy."
After further scrutiny, he added:
"The £d' in 'Friday' and the'd' in 'Morpledene'
are both slightly depressed, and a shade off the ver-
tical—same in your copy as in the telegram."


178 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
He turned away from the documents, took up
Osborn's book, and hunted for a particular passage.
"Here you are," he said, after a moment or two.
"This is what Osborn says about it: 'We must first
determine how often, or rather how seldom, each
feature will be found separately and then, by a
mathematical formula, as fixed as the multiplication
table, we determine how often coincidences of all
the features may be expected. This formula, given
by Professor Simon Newcomb, is as follows: "The
probability of occurrence of all the events is equal
to the continued product of the probabilities of all
the separate events." If one thing will occur once in
twenty times and another once in twenty, the prob-
ability of the two occurring in conjunction is rep-
resented by the fraction which is the product of one-
twentieth and one-twentieth, or one four-hun-
dredth.' Now further on, he reckons the chance
of the same defect occurring in two machines to be
about one in five hundred, or so. In these two docu-
ments, there are four characteristics in common; so
if you take it that out of five hundred machines only
two would have the dirt in the 'a' and so forth, you
get the probable coincidence of the four character-
istics as about—let's see—one chance in 62,500,-
000,000. Even if you assume that one in every fifty
machines has got the defect in the %' and that one
in every fifty has the peculiarity of the'd,' and so
forth, still the chance of all four characteristics
coinciding in any given machine is only one chance
in 6,500,000. And quite obviously there aren't six
and a half million machines of this particular make


THE TELEGRAM Ijg
in the country. In other words, so far as Osborn
goes, it's practically outside the bounds of prob-
ability that these two documents can have been
written on different machines."
"That seems plain enough," Ross admitted. "At
any rate, some of the members of a jury would un-
derstand it and the rest would swallow it on the
strength of its being all right, but too deep for
them. I've no doubts myself. Obviously the two
documents came from the same machine."
Iverson nodded his agreement with this and idly
picked up the original telegram form.
"I suppose this explains why I saw Doctor Selby-
Onslow at the station that morning," he commented.
"A hoax, was it?"
"So far as one can see, it was," said the Superin-
tendent cautiously. "They really ought to have
some means of checking posted telegrams; the sys-
tem lends itself a bit too easily to practical joking,
apparently."
"No finger prints on the envelope, or anything of
that sort?" the lawyer inquired.
"There may have been, for all I know," Ross
admitted. "But as the envelope went straight into
the waste-paper basket, I don't think they'll help
us much at this date." v
"But you've got hold of the typewriter, appar-
ently?"
"So it seems," Ross agreed, without offering to
amplify his statement.
Suddenly he looked the lawyer straight in the
face.


THE TELEGRAM l8l
been merely starting you off on a wild-goose chase
if I had mentioned the projected divorce case to
you the other night. At once you'd have drawn
wrong inferences and wasted a lot of time in digging
up things that have nothing whatever to do with
Preston's death."
"That was for me to settle," Ross said stiffly.
Iverson took no notice of the Superintendent's
tone.
"Well, since the cat's out of the bag now," he sug-
gested, "I'll give you any information you want on
the subject; but I warn you seriously, remember,
that you're barking up the wrong tree."
As though to show that he was ready for a pro-
longed examination, he moved over to his chair and
sat down, motioning the Superintendent to follow
his example.
"When did you first hear about this projected
divorce suit?" Ross demanded.
Iverson considered for a moment or two.
"On November 12, I believe," the lawyer an-
swered at once. "Preston came to see me that morn-
ing at my office and told me he was pretty sure of
his ground in the matter. We talked it over for a
while, and he suggested that this girl Poole probably
knew a good deal about what had been going on
at Hillcrest. He was one of these people, you know,
who want to have everything cut and dried; and it
seems he thought if we got the girl to ourselves, we
could drag something out of her. In fact, he'd made
up his mind to send her to my office on some ex-
cuse or other the next day, so that between us we


182
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
could put the screw on her and get at the truth, if
she knew anything definite. I suggested that he
could interview her alone first; but he insisted on
following his preconceived plan. He wanted a wit-
ness to her statement, so that she couldn't go back
on it, once we'd got it out of her."
Iverson reached over and picked up the cigar box.
"Try one," he suggested; and when his offer was
refused, he lighted a cigar himself.
"Well, it was no business of mine to object. He
was my client, and I followed his instructions. As it
turned out, he needn't have worried himself so
much, for there was no trouble at all in making the
creature talk. Once she understood what he wanted,
she gave him full measure and considerably more
than he'd anticipated, I suspect."
Iverson leaned back in his chair and laughed
cynically.
"It was as good as a play; it was, really," he con-
tinued. "Here was this venomous little hussy, simply
burning to tell all she knew—and perhaps rather
more than that, unless I was mistaken. Once she
found she'd got an interested audience, she talked
on and on, just one ugly detail after another: what
she'd suspected, what she'd overheard, what she'd
seen, what she'd tried to see through the key-
hole or the window—everything came out with a
rush, once we'd got her started. It was a perfect
revelation of character: the lengths to which a spite-
ful little slut will go in order to discredit a girl
she envies. For that was at the back of the whole
affair, quite clearly. She hated both Mrs. Preston


THE TELEGRAM
"That was the day after Miss Winslow had let
you see she knew about this projected divorce suit?"
Iverson made a gesture of confirmation.
"Yes, she spoke to me about it on the 14th, the
day after Preston had the maid up giving her evi-
dence."
"Doctor Selby-Onslow's got a good practice, I be-
lieve?"
"About the best fashionable practice in Horston,
I should think," the lawyer assented, with a faint
tinge of envy in his tone. "I can't think how a man
in his position would take the risk of getting mixed
up with a woman among his patients."
Superintendent Ross had no objection to letting
people tell him things which he knew already, since
there was always a chance of a fresh detail coming
to light.
"What would have been Doctor Selby-Onslow's
position, if Preston had won his case?" he asked
innocently.
Iverson threw up his hands in a gesture which
suggested the complete ruin of the doctor.
"He'd have had the devil to pay, and the damages
in the suit would have been the least of it," he said
seriously. "It would have been the end of him. Look
at him just now—at the top of the tree, making a
big income and spending practically every penny of
it. If he'd lost this action, the General Medical
Council would have stepped in at once and struck
him off the Medical Register. He could have gone
on practising, of course; but how many people
would go to a man who'd just been taken off the


THE TELEGRAM
l87
prying into dirty corners; and if there had been
anything to be found, she'd have got hold of it, to
judge by her account."
The Superintendent rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"I suppose there was no doubt that Preston really
meant business in this affair? I mean, he would have
seen the thing through, once he'd started?"
Iverson's cynical smile made his opinion quite
clear before he spoke in reply.
"If I were a married man—which Heaven for-
bid!—I'm pretty sure that parts of Poole's story
would have roused me too far to allow me to cool
down again, even after reflection. Besides, Preston
was one of these people who map out a course far
ahead and stick to it like grim death afterwards; a
matter of foresight, he'd have called it. Actually, it
was pure obstinacy, a kind of silly doggedness which
some weak fellows pride themselves on, because it
looks like strength of character, in their own opin-
ion. Besides, he was really badly shaken by the
whole affair; I could see that. He may have sus-
pected things were going wrong; but it's different
when you're faced with an apparent certainty in
an affair of that sort. No matter how you steel
yourself, it's always a horrible wound to your
pride."
He halted for a moment or two, as though not
very sure of his ground.
"Did you ever consider suicide as a possibility in
the case?" he demanded at last.
Ross shook his head.
"There was no pistol in the carriage," he said


i88
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
definitely. "A man can't tuck himself under the
seat of a railway carriage, shoot himself to death,
and then pitch the weapon out of the window."
"No," the lawyer admitted, "if you put it that
way, it's impossible. But with a little pre-arrange-
ment, it might be managed, I think."
He reflected for a moment or two, evidently put-
ting his case together.
"I happened to ask a few questions when I went
to identify the body," he said. "I gathered that
some of the wounds were made by a fairly harmless
weapon—something firing a reduced charge, for
instance—whilst two others were really deadly
affairs. Now I'm only giving you this as an hypothe-
sis which might fit, remember; I'm not saying that
it's how things did really happen. But suppose that
Preston wanted to commit suicide and to do as
much damage as he could to other people by making
it look like murder. Suppose he provided himself
with a couple of pistols, one with reduced charges
in the cartridges, the other with ordinary cartridges.
Imagine that he tied both pistols to his attache case
with long strings and let the case hang out of the
carriage window. Then he gets under the seat and
shoots himself once or twice, harmlessly, with the
reduced-charge cartridges; and finally he uses the
lethal pistol and kills himself. In the final convul-
sion, his hands open; the weight of the attache case
pulls the pistols away from him; the case itself falls
out of the window, dragging the weapons with it.
That leaves no pistols in the carriage and the body
under the seat, doesn't it?"


THE TELEGRAM
189
Superintendent Ross smiled, but he shook his
head.
"I'm afraid it won't work," he pointed out. "Some
of the shooting was done before he got under the
seat at all."
"The harmless shots," Iverson suggested, and
Ross mentally admitted that this fitted the evidence.
"But that would leave the attache case and pis-
tols on the line," the Superintendent objected.
"Until some one picked them up, certainly. Have
you got either the attache case or the pistols yet?"
"We've got the case," Ross admitted grudgingly.
"Well, I don't pretend my hypothesis is right. In
fact, it's not really my own idea; I read something
like it somewhere or other. But you'll admit that
it's a plausible alternative to murder."
Superintendent Ross's expression had more than
a tinge of scepticism in it.
"It sounds a bit far-fetched," he said, "and you
haven't produced any motive for all this hankey-
pankey you assume on Preston's part. Even allow-
ing that Preston knew Doctor Selby-Onslow was
next door to him and might be involved in a mur-
der charge, it doesn't ring true, you know. Preston
had a far simpler weapon ready against the doctor
—the divorce suit."
Iverson waved his hand as though admitting all
that.
"I'm no psychologist," he said placidly. "But re-
member one thing. That jade Poole, with her evi-
dence, gave Preston the chance of seeing, for once
in a while, exactly how he looked to other people,


190 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
with all his fads and fancies and routine and so
forth. Most of us would open our eyes a bit if we
saw exactly what the rest of the world thinks of
us. Something of a shock, I suspect, in a good many
cases; and a specially rude shock for a self-satisfied
creature like Preston, I should think."
He dismissed the whole matter with another ges-
ture.
"Now, since you're here, what about this car of
mine? I want to know if there's any chance of my
getting it back; for if not, then the sooner I think
about buying a new one, the better."
"I think we may have some news for you soon,"
Ross said hopefully. "We're piecing together some
things that may lead up to it."


CHAPTER XIII: THE CAR SNATCHERS
With the lawyer's reminder fresh in his memory,
Superintendent Ross sent for Inspector Morning-
ton as soon as he returned to his office.
"Anything to report about that car stolen from
Iverson?" he demanded, when the Inspector ap-
peared.
"I'd rather take things in their order, if it's all
the same to you," Mornington suggested. "You
kept me pretty busy with all the affairs you told
me to look into; and I'd like to get the lot off my
chest at one go', now I've the chance."
"Fire away, then," Ross invited, settling himself
in his chair, since he saw from his subordinate's
face that there would be a good deal to tell.
"First of all, another marked note's turned up.
It's a ten bob one, Xio/i77972. Reported by the
Esperanza Street branch of the County and Central
Bank. Traced back through a tradesman to Maddox.
He doesn't deny that it may have passed through
his hands."
"That doesn't add anything much to the case,"
said Ross, though not in a discouraging tone.
Mornington agreed at once.
"Merely nailing things down as firm as possible,"
he explained. "Second, I went down to Morpledene
and put Maddox's aunt through it. Her story tallies


192 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
with the one he gave us, so far as his visit to her's
concerned. She feeds at a quarter past one, usually;
and Maddox turned up just after she'd cleared away
her dinner dishes. 'Somewhere about two o'clock'
was her estimate of the time he came to her house.
"Third, I got hold of the surface man who was
walking on the line between Seven Sisters and Ham-
mersleigh. He left Seven Sisters a while after the
10.35 went through. That's as near as I could screw
him down to, in time. But that tallies with what
Maddox told us about seeing him. The surface man
didn't see Maddox on the embankment. The fog
was pretty thick, according to him. That again tal-
lies with Maddox's story.
"Fourth, the bit of the line where Maddox said
he found the attache case in the bushes is exactly
as he described it. That shows he must have been
there at some time or other.
"Fifth, I found the attache case itself in the
place where he said he hid it finally. I've got it
here. It's a bit mildewed. But the place where
Preston's card was gummed inside the lid is plain
enough. That identifies it, apart from Maddox's
story."
The Inspector paused, as though to give Ross
time to collate this information.
"That corroborates Maddox's story completely,
so far as it goes," he pointed out. "But it's got no
bearing on whether he murdered Preston or not. All
it does is to confirm his tale of his movements
after the murder, obviously."
"Obviously," Superintendent Ross repeated.


THE CAR SNATCHERS
193
"He's no better off, except that his tale holds water
wherever you've tested it."
"Sixth," Mornington went on, "I made inquiries
about the cutting of Doctor Whitacre's telephone
wire. It seems it must have been done in the dusk,
or shortly after that. So the Exchange people make
out, at least. He actually discovered it about seven
o'clock in the evening when he went to ring some
one up. His house is about three hundred yards
away from the nearest line of telephone poles; and
his wire goes down on poles of its own over the in-
tervening space. Without a ladder to reach the low-
est footrests, you can't get at the wire unless you
swarm up the pole itself. The wire was cut about
halfway between two poles and some ten feet of
wire had been snipped out. My notion is that some-
one threw a rope or a cord over the wire about that
point and pulled on the wire till it snapped. Then
he cut ten feet off one of the broken ends and de-
camped. I can't see how it was done any other way.
Doctor Whitacre seemed very peevish about the af-
fair. I asked him if he had suspicions in the mat-
ter. It appears a ne'er-do-well in the neighbourhood
owes him a grudge. There's no proof of any sort."
"Net result, then," the Superintendent com-
mented, "is simply this. It was done after dark,
when no one could see what was going on. It was
a case of malice aforethought, since the fellow must
have brought a rope and a pair of wire nippers with
him. And there's no evidence to show who did it."
"That's correct," Mornington confirmed, not in
the least perturbed by the paucity of his results.


THE CAR SNATCHERS
195
at Oxenden Grange that morning over the altera-
tions. Tenbury's a builder and contractor in Ham-
mersleigh. I asked him if he knew anything about
the circumstances.
"Tenbury's story's quite clear and tallies with
what we got from Iverson. His appointment with
Iverson was for noon on November 23; and when he
drove up in his car, he found Iverson had arrived
just a minute or two before him and had just got
the big gates at the entrance to the Grange unlocked
and swung back to let his own car in. Tenbury
pulled up his car behind Iverson's; and then Iverson
came over and they began to discuss these improve-
ments that the proprietor wanted. One of them was
a rustic summerhouse that was to be erected; and
when this came to be discussed, they wanted to see
the ground; so they left their cars and walked over
to the spot where the thing was to be put up. It's
about halfway to the house and a bit off the drive.
After that, they went on to the house and looked
round the inside, discussing more changes that the
proprietor wanted. And when they came out again
it was about one o'clock. They walked down to the
gate. When they got there, Tenbury's car was stand-
ing there, just as they'd left it; but Iverson's car was
gone. Tenbury says his car was a shabby one whilst
Iverson's was a nearly split-new Rover saloon. So
the thieves naturally took the better of the two."
"Thieves?" asked Ross, stressing the plural.
"Thieves," Mornington repeated. "I'm coming to
that later. Tenbury says Iverson was pretty wild
when he found his car was gone. He used a string of


THE CAR SNATCHERS
197
got to say for himself. His name's Lawson. The
other man's name's Wilkes. Wilkes runs a cheap
garage-and-repair shop in Kempsford; and Law-
son's his handy man. My impression is that it isn't
the first time they've gone in for car snatching;
but they've never been nailed at it before."
"Bring him in, then," Ross directed. "We may get
something out of him, though it's not likely to help
him when the case comes on."
Mornington went out and in a few minutes re-
turned, ushering in the car thief. Lawson was quite
devoid of any striking personal characteristics, apart
from the lines on his hands ingrained with black,
which would have suggested "mechanic" at first
sight. Superintendent Ross remembered Maddox's
statement about the big closed car which had passed
him on the road with "two fellows on board that
looked like—well, like anybody else." Lawson cer-
tainly fitted this extremely indeterminate descrip-
tion. The Superintendent allowed the captive a few
seconds before paying any attention to him; and
this treatment, as he expected, produced an increase
in Lawson's nervousness. After letting him shuffle
restlessly on his feet for a moment or two longer,
Ross turned round.'
"You want to make a statement?"
"Yes," Lawson agreed eagerly. "I want to tell
you just how it happened, an' then perhaps you'll
make things a bit easier for me when I come up
before the beak."
"Nobody promised anything of the sort," said
Ross sternly. "Tell us what you want, and it'll be


THE CAR SNATCHERS 199
ceived, but did not appear to be much encouraged
by the expressions on the faces of Mornington and
Ross.
"It happened this way," he went on after a pause.
"Wilkes, he'd bought a crock—an old broken-down
Singer, it was, about pre-war, I should think—an'
we'd done a job on it an' made it fit to go, if you
didn't push it too much; an' he'd sold it to a man
over in Seven Sisters. So that morning—"
"November 23d," interjected the accurate Morn-
ington.
"November 23d, as you say," Lawson continued.
"Wilkes, he says, 'We'll take this thing over an'
deliver it this morning. The boy can mind the shop
for an hour or two.' I had a notion he was afraid
something might go wrong with the thing, for we
hadn't had time to try it on the road, really; so I
says, 'Right 01' an' I got out of my overalls an' off
we went. We got rid of the thing to the man at
Seven Sisters all right; but there was a bit o' hagglin'
at the last moment, an' what with that an' other
things, we just missed the train at Seven Sisters.
Wilkes, he was in good form; he must ha' turned a
good penny or two o' profit over the crock, for he
was in high spirits an' a bit above himself once he'd
got the money. So as we'd missed the train, we
dropped into a pub an' had a drink; an' then we
started to tramp back to Hammersleigh to fill in the
time until the next train come along.
"A bit along the road we come to a big house an'
at the gate of it there was two cars standin' empty
and nobody in sight."


200
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
"I wish witnesses would give definite times in
their statements," Ross interrupted, speaking osten-
sibly to Mornington so as to avoid questioning Law-
son directly. “They never seem to think of it.”
Lawson took the hint.
“That would be gettin' on for about one o'clock,"
he explained. “Bein' in the motor line ourselves, you
understand, we naturally walks up to the cars an'
has a squint at 'em, just as a matter o' curiosity.
One of 'em was pretty well used, but t'other was a
big blue-painted saloon Rover, near brand new. We
noses around it for a minute or so, an' then Wilkes,
he turns to me with a grin on his mug, an' says he,
'I wonder just how one o' them Rovers runs. An'
then he winks, and says he, 'What about a bit of a
joy-ride up the road?' An' with that he opens the
door and hops into the drivin' seat; an' before I
thinks what I was doin', I jumps in too, alongside
him.
"I thought we'd be nabbed, sure, before we got
away; for Wilkes, he ran the self-starter about five
times before he got the engine goin'. 'She must ha'
been near stone cold,' says he, when she started up
at last. An' with that, he lets in the clutch, an off
we went up the road in the Hammersleigh direction.
I thought he was just havin' a bit o' fun; but by-
and-by he tells me as he means for to keep the car.
Says I, 'Don't you do it, Tom.' Says he, ‘You leave
it to me; there's no risk. I've done it afore this an'
they never catched me yet.' So I says nothin' more;
an' by-and-by he turns the car off down a sort o'
field track an' into a wood—a fairly lonely place


THE CAR SNATCHERS
201
where it didn't look as if anybody'd be goin' at that
time o' the year. 'If any one sees it standin' there,'
says Wilkes, 'they'll think the owner's somewhere
nearby, an' they'll leave it alone. We'll come back
for it after dark to-night. An' mind,' says he, 'if
anybody asks you, we haven't seen no car. You
stick to that,' he says.
"So we went back for it that night an' took it to a
shed Wilkes has in Trump Street, where he keeps
old stores an' things; an' then Wilkes, he set about
an' faked it a bit. He repainted it, an' he etched
extra figures on to the engine number an' the chassis
number, an' he altered all the fittin's that could be
shifted. An' then, one day, he took it away; an' I've
never seen it since, an' he never told me what he
did with it or where it went to. An' that's all I know
about it, the very last word."
"You've charged him with stealing this car?" the
Superintendent asked Mornington. "Then you'd
better read over to him what you've taken down,
and he can sign it."
When this formality had been completed, Ross
turned again to the prisoner.
"You've been charged with this theft, and I can't
ask you any questions about it, according to the
rules. I'm not going to. But I can ask you about
other things; there's no bar to that. You understand
the position?"
Lawson nodded to show his comprehension, and
Ross continued.
"According to you, Wilkes said that he'd done this
kind of thing before. Have you any knowledge of


200
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
"I wish witnesses would give definite times in
their statements," Ross interrupted, speaking osten-
sibly to Mornington so as to avoid questioning Law-
son directly. "They never seem to think of it."
Lawson took the hint.
"That would be gettin' on for about one o'clock,"
he explained. "Bein' in the motor line ourselves, you
understand, we naturally walks up to the cars an'
has a squint at 'em, just as a matter o' curiosity.
One of 'em was pretty well used, but t'other was a
big blue-painted saloon Rover, near brand new. We
noses around it for a minute or so, an' then Wilkes,
he turns to me with a grin on his mug, an' says he,
'I wonder just how one o' them Rovers runs.' An'
then he winks, and says he, 'What about a bit of a
joy-ride up the road?' An' with that he opens the
door an' hops into the drivin' seat; an' before I
thinks what I was doin', I jumps in too, alongside
him.
"I thought we'd be nabbed, sure, before we got
away; for Wilkes, he ran the self-starter about five
times before he got the engine goin'. 'She must ha'
been near stone cold,' says he, when she started up
at last. An' with that, he lets in the clutch, an' off
we went up the road in the Hammersleigh direction.
I thought he was just havin' a bit o' fun; but by-
and-by he tells me as he means for to keep the car.
Says I, 'Don't you do it, Tom.' Says he, 'You leave
it to me; there's no risk. I've done it afore this an'
they never catched me yet.' So I says nothin' more;
an' by-and-by he turns the car off down a sort o'
field track an' into a wood—a fairly lonely place


202
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
anything of the sort, anything that would support
his statement?"
Lawson consulted his memory for a moment or
two.
"There was some things in that shed in Trump
Street that didn't seem like as if they was Wilkes's."
"Such as?"
"Well, once I saw a pair o' number plates that
didn't come off of any car we had in the garage.
Another time, I noticed a typewriter; it disappeared
again almost at once, an' I never knew Wilkes to do
any typing. An' once I saw a pile o' clothes in a
corner under a bit o' sacking. Then another time, in
the evenin', I happened to go round to the store, an'
Wilkes was busy repaintin' a bicycle in a fresh
colour. That's about all I can remember."
"These things didn't strike you as curious?"
"Well, what if they did? They was no business o'
mine, was they? Wilkes, he didn't go for to encour-
age questions about his affairs."
Superintendent Ross reflected for a moment or
two.
"I can't ask you any questions," he pointed out
again, "but I'm going to tell you that it might be as
well to make things clearer at one point. You didn't
give any details about what happened when you and
Wilkes brought the car to the Trump Street shed
that night."
"Because there was no details to give," Lawson
protested. "When we got the car into the shed,
Wilkes was at the wheel. I'd got out for to open the
shed door and let the car in. And Wilkes, he turns


204
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
gested that Chepstow's ram was taking a secondary
place in his thoughts at the moment. "Now, I've got
some more work, for you to do. First of all, I want to
know if any of the bank officials was absent from
duty in the Garfield Street branch on the morning
of November 23. Then I want the same information
about the employees in Preston's Hammersleigh
factory and in his office in the city, here. That won't
take you long. And, finally, I want every pawn-
broker in this district questioned. It's essential to
find out if Wilkes has pawned any clothes since the
day of the murder. Try the old-clothes dealers as
well. It's a very long shot, but it's worth trying out
as far as we can go. Get on to that as quick as you
can, and do it thoroughly, will you?"
"And I suppose I'd better keep a lookout for any-
thing else that Wilkes has been pawning, when I'm
at it?"
"Yes. But clothes are what I'm really after. You
can go through his house for pawn tickets to start
with; and, of course, if there are any clothes there,
you'd better collect them too."
The Superintendent paused for a moment, then
added:
"Wilkes doesn't want to unburden his soul about
the theft of the car, by any chance?"
Mornington shook his head.
"Wilkes is a tough," he volunteered concisely as
he left the room.
When his subordinate had closed the door behind
him, the Superintendent remained for a few mo-
ments with knitted brows, conning over the bearings


THE CAR SNATCHERS
205
of the fresh evidence which they had just obtained.
Then he took out his notebook and sketched in it
a fresh diagram.
Wilkes 1
Lawson/
Maddox
Iverson
PRESTON
Madge Winslow
Mrs. Preston
t XI X
Factory Staff Bank Officials Doctor Selby-Onslow
For a time, Ross stared at the scheme, tracing out
step by step the relationships which it displayed. At
last he dropped the point of his pencil on one item in
the diagram.
"That's where the blame lies," he reflected im-
patiently. "I'm fairly sure of that. But the bother is
to prove it beyond dispute. Conjectures are no good
in a hanging case. The jury want something fair and
square in the way of proof; and although we could
put up a pretty story for them, it wouldn't be clinch-
ing. Unless we can get hold of a suit of clothes and
connect it with Wilkes, there's a hole in the case."
Superintendent Ross closed his notebook and re-
turned it to his pocket with a gesture of vexation.
To feel sure that he is right, and yet to be unable
to prove it, is an annoying state for any man; and
the Superintendent was very human.


THE TWO TICKETS
209
train from Seven Sisters, got out at Hammersleigh,
and then walked over to Oxenden Grange in time to
snap up Iverson's car, just as Lawson admitted they
did."
"Yes, but if they'd done that, they'd have had to
give up their tickets—and quite obviously they
didn't give up these tickets. Besides, you checked all
the ticket surrenders at Hammersleigh yourself,
didn't you?"
"Some people have the knack of travelling without
giving up their ticket," said Mornington glumly,
"and, of course, return halves like these were out of
the calculation, if they weren't handed over at the
Hammersleigh barrier. There was no way of in-
cluding them in the scheme at all, in that case.
They're the weak link in the chain."
Superintendent Ross returned to his abstracted
study of the two rectangular pasteboard slips which
he still held in his hand. Suddenly his eyes became
alert. He fished a triple-lens magnifier from his
pocket and scrutinised the tickets through it, one
after the other.
"Did you inquire at Seven Sisters station if any
one remembered Wilkes and Lawson getting aboard
the 10.35?" ne demanded.
Mornington shook his head.
"I'd gone into that fully at the very start of the
case," he pointed out. "The station people's mem-
ories were fresher then, and they didn't mention
Wilkes and Lawson. There wasn't any point in going
back and heckling them again, when the scent's as
cold as it is now."


THE TWO TICKETS
211
"Well, we'll leave it alone for the present," the
Superintendent said, as though dismissing the matter
from his thoughts. "We haven't finished with these
clothes yet. Anything in the pockets of the waistcoat
or the trousers?"
Mornington picked up the two garments and
went through the pockets.
"Nothing here," he reported.
"Where do you carry your matches?" the Super-
intendent asked, with apparent irrelevance.
"In my left-hand jacket pocket," Mornington
said, producing a cardboard box as he spoke.
"So do I," Ross informed him. "It seems a likely
place. Just turn the left-hand jacket pocket inside
out, will you? Have a look at the lining."
Mornington picked up the jacket and did as he
was directed. "Not much here," he reported, exam-
ining the fold of the lining. "Wait a bit! There's a
small brown stain on the lining itself—on what
would be the outer side of the pocket when the
jacket was on. Is that what you expected?"
"I didn't expect it, but I hoped there might be
something of the sort," Ross said, with hardly sup-
pressed satisfaction. "No use jumping to con-
clusions, of course. It may not amount to anything.
But we'll have that bit of cloth tested for blood."
Mornington pondered for some moments with a
puzzled look on his face. At last his expression
changed.
"I see it," he said slowly. "That burnt paper in
the carriage put you on to it?"
"Yes, there was just the chance that some blood


212
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
was left on the fellow's hands—just a trace or two
—when he felt in his pocket to get out the matches
to bum the paper. I didn't really expect to find a
stain; it was just a long shot that happened to come
off. And, of course, there's no guarantee that it's
really a bloodstain. We'll need to wait for the expert
opinion on that before we build too much on it."
Mornington inspected the stain once more and
then put down the jacket.
"Now let's have a look at that typewriter," Ross
suggested.
He lifted it on to the table, noting as he did so
that it was of the same make as Doctor Selby-
Onslow's machine. Then he inserted a sheet of paper
and sat down before the instrument.
"H'm! How did it run? 'Please come for urgent
consultation Friday morning. Shall meet 10.35 train
with my car at Morpledene Station. Whitacre.'"
He rattled off the duplicate of the bogus telegram,
drew the sheet from the machine, and scanned the
printing.
"This isn't the machine that wrote the fake mes-
sage," he announced, almost at once. "The fake tele-
gram had defects in its 'd's' and 't's' for one thing;
and there's nothing of the sort here. No, this type-
writer isn't going to help us much. It's just an acci-
dent that Wilkes happened to steal a typewriter of
that make. There's nothing in it."
Mornington received this with an air of resig-
nation. Then, seeing that Ross seemed to have come
to the end of his investigation of the stolen property,
the Inspector drew out a battered piece of metal.


THE TWO TICKETS
213
"This is the bullet that killed Chepstow's ram,"
he explained. "It died, finally; and I went down to
see the bullet taken out of its innards. It's a bullet of
the same calibre as the one that killed Preston—the
one that landed in his brain."
Ross took the distorted object and turned it over
in his fingers without saying anything. Suddenly
Mornington appeared to see a fresh light on the
case.
"'StrewthI I never thought of that!" he ex-
claimed, in a tone of vexation. "That ram was shot
on the sixteenth of November. And that's the date
on these two tickets we found just now."
"Of course!" said the Superintendent, rather im-
patiently. "What do you suppose I've been bothering
over that ram for? It was as plain as anything could
be that the ram was shot by accident from the win-
dow of a passing train. Nothing else would fit the
facts. And it didn't need the brains of a Sherlock
Holmes or a Thorndyke to see what was behind that,
either. I managed it myself without straining myself
much. It was a preliminary canter over the course—
a rehearsal of the big show that was planned for
November 23d. It was meant to make sure that a
shot could be fired in the carriage without attracting
attention next door. The ram happened to get in the
way of the bullet. That was as plain as daylight. But
we had to get the bullet and see its calibre before
we could call it more than a guess. That's the bother
about this damned case—proof! There's no great
trouble in guessing who's mixed up in the business—
that's dead easy. But the infernal thing is to scrape


214 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
up enough evidence to bring it home clearly enough
to convince a jury. You know that."
Superintendent Ross's unwonted loquacity gave
the Inspector a gauge of how much his superior was
irritated by the lack of clinching evidence; but he
was not called upon to offer any opinion, for the
Superintendent swung round on him with a fresh
set of instructions.
"You can take away that typewriter. Leave the
suit of clothes. And now I want you to get on to
something fresh as quick as you can. Go to Maddox
and ask him if the train stopped after he saw the
attache case thrown out—I mean, stopped in the fog
before it got to Hammersleigh. You can tell him that
this has nothing to do with his own case; and
nothing he says will be used against him in court.
It's a different case altogether, tell him. And coax an
answer out of him at any cost, if he'll give you one.
Don't let him see what answer you expect, of course.
I want the plain truth, without any leading ques-
tions. And then get on to the railway people—get the
guard of the train, if you can—and find out just
what stops the 10.35 made between Seven Sisters
and Hammersleigh that morning. I know it made
one, because the express I was in stopped just along-
side the 10.35. But I want full information, if we
can get it, and as quick as you like. It's high time
we saw the end of this affair."
It was an hour or two before Mornington returned
with the required evidence.
"I've seen Maddox at the gaol," he reported. "He
remembers one stop the train made between the


THE TW 0 TICKETS
215
place where the attache case was thrown out and
Hamniersleigh. It was just short of Hammersleigh.
Then I got hold of the guard who was on the 10.35
that morning. I had to wait till his train came in.
He was on duty when I got to the station. He says
he remembers a stop just beyond Seven Sisters and
another stop just before Hammersleigh—about half
a mile or so. He described the place. I can identify
it, if you want that, because the guard said they
stopped at a signal. The fog was very thick there,
he remembers. A man was setting fog signals at
that point, and the guard had a few words with him
while the train halted. I've got that man's name, if
you want it."
"No, I think that'll be enough," Ross decided.
"We can always get hold of the fellow later on, if
we need him. By the way, have you found out about
the bank people and the employes at the factory,
for me?"
"No one was off duty at the bank on the twenty-
third. And none of the factory people were away
from their work that day either."
"I expected as much," Ross admitted. "But it's
just as well to be absolutely sure in things like that."


CHAPTER XV: THE KEYSTONE
On the following morning, as soon as Iverson's office
opened, Superintendent Ross telephoned to inquire
if the solicitor had arrived.
"Not in yet?” he said, on getting from the clerk
the negative answer which he expected. “Well, when
is he likely to come in? When does he usually turn
up in the morning? I'm Superintendent Ross."
"He ought to be here in a quarter of an hour or
so," the clerk assured him. “Do you want to make
an appointment?”
"No, no,” said Ross hastily, "I'll take my chance
of seeing him if I come in. I'm pretty busy this
morning and I can't say when I may be free."
Had the clerk seen the Superintendent's next
move, he might have been surprised. Ross waited
just long enough to allow the lawyer to leave his
house; and then, with a brown-paper parcel under
his arm, he set out for Number 83 Warlingham
Road.
"Mr. Iverson at home?” he demanded, when the
maid opened the door.
"He's just gone into town a few minutes ago."
Superintendent Ross feigned vexation at this
news.
“Missed him, have I? That's a nuisance."
He paused, as though in reflection.


THE KEYSTONE
217
"You'd find him at his office, now," the maid sug-
gested.
"Unfortunately I'm in a hurry and haven't time
to go to his office."
"You might telephone him from here, if you like."
The Superintendent appeared for a moment to
accept this solution, then he seemed to change his
mind.
"I think I'd better leave a note," he decided. "Can
you give me some writing paper?"
As he went into the hall, in answer to her gesture
of invitation, the Superintendent put down his
brown-paper parcel and, taking off his overcoat,
hung it on the hatstand beside one of Iverson's. The
maid led him into the lawyer's study; and Ross, sit-
ting down at the desk, wrote a short letter which he
then sealed up in an envelope and handed to the
maid.
When he emerged again into the hall, he stepped
over to the hatstand and took down a coat; but
at that moment he seemed to change his mind
again.
"After all, I don't think we need bother about that
letter," he said, holding out his hand for it. "I think
I can just manage to find time to go and see Mr.
Iverson at his office."
The maid returned the envelope to him, and he
began to struggle into the overcoat.
"Hullo!" he said, in apparent surprise. "I must
have taken down the wrong coat."
He glanced at the tab inside the collar.
"Silly mistake, that," he said apologetically, as he


218
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
hung up Iverson's overcoat and took down his own
from the peg.
Then, picking up his brown-paper parcel, he left
the house. He had spent a certain amount of time in
getting the information he wanted; but, after all,
one can hardly go to a man's house and blurt out a
demand for the name of his tailor.
The Superintendent's next port of call was at the
address he had read on the tab of Iverson's over-
coat. There he demanded an interview with one of
the partners and disclosed his official position.
"We need your help, if you can give us it," he
explained, opening his brown-paper parcel. "We've
come across some stolen property lately, and we
want to get it identified, if possible. Would you mind
looking at this suit and seeing if you can tell whether
you made it or not?"
The tailor picked up the jacket and searched for
the identification tabs.
"Our name's not on it," he pointed out. "How did
you come to think of us?"
Superintendent Ross put on a mysterious ex-
pression.
"We have our own methods," he said, in a tone
which suggested extraordinary sources of informa-
tion.
"I recognise the cloth, certainly," the tailor ad-
mitted, as he examined it. "We had some of this
grey-brown stuff last year. We didn't get much of it
in, so perhaps I could track down the customers who
had suits made from it."
"And the measurements of the suit may let you


220
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
walked around it to the garage, which he opened
cautiously.
Once inside, he examined the floor, and, with a
half-suppressed exclamation of satisfaction, he noted
a few drops of oil on the concrete, just in the
position where they might have dripped from a
standing car. They were obviously not fresh; but
equally clearly they were not months old.
Superintendent Ross made a note in his pocket-
book and then set himself to a minute examination
of the floor of the garage in search of wheel marks.
Only one set of wheel tracks was visible, very faint
indeed; and Ross had to spend a considerable
amount of time before he could be quite certain of
the make of the tyres. A reference to his notebook
proved that this make of tyre was the one specified
in the description of Iverson's stolen car.
"It all fits together," he commented to himself, as
he locked up the garage again and returned to his
taxi. "There's just one point more; and if that
tallies, then we've got enough to convince any jury."
He returned to Hammersleigh, handed over the
keys to the contractor with a warning that on no
account must the garage be tampered with in the
meantime, and then took the next train back to
Horston.
As he settled himself comfortably in his seat, he
reflected that the last time he had made the journey
was on the afternoon of the day on which Preston
had been murdered; and it was with a certain satis-
faction that he contrasted the state of the case then
with the present position. Then, beyond Preston's


THE KEYSTONE
221
name, he knew practically nothing. Now he had all
the threads in his hands.
As a craftsman, it gave Superintendent Ross more
pleasure to defeat a skilful criminal than to track
down a mere blunderer; and in the Preston case he
felt the satisfaction which comes to a chess player
as he says, "Mate in three moves" to a worthy
opponent. Surveying the case in retrospect, he ad-
mitted to himself quite frankly that luck had stood
him in good stead at one point: the discovery of the
two railway tickets. Apart from them, he could claim
that the required evidence had been collected with
a definite policy in view; and, after all, the tickets
had fallen neatly into place in the already forged
chain of proof. He had been ready for them when
they turned up. The whole affair was practically
settled now. Three more facts, all easily ascertain-
able, and he could send the prosecutor into court
with a case which would convince any jury.
At the Horston terminus he went straight from the
train to a public telephone box and rang up
Inspector Mornington, to whom he gave some
instructions.
"Report to me as soon as you've put it through,"
he concluded. "I'm going straight on now to Doctor
Selby-Onslow's house."
Leaving the station, he hailed a taxi and drove to
Prince's Square. There he was fortunate enough to
find Doctor Selby-Onslow at home; and by pleading
urgency he was able to gain an immediate interview.
As the doctor came into the room, it was evident
that he had no liking for this unexpected visit.


222
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
"Well, what do you want now?" he demanded,
with more than a tinge of hostility in his voice.
Superintendent Ross wasted no time in pre-
liminaries.
"You keep a case book, I suppose, Doctor? I'd
like you to look up some entries in it."
The request evidently took Doctor Selby-Onslow
by surprise; but he stifled his astonishment with fair
success.
"It's against medical etiquette to tell you any-
thing about my patients' affairs," he objected.
"I'm not asking anything about your patients'
healths," the Superintendent explained. "I know you
can't say anything about matters of that sort. All I
want is to know when a certain patient called on
you. I could get that from your nurse, so there's no
medical etiquette involved; but I'd rather trust
your notes than her memory. That's why I come to
you first."
Doctor Selby-Onslow seemed still surprised at the
turn which the interview was taking. However, being
apparently satisfied on the point of etiquette, he
gave a nod of assent and waited sphinxlike for the
Superintendent to proceed.
"I believe that about the middle of November
Mr. Iverson, the lawyer, paid you a visit?" Ross
said interrogatively.
Doctor Selby-Onslow nodded again, crossed the
room to his desk, and pulled from a drawer a large
loose-leaf volume. He turned over the leaves of this
for a moment or two and then found the page he
wanted.


THE KEYSTONE 223
"Yes," he said, "Mr. Iverson came here during
my consulting hours on Thursday, November 15."
"Now," Superintendent Ross pursued, "I'd like
to know just exactly what happened in the course
of that visit of his. This is your consulting room,
isn't it? Was he shown in here, or into your waiting
room first of all?"
"How do I know?" Doctor Selby-Onslow retorted
in his customary way of asking a question instead
of answering the one put to him. "I don't receive my
patients on the doorstep and show them in myself."
"Perhaps your nurse who opens the door to
patients might know?"
"Possibly," said the doctor ungraciously. "Better
ask her. I can't tell you."
"Do you mind ringing for her?"
Doctor Selby-Onslow stepped over and rang the
bell. His mask counterfeited total indifference fairly
well; but it was clear to Ross that he was both
puzzled and inquisitive.
"Superintendent Ross wants to ask you some
questions," he explained, when the nurse appeared.
"Do you want to see her alone?" he added to Ross.
The Superintendent shook his head.
"I can ask my questions just as well in your pres-
ence," he said.
The doctor moved over to a chair, seated himself,
put his finger tips together, and seemed to isolate
himself in a brown study; but Ross noted that,
behind the mask, he was following the proceedings
with close attention.
"Now," said the Superintendent, turning to the


224
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
nurse with a reassuring smile, "I wonder if you can
remember Mr. Iverson, the lawyer. You know him
by sight, perhaps?"
"Oh, yes," she replied at once. "I know him quite
well."
"Then perhaps you could recall the last time he
came here?"
The girl considered for a moment or two.
"He hasn't been here for a while," she replied at
last.
"Surely you could come nearer it than that," Ross
suggested, encouragingly. "Was it this week? Or last
week? Or earlier than that?"
At length he succeeded in coaxing the girl to think
carefully; and her final statement coincided with
that of the doctor.
"The fifteenth of November?" Ross pursued.
"That's capital. Now try to remember just what
happened when he came here that day. You opened
the door to him? He came during the doctor's con-
sulting hours, perhaps?"
"Yes. Now I remember about it. He came in
without an appointment and I told him that several
patients were waiting. He didn't seem very pleased
at that; and he seemed in two minds about going
away again, instead of waiting his turn. Then he sort
of made up his mind about it and asked if there was
a room where he could write a letter or two while
he was waiting—the doctor's study would do, he
said. So I showed him in there, apart from the rest
of the patients; and he asked for some notepaper
and envelopes. Then I left him there until his turn


THE KEYSTONE
225
came; and then I showed him into the consulting
room."
"He was writing letters when you came back to
show him in? What was he writing with, do you
remember?"
"A fountain pen. He'd written two or three letters,
for I saw him put the envelopes into his pocket when
I came to call him."
"Ah! Now that's very good. That's very good
indeed," the Superintendent said, inspecting the
nurse benignantly. "And you won't forget any of
these points, will you? You'll keep them well in
mind? Splendid!"
He turned to the doctor.
"Do you mind if we go into your study? We
sha'n't be disturbing any one if we look in for a
moment? Thanks."
He ushered the nurse across the hall and into the
study, while Doctor Selby-Onslow followed them, as
though uncertain what was coming next.
"Now just look around," Ross suggested to the
girl. "Things here are much the same as they were
that day, I suppose? Some papers on the desk, the
typewriter there, the chairs much as they are now?"
"Just the same," she assured him.
"Ah, that's good. Now I thing that's really all
I have to ask you. Thanks for telling me these
things."
And with that, he skilfully shepherded the nurse
out of the room and closed the door. When he turned
to the doctor, all the surface benignity had gone
from his expression. That sort of thing was good


THE KEYSTONE
227
As Ross had good reason to know, the doctor was
still in ignorance of the fact that a spectacle lens had
been found in Preston's compartment; but the
Superintendent saw no reason for divulging this
information.
"I sha’n’t trouble you much further," he said,
evading a direct reply. "Just another point or two.
Cast your mind back to the time you were getting
into the 10.35 on the morning of the murder. Did you
see any one you recognised on the platform?”
Doctor Selby-Onslow considered for a moment or
two before answering.
"I saw Iverson—just caught a glimpse of him
going out at the gate in the barrier as I came up."
“Can you picture that clearly?”.
"More or less,” the doctor qualified cautiously.
“What sort of clothes had he on, for instance?"
Doctor Selby-Onslow closed his eyes, apparently
racking his memory.
“An ordinary dark overcoat, I remember-and a
grey felt hat—and, I think, dark trousers-brown-
ish, if anything. But I couldn't swear to all that.”
"Like the ones I'm wearing at this moment?”
The doctor shook his head decidedly.
“No, not in the least that shade.”
The Superintendent seemed nonplussed. Then an
idea appeared to strike him and he loosened the
string of his brown-paper parcel.
"Which would you say was nearest the tint?” he
asked. “My suit or this one here?"
Doctor Selby-Onslow examined both fabrics care-
fully in turn.


230 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
likely, to account for not sleeping in them often.
He'll have a fresh suit of clothes stored there, ready
to change his appearance as far as possible. You'd
better put out an S.O.S. on the wireless: describe
him as some one who's missing and may have lost
his memory. Give a wrong name, of course. His land-
lady may have a wireless; it's always a chance."
"He can't hang about in digs for long," Doctor
Selby-Onslow pointed out.
"I don't expect him to," Ross said impatiently.
"Horston's too hot to hold him. He'll get off to-night,
if he can, even if he has to walk on his ten toes."
"But where?" persisted the doctor.
"How do I know?" the Superintendent snapped,
with more than a tinge of irritation in his voice.
"He's got the initiative, as they used to say in the
War. We've got to conform to his movements, as
soon as we can find out what they are."
He failed to repress a gesture of annoyance.
"I couldn't have him watched, for fear of fright-
ening him into a bolt before I had my case ready.
All I could do was to pretend to swallow all the bits
of evidence he served up to me against other people
—you, among them. I thought I'd got him convinced
that I had no suspicions of him."
"So he was making out a case against me, was
he?" Doctor Selby-Onslow said in a voice which
even the teachings of "iEquinimitas" could hardly
keep steady. "I didn't know that."
"Oh, yes, you were to be the scapegoat," the Su-
perintendent said indifferently, as though his mind
were fixed on much more important matters.


THE KEYSTONE
Doctor Selby-Onslow was of the type which grows
pale when enraged. The blood receded from his face
as he heard the Superintendent's confirmation. For a
few moments he stood silent, as though digesting the
intelligence.
"I begin to see a few things now," he said at last,
slowly. "That wire, for instance—"
Ross paid no attention to him, and the doctor's
comment was broken off.
"I'm interested in hearing what success you
have," he went on grimly, after a pause. "Quite
natural, I think. May I come down to-night and hear
if you've any news?"
"Oh, if you like," Ross conceded. "But most likely
you won't find me there. This looks like being a busy
evening for some of us."
"Well, I'll take my chance," said the doctor. "And
now, if you like, I'll run you down town in my car.
It'll save you time."
He rang the bell, ordered the car, and gave in-
structions that he could see no more patients that
day.
"This beggar means to hang on to us if he can,"
the Superintendent reflected morosely. "He seems
to think he's got a claim to a front seat at the show.
Not much!"
A fresh idea seemed to cross his mind.
"Is your car fast?" he demanded in a different
tone.
"It'll do seventy-five without touching its limit,"
the doctor returned, with the air of a man stat-
ing a plain fact. "Do you want the loan of


228
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
"That one, I should say," he decided at last,
pointing to the stolen suit. "But I wouldn't swear to
the exact colour. It's just a vague impression I had."
"I daresay I can get some other people to help,"
Ross confided, thinking of Maddox and the ticket
collector at the station barrier.
Doctor Selby-Onslow had resumed his masklike
expression.
"I don't quite see where these inquiries are lead-
ing," he pointed out. "This is the Preston murder
case, I suppose?"
Before the Superintendent had time to reply, their
ears were caught by a prolonged ringing of an elec-
tric bell; a visitor was admitted at the front door;
and in a few moments Mornington was ushered into
the consulting room. A glance at his face showed
Ross that something had gone wrong.
"He's slipped through my fingers," he announced
curtly, making no attempt to excuse himself.
Superintendent Ross repressed a gesture of vex-
ation.
"What happened?" he demanded, keeping any
suggestion of blame out of his tone.
"He went to his office as usual this morning. Then
he was rung up from his house. So I learned from
the clerk who took the call. He didn't hear the mes-
sage itself. After that, Iverson went to his safe and
took out a number of packages. He put them in his
pockets. Then he left the office, leaving word that
he would be back soon after lunch. That was about
midday. I've traced him to a restaurant. He had
lunch there. After that, he ordered a large packet


THE KEYSTONE 229
of sandwiches to be made up and he took it away
with him when he left. After that, the trail's lost. He
disappeared, so far as we're concerned."
Superintendent Ross rubbed his chin for a mo-
ment or two as though considering this report before
making any comment on it.
"A curse on all officious maidservants," he said
at last, whimsically. "I wonder what possessed that
girl to give the show away. H'm! Perhaps he'd left
instructions with her to let him know if the police
called on him. That's likely enough. He had most of
his affairs cut and dried, ready for emergencies."
He reflected again in silence for a short time,
while Mornington and Doctor Selby-Onslow waited
for him to speak. The doctor's sphinxlike expression
had relaxed a little. Evidently he understood that he
was no longer under suspicion; and he could not
repress his relief at the turn of events.
"Ready for emergencies," Superintendent Ross
echoed himself. "That means he's got his get-away
all planned out in advance. Useless for him to think
of the railway."
"I got his description handed to the booking
clerks within ten minutes of finding we'd lost the
trail," Mornington explained. "Nobody answering to
anything like it has taken a ticket to-day."
"No, he won't try the railway," Ross continued.
"He's got a fair notion that we're pretty efficient on
that side of things. He won't risk it. But he can't
hang about the streets. Either he's in a picture house
or else he's dived into some digs he's taken long ago
—pretending to be a commercial traveller, most


230 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
likely, to account for not sleeping in them often.
He'll have a fresh suit of clothes stored there, ready
to change his appearance as far as possible. You'd
better put out an S.O.S. on the wireless: describe
him as some one who's missing and may have lost
his memory. Give a wrong name, of course. His land-
lady may have a wireless; it's always a chance."
"He can't hang about in digs for long," Doctor
Selby-Onslow pointed out.
"I don't expect him to," Ross said impatiently.
"Horston's too hot to hold him. He'll get off to-night,
if he can, even if he has to walk on his ten toes."
"But where?" persisted the doctor.
"How do I know?" the Superintendent snapped,
with more than a tinge of irritation in his voice.
"He's got the initiative, as they used to say in the
War. We've got to conform to his movements, as
soon as we can find out what they are."
He failed to repress a gesture of annoyance.
"I couldn't have him watched, for fear of fright-
ening him into a bolt before I had my case ready.
All I could do was to pretend to swallow all the bits
of evidence he served up to me against other people
—you, among them. I thought I'd got him convinced
that I had no suspicions of him."
"So he was making out a case against me, was
he?" Doctor Selby-Onslow said in a voice which
even the teachings of "^Equinimitas" could hardly
keep steady. "I didn't know that."
"Oh, yes, you were to be the scapegoat," the Su-
perintendent said indifferently, as though his mind
were fixed on much more important matters.


CHAPTER XVI: THE CHINK IN THE
ARMOUR
When Doctor Selby-Onslow offered the use of his
car to the police, his motive was not altogether dic-
tated by public spirit. The discovery that Iverson
intended, if possible, to make him the scapegoat in
the Preston case had roused feelings which even the
teachings of "iEquinimitas" were powerless to re-
press; and the plain truth was that he had a lively
desire to be in at the death and to witness the final
defeat of the man who had done his best to ruin
him. Through the evening, he waited impatiently for
a message from Ross; and, at eleven o'clock, tiring
of inaction, he took out his car and drove down to
interview the Superintendent in the hope of ex-
tracting some fresh news.
Ross received him without enthusiasm. He was
worried, and had little desire to be cross-questioned
by the doctor.
"There's nothing fresh," he said concisely, in
answer to Doctor Selby-Onslow's inquiries. "We
haven't got on his track yet."
In spite of the obvious desire to be rid of him, the
doctor sat down.
"I've nothing better to do," he explained. "Ill
wait here for a short time, on the chance of some-
thing turning up. My car's outside."


236 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
on the near side of the highway on the road out
from the city.
"Did you hear a shot as you came up?" he de-
manded, turning to the witness.
"After we found the body, I sort of recollected
I'd heard something like a bang—but it might
have been a motor backfiring. It didn't strike me
at the time, only afterwards, when we found the
body; because there was a motor standing just about
here when we came around the corner yonder, and
it drove off before we came up."
"Away from town, you mean? It didn't pass
you?"
"No. It was a saloon car, that's all I saw of it;
and I only saw that because I could make out its
outline against the glare of its headlights on the
road in front as it was standing. I didn't pay any
attention to it, for what's a car on the road? I didn't
see its number or anything like that—too far off,
even if I'd wanted to; and besides, I'd never have
thought of making a note of it. It was just a car
that had stopped, I thought."
The Superintendent turned to the policeman.
"You were coming along towards town? Then
the car must have passed you on the road. About
what time was that?"
"About twenty-five minutes ago, I should think.
Between that and half an hour. It was a saloon car,
as this man says."
"You didn't see the number?"
The constable shook his head. He had no orders
to stop cars, he pointed out; and the motor had


234 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
Ross was about to frame a formula of polite dis-
missal when the telephone bell rang. The Superin-
tendent picked up the receiver, listened without
comment to the message and then gave a few curt
directions over the wire. When he turned round,
the doctor saw that there had been an unpleasant
surprise.
"There's been another murder," Ross said
tersely.
"Iverson again?"
"How should I know?" Ross asked irritably. "A
man's been shot at Berry's Corner on the Kemps-
ford road. There's blood on the road; and the body
was dragged through a gate and put in behind the
hedge. A young fellow and his girl, looking for a
quiet spot to spoon in, stumbled on it. That's all
I know."
"Perhaps Iverson's get-away?" the doctor sug-
gested. "Perhaps he landed on some one who knew
him, and took the quickest way of silencing a wit-
ness. I remember the Spectator once said that the
one chink in the armour of civilisation was the as-
sumption that murder won't be committed. Iverson
found the chink once; he may have got his knife
through it a second time."
"I'm going down to see things," the Superintend-
ent said. "After that, it'll be time enough to the-
orise."
"My car's at the door," the doctor pointed out.
"Very well, we'll take it," Ross acquiesced.
The roads were clear at that time of night; and
in a very short time they reached the scene of the


236 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
on the near side of the highway on the road out
from the city.
"Did you hear a shot as you came up?" he de-
manded, turning to the witness.
"After we found the body, I sort of recollected
I'd heard something like a bang—but it might
have been a motor backfiring. It didn't strike me
at the time, only afterwards, when we found the
body; because there was a motor standing just about
here when we came around the corner yonder, and
it drove off before we came up."
"Away from town, you mean? It didn't pass
you?"
"No. It was a saloon car, that's all I saw of it;
and I only saw that because I could make out its
outline against the glare of its headlights on the
road in front as it was standing. I didn't pay any
attention to it, for what's a car on the road? I didn't
see its number or anything like that—too far off,
even if I'd wanted to; and besides, I'd never have
thought of making a note of it. It was just a car
that had stopped, I thought."
The Superintendent turned to the policeman.
"You were coming along towards town? Then
the car must have passed you on the road. About
what time was that?"
"About twenty-five minutes ago, I should think.
Between that and half an hour. It was a saloon car,
as this man says."
"You didn't see the number?"
The constable shook his head. He had no orders
to stop cars, he pointed out; and the motor had


238 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
I've fixed my flashlight on the top of the saloon, so
that they can recognise this car as it comes up to
them."
He got into the seat beside the doctor, and the
car moved off.
"Whether it's Iverson or not, this murderer has
between half an hour and forty minutes' start of
us," the Superintendent calculated. "He won't want
to drive too fast, for fear of attracting attention.
Say thirty miles an hour. That puts him some
twenty miles away from here, probably, by this
time."
"Somewhere round about that," the doctor con-
firmed. "If we do forty, including slowing down
here and there for information, we could pick him
up in three hours."
"Yes, if we knew exactly where to look for him,"
Ross remarked drily. "It's not so easy to locate a
man at a moment's notice in a thousand square miles
of country, with the available chances of escape
growing as he goes forward. Here's what I've done."
He seemed to go over his plan of campaign in
his mind before outlining it to the doctor.
"The coast's over yonder," he said, with a ges-
ture to the right. "A motor won't help him there;
and I've got to take the risk of his having a boat
ready somewhere. I don't think it's likely. That re-
duces his possible hiding area by about half. All
the railway stations are watched already; every
booking clerk and ticket collector has his descrip-
tion, for we put that through to them as soon as he
slipped between our fingers. His best hope would


244 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
Suddenly, ahead of them, shone the twin cones
of another car travelling in the same direction as
themselves. Doctor Selby-Onslow's horn roared, and
in a few seconds they had shot past the first of
the police cars which were on the track of the fugi-
tive.
The Superintendent, staring down the long vista
of the headlights' beams, cast his mind ahead of
them. Away there in the darkness, he hoped, the
great loose screen of patrols was spread out over
the country, a vast net of observation around the
murderer's flying car. And by this time, the avenues
of escape would be closing one by one, as the broken
glass came down on the side roads. In his mind's
eye, Ross could see this second network coming into
existence, blocking exit after exit from the trap.
In Superintendent Ross's experience, man hunting
was mainly a matter of collecting trifles of informa-
tion which eventually could be fitted into place in
the framework of a jig-saw puzzle. This night's
work was something fresh, and he enjoyed it to the
full. The exhilaration of the speed, the nervous ten-
sion born of the risks, the old hunting instinct, all
combined to lift him out of his normal mood, as
he listened to the swift thrum of the engine at his
feet.
A roar from the horn, a faint swerve, a glimpse
of a second car packed with uniformed men, and
once more they were alone in the night, flying head-
long on the track of the murderer.
Doctor Selby-Onslow, his eyes on the road ahead,
made a suggestion.


246 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
The doctor swung the car round a turn in the
road and brought it smoothly to a standstill. They
had come on to a long straight stretch, and the
beams of their powerful headlights lit up the high-
way like moonlight. A hundred yards away, clearly
visible in the glare, the hunted car was standing;
and from the driving seat a figure descended in
frantic haste.
"His tank's run dry," the Superintendent ex-
claimed, as he guessed the state of affairs. "We've
got him pinned down now."
The figure turned as he spoke; there was a flash
of light, and a bullet sang over their heads into
the darkness.
"It's all right," said Doctor Selby-Onslow col-
lectedly. "He can't see us to take aim, even if he
could do anything with a revolver at that distance.
He's just firing into the glare of my headlights on
the chance of winging us."
A second shot whistled out of the night and
smashed the windscreen in front of them, embedding
itself with a thud in the back cushions of the car.
No damage was done by the flying glass. In the
glare of their light they could see the man fever-
ishly busy with the spare tin of petrol on the foot-
board of the stolen car. Revolver in hand, the Su-
perintendent jumped down into the road.
"Wait a bit," the doctor said, checking him as
he was about to hurry off. "I've got an idea. If
you'll go and snipe at him—put a shot through
the car's tank, first of all, to disable it—and drive
him to take cover in that car, not behind it, I think


248
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
glare of the big car's headlights; and he began to
wonder what plan the doctor had in his mind to
cope with the situation. Just at that moment, the
great projectors began to move down the road; and
Ross, carefully calculating his tactics so as not to
expose himself in the changing glare, slipped to
one side, out of the way of the approaching car.
Swifter and swifter the lights bore down on him,
whilst the man in the car, awake to a fresh danger,
turned his revolver on the new and monstrous as-
sailant. As the car swung past Ross, he caught a
glimpse of the doctor sheltering behind a rough
breastwork of seat cushions and steering direct for
the car. Then, in an instant, Selby-Onslow's car was
wrapped in flame, and the Superintendent saw the
driver jump for safety while the blazing wreck
rushed forward like a gigantic torch. A moment
later, the two cars collided with a crash. There
was a tinkle of splintered glass; and over the ruin
the flames blazed up like a beacon into the night sky.
Superintendent Ross, throwing caution to the
winds, started down the road towards the bonfire.
The doctor, at whatever cost to himself, had deliv-
ered the quarry into the hands of the hunters.
Scorched, blinded and choked, he could be in no
state to put up a fight. And as the Superintendent
dashed up to the wreckage, out of the furnace there
struggled a figure, with clothes afire, which stag-
gered gropingly towards safety.
Ross pounced on the helpless creature, beat out
the flames, and then, before he had recovered from
the shock, fixed a pair of handcuffs on his wrists.


CHAPTER XVII: THE PIECES OF THE
PUZZLE
"So you saw Iverson before they hanged him, I
heard?"
As he spoke, Doctor Selby-Onslow pushed a box
of cigars across to the Superintendent and made a
gesture of invitation towards the whiskey decanter.
They were in the doctor's study; but the atmos-
phere of this meeting was markedly different from
that of their earlier encounters.
"He asked me to visit him in the condemned
cell," Ross confirmed, as he cut the cigar he had
selected. "He was just the same, as cool as
ever."
"Changed surroundings, though."
"Oh, it isn't in the least like a prison cell, you
know," the Superintendent explained. "It's just a
sort of rather cosy sitting room: easy chairs, books,
nice carpet, bright fire burning. Except for the two
warders on guard night and day, you'd never asso-
ciate it with prison. And, of course, he was wearing
one of his own suits — no convict uniform in his
case. To tell you the truth, I felt far more embar-
rassed than he appeared to be. But he managed
to put me at my ease. He wanted me to understand
that he bore no malice. Humanity's a rum contriv-
ance, really."


252 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
The Superintendent lighted his cigar and stared
at the fire for a moment or two.
"The funny thing is that I believed him," he
continued. "He didn't talk any stuff about forgiving
me for having brought him to the gallows; he just
took it for granted that I'd been doing the job I was
paid for and that there was nothing personal in
the matter at all. A very detached outlook, alto-
gether. Then he explained he'd been adding a codi-
cil to his will."
"Left you a legacy?" asked the doctor sardon-
ically.
"The joke's on you," said the Superintendent.
"He did. He's left me his criminology library."
"Well, I'm damned!"
"That's as it may be," said Ross, echoing the
doctor's sardonic tone, "but a fact's a fact. He
wanted, it seems, to prove that he really bore no
ill will; and he thought that would be a rather
nice way of showing it. So it was. He knew I envied
him that collection of his."
"So you shook hands and parted on the best of
terms?"
"He wanted something first."
"What was that, if one may ask?"
"Exactly what you wanted when you asked me
here tonight. He wanted to know how I'd put two
and two together. Oh, one can't help having a cer-
tain respect for that side of him, even if one doesn't
admire him on the whole, by any means. It was a
piece of pure intellectual curiosity on his part; he
wanted to hear what slips he'd made."


2 54 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
set you on the right track, and then you begin
searching for others, and so on, until at last you
get from uncertainty to certainty. It's the same with
us in our line; only what you call symptoms, we
call clues, and what a medical man would term diag-
nosis is what we call getting up a case. The meth-
od's the same, if the names are different. And that's
why I expect you'll appreciate that we, in the po-
lice, don't always get straight on the track imme-
diately. We have to worry through a lot of con-
fusing symptoms and settle which are the important
ones, before we can get to the root of the trouble—
just like you, at times, I expect."
Doctor Selby-Onslow gave a judicial nod to show
his acceptance of the parallelism.
"I was at Kempsford Junction when Preston's
body was found," the Superintendent continued.
"It was a clear case of murder. The first rum symp-
tom I struck was the fact that a shot from an auto-
matic pistol, obviously fired in the carriage, hadn't
had enough vim in it to penetrate the upholstery
of the carriage. Then we found that Preston had
been shot at with bullets of two calibres—small
automatic pistol bullets and heavy revolver bul-
lets."
Ross then outlined the facts with regard to
the wounds which had been elicited at the
station.
"This was a determined murder," he continued.
"Now, I couldn't imagine a pair of determined mur-
derers, one of whom took care to arm himself with
a pistol that would hardly shoot a dent in a pat of


2$6 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
because a bullet aimed inside the carriage would
be apt to leave unfortunate traces."
"I've no quarrel with the reasoning," Doctor
Selby-Onslow admitted.
"It was all pure hypothesis," the Superintendent
hastened to make clear, "just as I guess some of
your preliminary hunt for the seat of a disease is
based on hypothesis. It's the only road open, when
one knows next to nothing. In any case, it's safer
to overestimate an opponent than it is to under-
estimate him. So I assumed on the face of things
that I'd a pretty cool and cautious criminal to deal
with.
"That made me a bit careful of accepting some
things at their face value. There was a bit of a
spectacle lens on the floor of the compartment. It
might be one of three things. It might have belonged
to Preston, or it might have belonged to the mur-
derer, or it might have been planted by the mur-
derer to incriminate a third party. It turned out
not to be Preston's. Therefore it was either the
murderer's or was planted by the murderer to throw
suspicion on a third person."
"It was mine, I suppose?" Doctor Selby-Onslow
interjected.
"I'm coming to it by-and-by," said the Superin-
tendent, holding up his hand to deprecate further
inquiry at the moment. "It fits in better later on.
It was apparently a part of a pair of reading glasses,
so far as I could find out at the time. That's all I
knew about it, except that it was a cylindro-spheri-
cal lens such as an astigmatic person might use.


THE PIECES OF THE PUZZLE 257
"Finally, there was a bad fog on the line that
morning. Now, obviously, if this affair had been
planned and rehearsed so carefully, the fog was
an accidental complication which couldn't have en-
tered into the murderer's original plans. His initial
scheme didn't require a fog. But if there was a fog,
it was just on the cards that the murderer might
see his way to profit by it and diverge from his
original plot. It might look like a gift from the gods,
too good to waste; and he might have dropped his
cut-and-dried arrangements to take advantage of
it. That had to be kept in mind."
Superintendent Ross knocked the ash off his cigar
with an air of regret, before pursuing his story.
"I suppose, Doctor," he went on, "that you might
have a patient coming to you and reeling off a lot
of symptoms which made it look like a case of an-
gina pectoris, while all the time it was just indiges-
tion and nothing more? I knew a fellow once who
imagined he'd heart disease on the strength of that.
A good laugh we had at him, when the truth came
out, after all the sympathy we'd wasted on him.
Well, the Preston case played the same game on
me; it began to trot out a lot of clues that looked
like angina and turned out to be nothing important,
after all. I'm not going to deny that I got a very
bad impression from Miss Winslow and especially
that woman Poole."
"I've settled with the woman Poole," Doctor
Selby-Onslow said grimly. "We discovered the sort
of thing she'd been spreading abroad, and we put
a stop to it—pretty sharply. There wasn't a word


THE PIECES OF THE PUZZLE 259
on to the money, it was bound to lead us somewhere
in the murderer's direction at least."
Doctor Selby-Onslow, sunk back in his chair in
his favourite attitude, examined his joined finger tips
in the pause which the Superintendent made in his
narrative at this point.
"You certainly hadn't got very far at that stage,"
he commented.
"I'd been at work for exactly six hours, includ-
ing the time I spent on the railway, coming in from
Kempsford Junction," the Superintendent retorted.
"I don't profess to work by divination, you know.
And my clues aren't all collected together in the
carcass of a patient, as yours are. I've got to hunt
for them over a widish stretch of country at times."
"I didn't mean to be sarcastic," the doctor as-
sured him, in a slightly less superior tone. "I was
merely stating what seemed obvious."
"The last point of the three," Ross went on, ig-
noring the explanation, "wasn't of much apparent
value at the time. I learned that Preston was one
of the two trustees for the estate of Miss Winslow;
and the remaining trustee was Iverson. That put me
on to Iverson, naturally, as a man who might give
me some pointers about Preston's personal affairs;
and I went off to see him at once.
"What I learned about Iverson you could put in
a nutshell. He had an excellent library on crime;
he'd had his car stolen from Oxenden Grange that
morning; he'd been down there by a previous ap-
pointment to see a contractor about some altera-
tions, an appointment which he'd fixed himself; and


2$8 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
of truth in it. She was a pathological case, that crea-
ture. She got some obscure satisfaction out of her
lies, something a bit inkier than mere spleen, you
understand?"
The Superintendent hastened to get off the thin
ice.
"Apart from all the misleading stuff, I did get
three points of importance at that juncture," he
went on, without giving the doctor a chance of am-
plifying his statements. "The first was about Pres-
ton's slavery to routine; and of course that made
it clear how the murderer could reckon so firmly on
a fixed plan, drawn up a week ahead, at least. But
that implied that the murderer was some one who
knew Preston fairly well—well enough to bank
on the routine as part of his scheme. Unfortunately,
that was rather a washout as a clue, for everybody
seemed to know about his methods: the household,
the people at the bank, all his employes here and
at Hammersleigh. Still, it was always something.
"Then there was the missing money point. Every
week he took down the factory wages on Friday
morning by the 10.35 train. We found no trace of
any such sum on the body or in the railway carriage.
Obviously, since he was an absolute slave to rou-
tine, he must have had that money with him when
he left Horston; and it disappeared en route. Now
many a man will commit a cold-blooded murder for
far less cash than the sum Preston had with him.
And whether the murder was done for the sake of
the cash or not, the murderer had evidently got rid
of the money, somehow or other. If we could get


THE PIECES OF THE PUZZLE 263
"How the devil could it be?" he demanded.
"You'll see in due course. But what struck me as
curious was that it was a lens from reading glasses.
You wear a different pair of spectacles for normal
work. If you were the murderer, and these glasses
had been broken in a struggle in the carriage, how
did you come to be wearing reading glasses when
your normal glasses would suit the business so much
better? It looked a bit queer.
"As to the typewriter, I compared my own copy
of the decoy telegram with the typewritten original
which I got from Morpledene Post Office—the
thing that was sent to them by post and which
they telegraphed on to you first thing in the morn-
ing—and I found they'd both been typed on your
machine. The characteristics were identical in the
two.
"Now, either you had typed the decoy yourself,
or else it had been typed by some one who had
access to your machine. That was plain. If you
were the murderer, you might have typed it your-
self, not knowing how easily the work of a particu-
lar machine can be identified. But you certainly
wouldn't voluntarily have dropped a bit of your
reading glasses in the carriage. Question arose: Was
there any one else who had access to your glasses
and to your typewriter? And, you remember, you
told me that you'd lost your reading glasses not
so long before. That didn't clear you; for you might
have broken your glasses in the carriage and tried
to cover up the business by saying you'd lost them.
Still, it made me think a bit.


THE PIECES OF THE PUZZLE 265
help remembering that Preston's death left Iverson
as sole trustee for Miss Winslow and gave him com-
plete control of her money until she was twenty-
five. That might be a motive. It was worth follow-
ing up, anyhow.
"Then another thing struck me. All the places
of importance in the case lay near together. There
was Oxenden Grange, where Iverson had been to
meet the contractor that morning; there was the
point on the line where the murder was committed;
there was the spot where the attache case was flung
out of the window into a clump of bushes; there
was Whitacre's house, where the telephone line had
been cut; there was Hammer sleigh Station, near
which this hypothetical murderer must have got off
the train. On a motoring map, you could cover the
lot of them with a half-crown, almost. That seemed
suggestive, somehow, though at the time I couldn't
be sure it amounted to much.
"I went off to pay a second visit to Iverson,
posing as a simple soul—a bit out of my depth—
and asking for his help in the matter of the typing
of the decoy telegram. He reacted better than I'd
hoped. I suppose he thought I'd fairly played into
his hands by going to him for advice; and he gave
me the help I asked for. But, I noticed he was able
to turn at once to the very page in one of his books
which dealt with forged typewriting—no hesitation
of any sort, no considering where he'd find the
best account of the matter. No, he just opened the
book at the right place, read me a bit, and then
turned back to another reference three hundred


THE PIECES OF THE PUZZLE 267
the effect of the evidence. But once he started, he
was quite free with the information—told me all
about it in detail, and explained most carefully what
a hole you'd be in if Preston won a divorce action
with you as co-respondent. In fact, he made it seem
quite worth your while to put Preston out of the
way before the case got under way."
"I'm not so sure about that," said Doctor Selby-
Onslow, drily. "The woman Poole might have been
glib enough with her lies to satisfy a man who
wanted to believe her, but she wouldn't have stood
cross-examination for ten minutes in the witness
box. It was a pack of lies from start to finish."
The Superintendent had no desire to discuss this
side of the matter; it was no affair of his.
"Well, to get on with my story," he continued,
"Iverson painted a pretty black picture, but he was
careful not to accuse you in the most indirect way.
In fact, as a counterpiece, he set up an absurd—
purposely absurd, I think—sketch of how the whole
affair might have been a case of suicide. Deadly
moderation was his cue, you see?
"But in elaborating his tale, he made just one
slip, though I don't suppose he knew he was doing
it. He volunteered that he was a patient of yours.
And that was the thing I particularly wanted to
know, just then. Quite casually, I asked him when
he'd seen you, and he admitted he'd been at your
house on November 15th. The obvious question
was: Had he then got access to your typewriter
and your reading glasses? If so, then things looked
as if they would fit together fairly neatly. Doctor


268
THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
Whitacre's telephone wire, you remember, was cut
on the evening of the fifteenth, and it was the first
overt move in the game that culminated in the
Preston murder. That move implied that the mur-
derer had already had access to your typewriter
and had in his pocket the decoy telegram which he
must have typed in your study. If he had not, there
was no point in cutting the wire.
"But before I could take up that line of inquiry,
some fresh evidence dropped in from a new quar-
ter. We got hold of Tenbury, the contractor for the
alterations at Oxenden Grange; and he testified that
when he drove up to the gate of the house at noon
on the day of the murder, he found Iverson's car
already there, and Iverson had just opened the big
gates to let the cars through. They left the two
cars standing there and went up to the house on
foot. Meanwhile, two fellows came along and lifted
Iverson's car.
"We caught these chaps and one of them squealed
without too much persuasion. He described exactly
how they'd driven off in Iverson's car, and he told
us, just in passing and with no stress on the point,
that they'd had difficulty in getting Iverson's car
to start. The engine was stone cold."
Doctor Selby-Onslow's eyebrows lifted.
"Stone cold?" he demanded.
"'Stone cold' was the word he used. Well—could
any engine be stone cold immediately after having
been driven for twenty miles or more? Not without
a special intervention of Providence. But it was
stone cold. Therefore it hadn't been driven twenty


270 THE TWO TICKET PUZZLE
from his prearranged plan and slipped off the train
when it stopped at the signal before Hammersleigh.
By that means, he saved time and had a shorter
distance to walk to the Grange.
"Since he came by train, and since Tenbury saw
him in his car at the gate of the Grange, it was
clear enough that the car must have been left at
the Grange—in the garage—overnight. And fur-
ther, since Tenbury was going over the Grange,
Iverson couldn't leave his Clothes lying about there.
He'd do his changing in the garage and put the dis-
carded suit into a bag or suit case in the car, where
it wouldn't strike Tenbury as odd, even if he hap-
pened to notice the case at all. Then he'd drive his
car out of the garage down to the gate and arrange
things so that when the contractor came up, it
would look as though Iverson had just arrived from
town that moment"
"That's a very neat attempt at an alibi," Doctor
Selby-Onslow commented judicially.
"It was neat enough to take me in—for a time,"
the Superintendent admitted. "It seemed quite all
right. But the car thief's evidence about the engine
being stone cold killed it at one stroke. Also, I found
fresh oil on the garage floor, showing that a car had
stood there not long before. And, what was more
serious for Iverson, I guessed that the car thieves
must have got away with more than the car itself.
They must have stolen Iverson's clothes as well, if
my notions were correct, for he would stow his suit
away in his car after changing.
"Without details, I may say that we got hold of


THE PIECES OF THE PUZZLE
275
Friday, 16th.
Iverson carries out rehearsal of
the murder, travelling on the
10.35 and accidentally shooting
the ram. At Hammersleigh, on
the way back, he buys the two
tickets.
Saturday, 17th.
Iverson arranges his meeting with
Tenbury at Oxenden Grange.
Thursday, 22 nd.
Iverson goes out in his car, cuts
Doctor Whitacre's telephone
wire, posts the decoy telegram,
and leaves his car in the garage
at Oxenden Grange, returning
home by rail.
Friday, 23rd.
Murder of Preston.
Doctor Selby-Onslow read through the schedule
point by point before making any comment.
"If he thought all that out between the twelfth
and the fourteenth, he must have done some quick
planning," he said at last. "Of course, most of it
was directed towards manoeuvring me on to the
10.35 train that morning. Rather neatly contrived,
one has to admit it. And another thing, I notice that
he planned the whole business so that he wasn't
committed in any way up to the very moment when
he fired his first shot. If anything unforeseen inter-
fered with his plans, at any stage in his game, he
could simply stop short and there was nothing to
incriminate him. One must give him good marks for
ingenuity, whatever one thinks of his moral charac-
ter."
He paused for a moment and then added:





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