6 A 6











THE HARVEST MURDER
By John Rhode
Author of
Dr. Priestley Investigates, Murder at the Motor Show, etc.
Sergeant Wragge happened to see it there, lying by the
side of the road, and decided to take care of it himself. After
all, a twelve-inch butcher knife is nothing to be left loose on
a public highway. When he noticed those curious stains on
the blade, his suspicions were more than aroused and he felt
that he must be ready for trouble.
The Sergeant's forebodings were swiftly corroborated by
the events that followed—robbery, a mysterious disappear-
ance, perhaps murder; so he felt that he was justified in
demanding the aid of Scotland Yard. The careful investiga-
tions of Inspector Hanslet and Jimmy Waghorn soon had
them on the right track; but it was Dr. Priestley's quiet,
seemingly enigmatic suggestion that finally unearthed the
solution.


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THE
HARVEST
MURDER
A DR. PRIESTLEY DETECTIVE STORY
BY
JOHN RHODE
DODD, MEAD & COMPANY
NEWYORK 1937


Copyright, 1937
By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, Inc.
ALL EIGHTS RESERVED
NO PART OF THIS BOOK MAY BE REPRODUCED IN ANY FORM
WITHOUT PERMISSION IN WRITING FROM THE PUBLISHER
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
BY THE VAIL-BALLOU PRESS, INC., BINGHAUTON, N. Y.


THE HARVEST MURDER





CHAPTER I'
Under ordinary circumstances Sergeant Wragge would have
greatly resented being disturbed at the untimely hour of
nine o'clock on Sunday morning. But past experience had
taught him that hop picking time was altogether exceptional.
Almost anything might be expected to happen while it con-
tinued. And on this particular morning, September first,
hop picking had been in progress for about a week.
The effect of the hop picking season upon a little place
like Culverden must be emphasized at the outset. For a period
of three or four weeks every year the normal quietude of
the countryside is completely shattered. An influx of towns-
folk, far outnumbering the regular inhabitants, descends
upon it. The fact that one farm alone is in the habit of em-
ploying three thousand workers, drawn almost without ex-
ception from the East End of London, may convey some idea
of the extent of this invasion. Nor are the hop pickers the
only invaders that have to be reckoned with, for during the
week-end all their friends and relations come down in a solid
phalanx to visit them.
As may be supposed, then, the usual routine of things at
Culverden is apt to be disorganized during hop picking time.
The inhabitants regard hop picking very much as they would
some recurrent natural phenomenon. It is an essential point
in their calendar. People say that such and such a thing hap-
pened just before last hop picking, or that somebody's wed-
ding took place a couple of months after hop picking five years
ago—so powerfully does the upheaval of hop picking im-
press itself upon their imaginations and memories.


2
THE HARVEST MURDER
When the telephone call came through, Sergeant Wragge
had already finished his breakfast. He had just put on his
uniform and was ready to start off on a morning round of
inspection. He left his cottage without any undue haste, took
his bicycle from the shed near the back door and rode off.
His route took him through the main street of the little
town of Culverden, and even at this hour the symptoms of
hop picking were unmistakable. Normally the street would
have been practically deserted. But on this particular Sun-
day morning, which happened to be brilliantly fine, it was
full of life. Groups of girls, in the most surprising finery,
stood about laughing and chattering with extraordinary ani-
mation. The male element was less predominant. There was,
as yet, nothing to bring the men from their belated sleep in
the shelter of the hop houses. Only a few resigned figures
leaned against the walls of the public houses, which would
not open for another three hours. Some of these showed
symptoms of alertness as the Sergeant passed on his bicycle.
It was just possible that, the coast being thus clear, the
landlord might be induced to open his window, if only for
a moment. It needs so short a moment for a thirsty man to
imbibe a pint of beer I
Sergeant Wragge smiled slightly to himself. Experience
had taught him that it was folly to be unreasonable. He knew
very well that during hop picking the licensing laws were
not observed to the letter. Mere drinking, in his eyes, was
not a crime, at whatever hour of the day it might be indulged
in. And this morning, according to the telephone message
which he had received, a really serious matter was awaiting
his attention. He glanced at the thirsty loungers, at the osten-
tatiously closed doors and windows of the public houses,
and passed on.


THE HARVEST MURDER
3
Once clear of the town the road ran between a long succes-
sion of hop gardens on either side. The hops, dependent from
their tall poles, hung in fragrant bunches. Here and there
among the gardens lay a green meadow upon which the hopper
huts were erected in a long row. These were often no more
than mere sheds, but they seemed capable of accommodating
an astounding number of people. Each group of hopper huts
had its own cookhouse, and around these dense crowds of
men, women and children were assembled. Cheerful crowds
they were too, thoroughly enjoying the experience of a fine
morning in the country. Sergeant Wragge eyed them benevo-
lently. They were all right, these queer London folk, when
you knew how to treat them. It was rarely that the hop
pickers themselves gave any trouble, but some of the friends
who came down to visit them at the week-ends were pretty
tough customers, and among so many thousands there was
no possibility of keeping proper track of them.
For a mile and a half the almost unbroken succession of
hop gardens continued. All this way, dotted at intervals
along the roadside, rose the conical shapes of the oast houses,
sometimes singly, sometimes in groups of three or more. The
faint scented vapour floating from their cowls was the only
indication of the fire burning beneath the layers of hops. The
expert hop driers, local men all, who tended those fires re-
mained invisible. The Sergeant glanced at the passers-by he
met. But their faces were all strange to him, hop pickers
from the various farms strolling aimlessly toward Culverden.
As he proceeded along the road he reached a point where
the hop gardens ended abruptly. There was no apparent rea-
son why they should do so. Probably it was because of some
change in the nature of the soil. Beyond this point the as-
pect of the landscape began to change. The hop gardens gave


THE HARVEST MURDER
S
couldn't leave a thing like that lying by the wayside. Some-
body might come along and tread on it. Very likely they'd
get a nasty cut. He took a length of string from his pocket
and with this carefully tied the knife to the crossbar of his
bicycle. Then he mounted once more and proceeded on his
way.
He reached Paddock Croft about half an hour after he
had started from Culverden. The house was squarely built
and of medium size. It stood some little distance back from
the road and was approached by a short drive. As Wragge
rode up the drive the front door of the house opened, and
its owner, Mr. Speight, came out to meet him.
Speight was a man of middle age who had retired early
from a lucrative position of some sort in the City. He had
been settled at Paddock Croft for a matter of five years or
so, and had by now become a member of local societies. He
and Mrs. Speight entertained freely and were correspond-
ingly entertained in return. Sergeant Wragge, as he once
expressed himself confidentially, had no particular use for
Speight. It wasn't that he had anything definite against him,
but, in Wragge's opinion, a man of Speight's position and
means might do a little more for his poorer neighbours than
he did. He was reputed to be a hard man and was not over-
popular in the village of Matling.
"Good morning, Sergeant," said Speight in reply to
Wragge's rather perfunctory salute. "I'm glad you've come
along so promptly. I've been on the lookout for you ever
since I telephoned. It's a most annoying affair. One of those
confounded hop pickers is at the bottom of it, I'll be bound.
Come along in and I'll tell you the story."
He led the way into the hall. "I'll take you upstairs and
show you where it happened in a moment," he continued. "I


6
THE HARVEST MURDER
expect you'd like to hear first why it wasn't discovered until
this morning. You see, my wife and I went out to dinner and
bridge last night with Colonel Cranby, who lives on the other
side of Culverden. We left here in the car at half past seven
and weren't back till after midnight. My wife had a shock-
ing bad headache all the evening. It was terribly hot and
close at the Cranbys'. So when she came back she undressed
and went to bed at once. She never thought of looking in her
jewel case until this morning, and when she did she found
that it was empty."
"Who remained in the house during your absence, Mr.
Speight?" Wragge asked.
"Oh, the servants. Three of them, you know. Their quar-
ters are at the other side of the house, and they wouldn't
have heard anything. The jewel case was standing on my
wife's dressing table where it always is. I've told her more
than once that she ought to keep it locked up, but women
are so careless in those matters, you know. And the fellow
got in by the window, there's no doubt of that. There's
some soil from the garden on the carpet just inside it. But
come along, I expect you'd like to see for yourself."
He led the way upstairs into a luxuriously equipped dress-
ing room. Wragge, glancing round, saw that it had two case-
ment windows both of which were now tightly shut. Speight
pointed to the carpet in front of one of these. "There you
are!" he exclaimed triumphantly.
Wragge followed the direction of his pointing finger. On
the light blue carpet there was a dark smudge which upon
inspection proved to consist of several grains of earth.
"This window was left open while you were out, Mr.
Speight?" the Sergeant asked.
"Yes, it was wide open—wide as it could be, and hooked


THE HARVEST MURDER
7
back. Both Mrs. Speight and myself like as much fresh air
as we can get. And the jewel box was standing exactly where
you see it now. I wouldn't let anybody touch it until you
came. That's it on the corner of the dressing table."
Speight pointed out a silver casket about the size of a
small biscuit tin. "My wife keeps nearly all her jewellery in
that," he continued. "It was given to her as a wedding pres-
ent by her godmother and she's very much attached to it.
It wouldn't have happened if she'd kept her things locked
up in a safe as I've always advised her. Last night, when she
was dressing before we went out, she opened the box to take
out a couple of emerald earrings. And when she next looked
at the box, before she came down to breakfast this morning,
it was empty. Absolutely cleaned out. Not a thing left in it."
"Can you give me a list of the articles that are missing,
Mr. Speight?" Wragge asked.
Speight shrugged his shoulders. "I'll do my best," he re-
plied. "I asked my wife as soon as she told me of the loss
if she knew what had been taken. She wrote down all she
could remember on a piece of paper, but we can't be certain
that she's thought of everything. I've got the paper in my
pocket. Here it is."
Wragge took the slip of notepaper which Speight handed
him and glanced over it. About a dozen articles of jewellery
were enumerated. Diamond rings, a pearl necklace, a pair of
platinum bracelets, various pendants set with precious stones
and so forth—a collection, Wragge imagined, of some con-
siderable value.
Speight's theory was probably correct. The garden mould
upon the carpet certainly suggested that the thief entered
by the window. The Sergeant opened the window and glanced
out. He saw that the sill was no more than ten feet above


8
THE HARVEST MURDER
the ground level. Directly beneath the window was a narrow
flower bed and beyond that a grass plot. Wragge shut the
window and turned to Speight.
"I think I should like to go down and look about outside,"
he said.
Speight led the way downstairs through a side door into
the garden.
"That's the window of my wife's dressing room," he said,
pointing toward the house.
They walked to the flower bed immediately beneath it.
There had been no rain for some days and the ground was
fairly hard, but in spite of this, at the outer edge of the
flower bed two rounded depressions were plainly to be seen.
These were about fifteen inches apart and perhaps a couple
of inches deep. The Sergeant looked at them and nodded
wisely.
"Have you got a ladder about the place, Mr. Speight?" he
asked.
"Why yes, there's a ladder hanging up against the garden
wall not more than a few yards from here," Speight replied.
"I should like to see it if you don't mind, Mr. Speight,"
said Wragge.
Speight took him across the grass plot to a wall upon
which were trained a number of fruit trees. They passed
through a gate set in this wall which led them into the
kitchen garden. On the further side of the wall were a couple
of iron hooks and on these was hung a twenty-rung ladder.
The Sergeant looked at it for a few seconds then picked
it up and carried it to the window. There he raised it against
the wall of the house with the lower ends resting in the de-
pressions he had already noticed. The ends of the ladder
fitted these depressions exactly. Further, with the ladder


THE HARVEST MURDER
9
resting against the wall in this position, it would be a per-
fectly simple matter for anyone to climb up it and so step
into the dressing room through the window.
"Yes, that's the way the thief got in, no doubt," said
Speight. "Very smart of you to tumble at once to the ladder
like that, Sergeant. Now the point is, who was it, and what's
become of the jewellery? I can't tell you how upset my wife
is by this affair. She went straight back to bed as soon as
she discovered what had happened."
The Sergeant made no reply, for at present these ques-
tions were unanswerable. He walked slowly up and down
the grass plot looking about him.
"The servants' quarters are on the other side of the house
you say, Mr. Speight?" he said.
"Yes, that's right. And the only windows on the ground
floor looking out this way are those of the drawing room
and the dining room. Since we were out, there would be no-
body in either of those rooms, of course. The fellow, who-
ever he was, could have put the ladder up against the wall
without anybody being a penny the wiser. What I can't
understand is why he left the jewel box behind him. It's of
considerable value, as you can see for yourself."
"Too bulky to carry," the Sergeant replied tersely. "Just
cleaned it out and emptied the contents into his pocket. Well,
I'll do my best for you, Mr. Speight. You don't mind if I
potter round here for a bit, do you?"
"You must take any steps you think fit," Speight replied.
"I think I'll go in now and tell my wife you're here. I'm sure
she'll be relieved to know that something is being done
about it."
The Sergeant was rather relieved to be rid of him. He
began to explore minutely the outside of the premises. There


10
THE HARVEST MURDER
was just a possibility that the thief had left some sort of
clue behind him, but on the hard and unyielding ground
this seemed rather a faint hope. It did not take him long to
discover that there was no need for anyone wishing to reach
that side of the house to approach it from the road. The gar-
den sloped toward an open meadow, from which it was sepa-
rated merely by a four-foot iron railing. Across this meadow
was a public pathway. It would be the simplest thing in the
world for anyone to leave this pathway, cross the meadow,
climb the iron fence and so find himself in the garden.
Another point which Wragge ascertained was this. Al-
though only the first floor of the house was visible from the
pathway, the wall upon which the ladder had hung was
plainly to be seen. In fact, from one point of the path the
ladder itself could be discerned without difficulty. The path,
from its appearance, seemed to be frequently used. Indeed,
during his inspection of it, two or three straggling hop pick-
ers passed him, wending their way toward Matling.
It was on his way back to the house from this path that
Wragge made his first discovery. It had occurred to him
that an intruder wishing to reach the house would not risk
walking openly across the grass plot. He would instinctively
seek some cover for his approach. And, as it happened, this
was readily available. A gravel path skirted the grass plot,
and this was overhung by the branches of a line of orna-
mental trees. Wragge followed this route with his eyes upon
the ground, seeking some unlikely clue. He happened to
look up and saw in the branches of the trees above him a
patch of scarlet. Closer investigation showed a suspended
paper cap, bright green with a red cockade upon it.
Such an object in such a place might well have puzzled
anyone unacquainted with the neighbourhood. But it did not


THE HARVEST MURDER
11
puzzle Sergeant Wragge. His experience of the etiquette of
the hop picking fraternity was profound. It was considered
the thing for visitors to the hop fields to assume a holiday
appearance. This was usually done by the wearing of paper
caps of divers hues and shapes. It was not likely that Mr.
Speight or any of his household were in the habit of wearing
paper caps in the garden. This cap, then, had almost cer-
tainly been the property of one of the hop pickers or their
friends.
He detached it carefully from the thorn which had pierced
it and turned it over in his hands. It was very slightly damp
and had lost some of its original stiffness. But the colours
seemed as bright as ever, and the paper was untorn. It could
not have been exposed to the dew and the weather for more
than one night. This seemed to the Sergeant to prove con-
clusively that the cap had belonged to the thief.
This find was an unexpected piece of luck. Surely some-
body would remember the man or woman who had been
wearing this cap on the previous day. And then Wragge
smiled rather ruefully. Remember, yes. They might remem-
ber, all right, but whether they would confide their memories
to the police was quite another question.
Despite a minute examination of the exterior of the prem-
ises, the Sergeant found no further clue. He folded up the
cap and put it in his pocket. Then he re-entered the house,
where he found Speight awaiting him.
"Any luck, Sergeant?" the latter asked.
Wragge did not feel disposed to disclose the discovery of
the cap. "As good as can be expected, Mr. Speight," he re-
plied. "I shall have to go away now and make certain in-
quiries in the neighbourhood. And I shall be very grateful if
you will allow me to take the jewel box with me."


12 THE HARVEST MURDER
"The jewel box!" Speight exclaimed. "Why whatever for?
It's quite empty, as you've seen for yourself."
The Sergeant certainly had seen this for himself. But he
had also noticed that the jewel box was of silver and brightly
polished. If the thief had removed its contents he must first
have opened it to do so. He must therefore have touched it,
and polished silver was an almost ideal surface for recording
fingerprints. However, he had no wish to explain all this to
Speight.
"It is possible that it might assist in the investigation," he
replied.
Speight looked doubtful. "Well, you'll have to take it
away if you want to, I suppose," he said. "I think I won't
say anything about it to my wife, though. She wouldn't like
it at all, I'm sure. She values that box very highly, you know.
She was very fond of her godmother, who has been dead for
several years."
"I assure you that the greatest care shall be taken of it,
Mr. Speight," said the Sergeant. "I wonder if you could let me
have a cardboard box and a few sheets of newspaper?"
Speight produced these without difficulty. The Sergeant
fetched the jewel box, being careful to hold it at one point
only. Then he placed it in the cardboard box, packing it
round very carefully with newspaper. He tied the package to
the hand^bars of his bicycle and rode away, promising Mr.
Speight t would hear again from him very shortly.
As h sft the house Wragge looked at the clock in the
hall—J was barely half past eleven. Plenty of time for him
to do iat he had to do and then enjoy his dinner. He would
enjoy it with the greater zest because he felt distinctly
pleased with himself. That paper cap had indeed been a


CHAPTER II
Immediately upon his return to Culverden, Sergeant
Wragge communicated with his superior, the Superintendent
of the district. As a result of their conversation, Mrs. Speight's
jewel box was dispatched that afternoon by a trusty messen-
ger to Scotland Yard. Since Inspector Waghorn of the Crim-
inal Investigation Department was on duty, the package was
delivered to him.
Inspector Waghorn was a young man with a university
education who had entered the police force by the medium
of the Police College at Hendon. At this time he was acting
as assistant to Superintendent Hanslet, well known as one of
the leading lights of the Yard. To his friends in the Force,
who were many, the Inspector was popularly known as
Jimmy. He was already beginning to gain something of a
reputation as a smart officer.
The arrival of the silver box with its accompanying re-
quest for examination by the Fingerprint Department was to
Jimmy no more than a matter of routine. Finding himself
with nothing particular to do that afternoon, he took the box
to the Fingerprint Department himself. The officer in charge
of that department, with whom Jimmy was on excellent
terms, eyed the box critically.
"What's this, Jimmy?" he asked. "It looks expensive
whatever it is. I can't bring myself to believe that you're
bringing me the freedom of the City in a silver caske"
"Fine bit of plate, isn't it?" Jimmy replied. "It's been
sent up from a place called Culverden for your inspection.
From what I can gather something has been stolen from it,

13


14
THE HARVEST MURDER
and the local people believe that you may be able to find the
fingermarks of the thief."
The officer in charge of the department took the box and
held it up to the light. "It's been polished fairly recently,"
he remarked. "If there are any fingermarks on it we ought to
be able to find them. As it is, I can see some faint smudges
which may or may not turn out to be prints. It's a matter
for a little dusting powder, I fancy."
The expert carried out the necessary dusting with grey
powder. "Fingermarks all right," he exclaimed immediately.
"Two sets of them, by the look of it. We can only hope one
set hasn't confused the other. Wait a minute, till I get my
magnifying glass to work upon them."
For a couple of minutes he examined the surface of the
box intently and in silence. "Half a dozen really fine speci-
mens," he said at last. "The complete fingermarks, four
fingers and thumbs, both hands of two separate people. I
rather fancy that one of these people is a woman, but I can't
be sure. And the other fingermarks I've seen before, I'm cer-
tain of that. I wouldn't mind betting you that we've already
got them in our records."
"Wonderful how easy detection is to chaps like you!"
Jimmy murmured.
"Easy!" exclaimed the other. "Why it's as simple as fall-
ing off a log. If you'd been working at fingerprints as long as
I have my lad, you'd learn to recognize them at a glance.
I'm not going to pretend that I remember to whom each set
of prints belongs, but if I've seen them before I know them
again. Wait a minute."
He glanced fixedly once more at the fingerprints which
his operations had disclosed, then went to one of the set of
cupboards that occupied the sides of the room. From this he


THE HARVEST MURDER
15
extracted a file which he consulted, turning over the leaves
slowly one by one. In a few moments he extracted a leaf and
held it out for Jimmy's inspection.
"There you are," he said, "the very identical prints. You'll
want the prints on this box photographed, of course. I'll see
to that for you, and send the lot up to your room as soon as
I've finished."
"Thanks," Jimmy replied. "You're a bit of a wizard in
your way, aren't you? But one trifling detail seems to have
escaped you."
"What's that?" the expert asked suspiciously.
Jimmy laughed. "You haven't told me who the prints be-
long to."
"Oh that!" said the expert with a sudden lack of interest.
"You don't suppose we attach the life history of our sub-
jects to these files, do you? You'll have to go next door for
that. The man's name is Christopher Elver, and the number
of his record is 17534. Now run along and leave me to get on
with those photographs."
Armed with this information Jimmy went to the Criminal
Record Office where he obtained the file numbered 17534
and marked with the name of Christopher Elver. This he
took up to his own room for perusal. By the time he had
read through the various documents contained in the file, he
was fully conversant with the history of Christopher Elver.
Some nine years previously the police had become aware
that a fairly extensive system of drug distribution was at
work in London. At last, as a result of long and patient work
on the part of the C.I.D., the focus of this system was traced
to a small shop in Lambeth kept by a woman who gave her
name as Mrs. Hawkins. Mrs. Hawkins was arrested and
search of her shop resulted in the discovery of considerable


16
THE HARVEST MURDER
quantities of cocaine. Mrs. Hawkins refused to give any ex-
planation of how she came to be in possession of the stuff, but
various indications made it seem extremely probable that
the drug had been imported to this country from Germany.
Further, it was ascertained by inquiry that a young man
known in the neighbourhood as Sea Joe was a regular visitor
to the shop.
At this stage the conduct of the investigation had devolved
upon Superintendent, then Inspector, Hanslet. Mrs. Hawkins
had proved unexpectedly obstinate, and it was impossible
to obtain from her any information regarding this man Joe.
However, the nickname had seemed significant to Hanslet.
It suggested to him that some seaman frequenting the Port
of London was the agent who was importing the drug. He
arranged for a strict watch to be kept throughout the port
and, within ten days of the raid upon Mrs. Hawkins' shop,
he detained a ship's steward as he was in the act of stepping
ashore at Butler's wharf. This man was taken to the police
station and searched. To Hanslet's intense satisfaction he
was found to be carrying a supply of cocaine.
In the face of this discovery the man attempted no sort
of defence. He admitted that the cocaine was intended for
Mrs. Hawkins, with whom he had done business for many
years. He stated that his name was Christopher Elver, that
he was known to his intimates as Sea Joe, and that he was
employed as steward on the steamship Etrurian, trading
between London and the Elbe. He gave his age as thirty-
one and declared that nobody but himself and Mrs. Hawkins
knew of his criminal activities.
Mrs. Hawkins, on being told that Elver had been arrested
and had mentioned her name, became more communicative.
She was quite prepared to tell the police everything she knew


THE HARVEST MURDER 17
about him. But her statement though long and vituperative,
amounted in the end to very little. It appeared that Christo-
pher Elver was his real name, and that he had posed as her
nephew, though actually they were not related in any way.
She added mysteriously that there was a girl who might be
able to tell the police even more than she could. But the only
information she could give concerning this girl was that Elver
had brought her to the shop more than once to have a cup
of tea.
Elver, upon being pressed for information on this point,
had strenuously denied the existence of any such girl. He
had said, with some show of heat, that the old woman was
telling a pack of lies as was her usual habit. And Hanslet,
who by this time had had considerable experience of Mrs.
Hawkins' powers of imagination, was inclined to credit this.
Nobody on board the Etrurian knew anything of the girl,
and, since it seemed that she could have played at most
only a minor part in the conspiracy, Hanslet let the matter
drop. Elver had been sentenced to seven years imprison-
ment and had been released two years ago. A final note, dated
the current year, was attached to the file. "Elver now under
observation of M. Division."
Wonderful how simple a thing detection can be sometimes,
Jimmy thought. The sequence of events appealed to his im-
agination. Not a link was missing, and each was perfect in
itself. The silver box with its surface so perfectly adapted
to the reception of fingerprints. The instant recognition of
those prints by the expert, and the immediate identification
of the person to whom they belonged. The previous history
of that person neatly recorded and filed. The fact that, as a
time-expired convict, he was still under the observation of
the police. It only remained to arrest the man and to find in


18
THE HARVEST MURDER
his pockets the proceeds of his burglary.
But this most desirable conclusion was not Jimmy's job.
He picked up his telephone and put a call through to Sergeant
Wragge at Culverden. He gave the Sergeant a resume of his
discoveries and tactfully asked him what steps he proposed
to take.
"Of course if I can do anything to help you, you've only
got to say the word," he concluded.
"That's very good of you, sir," replied Wragge, grate-
fully. "You see, at hop picking time like this it's very diffi-
cult for us chaps to get away for more than an hour at a time.
If it wouldn't be troubling you too much, sir, I would be
very grateful if you could get in touch with M. Division and
ask them to detain the man and then let me know."
"Right, I'll do that straight away," said Jimmy. "I'll send
you back that silver box as soon as the fingerprint people
have done with it. Perhaps we may have the pleasure of
meeting some day, Sergeant. Good evening."
Jimmy glanced at the clock. It was now after six o'clock
and his tour of duty at the Yard had expired. He had noth-
ing special to do that evening and it occurred to him that
the simplest way of rounding off the matter would be to pay
a personal visit to Southwark Police Station, the headquar-
ters of M. Division. He left the Yard, walked over Waterloo
Bridge, and took a bus to his destination.
At the police station he had no difficulty in finding a
sergeant who knew all about Elver.
"He's the chap who did seven years for cocaine smug-
gling, sir. He was luckier than some after he'd been let out
of jail. He got a job almost at once, and kept it for a year
or more. No more than a labourer's job, but still that's some-
thing these days. Then the firm he was working for closed


THE HARVEST MURDER
19
down and he was out of a job for a bit. However, he got
taken on as a casual labourer at the Surrey Commercial
Docks and he's at that still. He lodges with a man called
Pilbeam and his wife at 85 Halibut Street, close to his work
and not so very far from here. Perhaps you'd like me to go
and make inquiries, sir?"
"It wouldn't be a bad idea," Jimmy replied. "And if
you've no objection I'll come along with you."
"I'd be very glad to show you where the man lives, sir,"
said the Sergeant.
They took a bus which deposited them at the end of
Halibut Street, a narrow, rather unsavoury thoroughfare
in the wilderness of Bermondsey. Upon knocking at the door
of No. 85, this was opened by a slatternly woman. In reply
to the Sergeant's inquiry, she said that her name was Mrs.
Pilbeam, and that she had a lodger—by name Chris Elver. Her
lodger, however, was away, and she did not expect him back
until late that night.
"Where has he gone to, Mrs. Pilbeam?" the Sergeant
asked.
"Couldn't say," replied the woman surlily. "T'ain't none
of my business. He's not gone far, that I'll warrant."
"How do you know he hasn't gone far?" asked the
Sergeant sharply.
"Because he hasn't got no money, that's why. I took all
the wages what he drew on Friday evening for the board and
lodging that was owing to me."
"Does your husband know where he's gone to?"
"Couldn't say, I'm sure. You'd better ask him. You'll find
him along at the Tanner's Arms around the corner."
"When did you last see Elver?"
"Haven't seen him since he went to work on Saturday


20
THE HARVEST MURDER
morning," replied the woman shortly. And that ended the
conversation.
Jimmy and the Sergeant went to the Tanner's Arms where
they discovered Mr. Pilbeam ensconced in the public bar. But
that worthy, a heavy broad-shouldered man of somewhat
ferocious aspect, wouldn't or couldn't give them any in-
formation. He hadn't seen Elver since early on Saturday
morning when they both left Halibut Street on their way to
work. Elver had tried to borrow five bob from him, on the
pretext that he wanted to go and get some money from some-
body who lived in the country, but the attempt had been
unsuccessful. Anyhow, Elver was cleaned out, and there
didn't seem any prospect of his pocket being replenished be-
fore next payday. As to where he had gone or why, Mr. Pil-
beam professed a profane indifference.
"He can stop in my house as long as he pays his way," he
said. "But when he's out of it be can go to hell or—" Mr.
Pilbeam indicated an unmentionable and wholly fabulous
region.
"Well, that's about all we can do for this evening," said
Jimmy as they left the Tanner's Arms. "You might have a
watch kept on that house in Halibut Street, and if Elver re-
turns tonight you can have a chat with him. If he hasn't
come back by the morning you might let me know, and we'll
try the place where he works. One or other of his pals may
be able to tell us where to find him."
Jimmy went home, his mind occupied by Elver and his
wanderings. He was not in the least perturbed by his failure
to lay his hands upon him immediately. Elver could not
evade justice for more than a day or two at most. In the first
place he had no money, and that would strictly limit his
sphere of action. He would probably try to raise money by


THE HARVEST MURDER
21
the sale of the proceeds of his burglary, but that would only
accelerate his arrest. Fences whom he would approach for
the purpose were probably as well known to the police as
they were to him. Owing to Elver having already been in
prison, the Yard was in possession of the fullest possible de-
scription of him, illustrated with an imposing array of photo-
graphs. It was one of those fortunate occasions when every-
thing was in favour of the police and everything against the
criminal.
It seemed to Jimmy that the motive of the crime was ob-
vious enough. Elver, finding himself penniless, had decided
to recoup his finances during the week-end. A comparatively
safe way of doing so had occurred to him. He would have
known that the neighbourhood of Culverden would be
thronged with hop pickers and that he could easily con-
ceal himself in the crowd. He had gone down there and had
kept his eyes open. Jimmy knew nothing of the details of the
burglary at Paddock's Croft, but he assumed that Elver
had no definite objective. He had seen his opportunity and
taken it. And, but for his carelessness in the matter of the
fingerprints, his crime would probably never have been de-
tected. Just another example of the otherwise thoughtful
criminal omitting the most obvious precautions. Well, Elver
with his previous record against him would get it in the
neck, that was pretty certain.
When Jimmy reached the Yard the following morning,
he found a message from the Sergeant of M. Division. Elver
had not turned up at Halibut Street during the night, and
the Sergeant, following Jimmy's suggestion, proposed to
make inquiries at the place where he worked. Did the In-
spector wish to accompany him?
"Yes, I'll come," Jimmy replied. "Wait for me at the


22
THE HARVEST MURDER
police station and I'll be there as soon as I can."
So Jimmy and the Sergeant set off on a second expedition.
This time their destination was a warehouse on the outskirts
of Surrey Dock. Here the Sergeant interrogated the foreman
of a gang of labourers, of which Elver was a member.
"Chris Elver," replied the foreman. "I've been wondering
what's become of him. He hasn't turned up to work this
morning."
"We are wondering, too," remarked the Sergeant grimly.
"When did you last see him?"
"Why, when we knocked off work at twelve o'clock on
Saturday. He didn't say anything to me then about not
coming to work this morning. But as it happens it doesn't
signify much. Got his notice last Friday when he was
paid up."
"Got his notice?" inquired the Sergeant. "You mean he
was given the sack?"
"Well, if you like to put it that way," the foreman replied.
"It wasn't his own fault, if you understand me. I'd had
orders to stand off half a dozen men at the end of this week
and I had to choose who should go and who should stay;
naturally I kept the men who had been on the job longest
and Elver wasn't one of them. So they gave him the usual
week's notice at the office when he drew his pay on Friday.
He's a steady enough chap and I wish I could have kept him
on. But there, orders is orders, as you know as well as I do,
Sergeant."
"He didn't say anything to you about going out of Lon-
don for a week-end?"
"No, he didn't say anything to me. As it happened I hadn't
more than a couple of words with him on Saturday. There's
his pal Joe Fuller over there. He may be able to tell you


24
THE HARVEST MURDER
got to say."
There was no further information to be obtained from
the warehouse. Jimmy parted from the Sergeant, after ar-
ranging for the watch for Elver to be continued, and re-
turned to Scotland Yard. He rang up Sergeant Wragge and
discussed the question of Elver's whereabouts with him.
"It's quite likely that Elver hasn't come back to London
yet," he said. "He may still be lurking about in your part of
the world, looking out for another opportunity of digging
up something of value. Fortunately we've got his description
and photographs. I'll have a few copies of these made and
sent down to you at once. There's this in your favour. It
seems to be pretty well established that he's got very little,
if any, money. He may try to dispose of some of the jewellery
locally, though I shouldn't think he was such a fool as all
that. I expect you'll circulate a description of him as widely
as possible, and I'll do the same. I'll have it put round among
the fences. Meanwhile I've got M. Division keeping an eye
open. It oughtn't to be very long before we get hold of him."
Jimmy was fully convinced that his optimism was justified.
And when the man was caught there would be no difficulty in
proving him to have been the burglar. The fingermarks them-
selves were decisive proofs of that. But juries, even in these
days, were sometimes a bit sceptical of fingerprints, unsup-
ported by any other evidence. And here Joe Fuller's state-
ment would come in very useful. Elver had told him that he
wanted to get down to the hop country. In order to provide
a suitable pretext he invented this mythical person from
whom he could extract funds. It was ridiculous to suppose
that any such person really existed. Hop pickers, though as
a rule perfectly respectable people, were not usually in pos-
session of surplus funds. They usually drew from the farmer


THE HARVEST MURDER
25
for whom they worked sufficient to meet their needs week
by week. They were not finally paid up until the end of the
hop picking period, and, even then, the amount earned by an
industrious worker was not excessive. Most of them re-
garded hop picking as a holiday rather than as a means of
augmenting their incomes. So long as the holiday paid its
way they were content. On the whole, it was extremely un-
likely that Elver knew of a generous hop picker who could
be persuaded to hand over to him such a sum as a pound or
two.
Jimmy was convinced that Elver's journey to Culverden
had been entirely speculative. If he were lucky it would
prove profitable. If not, he would merely have to come back
again with a confession of failure duly prepared. Probably
he thought that he would be able to pick up something or
other which could be readily turned into money. Jewellery
which could be identified was really of very little use to him.
No doubt he had realized this for himself. In which case he
would probably hang about the neighbourhood for a day or
two longer, hoping for a second and more favourable chance.
Meanwhile, what was he likely to have done with Mrs.
Speight's jewellery? He would hardly risk wandering about
the countryside with the stuff in his pocket. Nor, in all prob-
ability, would he risk trying to dispose of it locally. The
only alternative would be to deposit it somewhere until his
return to London. Well, that was up to Sergeant Wragge. It
was certainly no business of the Yard's, till that organiza-
tion was definitely called in to search for it.


CHAPTER III
At this time of the year Mr. Raymond, of the Matling
Chequers, was wont to proclaim to anybody who could be
found to listen to him that nothing would induce him to re-
main in the house for another hop picking.
"I'll give the brewers notice this very month, blest if I
won't," he used to say at the end of each day's work. "They
can find a tenant who doesn't mind his home being turned
upside down. I've had enough of it, and so has the missus, to
say nothing of the boys and girls."
But this was merely the expression of Mr. Raymond's an-
nual exasperation. Neither he nor his wife had the least in-
tention of leaving the Chequers. They had been there twenty
years and more and the place suited them admirably. It was
a sturdily built, commodious house, with an acre of garden
which was Mr. Raymond's special pride. The Raymonds
were very comfortable there, and there was plenty of room
for them to put up their children and grandchildren on the
frequent occasions of their visits. Certainly the trade was
not very extensive. Matling was quite a small place of not
more than two or three hundred inhabitants. Agricultural
wages were not so good that their recipients could afford to
spend much of their time in public houses. However, the
village provided a few regular customers, especially on Satur-
day evenings and Sunday mornings. Passing motorists and
cyclists would not infrequently drop in, and in summer time
people would sometimes walk over from Culverden and the
neighbouring villages. Taking it all round, the business kept
Mr. and Mrs. Raymond just comfortably busy. They were
26


THE HARVEST MURDER
27
fortunate that their livelihood did not entirely depend upon
it. They had a little money of their own, carefully invested,
which augmented the receipts of the till.
In normal times the Chequers was a very pleasant place
in which to spend half an hour or so. It stood a little way
back from the road, with an aged and very much decayed
elm tree in front of it. You walked under the branches of this
tree up to the front door. Passing through this doorway you
found yourself in a very pleasant, rather low-pitched bar-
room. Mr. Raymond hated the cold, and at the first touch of
winter a blazing fire was lighted in the capacious fireplace.
This fire was never allowed to go out until the following
spring. Facing you, as you entered the room, was the counter,
behind which you were pretty certain to find Mr. or Mrs.
Raymond polishing glasses. Round the fireplace were ar-
ranged a bench and a few chairs. On the opposite wall was a
dartboard showing signs of much use. What space remained
was occupied by a heavy deal table, scrubbed to snowy
whiteness by the vigorous arm of Mrs. Raymond.
Next the bar parlour, but not communicating directly
with it, was a second, rather smaller room. This could be
entered from the outside by a smaller doorway set in the
same wall of the house as the front door. In it was a fire-
place, a long table covered with an old-fashioned tablecloth
and several chairs. This room had no definite appellation.
It was always referred to by the Raymonds as the "other
room." In theory, it was supposed to accommodate such
superior-minded customers as did not care to use the bar
parlour. But in this matter local opinion was severely demo-
cratic. The local farmers and gentry when they frequented
the Chequers much preferred the comfort of the bar parlour
to the rather arid selectness of the other room. The conse-


THE HARVEST MURDER
29
had once been an oast house, and was now known as the
lodge. Besides this there was stabling, now disused and con-
sisting of a coachhouse and two stalls.
From this description it will be gathered that the Ray-
monds were very comfortable. "Plenty of room to move
around," as Mrs. Raymond expressed it. Four of their sur-
viving children, two sons and two daughters, had married
and lived away from home. But they frequently contrived
to pay brief visits to their parents, usually bringing their
families with them. The fifth, a son, was unmarried, but
his work lay in a town about ten miles away, and he found
it more convenient to lodge there than to live at home. Be-
sides, he was courting a girl in the same town and that prob-
ably had something to do with it. When, as sometimes
happened, all the sons and daughters and their respective fam-
ilies arrived together, the accommodation at the Chequers
was fairly heavily taxed. But the house always seemed suf-
ficiently elastic for the demands made upon it.
It was the disturbance to his domestic comfort by hop
picking which made Mr. Raymond dread that period. Al-
though there were not actually many acres of hop gardens
in the parish of Matling, the Chequers was a favourite place
of resort for the pickers from round about. Obviously the
arrangements of the Chequers, though perfectly satisfactory
for the service of a couple of dozen of customers or so,
would have broken down completely if called upon by several
hundreds. At the approach of hop picking time, therefore,
the place had to be reorganized. And this reorganization was
a very strenuous matter.
The first sign of the approaching upheaval was the arrival
at the Chequers of the Raymonds' eldest daughter, whom
they regarded as their right hand. Mary Raymond had mar-


30
THE HARVEST MURDER
ried a fruit farmer, who was in a small but prosperous way
of business. It was a standing joke in Matling that she had
only accepted him under one condition. This was that she
would always be free to leave her husband and family in
order to help her parents over hop picking. She was a jolly,
energetic woman of thirty-five or so, with a manner calcu-
lated to charm even the most truculent customer. Mary, im-
mediately upon her arrival, rolled up her sleeves, and she
and her parents set to work.
The principal problem was to organize a system of serv-
ing beer to thirsty crowds with the least possible delay. This
problem had been solved in rather an ingenious way. It
would have been folly to admit the hop pickers to the bar
parlour and hope to serve them over the counter, owing to
the distance between that and the cellar. This room was
therefore closed entirely, the furniture removed and the
front door locked. On either side of the front door was an
extensive window. Inside these windows were fixed wide
shelves. Tables were set on either side of these shelves to ac-
commodate glasses and mugs. The remainder of the room
was almost entirely filled with barrels of beer, ready tapped,
leaving only sufficient room for the servers to move between
the barrels and the windows. At opening time the windows
were flung wide open, and the hop pickers standing outside
the house would be served with the minimum of delay.
The main problem was thus solved. But there was a sec-
ondary one also, almost equally important. The local in-
habitants, distinguished from the invading hop pickers by
the appellation of "home dwellers," could not be thus ex-
cluded from their favourite pub. The other room was there-
fore brought into use for their benefit. Home dwellers alone
were allowed to enter the house, and, in order to separate the


THE HARVEST MURDER
31
sheep from the goats during the busy week-ends, a gate-
keeper was employed by Mr. Raymond. He, knowing all
the home dwellers by sight, would admit them to the other
room. But, as Gabriel at the gates of Paradise, he rigidly
excluded the pickers.
The specially privileged were allowed the use of the cel-
lar. If you were one of these, you had to follow a devious
route. Round the back of the house, in by the back door and
so along the passage into the cellar. Here you might sit on
a case of bottles, drawing your beer yourself and laying the
money for it on the marble table. If you liked watching the
crowds from a secure retreat in the very heart of them, you
could enjoy a lot of quiet amusement while you drank your
pint.
The house having been thus rearranged, the next thing
was to organize an adequate supply of drinking vessels.
Mary as a rule took charge of this. She brought down the
hundreds of glasses not used during normal times from the
upper rooms, where they had been carefully packed away
in wooden boxes. And upon the bottom of each of these, after
having washed and polished them, she proceeded to put a
dab of black paint.
A stranger to the neighbourhood might well have inquired
the purpose of these dabs of paint. It was a dodge invented
by Mr. Raymond, and he was very proud of it. It has already
been explained that the hop pickers were not admitted to the
house but were served through the windows of the bar par-
lour. Now when this experiment had first been tried it had
somewhat unexpected results.
Some of the hop pickers, when they had finished their
drinks, instead of returning their glasses through the win-
dow, absent-mindedly carried them off. No doubt they came


32
THE HARVEST MURDER
in very useful in their hopper huts. But Mr. Raymond, on
counting his glasses at the end of the season, found that he
was several dozen short. And, being of an economical turn
of mind, he realized that this shortage made a serious inroad
upon the takings. So he adopted the plan of charging a de-
posit of threepence upon each glass handed through the win-
dow. This deposit returned to the customer when he brought
back the glass.
But, again, distinctions had to be drawn between hop
pickers and home dwellers. The latter could not be sub-
jected to the indignity of paying a deposit on their glasses.
Consequently nothing was charged on glasses served in the
other room. But it sometimes happened, in spite of all pre-
cautions, that a wily hop picker gained access to the precincts
sacred to the home dwellers. Having done so he would smug-
gle out his glass, take it round to the window of the bar
parlour, and draw threepence upon it. Now that was where
the dabs of paint came in. The glasses so marked were only
used at the windows, and solely upon these was a deposit
refunded. The designing alien was therefore foiled. He might
contrive to penetrate the inner sanctuary and remove a glass,
but if he innocently tendered it at the window and demanded
a refund of threepence upon it he was doomed to disappoint-
ment. Whoever took it from him looked at the bottom, saw
that it was unmarked with paint and shook his head.
"You've got to be as cunning as a basketful of monkeys to
get even with some of these folk," as Mr. Raymond remarked.
It sometimes happened that even all these dispositions
were inadequate to cope with the crowds which besieged the
Chequers. During the week-ends, when the hop pickers'
friends came to visit them, the resources of the house were
taxed to their utmost. And if it happened to be wet on these oc-


THE HARVEST MURDER
33
casions, extraordinary measures had to be taken. You couldn't
expect even hop pickers to enjoy their drinks in the rain, so
they had to be admitted to what shelter was available. The
lodge, the stabling, and on some occasions even the Ray-
monds' private sitting room, were pressed into service. The
state of the Chequers after a wet hop picking week-end can
be better imagined than described. No wonder that Mr. Ray-
mond's patience sometimes yielded to the strain.
As he himself was the first to admit, he could never have
carried on without the help of his family. Their response to
the call of parental duty was really admirable. Each and
severally they gave up their week-ends for the strenuous
task of serving beer. John, the eldest son, a constable in the
Metropolitan police, always managed to wangle week-end
leave and brought his wife with him. Henry, the second son,
a driver in one of the local transport services, contrived to
get the necessary time off, and also brought his wife. Walter,
the unmarried one, found no difficulty. Having no wife he
brought his girl with him, and exceedingly useful she made
herself. Mary's husband, the fruit farmer, abandoned his
apple trees and came to bear a hand. Ethel and her husband,
who kept a general shop in a village not many miles away,
arrived in their little delivery van. From noon on Saturday
till late on Sunday night, the Chequers was the scene of a
reunion of the whole of the Raymond family.
By Monday morning, things had quieted down. The tem-
porary helpers, with the exception of Mary, had gone, and
an interval of comparative quiet ensued. Only comparative,
however, for there was much to be done. The empty barrels
in the bar parlour had to be removed, and full ones put in
their place. Enormous batches of dirty glasses, which had
accumulated from the Sunday evening, had to be washed and


34
THE HARVEST MURDER
put in order. And all the time, long before the Chequers
opened, there was a piteous stream of applicants. Thirst,
especially on a bright September morning, is no respecter of
the licensing laws. Every few minutes, there would come a
tap at the closed windows. And then an appealing voice,
"Give us a drink, guv'nor. I'm parched right up and there
ain't no cops anywhere about." It is no part of this story to
disclose the success or otherwise of these appeals.
At eight o'clock on the morning of Monday, September 2,
Mr. Raymond, his wife and Mary, were all busy with their
separate duties. Mr. Raymond, with the assistance of a local
old-age pensioner, was trundling barrels between the cellar
and the bar parlour. Mrs. Raymond had carried a tub of
boiling water into the other room, and was busy washing
glasses. Mary was in the bar parlour, sweeping up and
generally putting things straight. A few thirst-stricken souls
had already pestered her, but the flow of these suddenly
ceased. Then came a vigorous tap on the window. She looked
up to see the familiar face of Sergeant Wragge.
She opened the window at once and smiled at her visitor.
"Good morning, Sergeant," she said cheerfully. "Bit early
for you to be riding round these parts, isn't it?"
"Good morning, Miss Mary," Wragge replied. She was
always known locally as Miss Mary, although she had been
married now eight years or more. "Is your dad about any-
where? You might tell him that I've ridden over to have a
word with him."
"Here's the Sergeant to see you, Dad," shouted Mary.
Mr. Raymond appeared, carrying a crate of beer bottles in
each muscular hand.
"Glad to see you, Sergeant," he exclaimed. "Do you want
a word with me? Drat it, there isn't a room in the house a


THE HARVEST MURDER
35
man can call his own these days. Just step round to the cel-
lar door, will you? I'll have it unlocked in half a shake and
let you in."
Wragge entered the cellar, taking off his cap as he did so.
"I know you're buly, Mr. Raymond," he said apologetically,
"but I won't keep you more than a minute or two. You've
heard about that affair up at Paddock Croft, I expect?"
"Jim, the gardener up there, was in here last night," Mr.
Raymond replied. "I heard him talking about it to some of
the chaps, but I didn't stop to listen. Too busy. Someone
broke in and pinched some jewellery, didn't they?"
As he spoke he picked up two glasses and approached the
barrel containing old ale. "No harm in my giving you a drink
if I don't charge you for it," he continued. "Here you are,
Sergeant. It's a drop of the best. Good health."
They raised their glasses simultaneously, then set them
down. The Sergeant took an envelope from his pocket and
drew out of it the paper cap he had found in the garden at
Paddock Croft. He laid it on the table and looked at it
critically. "You don't happen to have seen that before, do
you, Mr. Raymond?" he asked.
"Seen it before!" exclaimed Mr. Raymond. "I won't swear
to having seen this particular one; I reckon I must have seen
some hundreds of paper caps yesterday and the day before.
Nearly all these folks that come down to visit the hop pickers
wear them, as you know as well as I do."
"I was wondering whether you might have seen anybody
wearing this cap," said Wragge impressively.
"Likely enough I did, but you can't expect me to dis-
tinguish one paper cap from another. Wait a minute, I'll call
my daughter. She was serving at the window most of the
week-end and she's got a wonderful memory. We'll ask her."


36
THE HARVEST MURDER
But Mary, upon being summoned, could give no informa-
tion. Although she had been at the window she had had no time
to observe her customers closely. She had been kept far too
busy serving beer and taking the money for it. Wragge
thanked her and she returned to her duties.
"It's like this, Mr. Raymond," said Wragge confiden-
tially. "The chap who was wearing that cap is the one who
broke in at Paddock Croft. And that's not all we know about
him, by a long chalk. Left his fingermarks on a silver box
there. We sent the box up to Scotland Yard, and a smart
young chap there found out his name for us in no time."
"Wonderful!" exclaimed Mr. Raymond, deeply impressed.
"But if you know his name, Sergeant, all you've got to do
is to arrest him, surely."
"It's not quite as easy as all that," Wragge replied. "You
see, although we know his name we don't know where he is,
to go and lay our hands on him. That smart young chap
up at the Yard thinks he'll be hanging round here still. I
won't say that he mayn't be right. Anyway he's got this
chap's photograph and is going to send it down to me. I'll
let you have a look at it as soon as I get it."
"Wonderful!" exclaimed Mr. Raymond for the second
time. "You've got his name and his photograph. My eldest
boy always says the police know a thing or two. There's no
doubt about that."
"Yes, we do know a thing or two," replied Wragge in a
tone of professional pride. He picked up the cap and having
put it in its envelope replaced it in his pocket. "All fairly
quiet here on Saturday night, Mr. Raymond?" he asked.
"We hadn't any trouble to speak of," Mr. Raymond re-
plied. "What with me and my three sons about the
place folks think twice before they kick up a disturbance


THE HARVEST MURDER
37
here. There was a bit of a bust, though, just after closing
time in the road outside. That fellow Lavis, that lodges with
his sister over by Park Gate, was at the bottom of it, I fancy.
A perfect nuisance, that chap. Comes in here, has a couple
of drinks and then gets quarrelsome. Many's the time I've
told him that I wouldn't have him in the house again if he
didn't mend his ways. He was shouting and hollering with a
lot of others outside on Saturday night so I just went out
and told them to clear off. I will say this that they went off
quite quietly."
"Who were the rest of them? Local folks?" Wragge asked.
"Well, there was Tom Adcorn," Mr. Raymond replied. "I
don't know what can have upset him, for he's usually quiet
enough. And of course his brother Fred. You never see one
of those two without the other. The rest of them were
strangers. What they were all arguing about is more than I
can say. I didn't trouble to ask. I just told them to get along
home and sleep it off."
Wragge finished his beer and rose from the case on which
he had been sitting. "Well, I must be getting along," he said.
"That Paddock Croft affair has given me a lot of work, be-
side all the things I have to see to at hop picking. Good
morning, Mr. Raymond. I'll bring that photograph along and
let you have a look at it."
Mr. Raymond resumed his labours with the beer bar-
rels. The burglary at Paddock Croft was no affair of his, he
felt. Nasty thing to happen in the neighbourhood, of course.
Never for a moment did it occur to him that any of the in-
habitants could have been guilty of such a thing. Nor surely
any of the regular hop pickers. The same people came down
year after year, and all undesirables had long ago been
weeded out by the farmers. It could only have been one of


38
THE HARVEST MURDER
those hooligans who came down from London during the
week-end. You never knew what folk like that might be up
to. Why, they had even stooped to pinching his glasses.
Mr. Raymond had no sympathy for the annoyance caused
to the Speights. He didn't like them, and made no pretence
of doing so. In spite of their five years' residence at Paddock
Croft, they were still strangers in Matling. They had never
made any attempt to interest themselves in the village, and
seemed to make a point of spending as little money in it as
they could. Soon after their arrival, Mr. Raymond had put
on his best clothes as a mark of respect and walked to Pad-
dock Croft to call on Mr. Speight. He had informed that
gentleman that he would be happy to supply him with alco-
holic liquors, mineral waters, cigarettes and anything else
the Chequers provided. Mr. Speight had replied disdainfully
that he was not in the habit of dealing at village pubs.
The memory of this incident still rankled. An incipient
frown overshadowed Mr. Raymond's face whenever Pad-
dock Croft or its occupants were mentioned. Fortunately,
they very rarely were mentioned in the bar parlour of the
Chequers. If the Speights betrayed a lack of interest in the
villagers, the latter retaliated by a complete unconcern in
their affairs.
Such were Mr. Raymond's meditations during the few
minutes which followed the departure of Sergeant Wragge.
And then the rumbling on the road outside announced the
arrival of the brewers' drays. In that instant the burglary
was forgotten; Mr. Raymond's mind was occupied with far
more important things.


CHAPTER IV
That same Monday Superintendent Hanslet and Jimmy
had been invited to dinner by Dr. Priestley at his house in
Westbourne Terrace. Dr. Priestley was a retired professor
whose ostensible occupation was the writing of scientific
treatises. His more or less secret hobby, however, was the
solution of criminal problems. This hobby had led, some
years before, to his making the acquaintance of the Super-
intendent. Since then the two had become fast friends and
had collaborated in many puzzling cases. Jimmy, as Hans-
let's assistant, had since been admitted to the friendship.
It should be added that Dr. Priestley was a man of means,
and kept an extremely well appointed table. Dinner at West-
bourne Terrace was a luxury which Hanslet never refused if
he could help it.
On this occasion there were two other members of the
party: Harold Merefield, Dr. Priestley's secretary who lived
in the house, and Dr. Oldland, a very old friend of his host,
and now a physician with an extensive practice in Kensing-
ton.
It was in Dr. Priestley's study, to which they had retired
for coffee and conversation after dinner, that mention was
first made of Christopher Elver. It was Hanslet who broached
the subject. Not that he had the slightest interest in the
Paddock Croft burglary. That was a matter entirely beneath
his notice. Even should the Yard be called in, which seemed
extremely unlikely, Jimmy could be trusted to deal with the
job. Hanslet's interest in Elver was purely reminiscent.
"I think I remember you saying some time ago, Professor,
39


40
THE HARVEST MURDER
that a criminal was usually a specialist," he said. e*"5i
meant, I suppose, that a burglar doesn't usually indulge
arson, or a murderer go in for forgery in his spare time."
"I remember suggesting something of the kind," I
Priestley replied. "My limited knowledge of criminology a
pears to support that view."
"As a general rule you're quite right," said Hanslet. "Bi
every rule has its exception. I happened to come across a
exception to this very rule today. Jimmy told me that om
of my old acquaintances, who was jugged for cocaine smug-
gling some years back, broke into a private house on Sun-
day night and stole some jewellery. By the way, Jimmy, have
you had any further news of the fellow?"
"Nothing had been- heard of him at the time I left the
Yard this evening," Jimmy replied.
"Do I gather that this man has not yet been apprehended
for the burglary?" Dr. Priestley asked quietly.
"Not yet, but his arrest can only be a matter of hours,"
Hanslet replied.
"Then since he is still at large, how can you be certain
that he committed the burglary?" Dr. Priestley asked.
Hanslet laughed. "There is no room for a shadow of a
doubt," he replied. "Tell the Professor about the fingerprints
on the silver box, Jimmy."
Jimmy complied with this demand and Dr. Priestley
listened attentively to his story.
"I will admit that appearances are very much against this
man, Christopher Elver," he remarked. "Your theory is, I
suppose, that want drove him to commit the burglary."
"That's about it, Professor," Hanslet replied. "But some-
how, I shouldn't have expected it of a man like Elver. Not
that he's a man of respectable character. He's anything but


THE HARVEST MURDER
41
that, in fact he's a thorough-paced crook. But he knew per-
fectly well that his fingerprints were recorded at the Yard,
and I should have thought that he would have had more
sense than to leave them about like that. In fact, it's a
ridiculously clumsy crime for a man of Elver's ability."
"Clumsy crimes are usually the result of sudden tempta-
tion," said Oldland from the depths of his armchair. "That's
my experience, anyway. You haven't seen Elver since he's
been released from jail, I suppose? Well, I can imagine that
seven years in prison, followed by two years work as a la-
bourer, has changed his character entirely. According to
what Jimmy has told us, the man found himself without a
penny in his pocket and the prospect of losing his job at the
end of the week. He may have felt that there was nothing
left for him but to return to his criminal activities. And,
rather foolishly as it turns out, he took the first opportunity
which presented itself to him."
"You may be right, Doctor," Hanslet agreed. "Still, it's
rather curious that he should have turned his hand to
burglary. I should have thought his natural inclination would
have been to pick up the old threads. I don't mind confessing
in the privacy of this room that we haven't succeeded in sup-
pressing the drug traffic altogether. Elver, if he found him-
self out of a job, could easily have got in touch with some of
his old associates. They would have found him lucrative em-
ployment, I haven't a doubt of that."
Oldland shook his head. "I think you underrate the re-
spect in which the Force is held by the criminal classes," he
said. "Jimmy has told us that since his release Elver has
been under observation by M. Division. You may be quite
sure that he was well aware of that fact. And I suppose that
he imagined that his every movement was watched—which


42
THE HARVEST MURDER
in point of fact it was. He would be far too much afraid to
resume his criminal activities in London. If he made a perma-
nent move to any other district, the fact of his having done
so would be notified to the police there. He was intelligent
enough to make his attempt during a short visit to the
country."
"Oh, he's intelligent enough," Hanslet exclaimed. "At least
that was the impression I formed of him after his arrest. He
managed that drug-smuggling business very cleverly. We
found out quite a lot about him, one way and the other. He
first went to sea as a pantry boy and worked himself up to
the position of steward by sheer efficiency. The owners and
captain of the Etrurian gave him the highest possible char-
acter. In fact for a long time they wouldn't believe that he
was a crook. I've always had a theory that he somehow got
into the clutches of that confounded old woman, Mrs. Haw-
kins, and that it was she who induced him to bring the stuff
over. It's another proof of his intelligence that he covered
his tracks so well that we never discovered where he man-
aged to procure the drug."
"Who is or was Mrs. Hawkins?" Oldland asked.
"She was the woman who distributed the stuff in London.
Clever in her way, but not quite clever enough, since we
managed to unearth her. She posed as Elver's fond and affec-
tionate aunt. He never stopped on shore when the Etrurian
was in London. He used to go back to the ship every night.
However, as soon as the ship came in, the dutiful nephew
used to pay a visit to his aunt, and that was when the drugs
were conveyed to her."
"Did her benevolent attitude toward Elver continue after
his arrest?" Oldland asked.
"Up to a point. She denied all knowledge of him until she


THE HARVEST MURDER
43
heard that he had mentioned her name after his own arrest.
Then she turned right round. It almost seemed as if she
couldn't think of anything bad enough to say of him. How-
ever, she couldn't tell us much that we didn't know already.
When Elver was arrested he had a quantity of cocaine in his
possession and that was good enough for us."
"Do you suppose that the two have met since Elver's re-
lease?" queried Oldland.
Hanslet shook his head. "She was taken seriously ill two
years after her sentence and died in hospital," he replied.
"She hardly came into the picture so far as Elver's case was
concerned. I mean that she in no way contributed to his
arrest."
"I should like to hear the process of deduction that led
to your success in this case, Superintendent," Dr. Priestley
remarked.
Hanslet seemed much gratified by this request. "It was be-
fore I was lucky enough to meet you, Professor," he replied.
"I expect you'd have tumbled to it very much quicker than
I did. I'll tell you the whole story if you'd like to hear it."
"It would interest me exceedingly," said Dr. Priestley.
"Well, I won't bore you with the preliminaries. It will be
sufficient to say that sheer accident led us to Mrs. Hawkins'
shop in Lambeth. There we found ample evidence for her
arrest. But that wasn't quite enough. We wanted to trace the
source of the drug. We soon discovered that Mrs. Hawkins
rarely or never left the shop. Hence we deduced that she
didn't herself fetch the stuff but that somebody brought it to
her.
"Naturally, for the next few days that shop was under con-
stant observation. Everybody who entered it was detained
and questioned. Very few of these people turned out to be


44
THE HARVEST MURDER
genuine purchasers. The great majority of them were poor
devils of addicts who came to fetch their supplies of the
drug. But not one of them had any drugs in their possession
when they entered the place.
"Then we came to hear that Mrs. Hawkins had a nephew
who visited her regularly. Even drug traffickers may have
perfectly genuine nephews, so there didn't seem to be any-
thing in that. It wasn't until I heard this nephew referred to
as Sea Joe that I sat up and took notice. He wouldn't have
had a nickname like that if he hadn't been connected with
the sea. And as a seaman trading with foreign ports he would
be a very suitable agent for the smuggling of the drug into
the country.
"Still, that wasn't very much to go upon. And I didn't dare
wait for Sea Joe's next appearance at the shop. I had found
out that his visits were extraordinarily regular, that they
occurred almost without exception on alternate Mondays.
Mrs. Hawkins had been arrested on a Wednesday, and her
nephew had visited her on the previous Monday. That meant
that he wasn't likely to turn up again for another twelve
days. The affair had got into the papers and Sea Joe would
probably hear of it before he had been two minutes ashore.
That being so, he wasn't likely to risk another visit to the
shop. I had to get hold of him and of the evidence to in-
criminate him, before he got wind of what had happened.
"That meant that I had to arrest him on board his ship
or immediately he left it. Of course, there was always the
chance that he would hear the news before the ship got back
to London, but I was prepared to risk that. My difficulty
was to discover which was the ship, and which of her com-
plement was the man I wanted. It was one of those cases in
which I had to make a devil of a lot of inquiries, and in a


THE HARVEST MURDER
45
field with which I was not in the least familiar.
"I had one thing to go upon, and one only—the regularity
of those visits by her nephew to Mrs. Hawkins. They had
always occurred on alternate Mondays, and it was reason-
able to suppose that the ship was in the habit of returning to
port on those days. That London was the port seemed highly
probable, for a seaman could not regularly absent himself
from his ship for any length of time. He couldn't, for in-
stance, be so attentive to his aunt if his ship docked in Liver-
pool or Bristol. So I began by making inquiries about vessels
which regularly docked in London on alternate Mondays.
"It sounds simple enough, but it wasn't, I can assure you.
I started with the Port of London Authority, and then went
round every shipping agency in the town. One way and an-
other I compiled a list as long as my arm. By the time I'd
finished I was convinced that every vessel afloat engaged
in the Continental trade docked in the port of London on
alternate Mondays. There were dozens of them, and they
seemed to come in from every port in northern Europe. Nor-
way, Sweden, Denmark, the Baltic ports, Germany, Hol-
land, France and even northern Spain. And which of them
was the floating home of Sea Joe was more than I could be
expected to guess.
"There was just this. At that time, it was known to us
that Hamburg was a likely place in which to procure drugs.
So I concentrated on the vessels which traded from that port.
You mustn't suppose that I neglected the others. I didn't.
I had an officer told off to each vessel on my list. Now there
were no fewer than six vessels from Hamburg expected on
the date when Sea Joe should have paid his next visit to his
aunt. Two of these were English, two German, one was a
Norwegian and the sixth a Swede. Which of these was the


THE HARVEST MURDER
47
diately upon her arrival in port was the steward. He would
have to see the ship's chandler to arrange for stores for the
next voyage and so forth. Of course, as my friend explained,
this was only an off chance. Any member of the ship's com-
pany might wangle it somehow. But still, as a result of all
this, I got it fixed in my head that it was the steward of the
Etrurian I wanted.
"It's all very fine to get a thing fixed in your head. But,
once you've decided on a definite move it always seems to
be the wrong one while you're waiting for it to come off. It
does to me, anyhow. That November afternoon, when I got
news that the Etrurian had passed Gravesend and was com-
ing up the river, I felt that my chances of making an arrest
were about one in a thousand. I went to one of those wharfs
—just below Tower Bridge on the Surrey side—and stood
about in a most infernally cold drizzle, cursing myself for a
fool.
"Well, the Etrurian came in at last. She was a drab-looking
tramp steamer of about fifteen hundred tons, and I won-
dered what power in the world could ever induce men to go
to sea in a thing like that. She came alongside with much
throwing of ropes and blowing of whistles; then the customs
people went on board her. I let them do that. I didn't want
Joe to see any stranger come aboard yet. It was dark by then
and the drizzle was falling in front of the electric lamps of
the wharf in long, straight lines. I was cold, wet and irritable,
but still I waited. The customs men came ashore again and
nothing more happened.
"I had somehow expected the people on that ship to jump
ashore like rats as soon as she was tied up. It seemed to
me that even the London riverside was preferable to that
dingy steel tank in which they were cooped up. But they


48
THE HARVEST MURDER
didn't seem in any hurry. Not they. They disappeared one
by one into their lairs, till not a soul remained on deck. Hav-
ing their tea, I suppose. I fancied I detected a smell of kip-
pers coming from the galley. I bet I stood in the rain an
hour or more watching that confounded ship. Nobody on
shore but me seemed even faintly interested in her, and no-
body on board her seemed faintly interested in anyone else.
And I didn't want to go on board of her. I was afraid that
the minute I stepped on the gangway Sea Joe might take
alarm.
"By that time my hopes of coming face to face with that
elusive individual were at zero. What chance was there, in
heaven's name, that he was more likely to be found on this
ship than on any other? I had almost made up my mind to
go away and get myself something stiff to drink when one
or two folks began to appear on deck. Among them was a
youngish man with a brown raincoat and a slouch hat. He
seemed so well dressed that at first I thought that he must
be the captain. He certainly seemed to be coming ashore.
And then one of the other chaps called out to him, 'Hullo,
Joe, are you going ashore?'
"Joe! That made me straighten up pretty suddenly, I can
tell you. Of course, as I told myself it was just a chance. I
suppose if you went aboard any British ship and called out
'Joe' somebody would answer you. But it seemed a good
omen. And anyhow this man couldn't be the captain or he
wouldn't have been spoken to like that. So I decided to risk it.
"He came up the gangway like a man who knew exactly
where he was going and why. I'd been keeping in the shadows
as much as I could, which meant that I was round the corner
of a shed where there wasn't any shelter. And as the man
stepped onto the wharf I walked up to him. 'Excuse me,' I
X.


THE HARVEST MURDER
49
said, 'but are you the steward of the Etrurian?'
"'Got it in one,' he replied jauntily. 'But I'm afraid I can't
do anything for you, old cock, for we've got our regular
ship's chandlers. And it's not a bit of good going aboard to
see the old man, for he always leaves these things to me.'
"'I'm not worrying about ship's chandlers just now,' I said
to him. 'Do you happen to have an aunt who lives down
Lambeth way?'
"We were standing just under one of those electric lamps.
I could see his face clearly and the moment I spoke I
knew I'd found my man. His hand made a movement toward
his pocket but I'd been watching for that and I was too quick
for him. I caught hold of him by the wrist and after the first
moment or two he didn't make any resistance. It wouldn't
have been much good if he had, for he was a slight, thin sort
of chap, and I could have picked him up and thrown him
into the river. 'It's no good,' I said to him as soothingly as
I could. 'I want you on a charge of cocaine smuggling. If you
take my advice you'll come along to the station quietly.'
"I found a taxi outside the wharf and bundled him into it.
I didn't let go of his hands, you may be sure of that. He
never said a word all the way to the police station, and I
didn't ask him any questions. I was much too intent upon
what would happen when I got him there. And then it all
came out much more convincingly than I had dared hope.
We searched him and found a lot of little packets of drugs
sewn into the lining of his waistcoat. He didn't tell us that
his tailor had put them there or any yarn like that. He just
said, 'Well, it's a fair cop. What's become of the old lady?'
"I told him that Mrs. Hawkins was at present provided
with free board and lodging. Then I began to question him. I
always believe in striking while the iron's hot. I got him to


so
THE HARVEST MURDER
cough up the whole story without much trouble. He'd been
smuggling cocaine over in this way for years and delivering
it at the shop in Lambeth. He must have done pretty well
out of it, by all appearances. But he didn't seem to have
anything put away. I learned later that he indulged in pretty
expensive habits when his ship was in Hamburg. Hamburg,
I'm told, is an easy place to spend money in.
"He told us among other things that his name was Christo-
pher Elver, and we were able to verify that from his dis-
charge papers. But he'd been called Joe ever since he went
to sea as a boy. He gave his age as thirty-one and said that
he was unmarried. His parents were dead and so far as he
knew he had no relations in the world. Mrs. Hawkins wasn't
really his aunt; that was only an excuse for his visits to the
shop. I asked him if he had any friends in London, and he
told me pretty sharply that he hadn't. He said that when a
man was in port for only two or three days on end he hadn't
much chance of making friends. I don't know whether he
was telling the truth or not. But when I went and had a
little chat with Mrs. Hawkins next day, she told me that he'd
got a girl.
"I wasn't disposed to place any implicit credit in what
Mrs. Hawkins said. I'd already caught her lying too often
for that. But I felt bound to ask him more about this girl of
his. Mrs. Hawkins had been quite positive about her; she
said he had brought her to the shop more than once. How-
ever, Elver flatly denied that any such person existed. And I
think on the whole I'd rather believe him than Mrs. Hawkins.
Anyway, the girl never materialized, and we heard no more
of her."
"All this happened nine years ago," said Oldland re-
flectively. "Did you at that time attach any particular in-


THE HARVEST MURDER
51
terest to the possible existence of this girl?"
"I can't say that I attached much significance to her, once
I had satisfied myself that she had played no part in the
drug organization. You see, we satisfied ourselves that Mrs.
Hawkins and Elver were the only two who had a hand in
that, unless you include the unfortunate addicts who came
to the shop to buy the stuff. Against them we had all the evi-
dence we wanted. It didn't seem worth while to waste time
and money looking up their innocent associates."
"So that the existence of this girl was never really dis-
proved," Dr. Priestley suggested.
"Well, if you like to put it that way, I suppose it wasn't,
Professor," Hanslet replied. "I daresay that Elver had a girl
friend in London, possibly several. But it wasn't that sort of
casual acquaintance that Mrs. Hawkins implied. According
to her, a girl existed with whom Elver was particularly in-
fatuated. She declared that she had seen her more than once.
She even gave some sort of a description of her. She said that
Elver called her Kitty, but swore she didn't know her sur-
name. But as I say, Elver flatly denied her story. He in-
sisted that he had never taken a girl to Mrs. Hawkins' shop
and that none of the girls he knew answered to Kitty. On
the whole, as I say, I prefer to believe him rather than Mrs.
Hawkins."
"As being apparently the more truthful of the two?" sug-
gested Oldland.
"Yes, to some extent. And the facts then and later ap-
peared to be in Elver's favour. If he had been on any sort of
intimate terms with a girl we should have been bound to hear
of her. She would surely have made some sign when she
read of his arrest in the papers. She would have asked per-
mission to see him when he was in jail or something like that.


THE HARVEST MURDER
53
time. I suddenly remembered the girl whom Mrs. Hawkins
had insisted upon. I didn't mention her directly, but I asked
him if there was anyone with whom he would like to get in
touch. He told me that there was absolutely nobody. He
wasn't going to apply to his old employers or anybody like
that. He wanted to make a fresh start and see if he couldn't
put the past behind him. And as for friends, he hadn't any
who would care to remember him. I rather liked the fellow
for that. And I must admit that I'm downright sorry that
he's made such a fool of himself."
"There's no chance of his getting away with it, I sup-
pose?" Oldland asked.
The Superintendent shrugged his shoulders. "He can't re-
main at large very much longer," he replied. "A man with
no money in his pockets, or at most a shilling or two, is hope-
lessly limited in his movements. The only way that he can
raise any more is to realize some of the proceeds of the
burglary, and he won't venture to do that just yet. I won't
say that a man with plenty of means can't give the police
a run for their money, but if he's destitute he must rely upon
his own legs to get him about, and even then he's got to pro-
cure food somehow. Besides, Elver is handicapped by the
fact that we've got photographs and an accurate description
of him. Jimmy has already seen to it that these have been
circulated. He daren't return to his old haunts, and he can't
wander about the country indefinitely. No, he's bound to be
caught, and then I'm afraid he'll get a stiffish sentence. Well,
it serves him right, I suppose. I'm afraid, Professor, that
there aren't even the elements of a problem about Elver's
case."


THE HARVEST MURDER
55
hearts were most easily touched when their throats were
moistened. If that were Elver's game, he would certainly
hang round one or other of the pubs.
But, the Sergeant asked himself, would he venture to do
so? On the whole, he decided, he might. He probably didn't
realize that the identity of the burglar was already known
through the medium of the fingerprints on the silver box.
He would feel convinced that nobody in the neighbourhood
of Culverden or Matling could possibly recognize him. That
being so, he would see no immediate reason for hiding him-
self. That he had selected Paddock Croft as the scene of his
depredations suggested that he was making Matling his head-
quarters in the country. The Sergeant got out his bicycle
and rode to the Chequers, where he arrived shortly before
six o'clock.
There everything was in readiness for opening time. Mr.
and Mrs. Raymond and their daughter were already in the
bar parlour, ready to throw open the windows and serve
the throng assembled outside. Of course, on an ordinary
weekday evening, nothing like the hordes of the week-ends
were to be expected. Still, there were fifty or sixty customers
already waiting, mostly women, but with a fair sprinkling
of their men friends.
The Sergeant explained what he wanted, and Mr. Ray-
mond, always anxious to keep in with the police, raised no
objections to his plan. Mr. Raymond took him upstairs and
installed him in a chair beside the window of the best bed-
room. From this point of vantage he was able to inspect all
those who came to the window of the bar parlour below.
And Mr. Raymond thoughtfully left a jug of beer and a
glass beside the chair.
With the photographs spread out on his knees, Wragge


56
THE HARVEST MURDER
began to watch for the possible appearance of his man. He
soon satisfied himself that he was not in the crowd already
collected. This crowd was good-tempered and orderly enough.
Mr. Raymond, acutely conscious of the presence of a police-
man in the house, waited until the strike of six to open the
window. Then the crowd surged forward, automatically
forming itself into a queue. As each in turn was served with
his or her drink, the recipient moved away to what was lo-
cally known as the arbour. This was a row of tables with
benches set on either side of them, over which a wooden
framework had been erected. A tarpaulin could be drawn
across this framework in case of wet weather.
The stream of customers was constantly replenished, and
very soon the open space in front of the Chequers assumed
the aspect of a minor market place. Matling boasted no
more than a single village shop, and this was a fairly primi-
tive affair. It was, on the whole, adequate to deal with the
needs of the home dwellers. Upon its counters were disclosed
a miscellaneous collection of articles, ranging from ready-
made suits of clothes to half-penny bars of chocolate. If you
wanted anything in reason you would probably get it. In
any case, the obliging proprietor would procure it for you
the next time the carrier called. But since not more than half
a dozen people could crowd into it at a time, it was obviously
unsuited to the invading army of hop pickers. Other ar-
rangements had therefore to be made to provide for them.
The comparison of the hop pickers to an invading army
is not altogether inapt. For like an old-time army of in-
vasion, it was accompanied by a horde of sutlers. Where
these sutlers came from, and how they earned a living in
other times, is something of a mystery. But they appeared
as if by magic at suitable centres throughout the hop pick-


THE HARVEST MURDER
57
ing districts.
So while Sergeant Wragge kept his vigil at the upper
window, the scene outside the Chequers was gradually trans-
formed. The open space round the elm tree became covered
with stalls, upon which were displayed goods of every kind.
The stall holders arrived in various ways. Some, accom-
panied by their wives and families, came trundling barrows
and perambulators. From these they extracted pieces of
wood, erected a rickety bench, and displayed their wares
upon it. Others, more enterprising, or perhaps more prosper-
ous, employed the services of a horse and cart. The aris-
tocracy arrived in cars and lorries, drawing these up in such
space as they could find.
The goods displayed upon these improvised stalls com-
prised the whole extent of the hop pickers' needs. One, for
instance, sold bread and sticky confectionery which attracted
all the flies in the neighbourhood. Another bore the legend
"Proger's Perfect Pork Pies." Next to this was an appetiz-
ing display of jellied eels and whelks. Conspicuous under the
branches of the elm tree was a lorry laden with boxes of
kippers and bloaters.
Round these stalls and round the windows of the bar
parlour an ever-changing crowd eddied and swirled. The
technique of shopping was in nearly every case the same. A
family of hop pickers would appear from somewhere down
the road, possibly a mother, two grown-up daughters and a
couple of small boys. They would first walk round the stalls
in solemn conference. The meals for the following day re-
quired the most careful consideration. Breakfast was easy.
There would be enough bread and butter left over from to-
day for that. Possibly an egg or two, purchased locally, could
be afforded.


THE HARVEST MURDER
59
The two daughters were as usual united in their opinions.
Jellied eels were above all things desirable, but they were
disappointingly unsatisfying. Whelks were far better value.
Besides, there was the thrill of extricating them skilfully
from their retreat. Mother had a craving for cockles, still
unsatisfied in spite of long indulgence. But she allowed her-
self to be over-ruled. Four-pennyworth of whelks were pur-
chased. Quite a nice taste between the three of them. The
three of them, because whelks were not suitable for the
puerile digestion. Besides, the kids already had a jam tart.
What more could they expect?
The rest was simple, for it is notorious that whelks are
insipid unless you have something good to wash them down
with. So the eldest girl paid a visit to the window of the bar
parlour. Half a pint of stout for mother, half a pint of mild
each for the two daughters. Finally, a fizzy lemonade to be
shared between the two small boys. Armed with these re-
freshments the family retired to the arbour, and somehow
squeezed themselves into the only couple of seats which still
remained. ,>
Sergeant Wragge watched all this with a tolerant eye. He
became reminiscent and recalled how different things were
when he was a young constable. Then, hop picking had meant
the invasion of a crowd of rowdies, and sometimes pitched
battles between them and the police. Now everything was
changed. The hop pickers seemed to be of a different class
altogether. They were a happy, good-natured set of peo-
ple, who meant no harm to anybody. The same families came
down to the same farms year after year. He never had what
you might call serious trouble with any of them. They got
a bit noisy sometimes, certainly. They couldn't understand
why the law forbade them to have a drink except during cer-


60
THE HARVEST MURDER
tain restricted hours. Well, he hardly blamed them. They
were in a sense out on holiday and it seemed very hard that
they shouldn't be allowed to do what they liked within rea-
sonable bounds. He fancied that he recognized some of the
faces from previous years. He even wondered vaguely what
law of nature ordained that all the more elderly women
should run to such preposterous behinds. The girls were slim
enough, good-looking too, most of them. But their mothers!
You'd have a devil of a job to seat them five in a row in a
railway carriage.
Not many men came hop picking these days. The occupa-
tion did not seem to appeal to the unemployed Londoner.
The few who did come seemed to be men in jobs from which
they could afford to take three weeks holiday, and to bring
their wives and families with them. They had a way of segre-
gating themselves. The wives and families were left to do
the shopping, and to them would have been assigned a bench
in the arbour. The men, for the most part, sat on the grass
under the elm tree, exchanging talk in a dialect foreign to the
country ear of Sergeant Wragge. Every now and then one
of the men would rise and lurch across to the window of the
bar parlour. Having got there, he glanced anxiously toward
his family assembled in the arbour. Fair's fair. Besides, it
doesn't look well to leave your family out of it when you
fetch another pint for yourself. The family, watching him,
was as well aware of his feeling as he was himself. They
hastily emptied their glasses and looked at him expectantly.
With a sigh he strolled to the arbour and collected their
glasses. There was, at least, threepence to be collected on
each of them. Then he gave his order and carried it away
from the window on a tray. With his own pint he returned
to his previous seat beneath the tree.


THE HARVEST MURDER
61
Wragge scanned each of these men carefully as they came
into his field of vision. Not for the first time he realized how
extremely difficult it is to recognize an unknown person from
his description and photograph. More than once he leaned
forward eagerly. Something in the shape of a nose or the
curve of a chin seemed to correspond with the photograph.
But each time on closer inspection he shook his head. The ob-
ject of his scrutiny had a mole on his face, or his eyes were
set too widely apart, or his ears were the wrong shape, or his
cheeks didn't seem to fit in with that queer phrase in the de-
scription, "sanguine" complexion. What was a sanguine com-
plexion, anyhow?
It began to grow dark. At last Mr. Raymond, bursting out
of his house like an enraged fury, lighted the gas lamp which
was set above the front door of the Chequers. This imme-
diately changed the aspect of the scene. The gas lamp, in
spite of its two incandescent mantles, shed its light only over
the restricted area in front of the window. The stall holders,
by way of attracting custom, produced hurricane lanterns
which they hung up to diffuse the best light possible in the
circumstances. But these, seen from the window where the
Sergeant sat, gave little more light than so many glowworms.
The upper branches of the elm tree remained outlined against
the fading sky. Beneath it appeared a constellation of faint
stars, the lighted cigarettes of the men assembled there. The
arbour became shrouded in darkness. Not until a figure
moved into the rays of the gas lamp did it become anything
more than a vague shadow.
But the darkness utterly failed to depress the spirits of
the hop pickers. Somebody unseen, probably one of the men
beneath the elm tree, produced a mouth organ. He played the
first few bars of a popular tune, and from a dozen quarters


62
THE HARVEST MURDER
more or less harmonious whistlers joined in. It seemed
almost as though this had been a pre-arranged overture. The
mouth organ ceased, faded out, rather, into the general bab-
ble of voices. Then in the unseen depths of the arbour a
woman started to sing. The notes, thin and shrill, were dis-
tinct above the clamour. One by one others joined her, until
the full chorus drowned everything but the nearer voices.
Both tune and words were incomprehensible. The singers
seemed to disagree upon the tune and the words which ac-
companied it. Near at hand the effect was weird if not ac-
tually discordant. But from a distance this spontaneous mu-
sic possessed a certain charm of cheerfulness.
But the town dweller, accustomed to his lighted pave-
ments, does not really enjoy the darkness of the countryside.
As time went on the chorus grew thinner and thinner. Vocifer-
ous goodnights intruded themselves upon it. Without being
able to perceive it with his eyes, the Sergeant could tell that
the crowd was growing less dense. Fewer forms came to the
windows. During the pauses in the general clamour he could
hear the sound of footsteps on the road, dying away in the
distance. The pickers, gladdened and refreshed, were re-
turning to their huts.
Wragge waited until he heard the stentorian voice of Mr.
Raymond shout: "Now then, give your last orders, please.
Ten minutes to closing time. You know well enough by now
what the rule of the house is."
His summons had some effect. A dozen members or more
of the diminished multitude decided upon a last drink. There
was a surge toward the windows of the bar parlour, the shout-
ing of urgent orders, the clinking of glasses. No time to go
back to the shadow of the elm tree. Drinkers remained talk-
ing noisily, clustered under the white rays of the gas lamp.


THE HARVEST MURDER
63
Wragge thought that perhaps his man would appear at the
last moment. He rose from his chair, and leaned cautiously
out of the window, feeling pretty certain that he would not
be seen against the background of the unlighted room.
As he did so, Mr. Raymond's voice rang out again. "Time,
Gentlemen, please." Reluctantly the group outside the Cheq-
uers drained their glasses and handed them in. They re-
ceived their threepences, each man counting the coppers over
carefully. The windows closed sharply, and simultaneously
the door leading into the other roqm opened. Half a dozen
home dwellers emerged, still continuing an argument in ear-
nest voices.
Wragge scanned their faces as they passed under the gas
lamp. They were all familiar to him. Tom and Fred Adcorn
he knew by name. Then there was old Daddy Wright; every-
body knew him. One of the others was Daddy's nephew. The
Sergeant could not call to mind the names of the remainder,
but that hardly mattered, since certainly none of them was
Christopher Elver. The echoes of their discussion reached
his ears as the home dwellers tramped up the road in the
direction of Matling village. He was more interested in the
hop pickers and craned still further out of the window as
these turned away. Not until the space in front of the
Chequers was entirely deserted was he satisfied that his vigil
had been profitless. Then, as the door of the room in which
he was sitting opened, he turned away from the window.
His visitor was Mrs. Raymond, carrying a lighted candle
in her hand.
"La, Mr. Wragge, I'd almost forgotten you was up here
all this time," she exclaimed. "I just ran up to fetch a clean
handkerchief before sitting down to supper. You must be
famished, sitting up here all this while. Stay and have a bite


64
THE HARVEST MURDER
of something with us. Now do I Mary is laying the table now,
and she won't be five minutes."
The Sergeant hesitated before accepting this invitation.
There was an excellent supper waiting for him at home, he
knew that. A piece of cold bacon with some warmed-up
runner beans left over from dinner time. On the other hand,
he knew that he could count upon something equally good
at the Chequers. It was just possible that he might glean
some further fragments of gossip about the burglary at Pad-
dock Croft.
"Thank you, Mrs. Raymond," he replied; "that's very
kind of you. You're sure I won't be a burden?"
"Not at all," was Mrs. Raymond's hearty response. "My
husband and I always like a bit of company. To say noth-
ing of Mary. It's dull for her to have nobody but us old
folks to talk to. You come along downstairs, Mr. Wragge,
and I'll tell Mary to lay an extra plate."
The Sergeant's anticipations were not disappointed. No
sooner had he sat down to the table than Mary produced
the remainder of a steak-and-kidney pie, and an enormous
bowl of salad. Mr. Raymond drew two pints of beer; one
for himself and one for his guest. The ladies preferred tea,
freshly made in a large brown pot.
"You're sharp set, I daresay, Sergeant," said Mr. Ray-
mond, cutting his guest a generous slab of pie. "I'm sure I
am, after being on my feet in the bar parlour these last four
hours. This hop picking gets on my nerves. Never a minute's
rest night or day, and the whole place turned upside down.
I'll be out of this house before it comes round again, you mark
my words if I don't."
Mary laughed merrily. "What are you and Mother going
to do then?" she asked.


THE HARVEST MURDER
65
"Do!" exclaimed Mr. Raymond. "Why, find a nice little
place somewhere with a bit of garden, and room to keep a
few hens. Your mother and I have worked hard enough all
our lives. You wouldn't grudge us a bit of rest at the end of
our days, surely? What do you say, Mother?"
Mrs. Raymond shook her head. "You and me aren't the
kind to sit and do nothing," she replied. "Why, whatever
would we do sitting all alone by ourselves? How would we
get on without some folk coming in for a drink and a few
words with us? Hop picking's a rush and tumble, I'll admit
that. But it's only for three or four weeks in the year, and
you're happy enough the rest of the time. You'll forget all
about it as soon as we've got the house straight again."
The Sergeant thought it time to put in a word. "The
Matling folk would never let you go, Mr. Raymond," he
said. "Nor would the brewers, either. They know how to
appreciate a tenant that runs his house properly. By the
way, did you hear the chaps this evening say anything about
that Paddock Croft affair?"
"I didn't see any of the chaps to speak to," Mr. Raymond
replied. "Mary and I were kept busy in the bar parlour all
the time. You'd better ask Mother; she was in and out of
the other room serving the home dwellers."
"Old Daddy Wright's nephew was talking about it," said
Mrs. Raymond. "It's a bad business, Sergeant. The first
time I've ever known anything of the kind happen in the
parish. But you'll catch the man sure enough, won't you,
Mr. Wragge?"
"Oh, we'll catch him right enough," replied Wragge con-
fidently. "There must be folk round about here who've got
a pretty good idea who did it. Some of the pickers or their
friends must know him. What did Wright's nephew say


66 THE HARVEST MURDER
about it?"
"Only what he heard," Mrs. Raymond answered. "It
seems that Mr. and Mrs. Speight are terribly upset. You
couldn't expect anything else with all that valuable jewel-
lery taken. And Wright's nephew says that Lizzie, the par-
lourmaid down there, told him that it wasn't insured. You'd
never think that anybody would take a ladder and climb in
through the window like that."
"You never know what desperate things some of these
chaps will do, Mrs. Raymond," said Wragge solemnly.
"There's some bad characters in the world, there's no mis-
take about that. Wright's nephew didn't drop a hint that he
suspected anybody by any chance, did he?"
Mrs. Raymond looked suddenly uncomfortable. She
glanced half apprehensively, first at the Sergeant and then at
her husband.
"Well, he did mention a name, and that's a fact," she said
hesitatingly, "but you know what the chaps are. They get
together and talk a lot of nonsense. I never take any notice
of what they say, myself."
"They do get some queer ideas into their heads sometimes,
I'll allow," said the Sergeant. "So a name was mentioned,
was it? Do you happen to remember what it was, Mrs.
Raymond?"
Again Mrs. Raymond glanced at her husband. "Well, I
overheard them talking about that chap Lavis," she replied.
"Lavis!" exclaimed Mr. Raymond. "Why, that chap's a
perfect nuisance, as I was telling the Sergeant only this
morning. What were they saying about him tonight, I'd like
to know?"
"What's Lavis doing now?" the Sergeant asked. "He had a j
job travelling for one of the hop manure companies, I know


THE HARVEST MURDER
67
that, but somebody was telling me the other day in Culver-
den that he'd lost it."
"Of course he's lost it," replied Mr. Raymond scornfully.
"It isn't the first job that he's lost and it won't be the last.
You know what it is, Sergeant. He and his sister have a
pound or two a week coming in. Money left them by their
father, they say. They can't touch the capital, I'm told, or
it would all have gone long ago. Lavis had got the idea that
he needn't work unless he wants to. Employers won't put up
with that sort of thing these days, and I don't blame them.
He's got another job now, I hear, but I'm willing to bet a
gallon of beer that he won't keep it long."
"I'm sorry for that sister of his," said Mrs. Raymond.
"She's steady enough, from the little I know of her. And she
must have a terrible time of it, keeping house for that man
Lavis. If I was her I'd tell him to find lodgings somewhere
else, to be rid of him."
The Sergeant knew well enough that any direct approach
to the subject would be useless. "What job has Lavis got
now?" he asked.
Both Mr. and Mrs. Raymond shook their heads. "Couldn't
say," the former replied. "Selling something or other on com-
mission, I believe. That's what he's been doing ever since
I've known him. Sometimes it's hop manure, sometimes it's
sewing machines. What it might be this time I really couldn't
say. What was Wright's nephew saying about him tonight,
Mother?"
"Oh, nothing very much," said Mrs. Raymond off-
handedly. "Only that he'd fallen off his bicycle last Saturday
night and used a lot of swear words about it."
"He knows better than to cuss in my house," said Mr.
Raymond. "Fallen off his bicycle, had he? Well, it wouldn't


68
THE HARVEST MURDER
be the first time. A couple of pints of cider's enough to upset
him, and then there's no telling what he might do."
"Did Wright's nephew see him fall off his bicycle?" the
Sergeant asked.
"Not exactly, so far as I can make out," Mrs. Raymond
replied. "He lives with his uncle, you know, in that cottage
to the right, between here and Paddock Croft. He'd been in
here with his uncle that evening, I heard him say, and they'd
both gone home about half past nine. Not long after ten he
was thinking of going up to bed when he heard a crash in the
road outside. Terrible clatter it was, he was saying, just as
if somebody had thrown down a lot of pots and pans. He
waited a minute or two but didn't hear anything more. Then
he thought that there might have been an accident and that
he'd better go out and see. And then he found that it was
only Lavis fallen off his bicycle. He'd got a big bag which had
dropped off, and when Wright's nephew saw him he was just
strapping it on to the bicycle again. When Wright's nephew
asked him if he was all right, he only swore at him."
"He's like that when he gets a bit of drink in him," said
Mr. Raymond philosophically.
"He'd better not let me catch him swearing on the public
highway," said the Sergeant. "If I'd been Wright's nephew
I'd have answered him back properly."
"Oh, he didn't do that," said Mrs. Raymond hastily.
"Everybody around here knows Lavis. They don't take any
notice of him when he's in drink. Wright's nephew just
watched him as he got on his bicycle again and rode off. But
it was the way he went that made him wonder."
"Why, which way would he go but straight along the road
until he got to Park Gate?" Mr. Raymond demanded.
"Well, he didn't go that way, or so at least Wright's


THE HARVEST MURDER
69
nephew was saying. He turned off to the right along the path
which runs through the meadow and comes out at Hobb's
Corner."
"Why, whatever possessed him to go along there at that
time of night, I wonder?" exclaimed Mr. Raymond.
Mrs. Raymond shook her head. "That's just what
Wright's nephew was asking the chaps this evening," she
replied. "He couldn't have any business that way. And, likely
enough, he was up to no good."
An idea seemed suddenly to strike Mr. Raymond, but he
didn't put it directly into words. "You know that path and
the way it runs, I daresay, Sergeant," he said significantly.
"Yes, I know it well enough," Wragge replied. "I was
there on Sunday morning. It runs across the meadow below
Paddock Croft."
"That's just what Wright's nephew was saying in the other
room," said Mrs. Raymond.
Her remark was received in silence. It was, of course, well
known locally that Paddock Croft could be approached with-
out any difficulty from the path. Quite clearly, the story of
Wright's nephew would be sufficient to arouse suspicion that
Lavis was the burglar.
Of course the Sergeant knew better. The fingerprints
proved beyond all possibility of doubt the guilt of the mys-
terious Christopher Elver. Elver and Lavis could not be one
and the same person, since the latter had been a familiar
figure in Matling while the former had been in prison. It was
possible, even probable, that Lavis had been up to no good on
Saturday night. But certainly he had had nothing to do with
the burglary at Paddock Croft. Unless . . .
The Sergeant laid down the tankard which he had been
raising to his lips. It sounded wildly improbable, but still


CHAPTER VI
Wragge's first care on the following morning was to ring up
Scotland Yard. He fully expected to learn that Elver had been
arrested and that his presence would be required to give the
necessary evidence before the magistrate. But to his aston-
ishment he was told that nothing had been heard of the
wanted man. M. Division had not been idle. They had been
making inquiries in Halibut Street and its neighbourhood,
but up to the present had obtained no information. Nobody
had been found who had seen Elver more recently than noon
on Saturday. They were firmly of the opinion that he had
not returned to London. The obvious conclusion was that
he was still lurking in the vicinity of Matling.
The Sergeant scratched his head over it. It was now Tues-
day. Two whole days had elapsed since the burglary. Elver
could not have subsisted all that time in solitude. He had
not stolen food, or the matter would certainly have come to
the Sergeant's ears. Therefore, he must have a confederate
in the district who was supporting him.
This offered the choice of two theories. The first was that
Elver was being sheltered among the pickers in one of the
hopper huts. This was not improbable. Cases were not un-
known of vagrants having excited the pity of the pickers
and been given temporary accommodation by them. Elver
might have pitched some tale about being penniless and out
of work and of having no roof under which to lay his head.
If this was actually the case, there was only one thing to be
done. The Sergeant would have to make a tour of the hop
fields, description and photograph in hand. This, in addition
71


72
THE HARVEST MURDER
to being a more tiresome procedure, would involve the ex-
penditure of a considerable deal of time.
The second theory was suggested by what Wragge had
been told at the Chequers on the previous evening. If Lavis
had been Elver's confederate on Saturday night, their part-
nership might not yet be at an end. Perhaps Lavis had under-
taken to dispose of the stolen goods. In that case Elver would
be anxious to keep his eye on him until the proceeds were
divided. Lavis, with his local knowledge, could easily con-
ceal him in some place, and there attend to his bodily wants.
Nobody but Lavis need know of this place of concealment.
This story began to appeal to the Sergeant, perhaps because
it involved less labour on his part. He breakfasted rather
less leisurely than usual, mounted his bicycle and rode off to
Park Gate.
It was not yet ten o'clock when he reached the house oc-
cupied by Lavis' sister, Mrs. Creach. But, early as it was,
the bird had flown and Mrs. Creach could give the Sergeant
no information as to his whereabouts. She was a middle-aged
widow, slight and rather nervous looking. This visit from
the police clearly upset her.
"I'm sorry, I'm sure, Mr. Wragge," she said. "My brother
isn't at home. He went away to work on his bicycle the best
part of an hour ago."
"That's very unfortunate, Mrs. Creach," said the Sergeant
tersely. "I particularly want to speak to him. He's gone to
work, you say. Where has he gone to?"
"I'm sure I couldn't tell you, Mr. Wragge," she replied.
"My brother never says where he's going or what time he'll
be home. But he did say this morning that he wouldn't be
home to dinner. He told me to have some supper waiting for
him when he got back. I put him up some cold beef and bread


THE HARVEST MURDER
73
and cheese sandwiches to take with him."
Cold beef and bread and cheese! This would suffice for a
hidden man's daily ration. Lavis could very easily secure a
meal for himself in an inn. It almost seemed that the theory
which at first had sounded so improbable was about to prove
correct.
"What work is your brother doing now, Mrs. Creach?"
the Sergeant asked.
"Well, it isn't exactly regular work," she replied. "He's
only doing it to oblige a friend of his who's in business. He
goes round the country on his bicycle selling things for him,
if you understand me."
"Yes, I understand well enough," said the Sergeant, rather
impatiently. "What sort of things is he selling?"
"Knives and things like that for butchers and fish-
mongers," Mrs. Creach replied. "He carries samples with
him in a bag on his bicycle. When he gets an order he sends
it off to his friend who delivers the goods direct."
"I see," said the Sergeant. "And what time did your
brother get home on Saturday night, Mrs. Creach?"
At the mention of Saturday night she started perceptibly.
"I couldn't tell you that, Mr. Wragge," she replied. "I had a
bad headache that night, and went to bed early. I took some
aspirin for it and I was asleep before nine o'clock. My brother
wasn't back then and I didn't hear him come in. But he was
in bed and asleep when I took him in a cup of tea at eight
o'clock on Sunday morning."
"What time do you expect your brother home this eve-
ning?"
"It might be any time, but it's usually round about six
that he comes home. He likes to have supper then and go
round to the Chequers and have a pint of cider later on."


74
THE HARVEST MURDER
* -
Wragge left the house and started to ride back to Culver-
den. He was not anxious to press his questioning of Mrs.
Creach too far. She had probably told him the truth about
her brother's absence and expected return. On the other
hand, it was not impossible that she knew something about
the affair at Paddock Croft. She had certainly shown con-
cern when Saturday night had been mentioned. It might be
worth while to keep an unostentatious watch upon the house
at Park Gate.
Sergeant Wragge had two young constables under his im-
mediate direction. Upon his return to Culverden he sent for
one of these and gave him his instructions.
"I've got a job for you, Frank," he said. "You know Lavis
and his sister Mrs. Creach that live over at Park Gate, I
daresay? Well, slip over to their place and stay there till I
come and see you this evening. Don't show yourself if you
can help it, but just keep an eye on things. If Mrs. Creach
goes out, follow her and find out where she goes to. Of course,
if you should happen to fall in with this chap Elver that we're
looking for, arrest him on the spot. Otherwise, don't interfere
with Mrs. Creach. Her brother may come home during the
day. If he does don't let him go out again. Tell him that he's
to stay where he is until I've been over to see him. That's
clear enough, isn't it?"
The constable replied that it was perfectly clear, and went
off immediately. Since it was getting on for dinner time, Ser-
geant Wragge went home. He sat down in his favourite chair
and lighted a pipe. It would be a very pleasant feather in his
cap if he was able to lay the burglar by the heels. There was
just a chance that he would kill two birds with one stone.
Not only Elver himself but Lavis, his accomplice.
So Lavis was travelling in butchers' knives just to oblige a


THE HARVEST MURDER 75
friend, was he? Butchers' knives! The words sent a sudden
flow of recollection through the Sergeant's mind. He'd never
thought of it again since that moment. The Paddock Croft
affair must have put it clean out of his head. The knife he had
picked up on Sunday morning as he was cycling to the scene
of the burglary! On his return to Culverden he had untied
it from his bicycle and locked it up in a cupboard. He had
intended to put a notice up on the board stating that it had
been found, but what with one thing and another he had en-
tirely forgotten to do so. He rose from his chair, unlocked
the cupboard and laid the knife upon the table.
Yes, it was a butcher's knife, right enough. And now that
he looked at it closely the Sergeant saw that it was compara-
tively new. It had been sharpened, but the shape of the blade
showed that it had not been much used. Lying in the dew by
the roadside had dulled its brightness, and the spots he had
remarked upon it had turned to dull brown. One could do a
lot of damage with a knife like that, the Sergeant reflected.
Was Lavis altogether a suitable person to be carrying things
like that about the country? Only the previous evening Mr.
Raymond had said that there was no telling what he might
do when he got a bit of liquor inside him.
Wragge frowned as he recalled the place where he had
found the knife. He had passed the Chequers and had
reached a spot nearly half way between there and Paddock
Croft—not very far, in fact, from old Daddy Wright's cot-
tage. Was this the spot where Lavis had fallen off his bicycle?
Wright's nephew had spoken of his having a bag with him.
If this knife had been in the bag he might well have dropped
it and failed to recover it in the darkness. That was an ex-
planation and an obvious one.
On the other hand, why should Lavis have been carrying


76
THE HARVEST MURDER
his samples about with him at that time of night? And why
should he have gone along the path which led to Hobbs'
Corner? However drunk he might have been he could hardly
have expected to secure an order under those particular con-
ditions. Or had the knife been intended as a weapon should
the burglar be disturbed in his operations? Certainly La vis'
movements on Saturday night required looking into. Mean-
while the Sergeant supposed that he would have to spend
his afternoon making inquiries in the hop fields. An unsatis-
factory job whichever way you looked at it. Good natured
as they might be, the hop pickers were not fond of giving
information to the police.
It was a fine, warm afternoon when the Sergeant began his
tour of the hop gardens. He started on the farm nearest his
own house, intending to work further afield should it be
necessary. Work was in full swing. Around each bin was as-
sembled a group of hoppers, chattering merrily while they
plucked the ripe fruit from the vine. Wragge approached
each group in turn, to be greeted with a storm of good-
natured chaff. Was there nothing better for the police to do
than to go round the gardens? Entering into the spirit of
the game he answered them in their own coin, but as soon
as he produced the photographs of Christopher Elver, and
began to recite his description, which by now he almost knew
by heart, he was conscious of an immediate coolness.
Some of the hoppers, after the merest glance at the photo-
graphs, declared fervently that they had never seen anybody
like him. Nor did the description shake their convictions. No,
never in their lives had they met anybody who in any way
answered to it. Others took a more cautious line. They had
seen faces like that, but they couldn't remember where. Cer-
tainly never in this neighbourhood. It must have been a long


THE HARVEST MURDER
77
time ago, and if they had ever known the name they had for-
gotten it. As for the description, well it might apply to almost
anybody. Others again were immediately struck by the re-
semblance of the photographs to somebody they had known.
But upon patient questioning it always turned out that that
somebody was dead long ago, or was living in some impos-
sibly remote place. And all with one accord affected a
stupidity in surprising contrast to the usual sharp alertness
of the East End Londoner.
By the end of the afternoon Wragge had had enough of it.
He saw the utter fruitlessness of pursuing his quest by these
methods. It was not that the pickers were in any way an-
tagonistic to his efforts. They were not deliberately trying
to shield a criminal. It was simply that their native caution
bid them be very wary of their dealings with the police.
Those of them who lived in Stepney where the Thames Police
Court is situated had learned the local rendering of the
Lord's Prayer, "Lead us not into Thames Station." Even if
one's conscience were perfectly clear the police would be a
terrible worry. They had a way of asking indiscreet questions
about one's neighbours, for instance, answers to which might
lead to endless trouble. And, beyond it all, there was always
the prospect of an appearance in the witness box, to be
bullied by magistrates and impertinent people in wigs and
gowns. They might be as rude as they pleased to you, but if
you answered back it was contempt of court. No, the law
was like the snakes sometimes to be found in the hop gar-
dens, better left alone.
This being their attitude, Elver might remain concealed
among them until the end of hop picking. They had a code
of justice of their own. They would try the case for them-
selves. And their sentence would depend upon the heinous-


78
THE HARVEST MURDER
ness of the crime in their own eyes. Murder, the betrayal of
a pal, the pinching of a poor man's savings—all these would
meet with their instant condemnation. They would have no
hesitation in handling the perpetator over to the police, and
serve him right. But undoubtedly they would view the bur-
glary at Paddock Croft with considerable lenience. After
all, it was the toff's fault. He had simply asked for trouble.
The open window, the ladder so conveniently placed for
entering it. Could a poor chap be blamed if he climbed in and
helped himself? After all, what did he take? A few bits of
jewellery! The toff and his wife would be no worse off for
that. If they didn't like doing without the trinkets, they could
buy some more. If the police found the chap, well and good.
But not one of the pickers would raise a hand to give them
active assistance.
Wragge, being an extremely tolerant man, did not blame
the pickers for their point of view. He knew well enough that
the policeman, by virtue of his office, must fight his battles
single-handed. If Elver was to be found it would be by subtler
methods than broadcast inquiries. So, having had his tea, the
Sergeant cycled out to relieve his subordinate who was keep-
ing watch at Park Gate.
The constable's report was satisfactory, so far as it went.
Shortly before noon, Mrs. Creach had gone out. The con-
stable had followed her and found out that her goal was the
village shop. Here she had made a few purchases. She had
then returned home and had not left the house since. The
baker had called at the house during the afternoon, and de-
livered a loaf. Mrs. Creach had had no other visitors. Nor
had anybody else appeared from the house. Finally, the Ser-
geant learned that Lavis had returned home shortly before
his arrival. He had been riding a bicycle to which a large bag


THE HARVEST MURDER
79
had been strapped.
"All right," said the Sergeant. "You cut along home and
leave the rest to me." He walked up to the house and ham-
mered on the front door, which was opened by Mrs. Creach.
"Oh, here you are back again, Sergeant," she said without
enthusiasm. "My brother's just come back. He's in the
kitchen, if you want to see him."
Wragge entered the kitchen, to find Lavis seated at the
table with a plate of cold meat in front of him. He was a
short stocky man, with red hair and a scowling expression.
He looked as though he might be an ugly customer to deal
with if it came to trouble. But he seemed in no way disturbed
by Wragge's entry.
"What's your business, Sergeant?" he asked truculently.
"My sister says you've been here once before today asking to
see me. What's it all about?"
"That's soon told," replied Wragge shortly. "I've been
hearing complaints about you using abusive language on the
public highways."
Lavis laid down his knife and fork and glared savagely.
"Who's been complaining about me, I'd like to know?" he
asked.
"That's no business of yours. I've warned you, and that's
enough. Next time it won't stop at a warning. You were
at the Chequers on Saturday evening, I hear."
"Well, what if I was? A man can go into a pub and have a
drink if he likes, can't he?" ,
"So long as he behaves himself decently," replied the Ser-
geant swiftly. "The trouble is you didn't. You were involved
in a row outside after you'd been turned out."
"Well, that takes the cake, that does!" exclaimed Lavis
indignantly. "There was a bit of a row going on, I remember


80
THE HARVEST MURDER
that, but I had nothing to do with it. It was those two Adcorn
chaps that started it. They wanted to set about a stranger
who was there from what I could make out. However, it
didn't come to anything. I just jumped on my bicycle and
rode home."
"You rode straight home?" asked the Sergeant innocently.
"Why, yes, of course I did. Where else could I go when the
pub was closed?"
The Sergeant looked at him severely. "Lavis, you're a
liar," he said. "Or else it is that you were too drunk to re-
member what happened that night. How many glasses of
cider did you have at the Chequers?"
As soon as he had spoken the Sergeant saw that he had
made a slip. He had offered Lavis a means of escape which
he was not slow to take. A look of cunning crept into his
eyes.
"Well, Sergeant, I'm bound to say that I had a-drop more
than I usually do," he replied. "You know what Raymond's
cider is. Feeds it up with sugar and raisins until it's nigh as
strong as whisky. Couple of pints is enough for anybody. But
I was terribly thirsty that evening, and I daresay I had three,
with perhaps another half to top it up with. When I got
outside into the air it came over me all queer. I'm bound to
say I don't remember anything very clearly until I found
myself back here, sitting in this very chair."
"You don't remember falling off your bicycle, for in-
stance?"
Lavis' eyes widened as though a dim recollection had re-
turned to him. "Why, yes, now I come to think of it, I did
have a bit of a tumble," he replied. "You know what that
road from the Chequers is like. Terribly slippery when there's
a bit of dew on the ground. And I must have got too near the


THE HARVEST MURDER 81
edge of the road and my bike skidded."
"That's no excuse for using bad language when you were
offered help. And perhaps you'll explain why, after that, in-
stead of coming straight home you took the path which leads
to Hobbs' Corner."
A look of complete innocence overspread Lavis' counte-
nance. "Why I never did that, did I?" he exclaimed. "Just
shows the tricks that cider will play with a chap. I do mind
now that it seemed a long time before I got back here. Fancy
that, now! All the way round by Hobbs' Corner! Why, it
would be a mile or more out of my way."
The Sergeant disregarded this. "Who did you meet on
your way home?" he asked suddenly.
Lavis' eyes flickered, but he allowed no other sign of dis-
comfiture to escape him. "Who did I meet?" he replied.
"Why, nobody that I can remember. Wait a minute, though.
There was a chap that came up to me when I'd that skid, but
who he was or what he said I can't rightly say. There wasn't
anybody else that I'm sure of."
* The Sergeant decided on a bold stroke. He knew by ex-
perience that sudden accusations often startled a man into
betraying himself. Lavis was still seated at the table. His
sister was standing beside him, glancing anxiously from one
to the other as the conversation between her brother and the
Sergeant proceeded. Wragge suddenly produced one of El-
ver's photographs from his pocket and laid it on the table in
full view of both of them. "That's the portrait of the man
you met on Saturday night," he exclaimed triumphantly.
The reaction was instantaneous. Lavis looked at the photo-
graph incredulously, then in a flash his expression changed
to one of amazement. "It's Joe!" he exclaimed.
Meanwhile Mrs. Creach had bent down to view the photo-


82
THE HARVEST MURDER
graph more closely. Her recognition of it was as immediate
as her brother's. "Why, that's the man who came here asking
for you on Saturday afternoon," she said. "I told you about
him next morning, if you remember."
Lavis turned upon her savagely. "Came here asking for
me!" he exclaimed. "Why, you're out of your senses, woman!
How should he come asking for me when he didn't know I
lived here?"
"Perhaps it wasn't him," replied Mrs. Creach, picking up
the photograph and looking at it more closely. "Why of
course it wasn't. How silly of me. The man who came here
on Saturday was a good deal older than this. I can see it
wasn't him now. There's just a sort of likeness that made me
think for the moment that it was him."
"You say that a man called here on Saturday afternoon
and asked for your brother?" queried the Sergeant.
"Yes, that's right. I told him that my brother wasn't in
and he seemed very disappointed. He asked if there was any
chance of seeing him later in the evening, and I told him I
thought not. You see, my brother told me that he wouldn't
be back for tea, and I knew that he'd stop at the Chequers
until ten o'clock like he always does on Saturdays. And that's
what I told to the man."
"Better for your brother if he stayed away from the pub,"
the Sergeant remarked sagely. "What did the man say when
you told him that?"
"He said that he'd come back on Sunday morning. But he
never did. And he's never been here since. I suppose that he
had to go back to London."
"How do you know that he came from London?" the
Sergeant remarked quickly.
"Why I don't know for sure. But I took him to be a friend


84
THE HARVEST MURDER
get any orders. That's how I came to meet Sea Joe."
"I see, and you've kept up the acquaintance ever since?"
"Nay, that I haven't," replied Lavis virtuously. "Sea Joe
isn't the sort of chap I took him for. He got himself into
trouble with the police and was sentenced to seven years I
heard. I haven't seen him since."
"Come now, Lavis, that won't wash," said the Sergeant.
"What's Sea Joe's right name, to begin with?"
Lavis looked up craftily. "You ought to know that, Ser-
geant, since he's been in prison," he replied.
"Never mind about that. I asked you if you knew what his
right name was."
Lavis hesitated for a moment. "Chris Elver," he replied
sulkily. "At least that's what he used to sign himself."
"Oh, you were familiar with his signature, were you? You
used to do business together, I suppose?"
"I used to get his orders and pass them on to the firm."
"And of course he got in touch with you again when he was
released from prison?"
"No, that he didn't, I'll swear," exclaimed Lavis em-
phatically. "How could he do that when he didn't know where
I was? It was like this, you see. I left the firm a few months
after he'd been put in jail. They hadn't treated me properly,
and I wasn't going to work for anybody who didn't appre-
ciate my services. That would be eight or nine years ago now,
and I came down here to live with my sister. That's right,
isn't it, Flo?"
Mrs. Creach nodded. "Yes, it's as long ago as that," she
said wearily.
"Well if he didn't get in touch with you, you got in touch
with him," the Sergeant insisted. "How else do you account
for his coming here and asking for you?"


THE HARVEST MURDER
85
"Can't have been him," replied Lavis promptly. "You don't
think I'd have anything to do with a chap that had served
time, do you?"
"I'm not so sure," replied the Sergeant. Then abruptly he
changed his tone. "Tell me where Elver is at this moment,
and I won't ask too many questions about his associations
with you."
"How should I know where he is at this moment?" Lavis
exclaimed indignantly. "I've never set eyes on the chap since
I took my last order from him all those years ago."
"You'll find it will pay you better to tell the truth, Lavis,"
said the Sergeant sternly. "We have reason to believe that you
met Elver on Saturday night for an illegal purpose. You
understand that, when he is arrested, as he will be before very
long, your position will become pretty serious. Perhaps you
will pretend that you don't know it's a crime to shelter any-
body who is wanted by the police? It's a very serious of-
fence, let me tell you. I'd recommend you to think about that
pretty hard. What were you carrying on Saturday night in
that bag strapped to your bicycle?"
This sudden change of subject seemed to puzzle Lavis.
"What should I be carrying?" he replied. "My samples to be
sure! Yes, and that reminds me. Somebody stole one of my
samples that night. You'd be better employed in finding that
than in asking me questions about Elver, whom I haven't so
much as heard of for years."
"I know how I'm best employed," said Wragge shortly.
"But let's hear a little more about this theft. What was it
that was stolen?"
"Why, one of my knives to be sure. It was in my bag when
I went to the Chequers on Saturday evening. It wasn't there
when I came to look inside on Sunday morning."


86
THE HARVEST MURDER
"How did you come to take your bag with you when you
went to the Chequers?"
"Because I hadn't been home first, see? I'd been on my
rounds down Bathdown way, calling on a few likely cus-
tomers, and I didn't get back to Matling until seven o'clock
or later. I'd had my tea with some friends of mine that I'd
called upon, so I just called into the Chequers for a drop of
cider as I passed."
"Where did you leave your bag while you were in the
Chequers?"
"Why, strapped to the bike, where it had been all day. I
didn't leave the bike outside the house, for you never know,
with all these pickers and their friends about, what tricks
they may be up to. So I just pushed it in behind the lodge
where nobody would be likely to see it. It was there all safe
when I came out and got on it again."
"When did you look inside the bag next?"
"Well, I didn't exactly look inside it until Sunday morning.
But I mind when I had that skid the old bag fell off and the
knives and things tumbled on the road. I reckoned that I'd
got them all picked up, but I see now what must have hap-
pened."
"And what do you think happened?"
"Why, that chap that came up and spoke to me must have
sneaked one of them."
"Oh, that's when you must have cut yourself," exclaimed
Mrs. Creach suddenly.
"What's it got to do with you whether I cut myself or not?"
replied her brother savagely.
"It's got nothing to do with me. But you'll remember that
I found the leg of your trousers all covered with blood on
Sunday morning."


THE HARVEST MURDER 87
"Well, that may have been it," replied Lavis sullenly.
"Knives are nasty things to pick up in the dark, and maybe
one slipped and gave me a jag in the arm. But there, I'm
bound to confess that what with the cider I'd drunk I don't
remember much about what happened that night."
"I'd try to remember a little more, if I were you," said
the Sergeant. "You might recall, for instance, your meeting
with Elver and what happened in consequence. I'm only try-
ing to advise you for your own good. Surely you can see for
yourself what's bound to happen? Elver will be arrested and
then he'll have his own story to tell. Whereas if you tell your
story first, you may manage to get in the witness box instead
of the dock. And, as I don't mind telling you, you'll be a lot
better off that way. Now just you sit and think it over for a
bit." Without any further farewell the Sergeant left the
house.
He called in at the Chequers on his way home. The Ray-
monds had lived in the district for many more years than he
had, and he was anxious to verify whatever he could of Lavis'
statement. Mrs. Raymond, who was a walking directory of
the countryside, was able to supply him with the information
he required. Mrs. Creach's husband, who had been a small
farmer, had died some ten years before. Mrs. Creach had
then sold the farm, retaining for her use only the house in
which she now lived. A year or so after this event—Mrs. Ray-
mond could not be more accurate than that—Lavis had come
to live with his sister. Since then he had travelled for various
firms and had never been able to hold his job for long.
"Do you happen to know what he was doing before he came
down here?" the Sergeant asked.
"I can't say for certain," Mrs. Raymond replied. "I have
heard that he had something to do with ships in London. But


88
THE HARVEST MURDER
you can't rely on things folks say."
Wragge returned home very well pleased with his excur-
sion. He had very little doubt that before long Lavis would
make a clean breast of it. He wasn't the sort of man who
would endanger his own liberty to secure the safety of a
friend. When he had had time to think it over he would see
on which side his bread was buttered.
He had been cunning enough to weave a weft of lies upon
a warp of truth. He had not guessed that the Sergeant was
already aware of the identity of the burglar, or he would not
have admitted a previous acquaintanceship with Elver. It
had been a slip on his part to admit that he had recognized
the photograph, but he had countered by admitting his previ-
ous acquaintance with Elver.
One point, indeed, had been satisfactorily cleared up. The
Sergeant was aware of the financial transactions between
Elver and Joe Fuller. The former, as an excuse for borrow-
ing five shillings, had said that he knew someone in the coun-
try who would supply him with money. Until now that had
sounded like a fairy tale. But in the light of Mrs. Creach's
statement it assumed an appearance of possibility. Elver
might have been telling the truth. Lavis was the friend whom
he proposed to visit. And he had reason to believe that he
could extract money from him.
That opened up a very interesting line of conjecture. Why
was Elver confident that he could extract money from Lavis?
On the strength of their previous friendship? Hardly. It was
more likely that their association had not been confined to or-
dinary business transactions. They probably shared some
guilty secret between them.
If that were the case, Elver's actions were understandable.


THE HARVEST MURDER
89
He had kept Lavis up his sleeve, so to speak, until necessity
should arise. When this occurred he resolved to visit him, as-
suming the disguise of the friend of one of the hop pickers.
That paper cap had turned out a useful clue after all.
Mrs. Creach had recognized it as the one worn by her visitor
of Saturday afternoon. The Sergeant was no logician, but his
arguments seemed to him unassailable. The cap had been
worn by Mrs. Creach's visitor. The cap must have been left
in the garden at Paddock Croft by the burglar. It was
proved conclusively by the fingerprints that Elver had been
the burglar. Elver therefore must have been Mrs. Creach's
visitor. Surely that would be obvious enough to anybody.
Elver had failed to find Lavis at home, but Mrs. Creach had
told him when and where he might be expected. No doubt
the two had met during the course of the evening. It was not
difficult to guess what had passed between them. Elver had
endeavoured to blackmail Lavis by a threat of revealing the
secret, whatever it was. Lavis, then, no doubt, thoroughly
scared, had protested that he had no money to spare. But,
spurred into activity by Elver's threat, his fertile brain had
discovered an alternative. He had suggested an attempt upon
Paddock Croft, offering himself as a guide for the purpose.
Elver had accepted the offer, on condition that Lavis should
shelter him until the proceeds could be realized.
As for the knife, its discovery by the roadside was easily
explained. When Lavis had fallen off his bicycle it had slipped
out of his bag together with the rest of his samples. Lavis,
fumbling about in his fuddled condition in the darkness, had
failed to recover it. It had lain where it had fallen until the
Sergeant picked it up.
Everything, in fact, was capable of a perfectly simple ex-


90
THE HARVEST MURDER
planation. It only remained for the Sergeant to arrest Elver
and the case would be complete. And, in his own mind,
Wragge was convinced that the arrest would be effected
within the next few hours.


CHAPTER VII
Hobbs' Corner was a crossroad, at which there was a clus-
ter of buildings, about a mile from the Matling Chequers.
It derived its name from Hobbs' Farm, of which the hop gar-
dens surrounded the crossroads on all sides. The path which
has already been mentioned ran from a point not far from
the Chequers to the crossroads. But this path was available
only for pedestrians and cyclists. Vehicles proceeding from
Matling to Hobbs' Corner followed the road which ran
through Park Gate. The Matling end of the path, Hobbs'
Corner and Park Gate, were situated at the extremities of an
almost equilateral triangle, each side of which was rather
more than three-quarters of a mile.
Of the buildings at the crossroads, the most conspicuous
were a range of two oast houses. Facing these were a pair of
tumbledown cottages, now uninhabited and used as a store.
About fifty yards away from these in the direction of Park
Gate was a modern bungalow.
This bungalow had been built some five or six years pre-
viously by Mr. Pershore, the head of the firm of Pershore
and Huggins, artificial manure manufacturers. Mr. Pershore
had bought the land upon which the bungalow stood from
Mr. Velley, the owner of Hobbs' Farm, or rather, as it was
said locally, he had taken it in exchange for a large consign-
ment of the hop manure which was one of his firm's products.
The bungalow was small but well and attractively built. Mr.
Pershore, who was a lover of antiques, had furnished it at
considerable expense. But he did not live there permanently.
He had a house in London which was also full of beautiful
91


92
THE HARVEST MURDER
things. The bungalow was occupied only at the week-ends,
when either Mr. Pershore himself or one of his family usu-
ally came down from Saturday till Monday. During the re-
mainder of the week the bungalow was unoccupied. It was
looked after by Mrs. Adcorn, who lived with her two sons,
Tom and Fred, in one of the cottages belonging to Hobbs'
Farm. She came in daily and aired the place.
In Mr. Pershore's eyes the bungalow had only one disad-
vantage. Within a few hundred yards of it were the hopper
huts belonging to Hobbs' Farm. These were, of course, un-
occupied for the greater part of the year. But during hop
picking they were inhabited by a clamorous crowd whose
favourite diet appeared to be bloaters. Mr. Pershore, after
one experience, refused to come down to the bungalow dur-
ing hop picking. He said that he might just as well stay in
London, where the crowd was no denser and the culinary
odours more diversified. His last visit during the current
year, upon which Mrs. Pershore had accompanied him, had
been from August seventeen to nineteen, the last week-end be-
fore hop picking had begun.
Sergeant Wragge had just reached the comforting conclu-
sion that the arrest of Elver could not long be delayed. He
was unlacing his boots preparatory to the enjoyment of a
quiet evening when his telephone rang. With a muttered ob-
jurgation he rose and answered the call. An excited voice at
the other end of the wire greeted him.
"Hullo, is that you, Sergeant? This is Velley of Hobbs'
Farm speaking. Mr. Pershore's bungalow's on fire. I've rung
up the brigade and they'll be along as soon as they can. I've
plenty of water in my pond, fortunately, and I've got every-
body I can collect carrying buckets."
"Right, I'll be along in a couple of shakes, Mr. Velley,"


THE HARVEST MURDER
93
Wragge replied. He hurriedly relaced his boots and ran out
of the house. This was surely an emergency which warranted
abnormal expenditure. A few doors away was the local ga-
rage which always had a car available for hire. The Ser-
geant engaged this and a few minutes later he was being
driven toward Matling at breakneck speed.
The rising ground, upon which the village of Matling stood,
screened the fire from his sight until he was well past the
Chequers. Then, as the car reached the summit, he could see
it plainly enough. In the twilight it looked like a huge bon-
fire, round which an interested circle of figures appeared to
be dancing. As he approached them they turned out to be men
and women running between the pond and the fire with
buckets and shouting at the tops of their voices. The car
pulled up and Wragge jumped out.
The bungalow was blazing fiercely, there was no doubt
about that. It was built of brick with a tiled roof, but its in-
ternal fittings consisted mainly of wood. By the time the
Sergeant arrived, the fire had got a good hold. Flames were
bursting out through the front windows and also through
the centre of the roof. He saw at a glance that the place was
doomed unless the fire brigade arrived without much further
delay. But the nearest brigade was stationed nearly ten miles
away, and it must traverse country roads where excessive
speed would be dangerous.
The crowd assembled outside the bungalow was doing all
it could. It consisted mainly of the temporary occupants of
the hopper huts, though the Sergeant could distinguish a few
familiar faces directing their efforts. Among these were Mr.
Velley and his wife and the two Adcorn brothers. A chain
had been organized between the pond and the bungalow, a
matter of three or four hundred yards. Every bucket or sim-


94
THE HARVEST MURDER
ilar utensil which could be found had been pressed into serv-
ice. The two Adcorns were superintending the filling of these
at the pond, while Mr. Velley in person directed the efforts
of those grouped round the bungalow. The buckets left the
pond full to the brim. But as they passed from one excited
hand to another much of their contents was spilt. By the
time they reached the seat of the fire, they were, as a rule,
barely half full. And however eager those who poured them
into the flames might be, the task was no easy one. It was
impossible to get close to the burning building because of the
intense heat. Each man had to run in as near as he could, fling
the contents of his bucket, and retire hastily. Very little of
the water that left the pond actually reached the scene of the
fire. Such water as did reach it evaporated almost at once in
a cloud of steam.
The Sergeant shook his head. There was really nothing
that he could do. But while he stood there wondering what
in the world Mr. Pershore would say when he heard about it,
the sound of a motor horn rang out above the clamour. A
pair of headlights flashed into view and above them the glint
of the fire on the firemen's helmets. The engine came to a
standstill with much grinding of brakes and the men jumped
off.
Mr. Velley ran to meet the captain. "Plenty of water in
my pond," he said. "You can run your hoses—"
"We'll see to that," replied the captain shortly. "Show us
where the pond is, there's a good fellow."
On the arrival of the fire engine, the helpers desisted from
their work and clustered round it. It gave an opening for
the Sergeant's activity. He marched up to them with dignified
rapidity.
"Now then, stand back, stand back, please," he ordered.


THE HARVEST MURDER
95
"It's no good getting in the firemen's way, you know. A little
further back, please. You'll be able to see just as well."
He shepherded them gently to a point a few yards down the
road, where he stood barring the way. Meanwhile the fire-
men had run a hose to the pond and the pumps began to
throb violently. A steady crackling stream of water emerged
from the nozzles, to be directed through one of the broken
windows into the heart of the fire. A huge cloud of steam
arose into the air, its underside tinged pink by the flames.
Very soon it became evident that the fire brigade had ar-
rived just in time to save the bungalow. The flames died
down gradually and Wragge found himself at leisure to in-
vestigate the origin of the conflagration.
Mr. Velley, a big stout man, was standing by the engine.
He was perspiring freely and mopping his face with an
enormous crimson handkerchief. Mr. Wragge went up to
him.
"Good evening, Mr. Velley; this is a bad business," he
said. "Have you any idea how it started?"
"Haven't had time to think about it," replied Velley. "All
I know is that Fred Adcorn ran up to the house hollering that
the place was afire. He's my drier you know, and was work-
ing down at the oast. I got on to the brigade by telephone,
and then I told Fred to turn out his brother and lay hands
on all the buckets he could find and give them to the pickers
from the huts. Then I rang you up and since then I've been
trying to do what I could. You'd better ask Fred about it.
He's over there yonder, collecting the buckets."
The Sergeant approached Fred Adcorn, who was a tall,
powerful, pleasant-faced man of about thirty-five or so.
"Good evening, Adcorn," he said. "How did you come to
see the bungalow was burning?"


THE HARVEST MURDER
97
He hurried off and the Sergeant strolled back to the scene
of the fire. Fred Adcorn, he knew, was a steady reliable
chap, not in the least likely to imagine things. And yet if his
observation was to be trusted, the fire seemed to have started
on one of the inner walls of the lounge.
Now the Sergeant was more or less familiar with the
bungalow and its arrangements. He knew, for instance that,
although it was equipped with central heating, it was not
fitted with electric light. How then had the fire originated?
There was no fireplace in the lounge in which ashes might
have been left smouldering. Nor could the familiar explana-
tion of an electrical short circuit be given in this case. He
would have to see Mrs. Adcorn and hear any suggestions she
might have.
He had not far to go in search of her. She was standing
in front of the smouldering bungalow, a horrified expression
on her face, watching the efforts of the firemen to extinguish
the last remnants of the fire. When the Sergeant accosted her
she started as though she expected him to arrest her on the
spot. Her first words expressed the underlying current of her
thoughts.
"Oh, Sergeant, whatever will Mr. Pershore say when he
hears of this?"
"He'll want to know how it happened, I expect," the Ser-
geant replied quietly. "And that's what we've got to try and
find out between us, Mrs. Adcorn. You're taking care of the
bungalow for him, aren't you?"
"That's right," she replied, with the tears starting to her
eyes. "And I know he will think it was all my fault. But it
wasn't, Sergeant, I'll take my oath upon that."
"When were you last inside the bungalow, Mrs. Adcorn?"
"Just before six o'clock this evening. It was like this you


98
THE HARVEST MURDER
see, Sergeant. When there's nobody living there, I go in every
morning and sweep round a bit. If it's fine like it was today,
I open the windows then. And then sometime between five
and six in the afternoon, I come round again, shut the win-
dows and make all safe for the night."
"You leave the windows open all day? Isn't that a bit
risky?"
"It's Mr. Pershore's particular orders. More than once I've
said to him that I didn't like leaving the windows open like
that. But he only laughed and said that nobody round about
here would take anything. Then I asked him what about the
hop pickers, and he said that not even they would dare to go
inside the house in broad daylight. There's too many of us
folk passing to and fro for that. Still, I never liked it, but
Mr. Pershore said that it would be all right."
"You were in the house at six o'clock, you say, Mrs. Ad-
corn? Did you think that anyone could have been hidden in
it while you were there?"
Mrs. Adcorn shook her head vigorously. "I'll take my oath
that nobody was there, Sergeant," she replied. "You see, I've
always got those windows on my mind when the pickers are
about. I wouldn't say anything against any one of them—
they're all steady respectable folks and most of them have
been coming to this farm for years. But it's those Londoners
that come down and hang about the hopper huts that I don't
trust. I wouldn't put it beyond some of them to slip in
through a window and doss down for the night. So I always
look round everywhere before I lock up of an evening. And
there was nobody in the house this evening when I left it, I'll
swear to that."
"Not hidden under a bed, or in a cupboard or anything like
that?" suggested the Sergeant.


THE HARVEST MURDER
99
"There's not a place like that I didn't poke into," Mrs. Ad-
corn replied firmly. "I looked under all the beds and in all
the cupboards. I even looked into the garage and into the
shed where the central heating furnace is. And there wasn't a
soul on the place anywhere."
"You went into the lounge this afternoon, of course?"
"Yes, I went in there, shut the windows and looked all
round, and everything was right, just the same as it al-
ways is."
"From what your son Fred tells me, the fire seems to have
started in the lounge. He says that when he looked in at the
window, the opposite wall was burning. What was standing
against that wall?"
Mrs. Adcorn made an effort of memory. "Let me see, now,"
she replied. "There are no doors or windows in that wall. At
one end there was a big sofa thing, which Mrs. Pershore
called a divan, or some such name. That was covered with a
whole lot of cushions. Bright looking things they were, but
they'll be all spoiled now, more's the pity. Then there was an
old grandfather clock in an oak case. I never thought it was
very much to look at, but Mr. Pershore told me that it was
worth a lot of money. He says that nothing does a clock
more harm than to be stopped and that I was to be sure to
wind it up to the full every Saturday morning. I wasn't to
alter the hands or anything like that, you'll understand, Ser-
geant, but just to keep it wound. And on the other side of the
clock was a bureau, with a glass-fronted bookcase above it. I
think that was all. Oh no, there was a little old-fashioned
chair which stood between the clock and the bureau."
The Sergeant was struck with a bright idea. He produced
a packet of cigarettes from his pocket, opened it and offered
it to Mrs. Adcorn.


100
THE HARVEST MURDER
"I expect you're a bit upset," he said. "Have a cigarette. It
might do you good."
Mrs. Adcorn raised her hands in protest. "I'm sure it's
kind of you, Sergeant, but I never smoke," she replied.
"Nearly everybody does now, I know, but somehow I've
never taken to it. You may laugh at me, but I've never had a
cigarette between my lips in my life."
That disposed of the matter, then. It had occurred to the
Sergeant that Mrs. Adcorn might have thrown a cigarette
down somewhere. This might have set fire to some fabric
which had smouldered and burst into flames. But since Mrs.
Adcorn did not smoke, that theory must be discarded.
At this moment, the captain of the fire brigade came up.
"Good evening, Sergeant," he said. "We've pretty nearly
finished our job, I think. There's no sign of any fire now that
I can see. But I'll leave a man here overnight in case of ac-
cident. I'm afraid there's been a lot of damage done, what
with the fire and water. An almost perfect place for a bon-
fire with those panelled walls and old dry furniture. It's a
mercy that we've been able to save as much as we have."
"Have you any idea what started the fire?" the Sergeant
asked.
"Somebody must have an idea, if I haven't," replied the
captain significantly. "There's nothing to account for it that
I can see. No flues with old oak beams running across them,
no electric light wires or anything like that. The occupants
are away, I understand? Who was looking after the place?"
"Mrs. Adcorn here," said the Sergeant. "She's the care-
taker and has been ever since the place was built. She's just
been telling me that everything was all right at six o'clock
this evening."
The captain turned to Mrs. Adcorn.


THE HARVEST MURDER 101
"Six o'clock," he repeated thoughtfully. "We got the call
at twenty-five minutes past eight, and, according to Mr.
Velley the fire had only just been discovered then. You're
sure that nobody could have got into the house after you
left it?"
"Not unless they broke in, sir," Mrs. Adcorn replied. "I
shut and tastened all the windows and locked both doors be-
hind me."
The captain nodded. "That's so. We had to break open the
back door to get in. Well, it's not my business, but it seems
pretty queer. How was the house lighted, by the way? There's
no gas or electricity?"
"With Aladdin lamps and candles, sir," Mrs. Adcorn re-
plied. "The lamps are all kept on a shelf in the scullery and
I fill them up when they want it. I last filled them on the day
when Mr. and Mrs. Pershore went away, a fortnight ago
yesterday. And they haven't been used since, as there's been
no occasion for it."
"What do you fill them from?"
"There's a five-gallon drum of paraffin in the scullery, sir,
with a tap in it. Mr. Pershore has it filled up again whenever
it runs out."
"When was the central heating furnace last in use?"
"It hasn't been lighted since last winter, sir. I couldn't say
exactly when it was let out. I think it was sometime in April."
"Was there anything inflammable about the house besides
the drum of paraffin? Matches, petrol or anything like that?"
"There are a few dozen boxes of matches kept in the cup-
board in the pantry, sir. And a packet of candles in case any-
thing went wrong with any of the lamps. But there was no
petrol in the house, or even in the garage. The garage is only
used when any of the family have driven down in a car."


102
THE HARVEST MURDER
"The scullery is the room with the concrete flooring on to
which the back door opens, I suppose?"
"Yes, that's right, sir."
"I noticed that drum of paraffin when we broke in. How
much oil was there in it when you last filled the lamps?"
"It must have been more than three parts full, sir. The oil-
man had been round and filled it the Saturday before."
"Well, the fire didn't reach the scullery, and everything
there should be pretty much as you left it. Suppose we go
round and have a look at that drum. You've got an electric
torch, I expect, Sergeant? It's too dark now to see anything
without a light of some kind."
"Yes, I've got my torch," Wragge replied. The three of
them went round the house and entered it through the broken
down back door. Mrs. Adcorn pointed out the five-gallon
drum standing on a wooden packing case. The Sergeant
picked it up and shook it. Then he put it down again and
turned on the tap without results.
"Well, it may have been three parts full when last you
used it, Mrs. Adcorn," he said. "But as you can see for your-
self, it's pretty nearly bone dry now."
Mrs. Adcorn seemed incredulous. She lifted the drum for
herself, then put it down again with a helpless gesture. "It's
one of them dratted London folk, I'll be bound," she ex-
claimed. "They must have got through one of the windows
when nobody was looking and drawn off the oil. I was always
telling Mr. Pershore that something like that would happen."
The captain shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, I must be getting along," he said. "My chaps have
been waiting for me this last ten minutes. Good night."
He went off and a minute or two later the Sergeant heard


THE HARVEST MURDER
103
the sound of the engine driving away. He turned to Mrs. Ad-
corn.
"You've got Mr. Pershore's address, I daresay," he said.
"Yes, I've got that and his telephone number," she replied.
"I spoke to Mr. Velley and he said he'd ring him up from
the farm. I don't know what he'll say when he hears about
this, I'm sure."
"Well, Mrs. Adcorn, you can't do anything tonight," said
Wragge. "If I were you I'd go to bed and try to get a little
sleep. You've been terribly upset, I can see that."
"I'll go to bed, but not a wink of sleep shall I get, Ser-
geant," she replied dolefully.
Wragge paid a visit to the farm, but he learned that Mr.
Velley had already telephoned to Mr. Pershore, who seemed
very much disturbed by the message. He promised to come
down and inspect the matter by the first train in the morning.
Seeing that there was nothing more to be done for the mo-
ment, the Sergeant decided to return home. But the question
arose, how was he going to get there. He had sent the car back
to Culverden, not knowing how long he might be detained. It
was hardly worth while having it out again, and besides, the
authorities might grumble at the expense. And then an idea
struck him. Mr. Raymond had a bicycle that he could bor-
row. It wouldn't hurt him to walk as far as the Chequers,
and he could ride home from there.
It was now past ten o'clock, and the crowd which had as-
sembled to watch the burning bungalow had dispersed. The
pickers had returned to their huts. Here and there through
an open door Wragge could see the flickering glow of a
candle. The monotonous sound of a shovel told him that
somebody, Fred Adcorn probably, was working in the oast


104
THE HARVEST MURDER
house. But as soon as he left Hobbs' Corner, the countryside
seemed deserted. A solitary dog was barking somewhere, and
he could hear the rumble of a train in the distance. But he
met nobody the whole length of the path which led to Ma-
tling.
By the time he reached the Chequers the house was shut
up for the night, and the doors in the front securely locked.
Wragge went round to the back and tapped at the kitchen
window, through which a light shone. The door was opened
by Mr. Raymond.
"Hullo, Sergeant, back again!" he exclaimed. "Come in.
You've been over to the fire, I have no doubt. Is there much
damage done?"
"More than Mr. Pershore will care about, I'm afraid," the
Sergeant replied. "He's coming down in the morning, and
we'll hear what he has to say."
"Well, I'm awfully sorry about it. Mr. Pershore's a very
pleasant gentleman, as you know as well as I do. It'll hit him
hard to have his nice things burnt up like that. Not that he
can't afford to buy plenty more, that's one comfort. It's an ill
wind that blows nobody any good, as they say, but a fire
benefits no one. It hasn't benefited me. I've had scarcely a
soul in since half past eight. As soon as the news of the fire
spread everybody ran off to have a look at it."
"Folk will do that," said Wragge philosophically. "But two
or three of them must have stayed behind, surely."
"I don't think I've served a dozen at the window since the
fire started. And the only other customer I had I should have
been pleased to do without."
"Who was that?" the Sergeant asked.
"Why that blinking chap, Lavis," replied Mr. Raymond in
a tone of intense disgust. "He came in here not two or three


106
THE HARVEST MURDER
off toward Park Gate hollering at the top of his voice. He
hadn't got his bicycle with him this evening. He would never
have been able to ride it if he had."
"Lavis and I shall quarrel before long," said Wragge
sharply. "By the way, talking of bicycles, that's what I
dropped in here for. I was wondering if you'd lend me yours
to get home to Culverden on?"
"Surely," replied Raymond. "It's in the lodge. I'll come
out and get it for you. And you needn't be in a hurry to
bring it back. I never have a chance of getting outside the
house during hop picking time."
Wragge rode home and sat down to a late supper. Mrs.
Wragge was eager for news of the fire, but her husband
proved unduly taciturn. His mind was full of the events of
the evening and he wanted to arrange these in some sort of
order. As if he hadn't enough perplexities already without
this fire coming on top of them!
He had seen and heard enough to convince him that the fire
had not been accidental. Somebody must have started it,
which suggested that yet another crime had been committed
in his district. And the only person who could do such a thing
must have had a grudge against Mr. Pershore.
The identity of that person was obvious. According to
Raymond, Lavis had received the news of the fire with un-
concerned pleasure. But the trouble was that Lavis couldn't
possibly have started it. Mrs. Adcorn had declared that
everything was all right at six o'clock, and her statement
could be accepted without question. She was a thoroughly
reliable woman, in whom the Pershores had every confidence.
Therefore, the fire must have been started some time after
six.
Lavis' alibi was unimpeachable. Shortly before six, Wragge


THE HARVEST MURDER
107
himself had arrived at his house and found him at home.
Their conversation had lasted for perhaps twenty minutes.
Wragge had then ridden straight to the Chequers, where he
had remained for ten minutes, not more. According to Ray-
mond, Lavis had arrived at the Chequers a very few minutes
after Wragge's departure. He had still been there when news
of the fire had reached the house. He had walked to the
Chequers from Park Gate. In order to arrive there when he
did, he must have left home immediately after Wragge's de-
parture. He must have taken the direct road and not made
the detour through Hobbs' Corner. Besides, between six and
seven Hobbs' Corner must have been alive with people,
pickers and others. Lavis could not have entered the bunga-
low without being seen. He seemed to be exonerated in spite
of his prejudice against Mr. Pershore. The incendiary must
be sought elsewhere. But again, the same difficulty arose.
Wragge found it impossible to "imagine how anybody could
have entered the bungalow at that time of the evening un-
observed.
Yet somebody must have done so. Somebody must have got
into the house at some time after all the windows were fas-
tened and the doors locked, and made the necessary prepara-
tions. Probably the contents of the drum of paraffin had been
sprinkled on the floor and furniture of the lounge, and a
match applied. Then the criminal must have escaped again
without being observed, even by the vigilant Fred Adcorn.
Could any of the Adcorn family be implicated? It seemed
to Wragge the most unlikely thing in the world. They were a
highly respectable family who had worked on Hobbs' Farm
before Mr. Velley had bought it, and that was many years
ago. The father, who was now dead, had been the carter. The
two sons were quiet, steady, hard-working fellows. Fred was


108
THE HARVEST MURDER
a trusted hop drier, and hop drying is a science which takes a
good deal of application. Tom, during hop picking time, was
employed as a weigher, which is very definitely a position of
trust, and Mr. Velley, as Wragge knew, had the highest
opinion of both of them. The Pershores had always treated
Mrs. Adcorn rather as a friend of the family than as a mere
caretaker. And even if it were possible to imagine any of the
Adcorns stooping to arson, what possible motive could they
have had? They had nothing whatever to gain by the de-
struction of the bungalow or its contents. In fact, if it had
been destroyed and was not rebuilt, Mrs. Adcorn would have
lost the few shillings weekly which were derived from her job.
Every irregularity which occurred during hop picking time
was attributed locally to the pickers, or rather to their casual
friends. The theft of a stray chicken or the damaging of an
apple tree could thus be explained. But surely not the de-
liberate burning of the bungalow. Even the most depraved
would hardly set fire to a house for an evening's entertain-
ment. And no casual stranger could in any way derive profit
from the blaze.
It was perhaps natural that at this point the shadow of
Elver should fall across Wragge's mind. He was already con-
vinced that Elver and Lavis were linked in some unholy
league. Was this latest crime yet another evidence of their
malevolence? Lavis had a grudge against Mr. Pershore as the
result of his dismissal. Elver had committed the burglary at
Paddock Croft, probably at Lavis' instigation. Lavis was
sheltering Elver from the keen eye of justice. Was it possible
that, as a return for his kind offices, Elver had consented to
set fire to Mr. Pershore's bungalow? But then, again, how
could Elver contrive to enter and leave the place unobserved?
Would a man in hiding attempt such an audacious action?


THE HARVEST MURDER
109
While he was still on the scene of the fire it had occurred
to Wragge that somebody might have appropriated the bun-
galow as a temporary residence and had set fire to it not by
design but by carelessness. Hence his questioning of Mrs.
Adcorn. But her statement had seemed to dispose of any
such theory. The same idea had occurred to her, and she had
searched the place thoroughly every day. Elver, for instance,
could not have been concealed there since the previous Satur-
day evening.
Wragge, as he reached this conclusion, began to feel right-
eously indignant. A criminal, possibly a gang of criminals,
had been let loose in his district. How could anybody expect a
Sergeant of police and two constables to prevent crime in an
acreage of several square miles, overrun as it was by a horde
of strangers? The first thing in the morning he would call the
Superintendent up and lay the case before him. Additional
police should be drafted into the district at once. Or, as a last
resource, the Yard should be called in.
Wragge, though in many respects a typical policeman of
the old school, had no feelings of antipathy toward Scotland
Yard. He was not ambitious. He had no desire to achieve re-
nown by the capture of some desperate criminal. One might
get hurt in the process. Besides, renown had no attractions
for him. At his age he could scarcely hope for promotion. He
was anxious to complete his term of service with as little in-
convenience to himself as possible. He had never been heard
to make any plans as to what he would do after his retire-
ment, but more than once he had remarked to Mrs. Wragge
that the Raymonds were very comfortable at the Matling
Chequers, and if one day Raymond should carry out his
reiterated threats of giving up the house, well, one never
knew.


110
THE HARVEST MURDER
By the time he went to bed the Sergeant had convinced
himself that Scotland Yard were the people to deal with the
situation. He anticipated very little difficulty in persuading
his superiors to agree to this. They would communicate with
the Yard, and some clever young chap would come down and
take the responsibility off his shoulders. He couldn't be ex-
pected to go round chasing burglars and incendiaries at his
time of life. He and his two constables had enough to do in
minding the normal affairs of the district. So, with a clear
conscience, Sergeant Wragge went to bed and was very soon
fast asleep. - .


CHAPTER VIII
Mr. Pershore was a tall thin man of sixty or so with an
ascetic face. He wore powerful glasses and, on the whole,
looked far more like a student than the shrewd man of busi-
ness he was. As he stepped out of the train at Culverden sta-
tion on the Wednesday morning, Wragge, who had been wait-
ing on the platform, came forward and saluted.
Mr. Pershore peered at him in the short-sighted way
habitual to him.
"Ah, good morning, Sergeant," he said. "My bungalow has
been burnt down, I hear. It's really most annoying. Has
everything been destroyed?"
"Not quite so bad as that, sir," replied Wragge comfort-
ingly. "But I'm afraid a lot of damage has been done. The
fire had got a good hold before the brigade came and then
the water they pumped on it made a terrible mess of things.
You will be going to see it, I expect, sir?"
"Yes, I've ordered a car to meet me," Mr. Pershore re-
plied. "It'll be waiting outside the station now. If you hap-
pen to be going that way I could give you a lift."
"Thank you, sir, I should like to talk to you about the
matter." .
They entered the waiting car, which was the same that
Wragge had hired on the previous evening, and were driven
rapidly to Hobbs' Corner. The bungalow presented a deso-
late sight enough. All the windows in the front were broken
and their frames charred. The walls and roof were blackened,
and in one place the tiles had fallen in, leaving a yawning gap
through which could be seen the half-burnt rafters. The ap-
iii


112
THE HARVEST MURDER
pearance of the house inside was even more depressing. The
floors of every room were covered with a couple of inches or
more of black mud, the product of ashes and water. No part
of the bungalow had escaped this defilement, but the prin-
cipal damage was confined to the lounge and the dining room
next to it. In these rooms little but the bare brick of the walls
remained intact. The wood floors and the panelling had al-
most entirely disappeared, and to add to the confusion the
ceilings had fallen in. Most of the furniture was unrecogniz-
able, all that remained of it being shapeless pieces of charred
wood.
Mr. Pershore surveyed the wreckage in silence. At last he
shook his head disconsolately.
"This is a bitter blow, Sergeant," he said. "It isn't the
financial aspect of the damage that worries me. That's cov-
ered by insurance. But there were some things in this house
that money won't replace. They were almost unique survivals
of the past, and the only other specimens of their kind are in
museums. I'd rather have lost a thousand pounds than have
had this happen. But I must be thankful, I suppose, that
some of my possessions have been saved."
"The furniture was of great value then, sir?" said Wragge
commiseratingly.
"It depends upon what you mean by value. You could, I
suppose, go to Tottenham Court Road and buy things which
would serve the purpose equally well. That wouldn't cost you
a lot of money. But the things that have been burnt were
made by craftsmen many years ago, and for that reason had
what I suppose is a sentimental value. The bureau that used
to stand in the lounge, for instance. I don't suppose there are
a couple of others like it in England. To say nothing of the
clock, which was the only example I know of the work of a


THE HARVEST MURDER
113
celebrated clockmaker. And the dining room chairs, too. A
complete set of a very rare pattern and date. I find it very
difficult to be philosophical about our loss. What I can't un-
derstand is how the fire started."
Wragge looked suddenly mysterious. "We have reason to
believe, sir, that the fire was started maliciously," he said.
Mr. Pershore turned upon him sharply. "We!" he ex-
claimed. "And who are we, I'd like to know?"
"The police, sir. We take a very serious view of the matter.
I was in communication with the Superintendent early this
morning, sir, and he's requesting Scotland Yard to send an
officer down to investigate."
"You mean that somebody deliberately set fire to the
place?" said Mr. Pershore rather incredulously.
"I'm afraid it looks very like it, sir. The captain of the fire
brigade is of the same opinion. I have interviewed Mrs. Ad-
corn, and she is unable to throw any light upon the origin of
the fire."
"You can set your mind at rest about Mrs. Adcorn," said
Mr. Pershore. "She didn't set fire to the place, I'll take my
oath on that. And I can't imagine anybody else doing such a
thing. I shouldn't be in the least surprised if it turned out
that one of those confounded hop pickers had got in and
dropped matches about."
Wragge had no direct reply to this. He hesitated for a mo-
ment and then came out with his suspicions.
"Lavis, who lives at Park Gate, was in your employ at one
time, was he not, sir?"
"Lavis?" Mr. Pershore repeated in some surprise. "Why,
yes, he was, some years ago. He was a lazy devil, I remem-
ber, and we had to discharge him. It was my own fault, for I
took him on without proper references. He came to see me


114 THE HARVEST MURDER
one day and told me he was out of a job and asked me if I
could do anything for him. That was before the bungalow
was built, when my wife and I used to take rooms in Matling
for a week or so every summer. I asked him what he was
used to, and he said travelling. As it happened, we wanted an
additional traveller for this district and I said I'd give him a
trial. But we wanted an energetic man, and Lavis turned out
to be anything but that. We warned him once or twice, but it
was no good, and in the end we had to get rid of him. I don't
remember having set eyes on him since. I didn't even know
that he was still in these parts."
"Yes, sir, he's still here," Wragge replied. "And he was
heard to say that it served you right, when he was told that
the bungalow was on fire."
Mr. Pershore smiled. "So you suspect Lavis of having
done the trick, do you?" he said. "Have you any direct evi-
dence against him?"
"Well, no, sir, we haven't. And we know that Lavis can't
have started the fire himself. But there was a burglary at Mr.
Speight's of Paddock Croft on Saturday night."
Mr. Pershore interrupted him. "A burglary!" he ex-
claimed. "You seem suddenly to be overwhelmed by a wave
of crime, Sergeant. But I don't quite see what a burglary at
Paddock Croft has to do with a fire at my bungalow."
"We know the identity of the burglar, sir," replied Wragge
with dignity. "And my investigations have proved that he
and Lavis were acquainted."
Mr. Pershore shrugged his shoulders slightly. "I'm getting
a bit out of my depth," he said. "As I understand it, the posi-
tion is this. You believe that the bungalow was purposely set
on fire. A man from Scotland Yard is coming down to look
into the matter. If he wants to see me I shan't be far off.


THE HARVEST MURDER
115
When Mr. Velley rang me up last night he offered to put me
up for a day or two, and I accepted his offer. I shall look
round here and make an inventory of the damage, and after
that you'll find me at Hobbs' Farm, and now if you like to
take a lift back to Culverden with the car, you're welcome
to do so."
Wragge accepted this offer gratefully enough. He returned
home in the car to await the arrival of his visitor. Nor was
this arrival long delayed. A couple of hours later, there came
a knock on his door and he rose to answer it himself. A tall
pleasant-faced young man confronted him.
"Good morning, Sergeant," he said. "We've talked to one
another before, though we've never met. I'm from the Yard
and my name's Waghorn. Can you spare me a few minutes to
tell me your troubles?"
"Come in, sir," replied Wragge heartily. "And if you'd
care for something to eat, the missus and I were just going to
sit down to dinner."
"That's what I call a timely offer," Jimmy exclaimed. "If
you've no objection I'll join you, and we can talk things over
while we eat. But look here, let's get things plain from the
start, I'm here to help, not to be a nuisance to you. And I'd
much rather you'd drop the 'sir,' and treat me just like a fel-
low policeman."
Wragge grinned. He liked this young man, so obviously de-
void of airs in spite of his rank and superior education.
"I'll do my best," he replied. "It won't take long to tell you
all about it. There's a crook at large in this district some-
where. First that burglary you know about, and now this
case of arson."
During dinner, a remarkably satisfying meal, Wragge un-
folded to Jimmy the conclusions at which he had already


116
THE HARVEST MURDER
arrived. Jimmy listened without comment, merely putting in
a word here and there. The Sergeant's logic, though not al-
together unassailable, appeared to him to be sound on the
whole.
"Now I don't want to drag you about the country,
Wragge," said Jimmy when the meal was over. "I'd like to
have a look round this afternoon and take my bearings. I
suppose there's somewhere in Culverden where I can hire a
bicycle?"
"You needn't do that," Wragge replied. "I've got one here
that I borrowed last night from Raymond of the Matling
Chequers. He said I could keep it for a bit, and there's no
reason why you shouldn't use it."
So Jimmy set forth on Mr. Raymond's bicycle. He had
brought with him a map of the district, which he had studied
in the train during his journey to Culverden. He owed his
selection for the job to Hanslet. The Superintendent had re-
ceived the telephone message from the local police, and had
sent for Jimmy.
"Look here, my lad, you know something about this busi-
ness already," he had said. "You had better go down and see
what this new disturbance is about. If you think you can
manage it on your own, sail in and win. If you find that you're
up against it, just let me know and I'll come down and bear
a hand. Off you go."
As Jimmy rode toward Hobbs' Corner, he considered the
information which Wragge had given him. That Elver and
this man Lavis were in league seemed to him likely enough.
Lavis probably knew of the place of Elver's concealment.
But that Elver should at his instigation have consented to
commit a second crime, which would bring him no possible
benefit, seemed rather unlikely. Obviously, the first thing was


THE HARVEST MURDER
117
to investigate the origin of the fire. It might possibly turn out
to have been accidental, in which case the situation would
be simplified. It would then remain to organize a systematic
man hunt for Elver, whose presence in the neighbourhood
seemed probable.
When Jimmy reached the bungalow, he found Mr. Per-
shore and Mrs. Adcorn already on the premises. He intro-
duced himself, and Mr. Pershore glanced at him ironically.
"Well, Inspector, and do you share the belief that this is
the work of a criminal?" he asked.
Jimmy laughed. "I don't form theories until I have had
some opportunity of investigation," he replied. "I'd rather
approach the matter from another direction. I'd like to con-
vince myself that the fire cannot have been started acciden-
tally. Then I'll begin to look for the criminal."
Mr. Pershore nodded. "That's a very sensible remark, In-
spector," he said approvingly. "Mrs. Adcorn and I have been
over the whole place pretty thoroughly, and we can't under-
stand how a fire can have been started by accident. There
seems to be no doubt whatever that it originated in the
lounge. Now, I know for a fact, and Mrs. Adcorn supports
me, that there was nothing in that room likely to cause a fire.
There is no fireplace nor are there any electric wires any-
where in the house. Come in and see for yourself."
Jimmy entered the lounge and looked round it. He could
see that the fire had been fiercest against the wall which
separated the lounge from the dining room. The wooden
panelling which had covered the wall on both sides had com-
pletely disappeared. The flooring against this wall was burnt
away, though in other parts of the room it was comparatively
slightly damaged by the fire. Further, the hole in the roof
through which the flames had burst was exactly over this


118
THE HARVEST MURDER
particular spot.
Mr. Pershore reported the list of the objects which had
stood against this wall. "In this corner there was a divan," he
said. "It was merely a low wooden frame, on which rested a
box spring mattress. On the divan were half a dozen cushions.
Next to it was a grandfather clock, one of my most cherished
possessions. And next to that again was a small chair with a
needlework seat. And at the further end of the wall was a
bureau, a tall one with a bookcase above it. How a fire can
have started in any of these things passes my comprehen-
sion."
"Once the fire was started they would burn readily
enough," Jimmy suggested.
"It looks like it," Mr. Pershore said ruefully. "There's
precious little left of any of them, as you can see. Of course
they were dry and made chiefly of wood. I can quite under-
stand their burning, but not how they caught fire."
"There is such a thing as spontaneous combustion," said
Jimmy. "All manner of things catch fire by themselves under
certain conditions. A heap of coal dust o&a bale of oily rags,
for instance. Could you tell me what was in the bureau?"
"It was practically empty," Mr. Pershore replied. "I know
that my wife used to keep supplies of stationery in the bot-
tom drawer, but I don't think there was anything in any of
the others. There may have been a few odd papers, but noth-
ing else. The case above was full of books of various kinds
but they weren't of any value."
"There were no matches or anything like that?" Jimmy
asked.
"No, the only matches in the house were in the pantry.
They are still there, for the matter of that. The fire didn't
reach them. As for your coal dust and oily rags, there was


120
THE HARVEST MURDER
them put away in the pantry when the family aren't here."
Jimmy went across to the windows and looked out. They
faced away from the road. In front of them was a narrow
lawn, then the hedge separating this from the hop gardens. It
seemed impossible that a spark should have been blown into
the room from outside.
He turned back to Mrs. Adcorn. "You're perfectly certain
that nothing could have been smouldering in here at six
o'clock?" he asked.
"Perfectly certain, sir," she replied firmly. "If there had
been I should have smelt it. I've got a very quick nose. I Can
tell if anything's caught in my kitchen when I'm outside the
house. But I did fancy that there was a smell of paraffin
about the place."
"Did you try and find out where the smell came from?"
Jimmy asked.
"I had a good look round, sir, for I couldn't understand it.
It didn't seem to be in any of the other rooms, only here. But
I couldn't find any paraffin anywhere. I didn't know then
that the drum was empty, for I never thought of looking. I
put it down to the engine which had been running all the
afternoon."
"Ah, we smelled that before," said Mr. Pershore. "You see,
Inspector, there's a water pump driven by a paraffin engine
behind the oast houses. It supplies the farm and this bunga-
low. And very often, when the wind's the right way we get a
distinct smell of paraffin in the house. I expect that was it,
Mrs. Adcorn."
"That doesn't explain how the drum came to be empty,"
said Jimmy thoughtfully. "It doesn't leak, I suppose?"
"I have never known it to have done so," replied Mr. Per-
shore. "Still, I've had it a good long time, and these things do


122
THE HARVEST MURDER
two possible theories. One is that the fire was already smoul-
dering at that time, though it could not be perceived. The
other is that somebody broke in after six o'clock and set fire
to the place. Now since it was less than an hour after sunset
when the fire was observed, it can't have been very dark at
the time. This house stands in full view on all sides. Were
there many people about between six and half past eight
yesterday afternoon, Mrs. Adcorn?"
"Dozens of them," replied Mrs. Adcorn. "The hop pickers
knocked off at half past five, and they were swarming all
round the place. They're all respectable people, I will say
that. They've been down here year after year and we've
never had no trouble with them. I wouldn't say that they
wouldn't pick up anything that lay handy, but they wouldn't
break into a house that was shut up. And besides the pickers,
there were all the chaps from the farm. My son Fred was to
and from the oast all that time. And my other son Tom was
in the hop gardens only just the other side of the hedge. No-
body could have broken in without somebody or other having
seen him."
"Then something must have started smouldering earlier in
the day, and you didn't notice it, Mrs. Adcorn. Some things
—like tinder, for instance—will smoulder away with prac-
tically no smoke or smell."
"There wasn't any tinder in the house," replied Mrs. Ad-
corn stubbornly. "And if there'd been anything smouldering
in here I should have found it when I was looking for the
smell of paraffin, shouldn'-t^I?"
This seemed unanswerable. In any case there was ob-
viously nothing more to be got out of Mr. Pershore or Mrs.
Adcorn.
"I'm still not altogether satisfied," said Jimmy. "I'd rather


124
THE HARVEST MURDER
I seem to be up against it," he continued. "On the one hand
it seems quite impossible that the fire should have been ac-
cidental. On the other hand, it seems equally impossible that
anyone should have started it. But there's no doubt about
there having been a fire, and a pretty fierce one at that."
"Your problem sounds a bit of a brute," replied Hanslet
thoughtfully. "I tell you what. I'll ring up the Professor and
ask him if we can go round and see him this evening. He sim-
ply wallows in a problem like that, and he may be able to
suggest a line to you to work on."
Permission for the evening's visit to Dr. Priestley was
easily obtained. They were bidden to the house in West-
bourne Terrace as soon after nine that evening as possible.
Jimmy employed the evening in making the necessary ar-
rangements for a thorough comb out of Halibut Street and
its environs; then he and Hanslet had supper together, after
which they presented themselves at Dr. Priestley's house in
Westbourne Terrace at the appointed time.
They were shown into the study, where they found Dr.
Priestley and Harold Merefield.
"Very good of you to give up your time to us like this,
Professor," said Hanslet. "Jimmy's got a bit of a problem
and neither he nor I can see the way to a solution. Have you
got time to listen to Jimmy's story of what he suspects may
be a case of arson?"
"Certainly," replied Dr. Priestley. "But I would ask the
Inspector to confine himself to facts."
Thus encouraged, Jimmy launched out into his story. He
repeated the account which he had already given to the
Superintendent and concluded by enunciating his dilemma.
"It is obvious, sir, that the fire must have been either ac-
cidental or maliciously started," he said. "And either theory


THE HARVEST MURDER
125
seems impossible. I'm driven to believe that Mrs. Adcorn
was lying to shield either herself or somebody else."
"I see no reason to suspect Mrs. Adcorn of untruthful-
ness," replied Dr. Priestley quietly. "What makes you say
that it is impossible that the fire should have been started
maliciously?"
"Why, just this, sir. Mrs. Adcorn declares that nothing in
the house was smouldering at six o'clock that evening. At
that time she closed the house, fastening all the windows
and closing the doors. Local conditions were such that no-
body could have broken in to the house unobserved between
that time and the discovery of the fire."
Dr. Priestley smiled. "I'm ready to share your conviction
that nobody could have entered the house after Mrs. Adcorn
left it," he said. "I am also prepared to accept her statement
that nothing in the house was smouldering at six o'clock. And
yet I see no objection to the theory that the fire was started
maliciously."
"By somebody from outside the house, sir?" Jimmy ven-
tured. "I don't see how that could have been done under the
circumstances."
"The fire undoubtedly originated inside the house," Dr.
Priestley replied. "You told us, I think, that you were satis-
fied that the fire started against one wall of the lounge. Will
you tell us again what furniture stood against that wall?"
"A divan, a grandfather clock, a small chair and a bureau."
"Exactly," said Dr. Priestley in a tone of satisfaction.
"This problem of yours is not without interest, Inspector.
You said, I think, that you had arranged for nothing at the
bungalow to be disturbed. If I may say so, that was a very
wise precaution on your part. Now, since we have considered
the possibilities of a crime having been committed, you may


126
THE HARVEST MURDER
already have made some conjecture as to the identity of the
criminal."
"As to that, I can only judge by what the local Sergeant
told me, sir. He's inclined to suspect an inhabitant of the dis-
trict, whose name is Lavis. Lavis is known to have had a
grudge against Mr. Pershore, and when he heard of the fire
he exclaimed that it served him right. But the difficulty is that
Lavis himself can't have done it."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Dr. Priestley. "And why is that?"
"Because he was in the village when the fire broke out."
Again Dr. Priestley smiled. "I will refer to a handbook
which should be in the hands of every detective, Inspector,"
he said. "Harold, would you be good enough to find me
Grose's Criminal Investigation?"
Harold selected from the bookshelves a volume, which he
handed to his employer. Dr. Priestley opened it and turned
over the pages.
"This is the passage I had in mind," he said. "'The in-
cendiary will do all in his power to prove at the time of the
conflagration that he was far enough away to make it impos-
sible for the fire to be his work. To this end, he endeavours to
start the fire after the lapse of a certain time, and unfor-
tunately the means at his disposal are many; some are sim-
ple, some are very ingenious.
"'The most usual method is to light a candle, the bottom
of which rests upon some hay or other inflammable sub-
stance. Before the candle has burnt down to the hay, the
criminal has time to get well away, and can prove that at the
time of the outbreak he was, in the presence and to the knowl-
edge of numerous witnesses, drinking in a distant house of
refreshment, buying cattle at a market, or attending a cere-
mony.'"


THE HARVEST MURDER
127
"I am not suggesting that so simple a method as a candle
was used in the present case. Grose mentions several other
methods by which the desired results may be obtained, but
none of these I fancy, is applicable to the present case. I
would suggest, Inspector, that you should make a second and
more detailed examination of the premises as soon as pos-
sible."
"I propose to go down there the first thing tomorrow
morning, sir," replied Jimmy.
"And how will you proceed on your arrival?" Dr. Priestley
asked.
"Well, sir, I shall look for some device which could have
started a fire after a certain lapse of time. An infernal ma-
chine of some kind, I suppose. But surely if anything of the
sort had been used, Mrs. Adcorn would have noticed its
ticking."
"She probably did," replied Dr. Priestley casually. "As I
remarked before, this case of yours is by no means devoid of
interest, Inspector. Would it hamper your investigations in
any way if I were to pay a visit to the premises tomorrow?"
"Hamper them, sir!" Jimmy exclaimed. "I haven't a doubt
that you'd be able to spot the dodge at once, whatever it was."
"My powers of observation are by no means infallible. But
I have had very little experience of incendiarism, and I
should be glad to have the opportunity of studying such a
subject on the spot. I think that the passage I have just read
has convinced you that the theory of arson is by no means
impossible. That being so, you should consider in advance all
likely motives for such an act."
"In our experience, Professor, arson is usually committed
with the object of drawing the insurance money," Hanslet
remarked. "The owner himself, or some agent on his behalf,


128
THE HARVEST MURDER
sets fire to the premises. This bungalow and its contents were
insured, I suppose, Jimmy?"
"Mr. Pershore himself told Sergeant Wragge that that was
the case," Jimmy replied. "On the other hand, Mr. Pershore
emphasized that the articles were irreplaceable."
"Nevertheless, some inquiry should be made into Mr. Per-
shore's antecedents," said Dr. Priestley. "It should always
be remembered that the owner of the premises has advan-
tages enjoyed by nobody else. He can enter or leave them un-
suspected, and he is familiar with the internal arrangements.
This applies not only to the owner, but to his family and
servants as well."
"I am informed that no member of the family has visited
the bungalow since August nineteenth, sir," Jimmy replied.
"You are informed!" exclaimed Dr. Priestley testily.
"Have you taken any steps to confirm that information?"
"Well no, sir, not yet. But my impression of Mr. Pershore
is that he is not at all a likely person to do such a thing. Ac-
cording to Sergeant Wragge he is a manufacturer in a very
prosperous way of business."
"Even prosperous manufacturers have been known to
stoop to crime," said Dr. Priestley. "Arson, however, is not
invariably committed for the sake of the insurance money.
Revenge, for instance, or the desire to take advantage of the
fire to steal something from the premises in the confusion."
"This man Lavis imagined that he had a motive for re-
venge, sir," said Jimmy. "He is already the object of some
suspicion. Again according to Sergeant Wragge, he recognized
the photograph of Elver as soon as it was shown to him. His
sister declares that Elver called at the house the previous
Saturday afternoon and asked to see him."


THE HARVEST MURDER
129
"Eh, what's this?" Hanslet exclaimed. "You didn't tell me
that part of the story, Jimmy."
"Because I don't see at present how it fits in," Jimmy re-
plied. "I'm not altogether satisfied with Wragge's theory that
Lavis put Elver up to the burglary at Paddock Croft. And
I'm still less satisfied with his suggestion that Elver set fire
to the bungalow at Lavis' instigation."
"Well, I don't know," said Hanslet doubtfully. "What do
you think, Professor?"
"You must remember that I am in ignorance of Sergeant
Wragge's reasons for his suggestion," Dr. Priestley replied.
"Perhaps the Inspector will repeat exactly what passed be-
tween them at their interview."
Jimmy replied to this invitation by repeating all that
Wragge had told him that morning. Dr. Priestley listened at-
tentively, putting in questions here and there.
"This is most interesting," he said when Jimmy had fin-
ished. "You have a burglary in which the facts appear indis-
putable. You also have a fire, which I strongly suspect to
have been the work of an incendiary. I would like to offer two
points for your consideration. One is that the identity of the
burglar appears to be definitely established. The other is that
the act of the incendiary may have taken place immediately
before or after the burglary. However, as you are well aware,
I'm not overfond of indulging in conjecture. It appears to me
that further investigation is urgently required."
"I have your promise to come down and help, sir?" asked
Jimmy.
"That promise shall be fulfilled. I will hire a car and
Harold will drive me down to Hobbs' Corner tomorrow
morning. Would it be convenient to you if we arrived there


130
THE HARVEST MURDER
at eleven o'clock?"
"It would suit me perfectly, sir," Jimmy replied enthu-
siastically.
"Then we waste no further words on the matter tonight,"
said Dr. Priestley. And taking this hint Hanslet and Jimmy
departed.


CHAPTER IX
With his usual punctuality, Dr. Priestley reached Hobbs'
Corner at five minutes to eleven on Tuesday morning. He
was accompanied by Harold Merefield, and found Jimmy
awaiting him. Mr. Pershore and Mrs. Adcorn were in at-
tendance. Jimmy introduced Dr. Priestley to them, knowing
that they would take him to be the expert whom he had men-
tioned on the previous day.
Dr. Priestley's first request was to be taken to the point
where the fire had originated. He and Jimmy entered the
bungalow together and the latter led the way into the lounge.
Dr. Priestley spent some little time in examining the debris.
At last he pointed to one particular spot on the wall dividing
the lounge from the dining room.
"The fire appears to have been more fierce here than any-
where else," he said. "It is also the centre of the damage. We
shall probably be correct in assuming that it is the point of
origin. Will you be good enough to ask Mr. Pershore and
Mrs. Adcorn to join us?"
Jimmy called to them, and Dr. Priestley indicated the
point on the wall which he had selected. "Can you tell us,
Mr. Pershore, what piece of furniture stood there?" he
asked.
Mr. Pershore measured the distance from the corner with
his eyes. "The divan was just over six feet long," he said. "It
stood with its head right up against the corner. A few inches
from the foot of it was the grandfather clock. That means
that the clock was standing against the wall at the point you
mean."
f
131


THE HARVEST MURDER
133
"You regulated it in the ordinary way, by screwing the bob
of the pendulum up or down?"
"Yes, but I don't think I've touched the pendulum for
over a year now."
"Can you describe to me how the movement was driven?"
"Yes, by two weights, one to rotate the hands and the other
to actuate the striking mechanism. These weights were sup-
ported on strands of gut. When the clock was fully wound,
the weights were at the top of the case just below the move-
ment. It took rather more than eight days for the weights to
reach the bottom of the case."
"There was the usual door, I suppose, occupying prac-
tically the whole of the front of the case?"
"Yes, and I always kept that door locked to prevent its
popping open accidentally. The key was kept on a ledge at
the top of the hood, together with the key for winding the
clock."
"Have you ever opened the door, Mrs. Adcorn?" Dr.
Priestley asked.
"Never, sir," she replied emphatically. "I didn't even know
that the key was where Mr. Pershore says it was."
"You are perfectly certain that you did not open the door
between six o'clock on Saturday evening and the time of the
fire?"
"Perfectly certain, sir. There was no occasion for it. I
didn't know where the key was and, if I had, I know that Mr.
Pershore wouldn't have liked me to open it."
"I'm not so sure that it wasn't opened," muttered Dr.
Priestley. Then turning to Jimmy: "It might be worth our
while to examine the debris where the clock stood, Inspec-
tor."
Against the foot of the wall the debris was many inches


134
THE HARVEST MURDER
thick. It had dried to some extent since the previous day, and
was no longer of the consistency of mud. The floor had been
entirely burnt away, leaving a cavity full of rubbish. Jimmy
knelt down and began to lift this out with his hands.
Most of the rubbish consisted of fine ash, now damp and
pasty. But as Jimmy proceeded he brought other substances
to light. First of all, a few fragments of charred wood which
might or might not have been the remains of the clock case.
It was not until he had dug deeper that he fished out some
pieces of metal which were still recognizable as parts of the
movement.
Mr. Pershore surveyed these ruefully.
"They're past hope," he said. "The greater part of the
movement was of brass—fairly soft brass at that—and most
of it seems to have been melted away by the heat of the fire.
There are one or two steel pinions, and I daresay they can be
made serviceable again. But there's no possibility of restor-
ing the original movement."
Under Dr. Priestley's eyes Jimmy continued his excava-
tions. He had very nearly reached the level of the foundations
of the wall when he picked up some curved blackened frag-
ments which were certainly not metal or wood. Dr. Priestley
seized upon these with sudden interest. He took them to the
window and rubbed one of them with his handkerchief.
"Earthenware!" he exclaimed. "Apparently portions of
some shallow vessel such as a saucer. Can you account for
their presence, Mr. Pershore?"
"No, I can't," replied Mr. Pershore without any great
show of interest. "Perhaps Mrs. Adcorn can enlighten us.
Did you leave a saucer standing on the clock or anywhere
near it, Mrs. Adcorn?"
"No, that I didn't, sir," said Mrs. Adcorn. "I always kept


136
THE HARVEST MURDER
had been most ingeniously converted into such a machine.
"You heard Mr. Pershore explain the mechanism of the
clock. When Mrs. Adcorn wound it on Saturday morning, she
raised the weights to the top of the case. The remainder of
the case would then be empty, except for the pendulum,
which swung, I expect, about half an inch from the back.
"The criminal's procedure, unless I am greatly mistaken,
was this. He entered the house some time between Saturday
morning and six o'clock on Tuesday evening. Apparently,
since the windows were habitually left open during the day-
time, he would find little difficulty in doing this. He had sup-
plied himself with a quantity of rags, paper, wood wool or
some similar material. He opened the door of the clock case
with the key so readily to hand, packed the bottom of the
case with the rags and sprinkled these with paraffin from the
drum. You will remember that Mrs. Adcorn told you that
she detected the smell of paraffin in this room on Tuesday
morning. Upon these rags he placed a support, such as a
block of wood, and on this he balanced a saucer in such a way
that one of the weights on its descent would fall upon the
edge of the saucer and so upset it.
"This was the only mechanism necessary. You are doubt-
less aware that there are several substances which, upon being
brought into contact, burst into flame. Those most commonly
employed are sulphuric acid on the one hand and a mixture
of sugar and chlorate of potash on the other. We will sup-
pose that the criminal selected these for his purpose. He
sprinkled the oily rags liberally with a mixture of chlorate of
potash and sugar. The saucer he filled with sulphuric acid.
Now, you can see for yourself what must actually have hap-
pened. The weight in its descent would tip over the saucer,
thus pouring the sulphuric acid on to the chlorate of potash


THE HARVEST MURDER
137
and sugar. Flames would immediately ensue, which in turn
would ignite the oily rags. They, burning fiercely, would set
fire to the case of the clock and in time to the panelling of the
wall behind it. Within a very short period the furniture and
the wall itself would be in a blaze. I cannot help feeling grati-
fied that my suspicions have been confirmed."
"Well, sir, that's infernally ingenious," exclaimed Jimmy,
admiringly. "The next thing is to find out who did it."
"That may be a matter of some difficulty," replied Dr.
Priestley gravely. "One of the first necessities in criminal
investigation is to establish the time at which the crime was
committed. That is usually possible within certain narrow
limits. But it is not so in this case. We have Mrs. Adcorn's
statement that she wound the clock on Saturday morning.
The exact time at which she did so is unimportant. We may
assume for our present purposes that the weights were at
their highest point at noon that day.
"The fire is said to have been first observed at twenty min-
utes past eight on Tuesday evening. We do not know how
long before this it actually started, nor is the point material.
We can be certain, however, that it had not started at six
o'clock when Mrs. Adcorn shut up the house.
"What I wish to impress upon you, Inspector, is this. The
apparatus for starting the fire may have been put into posi-
tion at any time during that period of seventy-eight hours.
This very wide limit must necessarily handicap your investi-
gations. A further complication is the ease with which the
house could be entered during the hours of daylight. The
windows were opened in the morning and were not closed
again until the evening. Anyone, by watching for a suitable
opportunity, could easily slip in and out unobserved.
"This suggests to me another point. Normally one would


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conclude that the crime had been committed by somebody
legally familiar with the house. By legally familiar I mean
the occupant, his family, his servants or his visitors. One
would argue that no stranger would be familiar with the ex-
istence of the grandfather clock and the drum of paraffin.
But in this case, any stranger might have effected an illegal
entry and so acquired the necessary knowledge. That again
must considerably widen the field of your investigations.
"You will be tempted, I imagine, to connect the fire with
the burglary at Paddock Croft. But, strictly speaking, there
is absolutely no proof of any such connection. There appears
to be very little room for doubt that Elver was the burglar.
But was he also the incendiary? There is nothing whatever to
suggest it.
"The fact that the burning of Mr. Pershore's bungalow
was deliberate must not be lost sight of. Many acts of incen-
diarism are committed more or less on the spur of the mo-
ment. For instance, a labourer has a grudge against a farmer.
He finds himself alone by one of the latter's haystacks and
sets fire to it with a box of matches he happens to be carrying
in his pocket. But in this case certain preparations had to be
made. When the incendiary entered the bungalow, he was
already in possession of rags or some similar material, and
also the substances the combination of which produced the
fire. The saucer and the paraffin probably originated in the
bungalow itself. I said just now that he employed a block of
wood on which to support the saucer. He may, however, have
employed one or two books taken from the case above the
bureau. These would serve his purpose equally well.
"Unfortunately, none of these articles is in any way diffi-
cult to procure. Rags, waste paper, or wood wool are avail-
able to almost anybody. Sulphuric acid is used for so many


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139
purposes, wireless batteries for instance, that its purchase
-would excite no comment. Sugar is to be found in every
household. Chlorate of potash is sold by every chemist in
the form of throat lozenges. Yet some person must have col-
lected these different substances for the purpose of causing
the fire. What was the motive?"
Dr. Priestley paused as though expecting an answer to his
question.
"Well, sir," replied Jimmy hesitatingly. "The only motive
we've got to work on so far is revenge. Lavis had been em-
ployed by Mr. Pershore's firm and had been discharged. This
may have rankled with him until he made up his mind to do
Mr. Pershore an ill turn. Knowing the pride which Mr. Per-
shore took in his antique furniture, the idea of setting fire
to the bungalow may have occurred to him. He was heard to
express satisfaction when he learned of the fire. He was seen
to take the path leading to Hobbs' Corner on Saturday eve-
ning. He evinced uneasiness when taxed with this by Ser-
geant Wragge. It seems to me, sir, that Lavis must be the
first person to be suspected."
"Certainly," Dr. Priestley replied. "But do not commit
the error of concentrating suspicion on one person alone, to
the exclusion of all other possibilities. In the meanwhile you
will, I suppose, undertake the investigation of the burglary
at Paddock Croft?"
"Sergeant Wragge is anxious that I should do so, sir,"
Jimmy replied. "I confess I'm rather surprised that Elver
hasn't been found yet. The Sergeant is convinced that Lavis
knows where he is concealed."
"That may or may not be the case. It is certainly signifi-
cant that Elver called at Lavis' house on Saturday afternoon.
It is of course, no evidence that the two acted in collusion in


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the matter of the burglary. It seems to me that there is one
thing worthy of investigation. How did Elver become ac-
quainted with Lavis' whereabouts?"
"They must have been in communication since Elver's
release, sir," replied Jimmy promptly.
"Not necessarily. You assume that, because Elver called
at Lavis' house, it was for the purpose of doing so that Elver
came here on Saturday. But he may have come here with a
very different purpose, and after his arrival have learned by
chance that Lavis was in the neighbourhood."
"Then he must first have spoken to somebody else in the
district, sir," exclaimed Jimmy.
"He may have done so, and in that fact may lie a useful
clue. I would recommend you, Inspector, to make further
inquiries into Elver's past history. Now, since I can be of no
further assistance to you, and my curiosity as to the origin
of the fire is satisfied, I shall return to London. I need hardly
assure you that my advice is at your disposal whenever you
care to seek it."
Jimmy escorted Dr. Priestley to the car where Harold was
waiting for him, and watched them drive away. Then he
mounted Mr. Raymond's bicycle, which he still retained, and
rode back to Culverden.
Wragge was very much impressed by the ingenuity with
which the fire had been contrived. "Clever old boy that ex-
pert of yours seems to be," he said. "Well, that pretty well
settles it. Lavis is our man, there's not a shadow of doubt
about that. But how are we going to bring it home to him,
that's what I want to know?"
"We'll have to do our best," Jimmy replied. "Perhaps
when we lay our hands upon Elver he'll be able to tell us
something useful. I'm inclined to think that's the first thing


THE HARVEST MURDER 141
to be done."
Wragge laughed. "I thought that all along," he said. "But
I've failed so far, and it's up to you now. Have you got the
London folk to work on the job?"
"I had a chat with the Superintendent of M. Division last
night. He promised to organize a man hunt straight away.
My idea is that Elver may have slipped back to his usual
haunts somehow, and that with some of the proceeds of the
burglary he's bribed somebody to hide him. M. Division will
comb out the neighbourhood practically house by house. The
Superintendent promised to let me know at once if he heard
anything of him, and in any case to ring me up here at five
o'clock this evening."
"Well, there's no message come through yet. The best
thing you can do now is to sit down and have a bit of dinner
with us. And when you've done that you might like to have a
look round the hop fields. They're worth seeing, for anyone
coming down here for the first time."
Jimmy readily fell in with this suggestion. And since the
neighbourhood of Hobbs' Corner had a particular interest
for him, he chose the hop gardens belonging to Hobbs' Farm
as the scene of his explorations.
When he arrived there he found work in full swing. His
first call was at the farmhouse, where he introduced himself
to Mr. Velley and asked his permission to look round the hop
gardens.
"You're welcome to go where you like, Inspector," replied
Mr. Velley heartily. "I'm just going to take a turn round
myself. Perhaps you'd like to come with me, and I can tell
you what it's all about."
Jimmy accepted this invitation gratefully, and the two set
out together. "Hops aren't like any other crops," said Mr.


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Velley, as they walked toward the garden in which the pickers
were working that afternoon. "Take corn, for instance. You
can grow as many acres as you like, reap it with a tractor, and
thresh the corn from the ears afterward by machinery. Now-
adays you want very little more labour at harvest time than
you do at any other time of the year. And what extra labour
you want you can always get locally. There's always some-
body who's ready to come in and earn a bit by lending a hand.
"But with hops it's different. For one thing they are a
permanent crop. The actual plants, or hills as we call them,
remain in the same place from year to year. They always
want a certain amount of labour, keeping the ground in
proper condition, manuring and so forth. Then when the
young shoots begin to grow in spring, there's a good deal of
work in tying them to their supports. Nowadays hop poles
aren't used so much. The shoots have separate bits of twine
up which they are trained. The shoots aren't tied to the twine,
merely twisted round it, like you've seen a runner bean grow-
ing up a stick. Hop twiddling we call it. But there's no reason
to send far afield for extra labour like that. The wives and
families of the chaps on the farm do the most of it. Then
there's the washing and spraying and so forth, but that
doesn't call for any extra help.
"It's when the hops are ready to pick that the rush comes.
You see, you can't start picking them until they are ready,
and you mustn't leave them too long after that. You've got
to get your picking done in a certain time after the hops are
in the proper condition. And you can't just cut the vines down
and thresh the hops off them. Each separate hop has got to
be picked off by hand, there's no machine yet invented that
will do the job for you. So, during hop picking time you want
an enormous amount of extra labour, and most of it has to


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143
come from the towns, mainly London."
"How do you get hold of these extra hands?" Jimmy asked.
"Oh, it's quite easy enough now. It's very different from
what it was in the old days. There were a lot more hops
grown then than there are now, and you had to take on any-
body who offered themselves, and glad to do so. But now,
since the quota system has been introduced, you can pick
and choose. You see the acreage of hops is strictly limited.
I'm only allowed to grow so many hundredweight of hops a
year, for which I'm guaranteed a standard price. If for any
reason my crop doesn't come up to my quota, I'm allowed to
sell my surplus quota to anybody who happens to have more
hops than he's entitled to. For instance, suppose my neigh-
bour and I both have a quota for a thousand hundredweight.
My crop turns out at nine hundredweight, and his at eleven
hundredweight. He's a hundredweight surplus to his quota.
I'm the same amount short. I'm allowed to sell him that
amount of my quota, so that he can market all the hops that
he's produced. But the permanent quota remains the same.
I mustn't plant any more hops than have been allowed me.
It's a queer business in its way, but it works out pretty well
on the whole."
"I've got that," said Jimmy. "It comes to this, I take it.
You've got to employ practically the same number of pickers
every year."
"That's it, and now you'll be able to understand when I
tell you how I get them. I don't have to go to an employment
exchange or anything like that. Anybody who wants to come
hop picking writes to one or other of the farmers in the
neighbourhood that they've heard about. Their friends tell
them their names, I suppose. I get hundreds of letters myself
in the course of the year. And from those letters I pick out a


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certain number, giving preference to people who've been
down here before and who've behaved themselves. Anybody
who's been a nuisance to me or my neighbours gets struck off
the list at once. Actually, the same people come down year
after year. It isn't so much the money they're after, though
if they give their minds to it they can earn a good bit. They
like a holiday in the country at the pleasant time of the year."
"You don't have much trouble with them?" Jimmy sug-
gested.
"Wonderfully little, and no serious trouble at that. Some
people treat them like dirt, because they come from the
poorer parts of London. I won't say that their ways are
everything you might wish. They're noisy, they break the
hedges, they overrun the countryside like a plague of locusts.
The amount of litter they leave behind them would break
your heart to see. But they're thoroughly decent, respectable
people at heart, and, speaking for myself, I've little fault to
find with them. The greater part of the money they earn they
spend in the district, which means a lot in a place like this.
It isn't only the shops and the pubs that benefit, either.
There isn't a cottage round about that doesn't sell them
flowers or fruit or vegetables or eggs, or maybe a chicken now
and then. We may be glad to see the back of them, but we've
got to admit that we couldn't do without them. We shouldn't
get our hops picked if it wasn't that we have those folks to
call on."
"You've got to provide accommodation for them, of
course?"
"Yes, that we have, and there are inspectors to see that we
do it properly, too. They've got to have decent weatherproof
huts, plenty of dry litter to lay their beds on, a water supply
and somewhere to cook their grub. Then they have to have


THE HARVEST MURDER 145
their firing. Some of us have provided great cauldrons to boil
water, and we supply a man to look after them and keep the
camp as tidy as possible. Like everything else it is all a mat-
ter of organization. I decide upon the number of pickers I
want, and, just before I'm ready, upon the day that I'm going
to start picking. Then I send cards to those I've selected,
telling them to come down the day before. We also notify
the railway company, and they arrange special trains. But a
lot of them come down by road, and a queer sight it is to
see them arrive. Perhaps a couple of families will club to-
gether and arrange with a man who owns a motor lorry to
bring them down. Then they pack themselves and their chil-
dren and their mattresses and their pots and pans into the
lorry, until it looks like a proper Noah's ark. You'd laugh to
see them sort themselves out when they get to the huts. Of
course there are lots of them who won't run to the expense
of a lorry. Some of them walk it all the way from London.
Pushing perambulators with them, too, stacked up with their
goods and chattels. I often wonder how some of them get
here at all, but they all seem to manage it somehow."
"Who are these folks when they're at home?" Jimmy
asked.
"It's hard to say. Women and children mostly. The wives
and families of small traders and hawkers mainly, I imagine.
All I know is that there's no decline in the birth rate where
they come from. You never in your life saw so many children
as they bring with them. I believe they bring their neighbours'
brats with them just for the holiday. And the children are a bit
of a nuisance sometimes. They very soon get tired of picking
hops and wander off about the countryside. Mischievous little
devils they are too, some of them. However, it does them
good, I suppose. They look very different when they go away


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from when they came down."
By this time they had reached the edge of the garden
where the pickers were at work.
"Now you can see for yourself how we set about it," said
Mr. Velley. "There are the hops ready to be picked, with the
vines still growing up the sticks which support them. The
strings are tied at the top to a framework of wire, supported
on wooden posts. The wires and posts are permanent and re-
main there from year to year. But if you left the hops like
that you'd want a ladder to pick the upper ones. So they have
to be brought within the pickers' reach. Every morning a
couple of my regular chaps go round and cut the strings so
that the vines fall to the ground. We only cut as much as can
be picked during the day. And we don't waste anything
either. We find a use for the vines after the hops have been
picked off them. We dry them and use them next year as
litter for the pickers to put their mattresses on. Some of them
don't worry to bring their mattresses down. They just lie
on the litter itself. There you are; now you can see them at
work on the vines which were cut down this morning."
Jimmy concentrated his attention upon the group nearest
to him. It consisted of an elderly woman, two girls whose like-
ness to her suggested that they were her daughters, and three
or four children whose ages varied from eleven to fifteen.
Each member of this group was assiduously picking hops.
Jimmy marvelled at the dexterity which they had acquired
during long practice. A quick twist of the wrist detached a
luxurious spray of hops from the vine. Then adroit fingers
plucked separate hops from the spray and cast them into
the receptacle designed to receive them. This was a piece of
sacking supported like a hammock from a wooden frame-
work. Both sides of the framework extended at either end so


THE HARVEST MURDER
147
that the whole concern could be picked up and moved as the
hoppers advanced.
"Bins we call them," said Mr. Velley as he put his hand
into one and ran through his fingers the hops it contained.
"Each group works in a straight line up the garden picking
from the rows on either side. And each has its own bin which
it carries with it^ That's how we keep a check on what each
group picks. See, here comes the measurer. Well, Tom, how
are we getting on this afternoon?"
"Nicely, sir," replied Tom Adcorn. "We'll be knocking off
about half past five as usual, I expect. The hops in this garden
are the best samples we've picked so far."
Tom Adcorn had a bushel basket with him. This he pro-
ceeded to fill from the bin at which the group were working.
The members of the group watched him with anxious eyes.
"Now, mister, don't you press them down so hard as that,"
said the old lady reprovingly. "Some of you chaps try to get
two bushels into a basket that's only meant for one. How do
you think me and my poor orphan daughters is going to get
a living that way? It's robbing the poor, that's what you're
doing, more shame to you."
Tom was clearly accustomed to that sort of thing.
"All right, mother," he replied cheerfully. "Fair's fair and
a bushel's a bushel whichever way you look at it. It's more
hops you want to pick if you want to make more money."
"I'd have you mind your manners, young man," she said
with dignity. "I'd have you know that I was picking hops
before your father made the mistake that turned out to be
you. And if I was to start telling you all I think of you, these
gentlemen here would learn something, I reckon."
All this without a moment's hesitation in her dexterous
picking. Her hands were yellow with the sticky juice of the


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ripe fruit, and her wrinkled face moistened with the Septem-
ber sun which poured down upon it.
The two girls tittered, caught Jimmy's eye and laughed
impudently. He noticed that they were good-looking enough,
in a bold artificial way. But Tom, fully inured to the pickers'
broad humour, took no notice whatever. He continued filling
his basket from the bin, then carried it to an enormous sack
into which he emptied it.
"It holds ten bushels," said Mr. Velley pointing toward
the sack. "A poke we call it. That's how we keep a tally on
the pickers. They're paid by piece work, of course. So much
for every poke they fill. When all the hops are picked, we
reckon up what each family has earned, then pay them off."
"What do they live on meanwhile?" asked Jimmy, as they
strolled across toward another group of pickers.
"Oh, they borrow on their expectations. Subbing they call
it. Some of them sub up to the limit, and have nothing left
when it comes to paying-off day. I've known cases before
now where a family found itself absolutely without money
and had to walk home. Some of them manage to keep a tidy
bit in hand, but not many. As I said before, it isn't altogether
the money that appeals to most of them. So long as they get
a country holiday which pays for itself, they're content."
They stopped to watch a second group, four young women
this time, of ages varying from twenty to thirty-five. They
were talking and laughing among themselves and paid very
little attention to Mr. Velley and his companion. One of
them, apparently the eldest, looked up and nodded familiarly.
"Afternoon, Mr. Velley," she said.
"Good afternoon, Miss Rivers," replied the farmer politely.
"Enjoying yourself down here this year?"
It seemed to Jimmy that the girl blushed at the apparently


THE HARVEST MURDER
149
innocent question.
"Oh, not too bad," she said as she turned away to continue
her picking.
Once more they moved on. "Come and have a look round
the huts," said Mr. Velley. "They're quite close and you'll
find them well worth a visit. That girl I spoke to just now is
one of my oldest hands. She's been down here to my farm
for the last fifteen years at least. You asked me just now what
these people were at home. Well, she works in a tannery
somewhere in Bermondsey. Very decent girl she is, from what
I know of her. And I'm not the only one who thinks so. Tom
could tell you quite a lot about her, I daresay."
"Tom?" repeated Jimmy inquiringly.
"Tom Adcorn, the weigher you saw just now. I suspected
for the last year or two that Tom had been smitten. It's a
joke among the pickers that he always gets more bushels out
of her bin than anybody else's. Tom's a steady lad and so's
his brother. I've often wondered that neither of them have
got married before this. Too comfortable at home with
mother, I expect."
"Does it often happen that a local man marries one of the
pickers?" Jimmy asked.
"Not very often. As a rule the locals and the pickers are
like oil and water. They don't mix. But it does sometimes
happen that one of the chaps falls for a fascinating hop
picker. I rather hope that Tom won't marry Miss Rivers,
though."
"Not a suitable match, you think?"
"It isn't that so much. But in my experience those sort of
weddings never turn out a success. The girl comes down to
the country for three weeks of hop picking a year and thinks
she's in heaven. It's light work, plenty of fresh air, and all


ISO
THE HARVEST MURDER
the freedom she wants. She imagines that if she marries a
countryman she'll be able to enjoy that sort of thing all the
year round. She hasn't the least idea what it means to be a
farm labourer's wife. But she very quickly gets disillusioned.
She is lonely, since the man is out at work all day. She misses
the pavements, the shops and the neighbours next door. Then
she finds that most of her time is spent in cooking and house-
work to which she isn't accustomed. And she always seems
aggrieved when the children arrive, which they do at the most
inconvenient moments. No, in my opinion, a farm labourer
had much better marry a country girl who knows what she
is in for when she accepts him. And there are plenty of girls
round here who would be glad to marry either of the Ad-
corns. And there's another thing about that Rivers girl. She's
got no parents."
Jimmy laughed. "I shouldn't have thought that was neces-
sarily a bar to matrimonial happiness," he said.
"On the contrary, it's very often an advantage. But when
I said that the Rivers girl had no parents, I meant some-
thing rather different. She's a foundling, and nobody knows
who were her parents. You remember the story of Moses and
the bulrushes? Well, hers is somewhat similar. Only it wasn't
Pharaoh's daughter but an elderly stevedore who found her.
As he was coming to work one morning he noticed a shopping
basket standing on the doorstep of a warehouse in Pickle
Herring Street. He picked it up and found a live baby in it,
not more than a few hours old. Not having any use for per-
ishable articles of that nature, he took it to the nearest police-
man, and the policeman in turn passed it on to the guardians,
who christened it Kate Rivers. Rivers, I suppose, because
the child had been found by the riverside. In due course a job
was found for her in the tannery, and she was boarded out


THE HARVEST MURDER
151
with a family of the name of Sheares. The Sheares girl nearly
always come hop picking with her. She was in that group we
saw just now."
"I don't see that her origin is any bar to her marrying
whom she likes," said Jimmy.
"I daresay you don't. Nor do I. But country folk, or the
majority of them, aren't quite so broad-minded. They think
that no foundling has any right to become a respectable mar-
ried woman. She wouldn't be nice to know, in fact. She'd be
made to feel that, I'm afraid, if ever she came to live here
as Tom Adcorn's wife. It's all very silly, no doubt, but you
can't change people's outlook. Well, here are the huts. Like
to have a look round them?"
Jimmy looked at his watch and found that the time was
already half past four.
"Thanks very much, Mr. Velley," he replied, "but I've
got to be back at Culverden by five and it's time I was getting
on. Perhaps you will be good enough to let me have a look
round some other day?"
"Delighted to see you whenever you care to come," Mr.
Velley replied. "Any news of the chap who broke into Pad-
dock Croft last Saturday, by the way?"
"I'm expecting news of him any time now," Jimmy replied.
He thanked Mr. Velley and walked back to the farmhouse,
where he had left his bicycle, and rode away.


THE HARVEST MURDER
153
"I think it's about time that I made Lavis' acquaintance,"
said Jimmy.
"You'll find him an obstinate customer to deal with. Still,
you may be luckier than I was. Now just you sit down and
have a cup of tea and a bite of the missus' plum cake. And
after that, if you're set on it, you can ride over to Park Gate.
You should find Lavis at home by that time. Where are you
going to sleep tonight, by the way?"
"Oh, I thought of getting a room at one of the local pubs,"
Jimmy replied.
"In hop picking time?" said Wragge scornfully. "You'd
hardly be made welcome, I'm afraid. The pubs have got as
much as they can do just now without taking in visitors, even
though they happen to be inspectors from Scotland Yard.
You must stay here with us. I was asking the missus about it
this afternoon, and she'll be glad to have you. I don't say that
we can make you as comfortable as you're accustomed to,
but we'll do our best."
"I'm sure I shall be more comfortable than I've ever been
in my life," replied Jimmy heartily. "It's really awfully kind
of you and Mrs. Wragge. Are you quite sure I won't be a
nuisance?"
"You're not the sort to be a nuisance," said Wragge with a
chuckle. "Now you come along and have that tea. It's been
waiting for you since you came in."
After tea Jimmy set out once more on Mr. Raymond's
bicycle, this time for Park Gate. Mrs. Creach opened the
door to him. He fancied that as he introduced himself a
flicker of anxiety came into her eyes. But she informed him
that her brother was at home and admitted him rather grudg-
ingly. Lavis was evidently on the point of going out and
scowled ungraciously at the intruder.


154
THE HARVEST MURDER
As he had ridden over Jimmy had decided upon the line
that he would take with the man. Wragge had tried intimida-
tion and failed. A subtler method might be successful. He
would not treat Lavis as a suspect, but as a trustworthy in-
dividual who might be able to give useful information. And
he had not forgotten the hint which Dr. Priestley had dropped
that morning.
"Good evening, Mr. Lavis," he said. "I'm sorry to break
in upon you like this, but I believe that you may be able to
help me. I'm looking for information about a certain Christo-
pher Elver, who was once known as Sea Joe. Since he is
a discharged convict the police are rather interested in him.
Between ourselves, he's disappeared and nobody seems to
know what has happened to him. You knew him at one time,
didn't you?"
"Well, we did meet once or twice in a way of business,"
Lavis replied cautiously. "He was a steward on a ship, you
see. He used to deal with the firm I was representing at the
time."
"So I understand. Now what I want to know is this. Was
he always perfectly honest and above-board in his business
dealings with you?"
Lavis seemed surprised at this question. "Why yes," he re-
plied. "He never tried any tricks that I know of. He always
seemed to me a straightforward young chap, and I could
hardly believe my eyes when I read in the papers that he'd
been arrested for dope smuggling."
"You never can tell what some people are up to on-the
quiet," said Jimmy sagely. "I expect you remember the case
well enough, don't you?"
"Well, I can't say that I do. I read all about it in the papers
at the time, but that's many years ago, and it's mostly slipped


THE HARVEST MURDER
ISS
my memory now."
"He used to deliver the stuff to a woman who kept a shop
in Lambeth. She was imprisoned too, and died before her
sentence had run out. Her name was Mrs. Hawkins, and she
posed as Sea Joe's aunt. You never met her by any chance,
did you, Mr. Lavis?"
Jimmy saw at once that this chance shot had told. Lavis
winced and his reply was hesitant and unconvincing.
"Met her!" he exclaimed. "How should I have met her?
I wasn't in the habit of calling on my customers' relations."
"Oh, I thought you might, that's all," said Jimmy. "I
always understood that ships' chandlers tried to look after
their customers to some extent. They entertain them now
and again, for instance, just for the sake of good will. I
expect that was your custom, wasn't it?"
"Well, maybe I'd stand my customers a drink once in a
way," Lavis replied.
"I thought that there was just a chance that Sea Joe might
have brought his aunt along to have a drink with you. You
and he did drop into a pub sometimes together, I daresay?"
"Maybe we did. In fact, I wouldn't say that we didn't.
But it was only in the way of business, you understand. I'd
go aboard his ship and take his order, then I'd ask him to
come ashore and have a drink with me. But he never told me
anything about himself, much less his aunt, that I'm sure of."
That Elver should seek Lavis out, after so casual an
acquaintanceship, so rudely interrupted, was incredible. Al-
ready Jimmy suspected that Lavis knew more about Mrs.
Hawkins than he cared to reveal. But he felt the need of
proceeding cautiously.
"Did Sea Joe ever bring any friends with him on these oc-
casions?" he asked.


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"Perhaps now and again he'd bring one of his chums from
the ship with him. And once, I remember, we met a girl on the
quayside and she came with us."
A girl! This was interesting, though obviously merely a
side issue. Jimmy remembered Hanslet's account of the case.
Mrs. Hawkins had mentioned a girl whose existence Elver
had strenuously denied. It would be amazing if, after all
these years, her identity and her connection with Elver
should be revealed. And from such an unexpected source.
"You met this girl casually on the quayside?" Jimmy
asked.
"Well no, not that exactly," Lavis replied. "She seemed to
me to be waiting there for Sea Joe. Anyhow, he knew her,
and it seemed to me that he wasn't best pleased to see her.
So far as I recollect, he didn't introduce her but just said to
me that she was a friend of his. Then he told her that we were
just going to have a drink and that she'd better come along,
too."
"Did you happen to hear her name?" asked Jimmy casu-
ally.
"No, that I didn't. Never set eyes on her since, and I
shouldn't know her again if I did. I didn't take any particu-
lar notice of her and I was glad when she cleared off, after
he'd promised to meet her again later."
"You were glad, Mr. Lavis!" Jimmy exclaimed. "Rather
unchivalrous of you, wasn't it?"
Lavis fidgeted as though he felt that he'd made a slip.
"Well you see, he and I hadn't finished our business," he
replied. "He hadn't given me the whole of his order when
we were on board ship, and there were a few more things he
had to mention. We were going to talk it over quietly in the
pub, and we couldn't very well do that with that girl there."


THE HARVEST MURDER 157
"I see," said Jimmy. "Women are apt to be in the way
sometimes, aren't they? You never saw this girl again, you
say?"
Lavis shook his head vigorously.
"No, and I never saw Sea Joe again, neither," he replied.
"His ship sailed again a day or two later, and the next thing
I heard of him was that he had been arrested."
"It must have been a bit of a shock to you, Mr. Lavis,"
said Jimmy sympathetically.
Again that shifty look came into Lavis' eyes.
"What do you mean?" he replied. "It didn't affect me one
way or the other whether Sea Joe was put in quod or not. The
firm lost a customer, that was all. Or the next steward might
have carried on as before, I don't know."
"You didn't hear anything from him at the time of his re-
lease two years ago?"
"Why, I had forgotten all about him by then. And he's
probably forgotten all about me, too. Why should he want
to get in touch with me again, or if he did how was he going
to set about it? I left the ships' chandlers soon after he was
arrested and came here to live with my sister. I don't suppose
they even know my address now, so it wouldn't have been
any good Sea Joe going to them and asking them."
"And yet he turns up here on Saturday afternoon," said
Jimmy quietly.
Lavis shot a savage glance at his sister, who had been
standing by the doorway, a silent witness of their conversa-
tion.
"There's only a woman's word for that," he replied. "And
women are that fanciful you can never rely on what they
say. I daresay a chap did come here on Saturday afternoon to
see me. I've got plenty of friends around the countryside


158
THE HARVEST MURDER
whom my sister doesn't know by sight. And I daresay he
wasn't unlike the photograph the Sergeant showed us. But
you'll never make me believe that it was Sea Joe that came."
"Would one of your friends from the countryside come
to call upon you wearing a paper hat?" Jimmy asked.
"I don't see that anything's to prevent them. They might
have picked it up and put it on by way of a joke. Anyway, I
didn't see the chap then or at any other time."
Jimmy shook his head.
"I think it was Sea Joe, just the same," he said. "When I
next meet him I shall have to ask him what his business with
you was."
Lavis recoiled slightly in his chair before this veiled threat.
"Why, you'd never believe what an expired convict told
you!" he exclaimed. "He'd make up some sort of yarn, likely
enough. Some story that he'd been friendly with me at one
time and wanted me to do something for him now. That is if
it had been Sea Joe who came here, but it wasn't."
"And yet I happen to know that Sea Joe was in Matling on
Saturday evening."
Jimmy was aware of Lavis' searching gaze upon him, and
that the man was trying to determine whether this was sheer
bluff or not.
"That's perfectly true," he continued. "He has quite a
lot to explain when I come up with him, including his visit
to you. It would be a great pity, Mr. Lavis, if your name got
mixed up in the affair. Of course, if you could help me to get
in touch with him it would be an entirely different affair."
Lavis shook his head violently.
"I don't know anything about the chap, I tell you," he ex-
claimed. "I've never set eyes on him since that day we met
the girl on the quayside. And what's more I've never heard a


THE HARVEST MURDER
159
word from him. It's no use you and the Sergeant torment-
ing me in this way. I can't tell you more than what's the
truth, can I?"
In spite of Jimmy's conviction that Lavis was something
of a rogue, the sincerity of his declaration impressed him.
Certainly the man was not telling the whole truth and nothing
but the truth. The relations between him and Sea Joe had at
one time been deeper than he cared to admit. But still there
was the possibility that the two had not met since Sea Joe's
arrest. And if so, Lavis was probably unaware of his present
whereabouts.
Jimmy left the house feeling that he had made remarkably
little headway. He really had learned nothing more than
Wragge already knew. Except about that girl. It seemed now
that her existence must be accepted as a fact. Lavis had men-
tioned her casually, without any suggestion on Jimmy's part.
Why should he have mentioned the incident of meeting her
on the quayside if it had never occurred? He could have
nothing whatever to gain by doing so.
Yet, as Jimmy was well aware, the point was of academic
interest only. Hanslet would be interested to hear that she
had turned up again, that was all. There was no question that
she was in any way implicated in that almost forgotten drug
trafficking business. That Elver had got in touch with her
again since his release seemed unlikely. The Superintendent
of M. Division had expressly stated that he had no acquaint-
ance except the people he lodged with and his fellow work-
men. If he had cultivated the friendship of a girl, M. Division
would have known about it at once. It is a maxim of police
methods that a girl friend very often proves to be a most use-
ful informant.
On the other hand, Lavis' conscience was by no means


160
THE HARVEST MURDER
clear. Jimmy had watched him closely enough during their
conversation to be sure of that. But this uneasiness originated
probably in the days before Elver's arrest. Jimmy had noticed
that La vis' uneasiness only betrayed itself when those days
were under discussion.
Jimmy was still wondering what step he should take next
when he reached the Chequers. The sign suspended before
the house reminded him of one obvious duty. He could not
go on using Mr. Raymond's bicycle indefinitely. He might
just as well give it back to him now and walk the couple of
miles into Culverden. As he walked an idea might occur to
him.
It was now nearly seven o'clock. The sky had become over-
cast and a light drizzle followed the fine afternoon. It had
kept many of the hop pickers in their huts and the scene out-
side the Chequers was not so lively as usual. Certainly the
stalls were arranged beneath the elm tree, but their proprie-
tors looked dispirited. Their flow of customers were scanty. A
few women with shawls muffled round their heads made ran-
dom purchases and then hurried away. Even round the win-
dows of the bar parlour the applicants were scarce. It was not
at all the sort of evening to sit out and enjoy the open air.
As Jimmy dismounted from his borrowed bicycle, two men
approached the door of the other room, opened it and passed
inside. Jimmy recognized one of them as the measurer he
had seen that afternoon. Tom Adcorn, Mr. Velley had called
him. Jimmy, seeking Mr. Raymond, decided to follow their
example. He in turn approached the door of the other room,
but a figure appeared suddenly and confronted him.
"Not in there," he said brusquely. "You just go along to
that window and they'll serve you."


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161
The experience of being refused admittance to a pub was a
new one to Jimmy. It rather amused him than otherwise.
"Sorry," he replied, "I didn't know the rules. Do you think
I can have a word with Mr. Raymond?"
The other glanced at him suspiciously. Alf Malling had
been specially chosen as doorkeeper by Mr. Raymond on
account of his extensive local knowledge. But now he re-
garded this stranger with no little perplexity. He wasn't one
of the home dwellers, for there was nobody who lived within
twenty miles of Matling that Alf didn't know. And he cer-
tainly didn't look like a hop picker or one of their hangers-on.
He turned toward the arbour and pointed.
"There's the guv'nor, over there," he said. "Him that's
putting the tarpaulin up on the framework. If you want a
word with him I daresay he'll listen to you."
Mr. Raymond was obviously busy. Mounted on a step-
ladder he was drawing an enormous tarpaulin across the
wooden rafters erected above the tables and benches. The
tarpaulin was heavy and resisted his efforts. As he approached,
Jimmy could hear him mumbling beneath his breath.
It seemed an opportunity not to be missed.
"Here, let me give you a hand," Jimmy exclaimed. And be-
fore Mr. Raymond could reply to this unexpected offer his
unknown assistant climbed upon the table and caught hold
of one corner of the tarpaulin. Mr. Raymond, like a wise
man ready to accept the blessings of heaven without a too
minute inquiry, asked no questions.
"A little more over this way," he said. "Steady now, we
don't want to tear the dratted thing between us. That's right.
Now pull out straight. And tie your corner down securely so
that if the wind comes up it won't blow away."


162
THE HARVEST MURDER
Between them they got the tarpaulin into position. Mr.
Raymond descended from his steps and regarded Jimmy
gratefully.
"Now that's what I call real neighbourly," he said. "I'd
have got Alf yonder to bear me a hand, but he's got a poisoned
arm, see, and that's why he can't go to work this week. And
that tarpaulin's terrible heavy for one to set up. It's always
like this in hop picking. You won't catch me staying here
another year, not if the brewers paid me for it. It comes on a
sudden shower like this and the pickers get that spiteful if
they can't sit somewhere in the dry. So the old tarpaulin has
got to go up, and never mind the wear and tear. You're a
stranger to these parts, if I may make so bold to ask?"
"Quite right," Jimmy replied. "But although I'm a stranger
I've been riding your bicycle about all day. I've just come to
return it, with many thanks."
Mr. Raymond laughed heartily.
"There, I did think there was something familiar about
the old bike," he said. "You'll be a friend of Sergeant
Wragge's then, over at Culverden? It was him that bor-
rowed it night before last, and I told him he could keep it
as long as was convenient."
"Yes, I'm a friend of his. In fact, I'm staying with him
for a day or two. I'll leave the bicycle with you and get on
my way back."
"You'll do nothing of the kind," said Mr. Raymond firmly.
"You'll have a drink with me before going back all that way.
Why, it's two miles and not a yard less. You come along in-
side with me."
He led the way round the house, which they entered by the
back door. "I'm fair sick of this hop picking," he exclaimed.
"Not a corner of the house that a man can call his own. The


THE HARVEST MURDER 165
"It's not impossible, though it's difficult to see what he
hoped to gain by it. I was at the bungalow myself this morn-
ing having a look round with Mr. Pershore. He seems to me a
very decent sort of fellow."
"Oh, he's well enough liked round here. Not like Mr.
Speight up at Paddock Croft, whom nobody seems able to get
on with. Speaking for myself, I've always found Mr. Pershore
as pleasant as you could wish. I serve him with whatever he
wants in the way of drink whenever he's at the bungalow.
And often enough he'll drop in here of a Saturday morning
and have a chat. And there's no standoffishness about him
either. He'll just walk into the bar parlour, sit down among
the men, and as likely as not stand drinks round. He'll be
terribly upset by that fire, I make no doubt."
"He certainly seems to be," Jimmy replied. "You know
him pretty well, I expect?"
"Well, only from seeing him now and again. But there's
Alf Malling, now. He knows him as well as anybody in these
parts. He keeps the bungalow garden in order for him and
has done so ever since the place was built. You sit where you
are for a minute and I'll call him in."
Mr. Raymond went out and returned a minute or two
later with Alf Malling.
"Sit down, Alf, and I daresay I can find a pint or two for
you," he said. "There won't be so many folk round this
evening that you need stop out there all the time. This gentle-
man's asking about Mr. Pershore, and I said that maybe you
could tell him more than I can."
Alf shook his head despondently.
"Ah, he's terrible put out over that fire," he replied. "I
heard that he was staying up at Hobbs' Farm, so I went
round there this afternoon to see him. I wanted to know if


166
THE HARVEST MURDER
he'd like me to put the mess straight and tidy up the place a
bit as soon as my arm's better. He said that I could clean the
place up outside, but that I wasn't to touch anything inside
until he let me know. Said the police weren't satisfied about
the fire as yet. Mrs. Adcorn she's fair broke up about it. She
keeps saying that Mr. Pershore is sure to blame her for what's
happened. It's no good telling her that Mr. Pershore is too
kind a gentleman to blame anybody for what they couldn't
help."
"He's pretty well off, isn't he?" Jimmy asked.
Alf laughed. "Well off!" he exclaimed. "Why, he's got
more money than most folks would know what to do with.
He knows all right what to do with it, does Mr. Pershore. If
he hears of anybody who's in any trouble or want he's the
first to put his hand in his pocket. Many's the time he's
called me to him and asked if there's anybody about the place
who needed any help. And as soon as I give him a hint then
he goes to see what can be done. You remember the case of
that kid of young Bill Gunters?"
Mr. Raymond nodded. "I remember well enough," he re-
plied. "Sent him up to London to a nursing home for a couple
of months. Saw to it that he wanted for nothing while he was
there, didn't he?"
"That's right. And that's only one of the cases I could
name. It isn't the damage to the bungalow that upsets him so
much. That's insured, and even if it wasn't he could build
a dozen more like it without feeling it. But it's them old
pieces of furniture that he put in it. If he took a fancy to a
thing like that he'd buy it, no matter what it cost. And as he
was telling me, if a thing like that's destroyed you may never
find another one like it so long as you live. I reckon there's
not a soul about that isn't sorry for what's happened. They'd


THE HARVEST MURDER
167
all go a long way to prevent anything happening to upset
Mr. Pershore."
"And yet even a man of his type can't please everybody,"
Jimmy suggested.
"There's no pleasing some folk and that's a fact," Alf re-
plied. "But it's only trash like that Lavis that would bear a
grudge against him. Said the fire served Mr. Pershore right,
I'm told. I wish I'd heard him. I'd have given him a bit of my
mind, and a bit of my fist as well. After the way Mr. Pershore
has treated him and all."
"He was employed by Mr. Pershore at one time, wasn't
he?"
"He was that. It was like this you see. Mr. Pershore used
to stay in the village here before he built the bungalow. It
was then that I first knew him, for I used to work for the
ladies of the house where he stayed in. And he came out to
me one day as I was sticking the runners in the garden. 'Alf,'
he said—he always calls me Alf—'do you know anything
about a fellow called Lavis who lives at Park Gate?'
"Well, I didn't know much about Lavis then, except that
he'd been travelling for a firm of sewing machine makers and
lost his job. And so I told Mr. Pershore. 'Well,' he says, 'he's
been to see me and asked if I could do anything for him. He
says that he's a commercial traveller but that he has lost his
job owing to the firm he worked for going out of business.'
"Well I knew that wasn't true, for a start. The firm hadn't
gone out of business and they'd got a new traveller in Lavis'
place. But I didn't say anything, because I thought it was
none of my business. And a week or so later Mr. Pershore
spoke to me again. He told me that he had decided to take on
Lavis as a representative of his firm. The next thing I knew
there was Lavis going around selling manure for Pershore


THE HARVEST MURDER 169
Alf replied cautiously. "But he's a lot too thick with the
hoppers for my liking. Not that I've got anything against
the hoppers, mind. They're a bit rough and the language the
women use is disgusting, but I daresay they're all right when
you get to know them. I'm glad I'm not a Londoner, that's
all."
"Oh, they're all right," said Mr. Raymond tolerantly.
"Their ways are different to ours and we don't understand
them, that's all. Lavis worked in London before he came
down here, they tell me, and I daresay he gets on with them
better than we do."
"That may be," said Alf without conviction. "But what
does he want hanging about the hopper huts at night, that's
what I want to know? He's been doing that more than once,
especially round about the week-ends. Talking to the folk
that come down to see the hoppers, and they're a rum lot,
you won't deny. What's he got to say to them? They don't
buy his knives or whatever it is that he carries round with
him, I reckon."
"He's usually too fuddled at the week-end to talk much to
anybody," said Mr. Raymond contemptuously.
"He? Don't make any mistake about that. That's just one
of his little dodges, as I know for a fact. Why I've seen him
come out of the Bell at Culverden to all eyes as drunk as the
farmer's sow. It was one Saturday night last hop picking. He
got on his bike, wobbled along for a yard or two and then fell
off it. Then he got on it again and did the same thing. There
was a crowd of hoppers there, all laughing at him fit to burst
their sides. I happened to be there, and as I was coming home
this way I thought I'd follow him in case he came to some
harm. And this is as true as gospel. As soon as he was clear
of the village he got on to that bike and rode off along the


THE HARVEST MURDER
171
work cut out to supply their customers at the window of the
bar parlour.
"Things look a bit brighter now, Guv'nor," said Alf.
"And I've had my trouble with them dratted tarpaulins for
nothing," replied Mr. Raymond pessimistically.
He lighted the gas lamp over the front door and Alf re-
sumed his duties as guardian angel. Jimmy said good night
to them both and set off at a smart pace along the road to
Culverden. A few yards from the Chequers he overtook a
group strolling slowly in the same direction—Tom Adcorn
and another man so like him that he must surely be his
brother, Fred, and a girl whom Jimmy recognized as Miss
Rivers. The fourth member of the party was also a girl.
Probably Molly Sheares of whom Mr. Velley had spoken.
They were laughing and talking very happily together, and
took no notice of Jimmy, who passed on.
Before they went to bed that evening, he and Wragge dis-
cussed the situation as it appeared to them.
"It's a bit of a rum go," said the Sergeant reflectively.
"Take that affair at Paddock Croft to begin with. From all
we hear, Lavis ought to have done it, but we know that he
didn't. Mind you, I've always suspected that Lavis was a
shady sort of customer, though I can't say that I've ever had
any definite complaints against him. Raymond up at the
Chequers grumbles at him for getting drunk in his house and
using bad language. Now we've got this chap Alf Mailing
saying that he only pretends to get drunk for some reason
of his own. And there's the fire at Mr. Pershore's bungalow.
You tell me that that may have been arranged any time since
last Saturday morning. Well then, did Lavis do that or
didn't he?"
*


172
THE HARVEST MURDER
"I don't know," Jimmy replied. "Lavis is a bit of a puzzle,
there's no denying it. But, do you know, I'm very much in-
clined to believe him when he says that he has no idea where
Elver is now."
"Somebody must know where Elver is," said Wragge stub-
bornly.
"I know. The trouble is that neither you nor I are that
somebody. Look here, it's five days since the burglary took
place. We know who did it and we have a list of the things
that were taken. Yet we haven't found a trace of the man or
of the jewellery. It isn't as though we were looking for an
unknown criminal. By this time pretty well every policeman
in the county must have studied the description of Elver and
his photograph. And I don't see how he can possibly have
disposed of the jewellery. Which means that he is still wan-
dering about somewhere with the stuff in his pocket."
Wragge lighted a fresh pipe. "You say that you don't
believe that Lavis is hiding him," he replied. "Well, perhaps
you're right. I'm inclined to think that if he was he'd own up
to it to save his own skin. But it doesn't follow that he isn't
taking care of the jewellery for him."
"That's an idea," said Jimmy. "What about applying for
a search warrant and having a good look round that house
at Park Gate? It's worth trying, I fancy."
"I was going to suggest it. I'll see about the warrant first
thing in the morning, unless of course, you'd rather do it
yourself."
"No, I'd rather you did," Jimmy replied. "I want to ar-
range for the ashes in the bungalow to be taken away for
analysis. There's just a chance that that may give us a clue.
But I'm afraid, after all, it won't help us to lay our hands on
Elver, which is our main object."
!


CHAPTER XI
Jimmy, in spite of the solid comforts provided by the hos-
pitable Sergeant and his wife, spent a sleepless night. It was
the first time that he had been entrusted with a really inde-
pendent investigation. In all other cases since he had joined
the force he had acted as Hanslet's lieutenant. The Super-
intendent had always been at his elbow, so to speak, giving
him the benefit of his advice and experience. He felt that the
mysterious affair in which he now found himself involved
was, in effect, a test of his ability.
His training had taught him that the first thing to do was
to select one particular thread of the tangle and follow it up.
Which thread was he to select? He had two crimes to in-
vestigate—the burglary at Paddock Croft and the arson of
Mr. Pershore's bungalow. Were these two crimes connected,
or were they entirely independent of one another?
As he lay awake, Jimmy tried to make up his mind on that
point. He reviewed the evidence in favour of the crimes being
connected. They had occurred in the same district and at
about the same time. The identity of the burglar was known.
It seemed at least possible that Lavis was the incendiary.
These men had once been acquainted, as Lavis himself ad-
mitted. Elver had almost certainly called at Lavis' house on
the previous Saturday afternoon.
On the other hand, it was difficult to suggest any common
motive for the crime. The motive of the burglary was under-
standable. The jewellery was stolen for the sake of its value.
It had been stolen by a man who was a stranger to the district.
But that such a stranger should go to considerable trouble
. 174


THE HARVEST MURDER
175
to burn down Mr. Pershore's bungalow was hard to believe.
Further, Lavis declared that he had not met Elver since the
latter's arrest nine years earlier. And though Lavis was mani-
festly a liar, and, if local report was to be credited, a doubt-
ful character in other respects, Jimmy was inclined to believe
him on this one point. He believed, in fact, that Lavis had
his own reasons for wishing to avoid Elver rather than seek
a renewal of their acquaintance.
Out of this tangle emerged only one thread which ap-
peared at all hopeful. This was the practical certainty that
Elver had been the burglar. Jimmy knew enough about the
science of fingerprints to dismiss the possibility that those
on the silver box might have been faked. He also knew that
the chances of the Fingerprint Department having been mis-
taken in their identification were negligible. It might be
argued that the presence of Elver's fingerprints on the box
did not prove conclusively that he had abstracted its con-
tents. But it did prove that he had handled the box, and for
that purpose he must have entered Paddock Croft. Elver's
presence in Matling on that night was therefore established.
This Jimmy felt was the obvious thread to be followed up.
He tried to put himself in the criminal's place. To begin
with, what had brought Elver down to Matling? He was
apparently penniless and had been given notice. Though his
situation was not actually desperate he might well have been
disheartened. Since his discharge from prison his conduct
had been beyond reproach, and he had held more than one
job. According to the foreman under whom he had last
worked, he had given satisfaction. But he had never suc-
ceeded in becoming more than a mere labourer, and he might
have come to the conclusion that honesty was not the best
policy, after all. His earlier criminal career had been termi-


176
THE HARVEST MURDER
nated by an unhappy accident, but while it had lasted it had
proved very remunerative. Might it not be a better policy to
abandon the paths of rectitude for a second time?
If this had been Elver's process of thought, his mind would
naturally have turned to his former associates-in-crime. His
alleged aunt, Mrs. Hawkins, was dead. Her clientele was
probably dispersed long ago. But there still existed one com-
panion of the old days who might prove useful could he but
find him again.
Now what had been the true relationship between Elver
and La vis? That it had been more than a straightforward
matter of business, Jimmy felt certain. Lavis had betrayed
obvious uneasiness whenever the point was touched upon.
Although he had denied all knowledge of Mrs. Hawkins, he
had started at the mention of her name. It seemed quite pos-
sible that their business transactions had been the cloak for
something more sinister. It did not follow that Lavis had
necessarily been involved in the drug traffic. But it might
well be that he and Elver had been associated in some other
form of dishonest practice. It was certain that he had mani-
fested a dislike of the subject of Elver's earlier years. He
must already have regretted the sudden impulse which had
led him to betray his knowledge of the origin of the photo-
graph.
This seemed to Jimmy rather an interesting psychological
point. If Lavis had seen Elver within the last few days he
would have been on his guard. He would have anticipated
inquiries being made about him, and would have been pre-
pared to deny any knowledge of his existence. On the other
hand, if he had not seen him for nine years, if he was unaware
of his presence in the district, a sudden production of the
photograph might well have startled him into momentary


THE HARVEST MURDER
177
indiscretion. It would have reminded him of matters which
he was doing his best to forget. Hence his almost involuntary
exclamation.
To return to Elver again. The exact nature of his former
transactions with Lavis scarcely mattered. He had some-
how discovered the latter's present whereabouts, and had
determined to seek him out. Whether for the purposes of
blackmail or not, it was impossible to say. Perhaps he had
thought out a scheme by which they might both profit, which
depended upon Lavis for the necessary capital. It was im-
probable, Jimmy thought, that the idea of the burglary had
been in Elver's mind before he left London.
Elver had called at Lavis' house and found him away from
home. How had he occupied his time between that visit and
the burglary? Why had he never returned to Park Gate in
pursuance of his original plan? These were questions which
Jimmy found it very difficult to answer.
He put the matter to himself in another way. Why had
Elver abandoned the idea of meeting Lavis and committed a
burglary instead? Had someone suggested the burglary to
him, or had he thought of it himself? The first alternative
seemed unlikely. Elver was a total stranger to the neighbour-
hood and was not likely to have found so confiding a friend
in the course of a few hours. On the other hand, if he had
thought it out for himself, he must have noticed the possi-
bilities of Paddock Croft during the hours of daylight.
And he might well have done so. Anybody using the path
from the village to Hobbs' Corner might observe the position
of the house. From one point in that path, the ladder and the
temptingly open window were in full view. A very short
study would be sufficient to show that, if the window re-
mained open at night, it could be entered without much fear


178
THE HARVEST MURDER
of observation. Elver might well have postponed his visit
to Lavis and determined to try his hand at burglary instead.
So far, so good. It was Elver's subsequent behaviour that
seemed inexplicable. He could not have been aware that he
had left his fingerprints on the silver box or he would have
taken steps to obliterate them. He had successfully acquired
quite a valuable collection of jewellery. There was no reason,
so far as he knew, why he should ever be associated with the
burglary. The only way in which he could possibly incur
suspicion would be to hang about Matling with no apparent
motive. One would have thought that his natural instinct
would have led him to return to London as soon as possible,
not only in the interests of his own safety but in order to
find the means of disposing of his booty.
That he had not in fact returned to London Jimmy was
perfectly satisfied. Elver was so well known as to be almost
a familiar friend to the officers of M. Division. They had
carried out a very careful search for him and failed to find
him. And where else could he have gone with that distressingly
incriminating evidence in his pocket? Since he had not re-
turned to London he must still be lingering in the neighbour-
hood of Matling.
Which, when you came to think of it, was a most extraor-
dinary proceeding on his part. He could not procure the
necessities of existence without being in communication with
somebody or other. He must by now have learned that the
identity of the Paddock Croft burglar was known. Wragge
had mentioned it to Mr. Raymond of the Chequers, and, as
Jimmy knew, once a thing is whispered in a village bar it
immediately becomes public property. Had Elver bribed any
of the hop pickers to shelter him? He could only have done
so by offering them a share in the proceeds of the burglary.


THE HARVEST MURDER
179
That any of them would accept such a bribe seemed highly
improbable. And yet the supposition offered the only reason-
able solution to the mystery.
Jimmy's mind went back a few steps. He had noted already
that Elver, had he taken the path from the village to Hobbs'
Corner, might have noticed the possibilities of Paddock Croft.
But why should he have used that path? It did not lead to
Park Gate, which had presumably been his original destina-
tion. Of course, he might have lost his way and taken it under
a misapprehension. On the other hand, he might have wished
to reach Hobbs' Corner for some purpose. Mr. Pershore's
bungalow stood there, and some malefactor had certainly
set fire to it.
But this idea merely tightened the knots in the tangle.
Why on earth should Elver have designs on the bungalow?
Who had told him of its existence? Who had provided him
with the necessary materials for producing the outbreak?
Jimmy felt that he had better leave the bungalow out of the
question, at all events for the present. What other reason
could have led Elver to Hobbs' Corner? Beside the bungalow
there was only Hobbs' Farm and the surrounding hop gar-
dens. Had Elver, for any reason, already decided to take
shelter among the pickers?
Jimmy had seen those very pickers for himself not many
hours earlier. Although he knew the danger of judging by
appearances, it seemed to him very unlikely that any of them
would deliberately shelter a criminal. They were nearly all
women, he had noticed; in fact he did not remember seeing a
single man among them. The old lady who had exchanged
such lively badinage with Tom Adcorn, for instance. Would
she be likely to afford shelter to the fugitive? The idea was
almost ludicrous. If he had approached her, she would pos-


180
THE HARVEST MURDER
sibly not have reported the matter to the police, but she
would have driven him away with the liveliest recrimination.
And then a wild and fantastic idea entered Jimmy's brain.
That elusive girl whose existence was vouched for by both
Mrs. Hawkins and Lavis, but so strenuously denied by Elver?
Was it within the bounds of possibility that she was to be
found among the hop pickers?
If so, an entirely new field of conjecture was thrown
open. Elver, upon his arrest, had denied her existence with a
definite object in view. He had no wish that her identity
should become known to the police. This did not necessarily
mean that she was in any way involved in his crime. He
might have counted upon making some use of her in some
way after his release. And finding himself in financial dis-
tress, he had, on the previous Saturday, determined to avail
himself of her services.
This theory put an entirely new complexion on his rela-
tions with Lavis. It also disposed of the difficulty of the dis-
covery of Lavis' whereabouts. He had no knowledge of his
presence in the neighbourhood until his arrival at Matling.
It had been this unknown girl who had informed him of the
fact. Beyond this point speculation was useless. It only re-
mained to find the girl and question her. And it seemed at
least possible that the girl might be found among the pickers
at Hobbs' Farm.
So comforting did Jimmy find this fresh inspiration that
he went off to sleep almost immediately.
He said nothing to Wragge next morning about his inten-
tions. He was already provided with a copy of Elver's descrip-
tion and photographs and with these he set out immediately
after breakfast. His first call was at the local garage, where
he had no difficulty in hiring a bicycle. Mounted upon this


THE HARVEST MURDER
181
he rode to Hobbs' Farm and obtained Mr. Velley's permis-
sion to explore the hop gardens for the second time.
Having arrived there he approached each group of pickers
in turn and showed them the photograph. Naturally he had
to endure much good-natured chaff. The pickers commented
upon the appearance of the photograph, usually in disparag-
ing terms. They wanted to know if Jimmy was looking for
his long-lost brother, who had disappeared from home, tak-
ing the children's money box with him? They invented
pretexts for Jimmy's search which positively made him blush.
They found entirely fanciful resemblances between the sub-
ject of the photographs and well-known film stars. But be-
neath all this Jimmy detected a note of sincerity. They
weren't trying to hide the man. They simply didn't recognize
him.
As it happened, the group to which Miss Rivers belonged
worked at the further end of the garden and Jimmy did not
reach it until he had exhausted all the rest. Without much
hope of success he held out the photograph for their in-
spection.
"Have any of you people ever seen anybody like this?" he
asked.
They desisted from their picking and gathered round him
inquisitively.
"Well he's no beauty, I must say," said one.
Another giggled. "Not half so handsome as the gentle-
man himself."
And then Miss Rivers' hand went suddenly to her throat.
"Oh," she gasped.
Jimmy turned upon her swiftly.
"You recognize the photograph?" he asked.
"No, no," she replied urgently. "It's a mistake, of course.


THE HARVEST MURDER
183
"Who told you that?" she asked.
"Oh, we manage to pick up a lot of things, you know,"
replied Jimmy with a disarming smile. "Most of it is of no
particular importance, but sometimes a bit here and there
comes in useful. You knew Elver when he was a steward on
the Etrurian, didn't you?"
"Yes I knew him," she said in a dull voice; and then with
sudden ferocity, "I wish to God that he had never crossed my
path!"
Until now she had been standing, facing Jimmy half de-
fiantly. All at once she sat down on the grass bank beside
him. He was conscious of her close scrutiny but was careful
to appear not to notice it.
"I expect you smoke, don't you, Miss Rivers?" he said,
producing his cigarette case. "Try one of these. They aren't
too bad, considering all things."
She took a cigarette, which Jimmy lighted for her. Then
she laughed shortly.
"Well, here we are sitting close together like a pair of
lovers," she said. "You seem a decent sort, though you are a
cop. What is it you want to know?"
"I want you to tell me everything you can about Christo-
pher Elver," Jimmy replied.
Her face darkened. "I don't care to talk about him and
that's a fact," she said. "It was so long ago that I'd almost
forgotten. And I honestly thought he had, until last Sat-
urday."
Jimmy nodded sympathetically. "Things one wants to for-
get have a habit of turning up at awkward moments," he said.
"I wonder if you'd care to tell me how you first met him?"
"How I first met Chris? Why, just by accident, as you
might say. It was about a year after I'd gone to lodge with


184
THE HARVEST MURDER
Mrs. Sheares and been found a job in the tannery. I dare-
say you know already that I was a foundling. I never make
any secret of that, for what's the good?"
"Mr. Velley did happen to mention it to me," Jimmy re-
plied.
"Well, I was brought up in the workhouse. I daresay I was
better off than many a girl outside. Enough to eat and drink,
and clothes to wear, and that sort of thing. And I was pretty
well behaved and gave no trouble. At all events they told
me so when they let me out. They found me a job which I
have been working at ever since, and they got Mrs. Sheares
to take me in. Nobody could be kinder to me than she's been.
That's her daughter Molly who's working with me. We're
like two sisters together, except that we don't squabble so
much. Molly's a good sort, just the same as her mother and
father.
"As I was telling you, I was a foundling. They picked me
up down by the riverside. I don't know who left me there,
and, if you want the truth, I don't very much care. They
had to give me a name of some kind so they called me Rivers.
Kate Rivers. It was as good a name as any other, I suppose.
Anyway, the river's in my blood, as folk say."
"You mean you're fond of the river?" Jimmy asked en-
couragingly.
"Fond of it! I'm that fond of it I can hardly keep away
from it. I've been like that ever since I was a kid. That's
why I liked going to the Sheares. They live in the top floor
of one of those tenement houses, and from the window of
the room where Molly and I sleep you can see the masts of
the shipping in the Surrey Docks."
She stretched her arms out with a gesture of disdain.
"Look at this!" she exclaimed. "The girls are always say-


THE HARVEST MURDER
185
ing how lovely the country is. Well, they can have my share
and keep it. It's always the same, nothing ever seems to
change. I've been down here hop picking every year for
goodness knows how long, and nothing's ever altered since I
can remember. Except that bungalow that was burnt out the
other evening. That's been put up since I can remember.
But the hops and the grass and the hill yonder over toward
Matling, they never change. And what's more, I don't believe
they ever will."
"You'd find the countryside looking very different if you
came down at another time of year," Jimmy remarked.
"I daresay I should. But I haven't got the curiosity to come
and see. It might be a different colour but it would still be
the same shape, with the same things in the same places.
Now the river's not like that. It never looks the same two
days running. It's the ships that do that, I suppose. They
keep on changing. And you can't tell where they've come
from, or where they're going to. I don't know, I'm a silly
fool, I suppose. But I never could keep away from the river.
I shall end by jumping into it some day, I shouldn't wonder."
"Not for a very long time, I hope," said Jimmy. "Was it
down by the riverside that you first happened to meet Elver?"
"You've guessed it. It was the worst trick that the river
ever played me. It was one summer evening, and after I'd
knocked off in the tannery I went down to the river to get
a breath of air. I walked as far as Tower Bridge and there I
stood up against the parapet looking right over the Pool.
"It was tide time, I remember, and all the ships were mov-
ing about. I could see them going in and out of London Docks
and the tugs and lighters bumping about all around them.
And then a ship came up the river and began to toot. I knew
well enough that that meant that she wanted to pass through


186
THE HARVEST MURDER
the bridge.
"I always liked to watch the ships come through the
bridge. It's just like somebody coming home. The door opens
for them and then shuts again behind them. I always used to
fancy that ships must be tired when they came in, and could
rest more comfortably above the bridge with the door closed
behind them. But there, you don't want to listen to me talk-
ing all this nonsense."
"It isn't nonsense," said Jimmy. "It's a jolly fine idea, I
think. So you watched this ship come through the bridge?"
"I watched her like I'd watched dozens like her before.
She came through the bridge and then a tug got hold of her
and pushed her against the wharf just below where I was
standing. I don't know how it was, but I must have been
feeling romantic or something that evening. I kept looking
at the ship long after she'd tied up. I could read her name
plainly enough, Etrurian, and I wondered where she'd been
and what she had got in her hold. And then I saw a young
fellow dressed in a posh suit and hat. He came on deck and
looked about him. Then he must have caught sight of me
looking at him, for he waved and smiled. Seeing him all
dressed up like that I thought he must be the captain.
"Well, I don't know what took hold of me. I'd never done
such a thing before, and I'd give twenty years of my life
not to have done it then. He came toward the gangway and
I could see that he was going ashore. And I thought what a
wonderful thing it would be if he would only talk to me and
tell me about the ship and her voyage.
"I knew the waterside pretty well by then. I knew that
there was only one way off the wharf up a narrow passage
into Tooley Street. So I slipped off the bridge and round the
corner to the end of the passage.


THE HARVEST MURDER 187
"He came out just as I got there and he didn't seem a bit
surprised to see me. He just took off his hat and said good
evening. And all of a sudden I came over all sort of shy. I
didn't know what to say and the words seemed to come out
of themselves. 'Good evening,' I said to him. 'You're the
captain, aren't you?'
"He laughed like anything at. that, and I saw that I had
made a fool of myself. 'The old man would be flattered if he
heard you,' he said. 'No, I'm not the captain, I'm only the
steward. But that's no reason why you shouldn't walk as far
as London Bridge with me, is it?'
"Oh, I remember every word of all that. And then I asked
him about his ship and he told me. He said that she traded
regularly between London and Hamburg. She came into Lon-
don every fortnight and stayed two or three days discharg-
ing and loading again. He told me about Hamburg and what
a fine place it was. And I listened, like the little fool I was.
Thought how nice it was to be talking with a real sailor. I
walked as far as London Bridge with him, and there he told
me that he was on his way to see his aunt at Lambeth."
Jimmy must have made some sudden movement at this
remark, for she nodded her head gravely. "Yes, I know," she
said. "But I didn't know then. It wasn't until I saw it in the
papers that I knew what that little shop was really for. And
Chris said that evening that he didn't see any reason why I
shouldn't go with him. His aunt would give us both a cup of
tea and we could stay there for half an hour or so. I told him
that I couldn't think of such a thing, but he managed to
persuade me in the end. He had a way with him, when he
wanted to, that could make anybody do anything."
"So that's how you came to meet Mrs. Hawkins, is it?"
said Jimmy reflectively. "You may not know it, but she


THE HARVEST MURDER
189
in the workhouse, I may tell you. Some of them were useful
enough, I daresay. But the most useful things of all they
kept tc themselves. Well, I don't blame them. A girl's got to
look out for herself, wherever she's been brought up.
"Oh yes, I met him again. I liked Chris well enough, I'm
not going to pretend I didn't. But I wasn't in love with him,
then or at any other time. I don't know what it was. He was
somehow different to the chaps I used to meet down Ber-
mondsey way. He had a nice way of speaking and treated
me just as he would have treated a lady. And after that I
used to meet him every time the ship came in. We'd always
go to his aunt's shop for a cup of tea and I noticed he always
went upstairs and changed his coat and waistcoat. He told
me that he kept two sets so that his aunt could brush and
clean one of them while he was away. Sometimes he'd take
leave from his ship for a bit longer than usual so that when
we'd had tea he'd take me to the pictures.
"That went on for the best part of the year, and I was
happy enough. I didn't trouble my head about Chris while
he was away, I hardly thought of him. That'll show you
that he didn't mean overmuch to me. We were just friends,
that's all. But I enjoyed the days when his ship came in, just
to listen to his talk and maybe go to the pictures with him or
something like that. I never mentioned a word about him to
Molly or anybody else. I thought they'd laugh at me taking
up with a chap like him. They always did laugh at me for
wanting to go along the river all by myself. Besides, Chris
didn't belong to my everyday life, if you see what I mean. He
was different, and I didn't want to mix him up with the girls
and the chaps I knew."
Jimmy nodded. "I can understand that," he said. "It's
often better to keep one's friends apart. Sometimes they


190
THE HARVEST MURDER
don't mix and then one feels uncomfortable. You continued
to meet Elver until his arrest, I suppose?"
For a minute or two she made no reply. She sat very still,
staring fixedly in front of her. In the distance, against the
background of the yet-standing hops were the pickers. The
confused sound of their laughter and talk came almost un-
subdued to the bank upon which Jimmy and Kate were sit-
ting. But it was plain that she neither saw nor heard them.
A very different scene was before her, and, by the light in her
eyes, Jimmy could tell that it was not a pleasant one.
She answered his question at last. "It happened before
then," she said in a curiously hard voice. "You'll laugh when
I tell you and say it serves me right. So it did. But that doesn't
make it any better to bear. I've only got myself to thank for
the position I'm in, I know that well enough."
"I won't laugh, I promise you that," Jimmy replied fer-
vently. "Perhaps if you tell me I may be able to think of
some way of helping you."
"That's very kind of you, I'm sure, but I'm past help, as
you'll see for yourself. I'll tell you about that evening, though
you're the only soul I've mentioned it to before. I met Chris
as usual, and we'd gone to his aunt's to have tea. His ship
had only just caught the tide. It would be after nine o'clock
when we'd finished tea. And then something came over me,
a new sort of feeling altogether. I felt all happy and excited
as though I had the world for my own. Then Chris said that
it was too late to go to the pictures, and that he'd take me as
far as London Bridge on his way back to the ship.
"I don't remember that journey. Nor do I remember what
happened when we got to London Bridge. But somehow we
were walking along Tooley Street together on the way to
the wharf and Chris was telling me that if I wanted to see


THE HARVEST MURDER 191
the ship, as I'd often said, now was the chance. Nearly every-
body would be ashore, and those that weren't would be asleep.
There was only the watchman, and he was probably faster
asleep than any of them. He said that 'fast asleep as a ship's
watchman' was a proverb along the waterside. And I was
still feeling all excited, as though nothing mattered. So I let
him take me on board. Nobody saw us, I'm certain of that.
And we went to his cabin and I stopped there until after mid-
night."
She paused and then turned upon Jimmy almost fiercely.
"Oh, you can guess for yourself what happened," she ex-
claimed. "I'm sure I don't know what made me do it. I didn't
want to, really, I know that well enough. But I didn't seem
to know what I was doing that evening. And Chris went on
persuading me. It would be great fun. I should enjoy it. It
wouldn't matter to anybody. Not a soul would ever know
anything about it. I daresay you've said the very same things
to a girl in your time. Anyway it did happen, and at last Chris
put me ashore again, and I went home and slept that night
like a dead woman.
"But next morning I got up with such a tearing headache
that I could scarcely drag myself to work. I didn't remember
until I'd got out of bed and began dressing myself. And then
it all came back to me with a rush. And I was frightened.
More frightened than I'd ever been before in my life."
"Pretty rotten trick to play on you," said Jimmy sympa-
thetically. "Has it ever occurred to you that the tea you
drank at Mrs. Hawkins' shop was probably doped?"
Her hand went to her throat as she uttered a queer chok-
ing sound. "You're a real brick," she said gratefully. "Any-
one else would have laughed and said it was my own fault.
No, I hadn't thought of that, though when I read about the
t


192
THE HARVEST MURDER
cocaine in the papers I might have guessed. That accounts
for the way I felt that night, I suppose."
"And for the way you felt next morning," said Jimmy
brightly. "What did you say to Elver when you next met?"
"I'm coming to that. You won't understand the state I was
in that morning. At first I didn't seem to be able to under-
stand what had happened. You might think that a girl like
me, brought up as I was and working among a lot of other
girls and fellows, would understand all about these things.
But I didn't. I'd heard them talk about it of course, but it
had never happened to me before. It wasn't that I felt that
I'd done anything wrong. For all that I was only a foundling,
my body was my own to do as I liked with. I didn't feel a bit
like running round to the missionaries and telling them what
a bad girl I'd been. It wasn't that I was scared of. It was just
that I'd made sure that I should have a baby. That meant
that I should lose my job and that the Sheares would turn me
out. There would be nothing for it then but the workhouse
again. And I'm much too fond of my life outside to want to go
back there.
"I was in a terrible state for the next couple of days. I
wouldn't say a word to a soul, not even to Molly Sheares,
although I used to tell her pretty well everything. And I
couldn't face Chris again just then. I knew well enough what
he'd say. He'd just laugh and tell me it was all right. It had
only been a joke. And I wanted somebody to help me, not to
make fun of me like that. I went down to the river once, after
his ship had left. And I didn't mean to come back again that
time. But it looked so black and cold that I couldn't just
bring myself to do it. And I had a sort of fancy that the lights
all round were beckoning to me, telling me to clench my
teeth and stick it. So I went back to think it out all over again.


THE HARVEST MURDER 195
the presence of witnesses, and a record made of the event.
With all the publicity which had been given to Elver's trial,
surely one of those witnesses would have communicated his
or her knowledge to the police.
"You say that you are married to Elver," said Jimmy with
a touch of sternness in his tone. "When and where did the
ceremony take place?"
She laughed rather bitterly. "Chris was no more anxious to
make a song and dance about it than I was," she replied. "By
the next time his ship came in I'd made up my mind what I
was going to do. I was pretty nearly desperate, and it seemed
to me that my only chance was for me to marry Chris whether
he wanted it or not. And when I met him I told him straight.
I said that after what had happened we'd got to get married
at once. Chris wouldn't listen to me at first. He laughed as I
knew he would, said it was all rot. He'd other things to do
with his money than spend it on a wife. It meant his having a
house on shore, and he couldn't afford it and didn't mean to.
And he told me that I could put that idea out of my head
for good and all.
"Then I told him that I didn't want to get married any
more than he did. What's more I said I wouldn't live with
him. But we'd have to be married just the same. I didn't
want to touch his precious money; I could earn enough for
myself and the baby when it came. Until then nobody need
know anything about it. I'd go on living with the Sheares
and then when I couldn't hide it any longer I'd tell them that
I'd been married quietly and show them the certificate. It
would be the same with the people at the tannery. I'd got
a pound or two saved and I knew I could go into a maternity
home somewhere. Then, when it was all over, Mrs. Sheares
could look after the baby and I could go back to my work.


196
THE HARVEST MURDER
Oh, I'd got it all mapped out, I promise you that. Still, Chris
wouldn't listen. He said that once we were married he'd be
responsible. I might get tired of work and then I could come
down on him for maintenance. And then I turned on him
good and proper. I told him that if he wouldn't marry me I'd
see the captain of the ship and the owners and everybody
else. I'd tell them what had happened and I'd make out that
he'd forced me to it. And if that didn't cost him his job I'd
know the reason why.
"Well, that staggered him a bit. I didn't know then that
his job was so important to him. He might have got another
ship, but if his new one hadn't been trading with Hamburg
he couldn't have gone on with the dope smuggling. So I was
a bit surprised that he came round so quickly. He said that
he'd see about it, and that we could be married the very
next time the ship came in. But he said that it was no use
telling anybody else about it. It wouldn't do him any good
or me either. I was to leave it to him and meet him the next
fortnight. Then he'd tell me what to do."
"You met him the next time the ship came in?" Jimmy
asked.
"You bet your life I did. I'd tied him down to it and I
meant to see it through. But as it happened it was an early
tide that day and I didn't get down until perhaps an hour
or two after the ship had been tied up. And Chris wasn't
there on the quayside. I wasn't going aboard. He made it
clear enough that he didn't want me to do that. So I waited
on the wharf there, wondering that he'd say to me when he
came. And I think I knew then that if he'd acknowledge the
child I'd forgive him.
"Well, he came off at last. It was the child I was thinking


THE HARVEST MURDER
197
about, not him or me. You won't believe me when I say it,
but he was even then no more to me than any of the chaps
I met every day of my life. He came ashore at last and there
was a chap with him. I heard him mention his name. It was
a name I'd heard before. Mr. Lavis he called him."
Jimmy nodded. "You've met Mr. Lavis again since then,
haven't you?" he asked.
She glanced at him knowingly. "You've met him for your-
self, perhaps?" she replied.
"Yes, I've met him," Jimmy replied easily. "I'm not alto-
gether sure that I like the look of him. What did you make
of him?"
"I didn't like the look of him either. One of those cunning
fly-by-night sort of blokes, I thought. Mind you, that wasn't
the first time I'd heard of him. Chris had often spoken of him
to me. He hinted all sorts of things that I didn't rightly under-
stand. Lavis, Lavis, he dinned the name into my ears until I
was sick of it. 'He's a useful man,' he used to say. 'He and I
are on a thing or two together. We know where there's a spot
of money to be made.' But he'd never tell me how. Well, to
tell you the truth I never asked him; I wasn't interested."
"Tell me about that meeting with Lavis," said Jimmy
quietly.
"Oh, that! I didn't know who he was at first, but I very
soon guessed, though Chris didn't introduce us. Chris had
spoken of him before as the man he bought the ship's stores
from and that kind of thing. And he hinted that there was
more in it than that. I thought that it was something to do
with betting, or that sort of thing. Anyway, I never met
Lavis until that evening. I saw that he had something to say
to Chris, but I wasn't going to be put off. My business was


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THE HARVEST MURDER
more important than his, anyway. And Chris said that he and
Lavis were going to have a drink and that I'd better come
along too."
Jimmy nodded. This confirmed Lavis' statement, almost
word for word.
"You went along, I suppose?" he asked.
"Yes, I went along, wondering when Lavis would take
himself off and I should get Chris to myself. We went to
a pub, I forget the name of it now, and there we sat. At last
Chris managed to whisper to me that I'd better leave them
and meet him again at the corner of Tooley Street in a couple
of hours' time. So I went off and left them to it."
"You didn't see Lavis again that evening?"
"I never set eyes on him again until next hop picking.
You see, ever since I've been living with the Sheares I've
come down to Hobbs' Farm every year. Mrs. Sheares used
to pick regularly for the farmer who was here before Mr.
Velley. And then when Molly was old enough she used to
come instead. And when I went to live with them Molly
wrote to Mr. Velley and asked if she might bring me with
her next time. Mr. Velley said she might, and that's how I
started down here."
"You didn't expect to meet Lavis, of course?"
"No that I didn't. It gave me a pretty nasty turn when I
saw him prowling about among the huts. You see, I wasn't
anxious that anybody should know that I'd ever had any-
thing to do with Chris. And as Molly and I were coming
back from work one evening we ran straight into Lavis. I
knew him straightaway. I never forget a face that I've once
seen. But as soon as he looked at me, I knew that he hadn't
recognized me. I suppose he hadn't taken any particular no-
tice of me that evening at the pub. I've often met him since


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THE HARVEST MURDER
husband. I'd asked for the morning off on the excuse that
I wanted to go to a friend's wedding. And after we'd been
married I went back to my work and Chris went back to
his ship. I didn't see him again before he sailed. I didn't
seem to want to, somehow.
"And then only a day or two later I heard that Mrs. Haw-
kins had been arrested. Mr. Sheares always reads the paper
after supper and if there's anything exciting in it, he tells us all
about it. I thought they'd find out that I'd been to the shop
and that they'd come and ask me questions. I used to jump
whenever I met a stranger, in case he was a detective come
after me. But when nothing happened I began to feel a bit
better. After all, it had nothing to do with me. And just
before Chris was due home again I saw that I wasn't out
of the wood by a very long way."
"You guessed, I suppose, that he had something to do with
the drug business?"
"I didn't think of it at first. It came to me all of a rush
the day before I expected him. I saw that the first thing he
always did when his ship came in was to go and see Mrs.
Hawkins. And I made sure that he'd go there again and that
the police would be waiting for him.
"I nearly went crazy wondering what to do. If the police
got him they'd find out that I was his wife and would nat-
urally think that I was in it, too. Even if they believed me
when I told them that I wasn't, I shouldn't have made things
any better for myself. I should be marked down as the wife
of a crook for the rest of my life, and all the plans I'd made
would come to nothing.
"At last I made up my mind what I'd do. I'd meet the
ship when she came in and warn Chris not to go to Mrs.
Hawkins'. Of course, I didn't know whether she'd given him


THE HARVEST MURDER
201
away or not. There had been nothing about him in the papers,
I was sure of that. So it seemed to me that, if I warned him,
there was just a chance that he might keep out of it.
"I went down to the wharf long before I knew that the
Etrurian could get alongside. But there was a man there
waiting even before I got there. He was trying to keep out
of sight, I could see that at once. And I knew somehow that
he was waiting for Chris. I thought at first that it might be
Lavis, but I very soon saw that it wasn't. He was a much
bigger man and I knew that he must be a detective."
Jimmy smiled. Hanslet would hardly be flattered if he
knew his identity had been so easily guessed.
"This man didn't see you?" he asked.
"I don't think so. He didn't taken any notice of me if he
did. I cleared away from the wharf and went round on to
the Tower Bridge, the very place I'd been standing when I
first saw Chris. From there I could see the Etrurian as she
came in. I was expecting the man to go on board and fetch
Chris, but he didn't. I began to wonder if perhaps I'd been
a fool and the man had no business with Chris after all.
"It often happened that Chris couldn't leave the ship at
once. He had to get the officers' tea and tidy up and things
like that. So it was that evening. He didn't come off for a
long time, and I began to wonder whether I couldn't some-
how get on board and tell him. But I saw that the man was
still waiting on the wharf and I didn't like to. And then at
last Chris came off and the man went up and spoke to him.
And when I saw them go off the wharf together with the
man holding Chris by the arm, I knew it was all up.
"I nearly went out of my mind with worry that next day
or two. I thought the police were bound to make inquiries
and find out about me. My heart used to stand still when


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THE HARVEST MURDER
Mr. Sheares read the paper to us in the evening. It had been
pretty bad after Mrs. Hawkins' arrest, but it was ten times
worse now. I've never understood to this day how it was they
didn't find me."
Jimmy smiled. "It's simple enough, really," he said. "Mrs.
Hawkins spoke about you, but she didn't know your name.
Elver denied that he even knew a girl, much less that he'd
married her."
"So Chris wasn't lying when he told me that on Saturday,"
she replied thoughtfully. "Well, I don't suppose that he
wanted to have any more to do with me than I did with him.
And then, after he'd been sentenced, I began to think that
I wouldn't be brought into it after all. I started to wonder
what I was going to do now if the baby came. Either I had
to keep quiet about my marriage and take the consequences,
or I'd have to say that I was the wife of Jack Croft, and
show my marriage lines. And when they asked me who this
Jack Croft was, I should have to tell them that he was in
prison under the name of Chris Elver."
"A most unpleasant dilemma," said Jimmy. "You chose
the first alternative and said nothing, I suppose?"
"I never had any cause to say anything. There was no sign
of a baby after all, and I saw what a little fool I'd been.
Just because I'd let myself be scared for no reason I'd tied
myself up to a crook for life. And I began to wonder what
would happen when Chris came out of jail. He'd be out of a
job, and I made sure he'd look me up and expect me to keep
him. And somehow I hadn't the pluck to run away. I was
perfectly comfortable as I was and I didn't know how I'd
be able to make another start all over again."
"What did actually happen when he was released?" Jimmy
asked.


THE HARVEST MURDER
203
"Nothing. I don't even know when he was let out. I knew
he'd got seven years of course, and I thought that I'd better
make the best of them. But after the seven years were up I
didn't know a moment's peace. I thought whenever there
was a tap on the door that Chris was coming after me. But he
never came forward or wrote or anything. And it wasn't until
last Saturday that I set eyes on him again."
"How did you meet him?" Jimmy asked.
"It was like this. We'd knocked off at one o'clock and had
our dinner. Then Molly went into Matling to buy a few
things and I stayed in the hut to tidy round. I'd just about
finished and was wondering whether I'd go off to Matling
myself and find Molly when somebody came and stood in
the doorway of the hut. My heart sort of stopped even be-
fore I looked up. I seemed to know that it was Chris got me
at last. And when I did look up at him I knew him at once,
though it was nine years since I'd last seen him.
"I'd often wondered what I would say to him when it
did happen. But I found that I couldn't say anything at all.
I just stood there staring at him like a fool. And he laughed
in that careless sort of way I remembered so well. 'Hullo,
Kitty,' he said. 'So you're alone, are you? Well, I'm in luck,
for I want a word with you.'
"He came in and sat down just as if the place belonged
to him. He was wearing one of those paper caps the chaps
wear when they come down here to see their friends. But
otherwise he looked just the same as he had all those years
before. A bit older, perhaps, and not nearly so well. dressed.
But there was no difference in the way he talked.
"I managed to get my voice back at last and asked him
what he wanted with me. He said that depended. He'd heard
nothing of me for a long time and didn't know how I was


204
THE HARVEST MURDER
fixed. He had made inquiries if I was still living with the
Sheares and had been told that I was, but was away hop
picking. That was all he knew. He was pleased when I told
him that there'd been no baby. Then he said that he'd lost
his job, and wanted a quid or two to tide him over."
"Did you give him any money?" Jimmy asked quickly.
If Elver had managed to secure funds, his evasion of justice
was more easily explained.
"No, I didn't, though I would have if I'd thought it would
have got rid of him. As it happened I hadn't any to spare. I'd
brought none with me down here and Molly and I had only
subbed enough to keep us going. I told him this, though I
don't think he believed me. He just laughed and said that
he'd have to get some money somewhere. He said that, though
I might have forgotten that we were married, he hadn't. And
if I was so short of money, I only had to go to Mr. Velley
and tell him that my husband had come down unexpectedly.
Chris said that he didn't doubt that he'd let me have a quid
or so."
"Naturally you didn't want to break the news of your
marriage quite in that fashion," Jimmy remarked.
She blushed crimson. "I didn't and that's a fact," she re-
plied. "I didn't want anybody to know I was married, let
alone the folk down here. I'd begun to hope I'd never see
Chris again and that somehow . . . Well, that doesn't mat-
ter now.
"And then I thought of something. I don't know what
put it into my head like that, but I was desperate to get
Chris out of the way before Molly or anybody else saw him.
'I can't do anything for you,' I said. 'You'd better go and
see your pal Lavis and get him to help you.'
"He seemed more taken aback than I'd ever known him.


THE HARVEST MURDER
205
'Lavis!' he exclaimed. 'Whatever makes you think of him
after all this time? You haven't taken up with him surely?'
"'I haven't so much as spoken to him,' I said. 'But he's
living in these parts with his sister up at Park Gate. Don't
tell me that you didn't know that.'
"'I didn't know it, straight,' he said. 'But I'm very glad
to hear it. Seems like my luck's in this afternoon, after all.
You're sure it's Lavis, the chap I used to deal with when I
was on the Etrurian?'
"I told him that I was sure enough of that. And then he
asked me where Park Gate was and I told him it was quite
close. He said he'd go off and see Lavis straight away. But
he told me that I needn't think that I'd got rid of him so
easily as all that. If it turned out that Lavis couldn't help
him I should have to, that was flat. He went off, and I've
never set eyes on him since. But I know that as soon as he
wants anything he'll be round worrying me again."
"Where is he now?" Jimmy asked.
She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know, and what's
more I don't care," she replied. "Perhaps Lavis gave him
some money and he's gone back to London. He's kept away
from me, and that's all I want of him."
"What time was it that he left you on Saturday after-
noon?"
"I couldn't say for certain. Somewhere between three and
four, I should think."
"And you're perfectly certain that you haven't seen or
heard of him since?"
"I'm certain of that. I should have reason to remember it
if I had, shouldn't I? I'm hoping that he won't come worry-
ing me again until I get back home, but I can't be too sure
of that."


206
THE HARVEST MURDER
"I don't think that he's likely to worry you for a con-
siderable time," said Jimmy quietly. "You've heard that
there was a burglary close here on Saturday night, I ex-
pect?"
"I heard them talking about it, but I didn't pay much
heed. I've got enough troubles of my own to think about
with Chris turning up like that."
"Well, I'm sorry to have to tell you that your husband was
the burglar," said Jimmy.
She looked at him wide-eyed. It was some moments before
the full significance of the words dawned upon her.
"You mean that when you find him he'll go to prison
again?" she said at last in a strained voice.
"I'm afraid he will," replied Jimmy simply.
"Then I'll be rid of him again for a time," she said slowly,
and then with sudden violence she exclaimed, "A burglary!"
"Why didn't he kill somebody and have done with it? Then
he'd have been hanged and I'd have been rid of him for
ever."
"Not a very edifying sentiment," said Jimmy reprovingly.
"How about the unfortunate victim? Wouldn't you have
been a little bit sorry for him?"
She became suddenly contrite.
"I didn't mean that, Inspector, really I didn't," she said.
"Only I'd give everything I've got to be sure that I'd never
see Chris again. Now it'll be just the same as it was last time.
Waiting and waiting until he's let out, knowing that then
I'll see his shadow in the door again. Only this time it'll be
worse, because I shall have to say that he came to see me
here. Then it'll come out that we're married."
"Not necessarily," said Jimmy slowly. "However, we can
see about that when we get him. By the way, did anyone


208
THE HARVEST MURDER
Their way took them round the unoccupied end of the
hop garden, across the road and so into a meadow belonging
to Hobbs' Farm. This meadow was roughly square, and three
sides of it were occupied by what appeared at first sight to
be long corrugated iron sheds. Since the pickers were at work
the meadow was practically untenanted. Outside of the sheds
three old women, seated on wooden stools, were engaged in
earnest conversation. One of them Jimmy noticed was peel-
ing potatoes, apparently for a large family. An enamel slop
pail which stood in front of her was nearly half full. One
of the others was darning a red flannel petticoat with patches
of material apparently filched from some other garment. The
colours clashed horribly, but that, Jimmy supposed, hardly
mattered, since the petticoat was destined to remain unseen.
The third had a pail of soapy water in front of her. From
this she fished at intervals one of a number of woollen socks,
laying it on the grass beside her to dry. Round these three
half a dozen children were playing rather aimlessly.
Almost in the centre of the meadow was a square brick
structure with a stumpy chimney. From this a wisp of steam
was rising lazily, from which Jimmy inferred that it con-
tained a cauldron for heating water. An old man, bent al-
most to the ground with age, was attending to the fire. So
intent was he upon his work that he seemed to have eyes
and ears for nothing else. A bundle of sticks lay beside him
and every now and then he would select a suitable piece
from this and thrust it into the furnace. Whenever he did so,
a little shower of sparks came out of the chimney. The old
man coughed as the smoke caught his throat. As they passed
close by him Jimmy could hear him muttering under his
breath. Something about the dratted wood being damp. But
the old man never looked up. He appeared to be unaware


THE HARVEST MURDER
209
of the existence of anything but his fire.
As they approached the nearest shed, Jimmy saw that it
was not continuous. It was divided up by partitions into a
number of cubicles, each with its own door. Some of these
doors stood open, others were shut and padlocked. Kate ap-
proached one of the latter, took a key from the pocket of her
apron and opened it.
"There you are," she said. "That's my hut, or rather it's
mine and Molly's. You're welcome to go inside if you
want to."
Jimmy could see at a glance that nobody was concealed
inside, but out of curiosity he entered. At the far end of the
hut lay a heap of dried hop vines and on this two mattresses
were laid side by side. On each of these were a couple of
rough blankets and a hard pillow. Two or three brightly
coloured dresses hung on nails driven into the whitewashed
partition. A couple of wooden stools and a packing case
containing a kettle, a saucepan, some enamelled mugs and
a teapot completed the equipment of the hut. Jimmy noticed
that the place was tidy and scrupulously clean.
Kate watched him with some amusement as he looked
about him.
"Not exactly Buckingham Palace, but it's comfortable
enough," she remarked. "At least so long as it's dry and the
nights are fairly warm. And I'm bound to say that I sleep
like a top most nights in spite of what's on my mind. About
Chris I mean. It's the hops, they say. The smell of them makes
you that sleepy you can hardly stay awake of an evening.
Well, there's not much room for hiding Chris in here, is
there?"
"It doesn't look like it," Jimmy replied. "It was here that he
spoke to you on Saturday, wasn't it?"


212
THE HARVEST MURDER
him then as a last resort to be used in case of emergency.
He had found Kate, but had failed to extract any money
from her. He had, however, acquired a piece of information
which might prove even more valuable. His old associate,
Lavis, was living in the neighbourhood. Lavis had practically
betrayed the fact that there was more in their association
than appeared on the surface. This fully confirmed the theory
that Elver hoped to be able to extort money from him. But
Lavis had been away from home, and, as far as could be
ascertained, the two had never met. Elver might then have
returned to Kate's hut, only to find her absent and the place
locked up. He might then have decided that the burglary
was, after all, his best speculation. If he had, his natural
instinct would have been to keep out of the way until after
dark.
So far it was comparatively plain sailing. But his actions
after the burglary became inexplicable. Surely, if he really
had some sort of influence over Lavis he would have gone
at once to him and demanded shelter and assistance. But this
apparently he had not done. He had somehow managed to
vanish into thin air, taking the proceeds of the burglary
with him.
Jimmy, having retrieved his bicycle, paid another visit
to Mr. Pershore's bungalow. He found a constable on guard
and exchanged a few words with him. Then, since it was now
dinner time, he rode back to Culverden. But he said nothing
to Wragge of his conversation with Kate. After all, she had
told him nothing which bore directly upon the burglary.
Fortunately, Wragge was not inquisitive. He was too full
of his own adventures for that. He had obtained a search
warrant and examined Lavis' house from cellar to attic.
"I don't think there was a corner of the place I didn't


THE HARVEST MURDER
213
ransack," he said. "Lavis wasn't there, but Mrs. Creach was,
and she watched me like a cat watches a mouse. But I didn't
find what I was looking for, and I'm ready to swear it wasn't
there."
"You thought you might come across some of the stolen
jewellery, I daresay," Jimmy suggested.
"That's about it. But not a thing of that sort could I find.
It wasn't until I got up into the roof that I found anything
at all out of the way. And I'll lay you'll never guess what
that was."
Jimmy shook his head. "I'm no good at guessing," he said.
"A dark lantern and a set of housebreaker's tools, perhaps."
Wragge chuckled. "That wouldn't have surprised me," he
replied. "No, it wasn't that. When I climbed up into the attic
through a sort of hole in the ceiling, I looked about and saw
that one of the boards in the floor was loose. Well, I just lifted
it up and there were rows and rows of medicine bottles. They
hadn't any labels on them, but they were all corked and full
of something or other. I uncorked one of them and smelled
the stuff inside. And whatever do you think it was?"
Jimmy smiled. "Collier's Certain Cure for Constipation,
perhaps," he replied.
"Not it," Wragge exclaimed. "It was spirit, and jolly
strong stuff, by the smell of it. Well, I counted those bottles
quick. There were forty-six of them, but there aren't now.
I slipped one of the bottles into my pocket, then I came down
out of the attic. Mrs. Creach hadn't followed me up there,
but she was standing in the kitchen looking pretty white
about the gills when I came down. But I didn't let on to her.
'Sorry to have given you all this trouble, Mrs. Creach,' I
said. 'You'll understand that we don't enjoy having to do this
sort of thing. But duty's duty, you know. I haven't found


214
THE HARVEST MURDER
anything out of order, you can tell your brother so when he
comes home.' She looked that relieved I could hardly keep
from laughing."
"Well done!" Jimmy exclaimed. "There's something queer
about those medicine bottles, I'll wager. Have you any idea
where the spirit came from?"
"I dropped in at the Chequers on my way home," Wragge
replied. "There I asked Mr. Raymond, casual like, if Lavis
ever bought spirit from him. He said to the best of his recol-
lection he'd never sold him a drop. So the stuff didn't come
from the Chequers, that's pretty certain."
"Perhaps we'll be able to find out where it comes from and
where it goes to," said Jimmy. "Now I've got to arrange
about the analysis of those ashes from Mr. Pershore's bunga-
low. I wonder if you'd get one of your chaps to shovel it
into sacks? Then it can be sent up to the Yard, addressed
to me. I'll slip up this afternoon, warn them it's coming, and
tell them what to look for. It's possible that I may stay up
in town for the night. But if I do, I'll come down again first
thing in the morning."


CHAPTER XIII
Jimmy's expectation that he would spend the night in Lon-
don was fulfilled. After consultation with Hanslet, it was
decided that they should again seek the advice of Dr. Priest-
ley. They called upon him by appointment at nine o'clock
that evening.
"It's queer how things crop up, years after one's almost
forgotten about them," said Hanslet, when they were in-
stalled in Dr. Priestley's study. "You remember me telling
you the other night about Sea Joe and the way I arrested
him? There was talk then of there being some girl or other
in the background. I didn't pay much attention to it at the
time. But, would you believe it, Jimmy stumbled across her
this very morning. And she told him that she'd been married
to Elver about a fortnight before his arrest."
"And there's no doubt that her story's true," Jimmy added.
"I've been round to the registrar's office in Stepney myself.
And I found the entry almost at once. Jack Croft and Kate
Rivers. The date is correct and everything."
"Very interesting," said Dr. Priestley. "Would it have
made any difference had you ascertained the fact of this
marriage at the time?"
"I don't think so," Hanslet replied. "From what Jimmy
tells me this girl had nothing whatever to do with the dope
business. It's rather a queer story, in its way. Perhaps you'd
like to hear Jimmy tell it in his own words, Professor?"
"If the Inspector cares to tell me, I shall be happy to lis-
ten," said Dr. Priestley.
Jimmy repeated accurately his conversation with Kate.
215


216
THE HARVEST MURDER
"The girl was telling the truth, I'm pretty sure of that, sir,"
he concluded. "Without the slightest prompting on my part,
she told me that she was married to Elver. And the details of
her story seem to fit in with everything we already know.
Unfortunately, she couldn't throw any light upon the bur-
glary or, what is even more important, upon Elver's present
whereabouts."
"It's extraordinary how that chap manages to keep out of
the way," said Hanslet. "I agree that this girl Kate has noth-
ing to do with it. I'm only interested in her because I confess
that I always believed that she was an invention of Mrs.
Hawkins'."
"What steps did you take to trace this man Elver?"
Dr. Priestley asked.
"We've done everything we can think of," Hanslet replied.
"You know as much about our methods as I do myself, Pro-
fessor. The police all over the country are on the lookout for
him and for the stolen jewellery. And up to date nobody had
found so much as a hint of either."
Dr. Priestley shook his head a trifle impatiently.
"There is one obvious explanation which has apparently
not occurred to you," he remarked.
"You mean that he somehow managed to slip out of the
country, Professor?" Hanslet replied. "But that for a man
in his circumstances is next thing to impossible."
"That is not my meaning at all," said Dr. Priestley. "Has
it never occurred to you that Elver may be dead?"
"Well, no, I'm bound to confess that it hasn't," Hanslet
replied. "And after all, Professor, people don't die without
attracting some sort of attention. If anybody runs across the
body of an unknown man an inquest is sure to follow."
"His body may not yet have been found—indeed, it is pos-


THE HARVEST MURDER
217
sible that it may have been deliberately concealed."
Hanslet laughed. "I wish you'd tell us exactly what's in
your mind, Professor," he said.
"It is in my mind that Elver may have been murdered,"
replied Dr. Priestley quietly. "I am, of course, aware that
there is no evidence whatever in support of this suggestion.
Usually in a case of murder one is confronted with the fact
though the motives are not apparent. Here the fact is un-
confirmed, but the motives, one might almost say, stand out
with startling clearness.
"Consider the situation when Elver appeared in the
neighbourhood of Matling last Saturday. To his wife, his
appearance was little short of a disaster. Her happiness, as
she explained to the Inspector, depended upon her connec-
tion with Elver remaining unknown. He was the shadow
hanging over her life, and, when the shadow became the sub-
stance, she might well give way to despair.
"She seems never to have felt the slightest love for her
husband. In a way he fascinated her, perhaps because she
was only able to see him once a fortnight. Nor apparently
was Elver infatuated with her. It is true that he seduced
her, and I agree with the Inspector that the administration
of cocaine probably played a large part in that seduction.
But his subsequent conduct seems to show that his passion
for her was merely temporary.
"I have no doubt that her statement to the Inspector is
perfectly true, in one respect, at least. She married Elver,
not because she cared for him in the least, but in order to
escape the consequences of her error. These consequences
never ensued, and meanwhile Elver was removed from her
life for a term of at least seven years. She had never desired
marriage, and to find herself not only a wife, but the wife of


218
THE HARVEST MURDER
a convict, must have seriously perturbed her.
"Still, there was nothing for it. She could only wait for
events to develop. One can easily understand the horror with
which she anticipated Elver's release. But when Elver was
once more a free man he made no attempt to communicate
with her. He could easily have done so, since she had not
changed her address or her mode of life. It is probable that
he had no desire to assume the responsibilities of marriage.
Or it may be that he had some other reason for keeping away
from all those who had known him in former days. His motive
is not, I think, of great importance. The result of his silence
was that his wife must have begun to believe that she would
never see him again.
"And then, when she expected it least, he appeared in the
doorway of her hut. This must have seemed to her the be-
ginning of a life which she had so long dreaded. If he were to
proclaim the fact that they were married she would have no
option but to ally herself with him and with his fortunes.
This, for many reasons, would have been utterly distasteful
to her. Her husband alive was a perpetual menace to her.
But if once he were dead she could again call herself a free
woman."
Dr. Priestley paused, and Hanslet nodded his head in
rather doubtful agreement.
"There may be something in that, Professor," he said.
"But how, when, and where did she murder the man? And
above all, how did she dispose of the body?"
"I do not say that this woman murdered her husband,"
Dr. Priestley replied. "I merely point out that she had a
very definite motive for doing so. And she was not the only
person who possessed such a motive. The position of the man
Lavis must be considered.


220
THE. HARVEST MURDER
whether Lavis acted as his banker."
"By Jove, that's an idea, Professor!" Hanslet exclaimed.
"It would account for his anxiety to get hold of Lavis at
once. And it might account for something else, too. Although
Lavis denied it so strenuously, we must remember the pos-
sibility that the two men actually met. If at that interview
Lavis supplied Elver with money, the difficulty of his disap-
pearance would be explained."
"That may be," said Dr. Priestley. "But what I wish to
point out is this: Lavis had perhaps believed himself safe
from discovery by Elver. Now that this discovery had been
made, Lavis' position was decidedly uncomfortable. Elver
could not, of course, sue him for the return of money illegally
earned, but he could threaten to reveal their former intimacy
to the police. We do not know what crime could have been
laid to Lavis' charge, but we may assume that he would have
found himself in trouble as the result of a revelation on El-
ver's part. Here, then, is a second person to whom Elver's
existence was a menace. His death would relieve Lavis of
considerable anxiety."
"Well, then I'll ask the same question as I did before,
Professor. How, when and where did Lavis murder Elver?
And having done so, how did he dispose of the body?"
"It is not my habit to indulge in conjecture," Dr. Priestley
replied. "Perhaps the Inspector could formulate a theory
which would supply the answer to your question."
Jimmy hesitated before replying to this invitation. "The
idea hadn't occurred to me before, sir," he said at last. "But
I see now that it is by no means impossible. How, when and
where did Lavis murder Elver? How, I can't say, but there's
one method which occurs to me. Lavis is at present acting
for a firm in Sheffield which manufactures butchers' knives.


THE HARVEST MURDER
221
He carries parcels of these knives about the country with
him on his bicycle. Last Saturday evening when he left the
Chequers at ten o'clock these samples were in his possession.
He is said to have fallen off his bicycle, and in doing so to
have scattered the knives by the roadside. Sergeant Wragge
certainly picked up a knife next morning at the spot where
the accident occurred. He has shown it to me. It is new, as
one would expect a sample to be, but the blade is stained and
encrusted with what may possibly be blood."
Hanslet chuckled. "You're getting on, Jimmy," he said.
"You have produced the weapon and traced it to the crim-
inal. Lavis killed Elver by cutting his throat with one of
those sample knives of his. It's as simple as A.B.C. so far.
Carry on."
Jimmy glanced at Dr. Priestley. "I don't say that that
theory is proved, sir," he said hastily. "I'm simply repeating
the facts as I've heard them. They provide a possible answer
to the question 'How?' Then we come to 'When?' On leav-
ing the Chequers Lavis did not go straight home. Instead of
taking the direct road to Park Gate he made a detour by
Hobbs' Corner. In doing so, he would pass close by Paddock
Croft, the scene of the burglary. The explanation he gave
to Sergeant Wragge for making this detour was that he was
too drunk to know what he was doing. But there is reason
to believe that he was in the habit of assuming drunkenness
for his own purposes. If this is the case, he probably had
some deliberate motive for taking the path to Hobbs' Corner.
This motive may have been his desire to meet Elver. We
cannot say accurately when such a meeting would have taken
place. But we can place it between ten o'clock, when he left
the Chequers, and midnight when the Speights returned home.
"Then comes the question where the murder may have


THE HARVEST MURDER
223
face sooner or later. I might have cut it up with one of the
butchers' knives, and then I don't quite know what I should
have done with the pieces. In fact, I'm afraid I should still
have the body on my hands, wondering what to do with it."
"Surely it would have occurred to you that the safest way
of disposing of a human body is to destroy it completely by
fire?"
"It might have occurred to me, sir, but where should I have
found a fire of sufficient intensity at that time of night? I
couldn't very well have collected fuel and lighted one. The
blaze would have attracted attention." Jimmy paused sud-
denly and then stared at Dr. Priestley with wide eyes. "Mr.
Pershore's bungalow!" he exclaimed. "But how?"
"Hullo," Hanslet exclaimed, "this is getting interesting.
That fire a couple of days later always seemed to me a bit
queer. Was the bungalow set on fire in order to consume
Elver's body? It's a most intriguing theory, anyway."
"I don't quite see how that can have been the case," said
Jimmy. "We're supposing that Elver was murdered on Sat-
urday night. The bungalow did not catch fire until the follow-
ing Tuesday afternoon. Where was the body during that
period? We're supposing that the man was killed some time
during Saturday night. According to Mrs. Adcorn she was
in the habit of visiting the bungalow at least twice a day.
That means that she entered it at least six times between
Saturday and the time of the fire. And since she was nervous
about the windows being left open she always examined the
place thoroughly. She had her last look round, before the fire,
at six o'clock on Tuesday afternoon. It seems to me quite
impossible that she could have overlooked a dead body had
there been one in the house."
Hanslet shrugged his shoulders. "Well, you've been down


THE HARVEST MURDER
225
mit. But from what I've seen of the place, I think it almost
certain that she did go alone. Hop picking's a very busy
time in that part of the world, and everybody seems to have
a job of one kind or another connected with it. Mrs. Ad-
corn's two sons, for instance, are hard at work from early
till late. At this time of the year I don't think that anyone
would have leisure to help Mrs. Adcorn, even supposing
that she wanted help."
"Well, that makes it probable that Mrs. Adcorn was al-
ways alone when she visited the bungalow. So, don't you see,
there's no means of verifying her statement. She told you
that everything was in order at six o'clock on Tuesday eve-
ning, but you've only got her bare word for that. It's not im-
possible that she knew something about the murder and was
not prepared to disclose the presence of the body in the
bungalow. How does that idea appeal to you, Professor?"
"Not very forcibly," Dr. Priestley replied. "I will admit
that Mrs. Adcorn may have been aware of the presence
of the body, but I am inclined to think it extremely unlikely.
Her connivance would have involved her in too much risk.
The windows of the bungalow were always kept open dur-
ing the daytime, and it would have been easy enough for
any passer-by to enter the place. If the body had thus been
discovered, Mrs. Adcorn would have been the first to be
called upon for an explanation."
"Besides, Mrs. Adcorn doesn't strike me as the sort of
person who would connive at the concealment of dead bod-
ies," Jimmy remarked.
"It's not always safe to judge by appearances," said
Hanslet. "However, if you don't like the theory of Mrs.
Adcorn's complicity, I'll try to get round your objection in
another way. Is there any reason why Elver's body should


226
THE HARVEST MURDER
have been hidden in the bungalow during the whole period
between his death and the time of the fire?"
"That is a very good point," said Dr. Priestley approv-
ingly.
"I'm glad you think so, Professor. The question of the
concealment of the body, whole or dismembered, is worth
going into. There are two cases to be considered. The first
is when the police know that a murder has been committed
and are looking for the body. Then admittedly it's a devil-
ishly awkward thing to hide. It's heavy, and it takes up a
lot of space. Given that the police know that the body must
lie within a reasonably limited area, they are pretty well
bound to find it.
"But the second case is altogether different. It occurs
when the body itself is the only evidence of a crime having
been committed. The criminal has arranged matters in such
a way that, so long as the body remains undiscovered, no
suspicion of murder will arise. His task is made easier by
the fact that no one is looking for a body. He can dispose of
it at his leisure, using such means as his ingenuity suggests.
"Now, apart from its bulk and its weight, the human
body presents another difficulty to anyone wishing to con-
ceal it. Sooner or later it will decompose, and in so doing is
very likely to make its presence known. And it has been
shown often enough that only an expert can arrest decompo-
sition for any length of time. But a period of at least two
or three days must elapse after death before the body gives
itself away, so to speak. At least, in this climate and under
normal conditions.
"Now, during that period, a body which no one is looking
for is comparatively easy to conceal. It might be rolled up
in a carpet and put away in a lumber room, for instance.


THE HARVEST MURDER
227
The criminal meanwhile can be making preparations for its
destruction. I expect you see what I'm getting at, Jimmy."
"You mean that Elver's body may have lain somewhere
unobserved, in a ditch perhaps, until shortly before the
fire," Jimmy replied. "That's possible, I daresay, but it
doesn't overcome my objection. When and how was the
body conveyed to the bungalow? If you accept Mrs. Ad-
corn's statement, it was not there at six o'clock on Tuesday
evening. I have already made up my mind that it would have
been impossible for anyone to enter the bungalow unob-
served between that time and the fire. And I absolutely re-
fuse to believe that anyone could have done so with a body
slung over his shoulders."'
Dr. Priestley smiled. "This discussion is by no means de-
void of interest," he said. "May I suggest that it is extremely
difficult entirely to consume a human body? A very fierce
fire is required, to which the body must be exposed for a
considerable time. Unless these conditions are fulfilled, only
the softer tissues will be consumed. The bones, or parts of
them, will remain in recognizable form. I do not think that
the fire at Mr. Pershore's bungalow can have been suffici-
ently intense, nor did it last long enough, for the complete
consumption of a human body."
"There's another thing, sir," said Jimmy. "You saw me
rake through the ashes. I certainly didn't find anything that
looked like bits of bone."
"That may be," Dr. Priestley replied. "You might not
have recognized than as such. Charred bone upon casual
inspection is not unlike charred wood."
"The point will soon be settled, sir," said Jimmy. "I've
arranged for the ashes to be collected and sent up to the
Yard for expert examination. I confess that I hadn't any


228
THE HARVEST MURDER
idea of human remains in my mind when I did so. My idea
was that the means used to start the fire might be dis-
covered."
"I shall be interested to hear the results of that examina-
tion. But you realize, I hope, that the absence of human
remains in the ashes will not negative the theory of Elver's
death. You should, I think, explore very carefully the neigh-
bourhood of Hobbs' Corner. In the course of this explora-
tion the means of disposal of a body may suggest itself to
you. Meanwhile, further discussion of what is, after all,
merely a tentative suggestion appears to me somewhat
futile."
The hint was sufficient for Hanslet and Jimmy. A few
minutes later they said good night to Dr. Priestley and
left the house. Since it was too late to return to Culverden
that evening Jimmy went home to his quarters. There, while
smoking a final cigarette before turning in, he considered the
suggestion which Dr. Priestley had made.
That there was something in it he was quite willing to
admit. It seemed impossible that Elver alive should have
escaped detection. A living man must somehow or other ob-
tain the means of sustenance. But a dead man had no such
requirements. Elver might well have been murdered and his
body disposed of. Dr. Priestley had pointed out that at least
two people had motives for such a crime.
Kate, to begin with. She had every reason to desire the
removal of Elver from her path. But his conversation with
her had impressed him very favourably. She had, without
any pressure on his part, revealed her past to him with a
sincerity which it was very difficult to doubt. Would she
have done so if she had killed her husband? It seemed in-
credible. Besides, what opportunity could a woman, situ-


CHAPTER XIV
This, the second Saturday of hop picking was a busy day at
the Chequers. Early in the afternoon the Raymond clan
gathered to the fray. By four o'clock they were all assembled,
fourteen strong. Mr. Raymond, with Mary as his chief of
staff, directed operations.
Under his directions the bar parlour was filled with barrels
to its utmost capacity. Beside these were arranged crates of
bottles and sacks of packets of cigarettes. Hundreds of
glasses were arranged on shelves handy to the serving win-
dow. Since it was a fine day with no prospect of rain, there
was no need to put up the tarpaulin above the arbour. By the
time all preparations had been made a thirsty and impatient
crowd was assembled outside the house.
Mr. Raymond gave his final instructions to old Alf Mail-
ing, the doorkeeper.
"Now, you keep your wits about you, Alf," he said. "You
know as well as I do what some of these home dwellers are.
If they think that any of the hoppers have a bob or two to
spend, they try to get them into the other room, on the chance
that they'll be stood a drink; that's what they're after. But
I won't have any of the pickers inside the house if I can help
it. I don't trust these Londoners. For one thing they make a
terrible litter, which I've got to clear up. And for another,
once they get into the other room, they pinch the glasses. So
you watch out and see that none of them slip in behind your
back. Don't let anybody into the other room that you don't
know."
"That's all right, Guv'nor," Alf replied. "There's nobody
231


232
THE HARVEST MURDER
won't get into that room that I don't know. And if any of the
chaps want to take them in, why they'll have to get past me
first, that's all."
By this time it was a quarter to six. The stalls had been
set up under the elm tree long ago and were doing a roaring
trade. Saturday was the recognized shopping night, and the
pickers had more money than usual to spend. Besides, their
friends, who seemed to outnumber them by two to one, had
not come down with empty pockets. Not only the open space
in front of the Chequers but the road beyond it was thronged
with the vociferous multitudes. The press was thickest round
the still closed windows of the bar parlour.
Mr. Raymond with Mary went to survey the" scene from an
upper window. He shook his head despondently.
"They're a rough looking lot and no mistake!" he ex-
claimed. "What beats me is where they all come from. You
wouldn't think there was places for them all to live, no, not
even in London. And just look at the way they're scattering
their litter all over the front. Well, this'll be the last hop
picking that'll find me here, you mark my word. I've said so
before this, but your mother's always talked me round. This
time I mean it. I'll go and see the brewers the minute that
hop picking's over."
"Nonsense, Dad," replied Mary briskly. "You'll forget
about it as soon as it's over. Besides, look at the money you'll
be taking this evening. A couple of hundred pounds and more,
I'll bet."
"I daresay I'll take it, but what's the good of that?" said
Mr. Raymond. "Precious little of it sticks to my fingers, as
you know well enough. I've got to pay the brewers for the
beer, haven't I? Then there's rent, rates, taxes and license.
If I clear enough to buy the Sunday dinner, I'll be lucky.


234
THE HARVEST MURDER
were equally resplendent. They were wearing their best suits,
of astonishing pattern and cut. Watch chains adorned their
waistcoats; their ties were of dazzling shades. Nearly all of
them wore paper caps as symbols of festivity. They had come
by train, by charabanc, by bicycle, bringing bottles of beer,
long since empty, in their pockets. Now they clamoured for
more beer with which to fill them.
Jimmy arrived on the scene about eight o'clock. He was
immediately recognized by Alf Malling, who let him into the
other room without question. This was full of home dwellers,
but Jimmy saw nobody whom he recognized. A rapid glance
assured him that Lavis was not present. He was looking for
a corner in which to install himself when Mr. Raymond saw
him from the passage outside. He beckoned to him mysteri-
ously.
"Come along into the cellar, Inspector," he whispered
hoarsely. "There's a seat in there and you'll be more com-
fortable. And you'll be able to see how a Saturday night in
hop picking turns a decent country pub into a beer garden."
Jimmy suffered himself to be led into the cellar and ordered
a pint of beer. In a sense he found himself alone, like a man
raised on a pinnacle above a surging mob. There were no
other customers in the cellar, but it was a scene of unceasing
activity. The bar parlour and the other room had to be kept
supplied. And there were the wives of the home dwellers to
be thought of. These were allowed by Alf Malling to come
round to the back of the house. Their presence was resented
in the other room, since ladies in a pub are rather apt to
cramp a man's style. So they came round to the back door,
where they tendered bottles and jugs for filling. Those
members of the Raymond family who were not on duty in
the bar parlour passed continually in and out of the cellar,


THE HARVEST MURDER
attending to the various demands made upon them from all
sides.
Jimmy watched the proceedings with considerable amuse-
ment. There was something inspiring in all the energy sur-
rounding him. He had spent the day in exploring the neigh-
bourhood of Hobbs' Corner as Dr. Priestley had suggested.
But he had found nothing which had suggested to him the
disposal of a body. The most obvious place had been Mr.
Velley's pond, but upon inspection this had proved disap-
pointing. The demands made upon it by the fire engine on
the previous Tuesday evening had very nearly emptied it.
It now contained only a few inches of water, tenanted by a
flock of disconsolate ducks. The farms and outbuildings of
Hobbs' Farm were certainly extensive. With Mr. Velley's
permission Jimmy had examined all of them. But no sign of a
dead body could he find. Obviously there was no room in the
hopper huts for more than their temporary population. In-
deed, it was miraculous how so many people could contrive
to find shelter in so small a space. And as for the hop gardens
themselves, deserted on Saturday afternoon, there was no
corner in their whole extent where a body could be concealed.
Jimmy was feeling despondent as a result of his day's work.
Dr. Priestley's suggestion had sounded extraordinarily hope-
ful. It had seemed to offer a solution to the problem. But
Elver dead appeared as elusive as Elver alive. And, as Dr.
Priestley had insisted, there was no proof that he was dead.
One could only suppose that the wretched man had found a
way of rendering himself invisible and so eluding the hounds
of justice.
Lavis was the only hope, and that a very vague one. It
had not even been established that Lavis and Elver had met
since the latter's arrest seven years before. The only cer-


236
THE HARVEST MURDER
tainty was that Lavis was up to no good. Perhaps in endeav-
ouring to trace his misdeeds, Jimmy might light upon some
clue to the burglary or the fire. But it would be the merest
chance if that clue led to the discovery of the missing Elver.
Jimmy had been in the cellar about half an hour when Mr.
Raymond came in again.
"Enjoying yourself, Inspector?" he asked. And then in a
lower tone he added, "Is there anybody you're looking for
specially?"
"I was rather expecting Lavis to drop in this evening,"
Jimmy replied.
"I thought you might be. That's what I came in here to say.
He's just gone into the other room. Came in by himself like he
always does, and he's ordered a pint of cider. You won't
catch him treating any of the other chaps when he's flush of
money."
"Thanks," said Jimmy. "It's very good of you to give me
the tip, Mr. Raymond. How did he come?"
"Oh, on his bike, I expect, like he mostly does. I didn't
see him come myself. I wasn't by the window. If you like to
slip out and ask Alf, he'll tell you. It was him that let him
into the other room."
Jimmy made his way by the back door to the front of the
house. He found Alf on duty and accosted him.
"You saw Lavis come in just now, I expect," he said.
"Aye, I saw him right enough, sir," replied Alf. "I wonder
the guv'nor lets him come inside the house. I wouldn't."
"He won't come to any harm where he is. Did you notice
if he came on his bicycle?"
"Yes, he had his bike and that great bag he carries round
with him tied to it. I can't make out why he doesn't leave it
at home when he comes out of an evening."


THE HARVEST MURDER
239
table in front of him. Now and then he would raise his glass
to his lips and set it down again quietly, almost stealthily.
So it must have been exactly a week earlier, Jimmy
thought. Lavis must have been sitting in the same corner,
silent, unregarded and steadily imbibing cider. At closing
time, ten o'clock, he had gone out with the rest. By that
time he was apparently very drunk—apparently, because Alf
Mailing had maintained that he feigned drunkenness for his
own mysterious purposes. Anyhow, he had somehow got him-
self in a row outside, the usual pointless row between men who
had indulged a little too freely. The two Adcorn brothers had
been mixed up in it, which was rather curious since on all
hands they were acclaimed as a thoroughly steady pair. Mr.
Raymond had put an end to the disturbance, and the group
had dispersed. Lavis had mounted his bicycle, only to tumble
off it a short distance away. Had he done so merely in order
to afford proof of his inebriety? And then he had taken the
path which led to Hobbs' Corner.
Lavis' movements could be checked during the period of
the evening. But what about Elver? Where had he been at
this time? Had he met Lavis before the latter's visit to the
Chequers—say some time between six and eight in the eve-
ning? It seemed almost certain that he must have done so,
else why should Lavis have taken the path which led him
past the scene of the burglary? Or was it possible that busi-
ness of quite another kind had taken Lavis to Hobbs' Corner?
Jimmy was still pondering the matter when he heard Mr.
Raymond's stentorian voice from the bar parlour: "Now
then, give your last orders, please. Only ten minutes to clos-
ing time!" A confused medley of shouted orders replied to
him.
"Here y'are, three pints of bitter—we've got the glasses.


240
THE HARVEST MURDER
Two gins and peppermint. A pot of mild and see that it's full
up this time."
The activity within the house became once more intense.
The home dwellers, warned by the summons, hammered their
empty glasses upon the table. Hot and perspiring members
of the Raymond family hastened to fill them. A few strag-
glers from among their women folk urgently passed their
jugs in through the back door. Jimmy finished his beer and
slipped out unobserved. He walked round the house and took
up a position at the further side of the road where he was
hidden by the deep shadow thrown by the hedge.
But although he could not be seen, he commanded an excel-
lent view of the Chequers. The gas lamp was sufficiently
bright for him to be able to see the doors of the house as the
crowd assembled round the windows of the bar parlour. He
watched the latter as it swayed tumultuously. By now there
was no hope of getting another drink, but there was money
to be recovered on the glasses. Frantic hands thrust these
through the windows, demanding the return of threepences.
The clamour was at its height when once more Mr. Ray-
mond's voice rang out. "Time, gentlemen, please."
The crowd began to melt away. Groups of half a dozen
drifted off up and down the road with linked arms. They
sang discordantly as they went. Then the door of the other
room opened, shedding a path of yellow light across the open
space. The home dwellers came out singly or in pairs, their
gravity contrasting oddly with the uproariousness of the
strangers. They disappeared with heavy footsteps into the
darkness of the night.
Lavis was the last to emerge. To all appearances he was as
drunk as an owl. He paused for a moment or two on the
threshold of the door, swaying perilously, on his feet. Then


242
THE HARVEST MURDER
taught him to move silently. A minute or so after the depar-
ture of the last of the strangers he heard a crunching of feet
upon the gravel. A dim form emerged through the shadows,
and he recognized it as that of a man wheeling a bicycle.
This was undoubtedly La vis. Jimmy strained his eyes to
see what the man would do. He came straight toward him
until he reached the centre of the road, and then he stopped,
leaning upon his bicycle and apparently listening.
The night was very still and, except for the dwindling
voices of the. departing revellers in the distance, no sound
could be heard. Lavis peered about him searchingly as though
to assure himself that he was unobserved. Apparently satis-
fied, he mounted his bicycle. Jimmy noticed that he did not
observe the formality of lighting his lamp. Then he proceeded
slowly up the road, steering a perfectly straight course. If
he had been drunk when he came out of the Chequers he must
have become sober again with extraordinary rapidity.
Jimmy let him get a few yards ahead, then started in pur-
suit. He ran easily and noiselessly, keeping himself as far as
possible under the shadow of the hedge. Lavis seemed to
have no suspicion that he was being followed. But as he
passed the cottage by the roadside his pace slackened and
he began to wobble along alarmingly. Anybody who might
have seen him from the cottage would have thought he was
exceedingly drunk. Once clear of possible observation, his
progress became normal again.
As Lavis neared the point where the path to Hobbs' Corner
turned off from the road, Jimmy felt a thrill of excitement.
Would Lavis keep straight on toward Park Gate, or would he
take to the path? He was going straight on—no, by Jove he
wasn't. Jimmy pulled himself up abruptly as Lavis dis-
mounted from his bicycle and pushed it through the narrow


THE HARVEST MURDER
243
space between the posts which guarded the end of the path;
once safely through he mounted again and rode on.
The path ran straight across the open meadow without
fence or hedge on either side. It seemed to Jimmy, perhaps
because his eyes were getting accustomed to the night, that
it was lighter here than it had been on the road. It would
never do to risk being seen now. He waited at the end of
the path until Lavis was out of sight. Then once again he re-
sumed the pursuit. He had not gone far before he caught sight
of a few scattered lights coming from the open doors of the
hopper huts. He reached Hobbs' Corner without catching
any further glimpse of Lavis. And here again he found him-
self in comparative darkness. A row of trees by the cross-
roads cast an almost impenetrable shadow. Jimmy sought
the shelter of these and stood still and listened. If he could
not see Lavis, at least he might be fortunate enough to hear
him.
As he stopped, Jimmy became aware that he was not alone
in the shadow of the trees. He could hear a shuffling of feet
close at hand and a murmur of whispering voices. And then
someone spoke softly but distinctly. "There he is!"
For an instant Jimmy imagined that his presence had been
discovered. His hand went to his sleeve where lay concealed
a short but serviceable truncheon. But there was no move-
ment toward him. His ear caught the sound of footsteps and
the unmistakable clicking of a bicycle being wheeled. Then
the footsteps stopped and a second voice, which Jimmy recog-
nized as Lavis', spoke softly. "Hello, mates, here you are
then! Did you think I was never coming?"
"We guessed you'd turn up right enough," the first voice
replied. "We'd best move on behind the huts though. There's
a bloke keeps coming in and out of the oast here, and if he


244
THE HARVEST MURDER
sees us he'll wonder what we're hanging about for."
"In and out of the oast," said Lavis scornfully. "Why,
that'll be Fred Adcorn, the drier. He won't take any heed of
what we're up to. Still, we'll move on a bit if you like."
The voices and footsteps made off in the direction of the
huts. Jimmy followed them at a safe distance. And then as a
bright light shone out ahead of him, he came to a stand. He
perceived that it was an electric torch held by Lavis. As its
beams wavered, Jimmy could see a group of men, strangers,
from London by their appearance, grouped round the bicycle
from which Lavis was unstrapping the bag.
So intent were they all upon the proceedings that Jimmy
judged it safe to approach a little closer. He fell upon his
hands and knees and crawled up until he reached the corner
of the huts. There he lay prone, eyes and ears keyed to the
highest pitch of their alertness. He saw Lavis lay the bag
upon the ground and unlock it. From it he extracted a number
of small packages wrapped in newspaper, which he handed
to those standing round him, receiving money in exchange.
A rough voice demanded the price. "A bob," Lavis replied,
"and dirt cheap at that. There's a full noggin in each of
these 'ere bottles, and perhaps a bit more. You won't get stuff
like this in London for a bob a noggin, no, nor nowhere else.
You'll have a couple, will you? You know how to lay hold of
a good thing when you see it, anyway."
The commerce did not last longer than a few minutes. By
the time that the last purchaser had strolled away Lavis had
apparently disposed of his stock. He relocked the bag and
strapped it once more to the bicycle. Then he mounted and
rode off, this time in the direction of Park Gate. Jimmy, per-
fectly satisfied with his evening's adventure, followed him.
But Lavis' activities were at an end for this night at least.


THE HARVEST MURDER
245
He entered the house with the same furtiveness that he had
displayed throughout, and Jimmy heard him lock the door
behind him.
Jimmy started at a smart pace toward Culverden. All this
was very satisfactory so far as it went. Lavis' little game was
now perfectly plain. He was, if nothing worse, a dealer in
illicit liquor. There was no doubt that the packages he had
sold for a shilling each contained the medicine bottles full
of spirit which Wragge had discovered under the floor of
the attic. Jimmy made a rapid calculation. A noggin was a
quarter of a pint. A shilling a noggin was four shillings a pint,
or thirty-two shillings a gallon. Allowing six bottles to the
gallon, that worked out at five and fourpence a bottle. No
spirit which had paid excise duty could possibly be sold at
that price. And yet it showed a handsome margin of profit
upon a crude spirit which had somehow escaped duty. Where
Lavis procured this spirit hardly mattered for the moment.
No doubt that would come out later. The point was that he
had already broken the law by selling spirit without a license
and out of hours. That would be sufficient to justify a sum-
mons against him. Jimmy decided that he and Wragge would
serve that summons together not later than the following
morning.
Lavis, once in the hands of the police, might be persuaded
to make interesting revelations. At all events Jimmy pro-
foundly hoped so. For on the face of it, the incident only
served to make his inquiry the more obscure. The conversa-
tion which Jimmy had overheard made it plain that Lavis'
visit to Hobbs' Corner that evening had been expected. And
if this evening, why not the previous Saturday as well? In
which case Lavis' business at Hobbs' Corner on the evening
of the burglary was explained. He had gone there in order to


248
THE HARVEST MURDER
did after you left the Chequers at ten o'clock yesterday eve-
ning. You bicycled to Hobbs' Corner, where you met a group
of people who were obviously expecting you. In your bag
you had a number of medicine bottles full of spirit. These you
retailed at the price of a shilling a gill. And, as you said your-
self, you can't buy spirit at that price in London or anywhere
else."
Lavis looked utterly dumbfounded. It was obvious that
the idea that his proceedings had been observed had never
entered his head. But he made one more attempt to bluff
it out.
"And who might you be?" he asked. "The Sergeant here
knows me well enough. Why should he take your word
against me?"
"I am Inspector Waghorn of Scotland Yard," Jimmy re-
plied. "I think it probable that the magistrates will accept my
word."
"You have heard the charge preferred against you," said
Wragge. "Do you wish to make any statement?"
"What I've got to say I'll say before the magistrates to-
morrow," replied Lavis sullenly.
"Very well," said Wragge. And then, to the constables,
"Take him away to the detention room."
Jimmy waited until the accused had been removed.
"He'll come round all right," he said, as the sound of foot-
steps died away in the distance. "Too cunning to say any-
thing without thinking it over first. I'll bet you that he'll
think of some sort of yarn to spin before the evening. Mean-
while I'd better get on the telephone to the Yard. They may
have something to tell us by this time about that stuff we
sent them."
On communicating with Scotland Yard, Jimmy learned


250
THE HARVEST MURDER
I daresay we shall be able to tell you."
Jimmy considered this information with mixed feelings.
It seemed to prove pretty conclusively that Elver's body, if
he had been murdered, had not been consumed in the fire at
Mr. Pershore's bungalow. In his heart of hearts, Jimmy had
never believed in this possibility and was glad that he could
now lay it aside. On the other hand, the experts' report carried
things no further—unless, indeed, the bloodstains on the
knife had any significance.
The trouble about the knife was that Wragge had found
it in the wrong place. He had picked it up between the
Chequers and Paddock Croft, where it had lain on the grass
at the edge of the main road. Now if it had been found on
the path leading to Hobbs' Corner, or at Hobbs' Corner itself,
it would have been a very different matter. One might then
work on the theory that Lavis had used it to stab Elver. It
was impossible to imagine that the murder had taken place
on the spot where the knife had been found. That was only
a few yards from the cottage—a most unlikely place for the
murderer to select, even on the darkest night. And if the
murder had taken place elsewhere, how had the knife been
conveyed to the spot where it had been found? Certainly not
by the murderer. If he had wished to dispose of the weapon,
he would not have thrown it down carelessly by the wayside.
Nor would anyone else, for the matter of that. The knife was -
new, and of a certain value to whoever might have found
it. The only remaining alternative was that the knife had
been deposited there for some definite reason.
Jimmy was sufficiently experienced to know that criminals
often have a habit of laying false clues. The knife might
have been intended as a false clue, designed to lead the in-
vestigator astray. But in that case, what was it meant to


CHAPTER XV
But Lavis' midday meal had been anything but sumptuous.
It had consisted of a small plate of lukewarm stew prepared
by the wife of one of the constables, and a piece of remark-
ably stale bread. Nor was the detention room anything like
so cheerful a place as the Sergeant's kitchen. It was bare and,
since it had not been occupied for many weeks, smelled damp
and unwholesome. The general atmosphere of depression
seemed to have affected Lavis' spirit. When Jimmy came in
he was sitting on the edge of the wooden bed, chewing the
end of a burnt match and staring dejectedly at the blank wall
opposite.
Jimmy nodded to the constable that he should leave them
alone. He waited until the door had been closed and then sat
down on a hard chair opposite the prisoner.
"You asked to see me?" he said cheerfully. "Feeling lonely,
perhaps?"
Lavis shifted his glance round slowly and surveyed his
visitor furtively yet keenly.
"The Sergeant said just now that a further charge would
be preferred against me," he replied. "I've a right to know
what that charge is, haven't I?"
"You haven't any right to know," said Jimmy, "but I don't
mind telling you that the charge will be a very serious one
indeed."
This was not calculated to raise Lavis' spirits. It was quite
obvious that he was thoroughly frightened at finding himself
in the hands of the police. His former truculence had evapo-
rated, and his voice assumed a whining tone.
252


254
THE HARVEST MURDER
Lavis' eyes shifted uneasily.
"I don't want convicts coming to my place," he replied
virtuously.
"On the principle that evil communications corrupt good
manners, I suppose? Of course, as a thoroughly law-abiding
citizen you wouldn't wish to associate with anybody who had
been in jail. Oh, come off it, man, for goodness' sake! We're
not children to be taken in by that sort of yarn. You and
Elver were associated in some mischief together before he
was arrested. You helped him to get rid of the dope, I dare-
say."
"No, no, it wasn't that. I'll swear I never knew until I saw
it in the papers that he'd been doing anything in the dope
line."
"Then what was it?" persisted Jimmy relentlessly. "Look
here, Lavis, you're in a fix. You say that Elver is still alive."
"If he was alive a week ago I don't see why he shouldn't
be now." '.
"Well then, sooner or later we shall find him. And when
we do we shall only have to ask him what it was that you two
were up to between you. He'll tell us right enough, as it won't
make any difference to him. So you may just as well give me
your own version of the story."
Lavis considered this for a moment. Apparently he decided
that it would be better to confess than to be confronted with
a possibly hostile witness.
"It wasn't anything much," he muttered. "Sea Joe used
to bring a few things over, and I'd get rid of them for him,
that's all."
"Not forgotting to take a commission for your trouble.
What sort of things did he bring over?"
"Oh, just spirits, eau de Cologne, cigars and things like


THE HARVEST MURDER
257
likely. Why did you tumble off your bicycle to begin with?
Come on, out with it."
"Because I thought I saw Jack Wright watching me over
his garden gate," replied Lavis sulkily.
"I see. You wanted him to think you were drunk. Well,
you certainly succeeded. But how did you come to leave that
knife behind you?"
Lavis shook his head helplessly. "You've been one too
many for me, Inspector," he replied. "True, I wasn't drunk.
I only shammed so that folks shouldn't guess what I was up
to. But that knife wasn't in my bag at all. It was shoved down
the left leg of my trousers where I could get at it when I
wanted it."
"Oh, so you thought you might want it, did you?" re-
marked Jimmy significantly.
"I had a pretty rough lot of customers to deal with down
at Hobbs' Corner. I always managed to show them that I had
a knife about me if they turned nasty."
"How do you account for the knife having human blood-
stains upon it?"
"Easily enough. I meant to fall off the bicycle lightly but
I must have stumbled somehow. Anyhow, I came down pretty
heavy on my left side and cut my leg with the knife. The
mark's there yet. I'll show you if you don't believe me."
He pulled up his trousers, exhibiting his leg for Jimmy's
inspection. There was certainly the mark of a long cut ap-
parently recently inflicted. And Lavis' furtiveness had left
him. Jimmy decided that in this respect at least he was tell-
ing the truth.
"Well," he said, "I'll accept that part of your story for the
moment. You got on your bicycle again and rode on toward
Hobbs' Corner. But why did you leave the knife behind?"


260
THE HARVEST MURDER
Lavis' demeanour. He hesitated for a moment or two and
then: "I couldn't say," he replied faintly.
"Oh well, it doesn't matter. You say that Tom Adcorn went
into the oast house immediately after you met him. I've only
got to ask him what time that was. He's sure to remember
within a little."
"I was longer than usual serving the chaps down at the
hopper huts," Lavis muttered uncomfortably.
"It took you about ten minutes to sell the stuff last night.
How long did it take you the week before?"
"Maybe an hour, maybe not quite so long."
"In other words, it must have been well after eleven o'clock
when you met Tom Adcorn. It isn't a bit of good your lying
to me, for I can check all your statements. I can find out to
whom you sold brandy that night, and they'll be able to tell
me when you packed up and left them. Last night you had
finished by half past ten, for I was there and took a note of
the time. I refuse to believe that you were very much later
the previous week. If Adcorn tells me that you didn't meet
him until after eleven I shall begin to wonder how you put
in your time. I've got my suspicions about that already."
Lavis averted his eyes and made no reply.
"I may as well tell you what those suspicions are," con-
tinued Jimmy. "You met Elver before or after he did that
spot of burglary at Paddock Croft. He had something to say
to you that you didn't like. Something about that money of his
that you hadn't handed over, I expect. By way of shutting
his mouth you stabbed him with one of those knives you carry
about the countryside with you. What did you do with the
body, Lavis? It didn't by any chance occur to you to hide
it in Mr. Pershore's bungalow, did it?"
Lavis gasped in sheer terror.


264
THE HARVEST MURDER
tion was justified. I think I frightened him into telling the
truth. And I'm inclined to believe his statement that he never
met Elver at all during his visit here."
"I think you did very well, if I may take the liberty of
saying so," said Wragge. "But whatever put it into your head
to accuse him of having murdered Elver? That's quite a new
idea to me."
Jimmy shrugged his shoulders.
"We can't find Elver alive," he replied. "He's been miss-
ing for over a week now. It is not impossible that he may
have been killed and his body concealed somewhere."
Wragge looked incredulous.
"But whoever would have killed him, if not Lavis?" he
asked. "And you say you think that Lavis didn't. Besides who
could hide a body with the countryside overrun as it is just
now?"
"I don't know," Jimmy replied. "Those are the very ques-
tions I've been asking myself for the last two or three days.
Hello, that's the telephone bell."
Wragge went to answer the call. He came back a few mo-
ments later.
"It's for you, Inspector," he said. "A gentleman from Lon-
don. Says his name's Merefield. Will you go?"
Jimmy leaped up eagerly. A call from Harold Merefield
must mean that Dr. Priestley had something to say to him.
"Yes, I'll go," he replied. He went to the telephone and an-
nounced himself.
"Hello, is that you, Jimmy?" came Harold's voice at the
other end of the wire. "I've got a message for you from my
old man. He's been spending the morning reading through
the notes I made about that case of yours. And just now he
told me to try and get you on the telephone."


266
THE HARVEST MURDER
hops. You must have seen dozens of them stacked on lorries
on their way up to London. The farmers for the most part
get them off as soon as they're ready."
"I see," said Jimmy. "Now tell me how the drying's done.
Do you wipe the jolly little hops over with a towel, or some-
thing?"
"Ha, ha! that's a good one," exclaimed Wragge. "No, you
dry them by heat. There are two ways of doing it. The new-
fangled way is to blow hot air through them. It's quicker and
cheaper they say. But most of the farmers about here believe
that the old-fashioned is best. It gives a better quality hop
though it's a bit more trouble."
"And what's the old-fashioned way?" Jimmy asked.
"Why, put 'em in the oast house and light a fire under
them. You've only got to drop into the first oast house you
come to and have a look. That would show you much better
than I can explain to you. Get hold of a good dryer, like Fred
Adcorn at Hobbs' Farm, and he'll put you in the way of it
in no time. There are good dryers and bad. It's a knack, I
suppose."
"That's a good idea. I thought of riding over to Hobbs'
Corner this afternoon to have a look round, in any case. But
the oast houses aren't working on Sundays, I suppose?"
"It all depends. If they haven't finished drying the hops
they've picked during the week, they'll be working all right.
You'll be back in time for tea, I daresay."
"Unless something detains me I certainly shall," Jimmy re-
plied. He got out his hired bicycle and took the now familiar
route to Hobbs' Corner. That was an excellent suggestion
of the Sergeant's. He wanted to see Fred Adcorn, who might
be able to confirm a detail in Lavis' story. And if he found
him at the oast house he'd ask him to show him over. And


268
THE HARVEST MURDER
the oast house. Is that right?"
Fred stared at Jimmy as though he had been accused of
some heinous crime.
"Saw my brother Tom go into the oast house," he repeated
slowly. "Well, and what harm would there be in that? Tom
often comes along here to give me a hand after he's finished
measuring."
Jimmy smiled. He knew very well the countryman's dis-
trust of the police and their questioning.
"No harm at all," he replied. "You don't quite see my
point. I'm trying to find out what time Lavis went home that
night. If your brother did come to the oast house, perhaps
you or he could tell me what time it was. That would give
me some idea when Lavis went home."
Fred's countenance brightened at once.
"Oh, I see your meaning now," he exclaimed. "Let me see.
Tom and I had been to the Chequers that evening. We weren't
there long, for I can't get away from the oast house for more
than a few minutes. We came out at closing time and Tom
and I walked down along the path."
"Just a minute," said Jimmy. "Do you remember what
happened as you came out of the Chequers? There was a bit
of a row going on outside, wasn't there?"
Fred glanced at Jimmy suspiciously.
"Nothing out of the ordinary," he replied. "One or two
of the Londoners had a drop too much, that's all. One of
them gave Tom some lip and he turned round and told him to
mind his manners."
"Was Lavis mixed up in this?"
"Oh yes, he was there all right. He was as drunk as a lord
and I daresay he might have turned nasty. But he went off
on his bicycle as soon as Mr. Raymond hollered out."


THE HARVEST MURDER
271
to keep it open too long."
Fred shut the door and they descended the steps. "You've
got a fire of some kind below here, I suppose," said Jimmy
when they reached the bottom.
"That's right. We start it with charcoal, then coal and
throw brimstone on it from time to time. Come winter Mr.
Velley will get in the wood from the coppices. Then later on
one of those charcoal burner chaps will come round and burn
it. Wonderful how they manage to do it without burning the
wood all away. You couldn't tell it was any different when
they've finished with it, except that it's much lighter and
black all through. That's how we get the charcoal. The brim-
stone and coal comes from the merchants, of course."
"You keep the fire going all the time?" Jimmy asked.
"It's alight from the time we start drying until we've fin-
ished. You'd like to see it, maybe. Well, there you are." Fred
threw open the furnace door and Jimmy looked in. He saw
a red mass of glowing fuel with faint blue flames dancing
upon the surface of it. High above the bars was a wooden
framework supporting the hair cloth upon which the hops
rested.
"It doesn't do to leave the fire to itself too long," said Fred.
"You've got to watch the draught with every shift of wind
and weather. You mustn't let the fire get too hot or you'll burn
the hops and spoil the whole batch, and you mustn't let it get
too low or the hops won't dry. It's a matter of watching the
draught, keeping the fire fed, and seeing that you put on just
enough brimstone."
As Fred closed the furnace door they heard approaching
footsteps. Fred turned round.
"Hullo, Tom," he said. "I thought you'd be along. This
batch will be ready for drawing in a few minutes now."


THE HARVEST MURDER
273
I didn't take any particular notice. I was rather later than
I meant to be, and I was in a bit of a hurry."
Fred turned hastily toward the oast house. Perhaps some
subtle inflection in their odour warned him that the hops were
ready for drawing.
"If you'll excuse me, sir, my brother and I must be getting
busy," he said. "It won't do to leave that batch much longer.
Come along, Tom, and bear a hand."
Jimmy hesitated. Should he remain and watch the hops
being drawn? There seemed no particular point in doing so
since he had obtained the information he required. Besides,
tea time was approaching and he had promised the Sergeant
to be back in time for that meal. Also La vis might have made
up his mind to further revelations.
These considerations decided him. He mounted his bicycle
and rode off. But he was uncomfortably aware that his inves-
tigations had not revealed to him the inner meaning of Dr.
Priestley's message.


THE HARVEST MURDER
277
But as the time of his appointment approached, Jimmy for-
got all about Kate and Tom. Dr. Priestley's visit could only
mean that he had some revelation to unfold. What that reve-
lation might be Jimmy could not guess, but surely it must
concern Elver. Jimmy had the greatest respect for Dr. Priest-
ley's powers, but how he, sitting in his study in London, could
have perceived something that careful examination on the
spot had failed to reveal, Jimmy could not imagine.
It was exactly half past eleven when he saw a car advanc-
ing toward him. He hurried to the crossroads to meet it, ex-
pecting to greet Dr. Priestley and Harold, but to his amaze-
ment, he found that the car contained a third occupant, no
less a person than Superintendent Hanslet. Jimmy glanced at
him inquiringly, but the Superintendent merely shook his
head. They had no time to exchange even a word, for Dr.
Priestley beckoned to Jimmy mysteriously.
"I have very little time to waste, Inspector," he said. "Get
into the car. There is room on the seat beside Harold."
The car was a large saloon. Harold had been driving, and
Dr. Priestley and Hanslet were seated in the back. Jimmy
obeyed Dr. Priestley's instructions, expecting that Harold
would be bidden to drive on elsewhere, perhaps to Park Gate.
But, instead of this, Dr. Priestley's next words were ad-
dressed to him.
"We can talk conveniently in the car without being over-
heard," he said. "Yesterday afternoon you adopted my
suggestion that you should investigate the methods of hop
drying?"
"Yes, I did, sir," Jimmy replied. "I paid a visit to these
very oast houses, and Fred Adcorn, the drier, showed me
round."
"Indeed! Have there been any further developments in


THE HARVEST MURDER
281
Dr. Priestley replied. "I wonder if we might ask a favour of
you, Mr. Velley? Would you very kindly conduct us over the
oast house yourself?"
Mr. Velley laughed.
"You police folk are pretty mysterious," he replied. "All
right, I'll take you round. But there isn't very much to see,
really."
He led the way to the oast house. On hearing their foot-
steps, Fred Adcorn, who had been tending his fire, looked
up. He touched his cap to his employer, then shot a glance
full of suspicion in Jimmy's direction.
"I'm just going to show these gentlemen round, Fred," said
Mr. Velley briskly. "You needn't take any notice of us. Just
get on with your job."
The drier growled something in reply. He did not appear
to relish this unceremonious invasion of his province. Mr.
Velley first showed his visitors the bed of hops, then flung
open the furnace doors so that they might inspect the fire.
The glowing mass of fuel with the blue flames dancing about
it seemed to fascinate Dr. Priestley. He gazed at it until his
eyes watered and then he turned to Mr. Velley.
"You do not employ a pyrometer, I suppose?" he asked.
"I beg your pardon?" replied Mr. Velley in a puzzled tone.
"A what?"
"Pyrometer—an instrument for determining the heat of the
fire."
"Oh a sort of thermometer, I suppose. No, we aren't quite
so scientific as that, though some of the farmers who employ
the hot air method are always buying new gadgets. We de-
pend upon the drier's judgment and experience. We may be
old-fashioned, but we turn out as good or better hops than
the new-fangled folks."


THE HARVEST MURDER
283
was saying, "in the middle of hop picking like this, with the
pokes coming in every moment almost? What am I to do until
they're started again? Stack the pokes in the lodge for the
hops to sweat and spoil? Why, the damage it could do might
run into hundreds of pounds."
Hanslet shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, I've asked you, and I can't do any more," he replied.
Then he turned to Dr. Priestley. "You hear what Mr. Velley
says about it, Professor?"
"I fully sympathize with Mr. Velley's objection," said Dr. ,
Priestley, "but I believe that if he were to realize that this
may be a matter of life and death he would accede to your
request."
Mr. Velley turned upon him angrily.
"A matter of life and death!" he exclaimed. "Why can't
you people talk plainly instead of in riddles? What's any
man's life or death got to do with my raking out my fires, as
the Superintendent wants me to do?"
"I should not like Fred Adcorn to overhear my answer to
that question," Dr. Priestley replied gravely. "He will be
back here at any moment now. Suppose we return to the car,
where we can discuss the matter without being overheard."
Mr. Velley accompanied them rather sulkily. He was obvi-
ously very much upset by the suggestion which had been made
to him.
"Now then, perhaps you'll give me an explanation of all
this," he said as soon as they were out of earshot of the oast
house.
"I will endeavour to do so, though I fear the explanation
may come as a shock to you," Dr. Priestley replied. ".There
is reason to believe that a murder has been committed in this
neighbourhood and that the Adcorn brothers are implicated


284
THE HARVEST MURDER
in the crime."
Mr. Velley's amazement was so complete that for a moment
or two he could find no words in which to express it.
"That's sheer damned nonsense!" he exclaimed at last.
"I've known the Adcorns since they were little chaps, and I'd
as soon suspect them of murder as I would myself. You clever
folks from London are on the wrong track, let me tell you
that."
"There is only one way in which the innocence of the Ad-
corns can be proved," said Dr. Priestley quietly. "That is to
draw the fires in your oast house."
"Then, by gad, I'll do it!" shouted Mr. Velley impulsively.
"I'll prove you're wrong whatever it may cost me." He turned
his back and started rapidly toward the oast house. "Fred!"
he shouted as he went. "Fred! Are you there? I want you."
Fred appeared, shovel in hand. As soon as he appeared,
Mr. Velley began shouting instructions.
"Get that batch of hops out as soon as you can, Fred. See
that you don't put any more in. We're going to rake the fires
out."
The shovel fell from Fred's hand with a prodigious clatter.
He stood rigid, as if turned into stone, staring at his employer.
"Rake the fires out?" he stammered. "Why—"
"Yes, rake the fires out," replied Mr. Velley bitterly. "The
world's been turned upside down this morning, though we
didn't notice it, living buried here in the country as we do.
Look sharp and see to it, and don't be too long about it. We
don't want to waste more time than we can help over this tom-
foolery. Better run and get a couple of chaps to bear you a
hand."
At last Fred seemed to understand what was required of
him. He turned away, leaving the shovel where it was. And


288
THE HARVEST MURDER
upon him.
"Well, Tom, what is it?" he asked.
With a sudden gesture Tom stretched his arms before him,
as though he anticipated the click of the handcuffs.
"I've come to give myself up," he replied in a clear voice
which rang through the low vaults of the oast house.
Jimmy dared not glance round him. He knew without doubt
that the other three were watching him, intent upon the move
which he would make. He laid his hand lightly upon Tom
Adcorn's arm.
"Tell me!" he said quietly.
"I killed the chap you're looking for," Tom replied in a loud
voice which held scarcely a tremor.


CHAPTER XVII
The spectators of this scene received Tom's statement in
many different ways. Mr. Velley staggered backward a pace
as though he had been shot. His expression of incredulity was
almost ludicrous. Hanslet uttered a brief exclamation, but
he gave no other sign of emotion. Dr. Priestley nodded, as
though Tom had merely confirmed something which he al-
ready knew. It seemed that the subsequent proceedings had
no interest for him, for he turned aside and began to rake
among the now fast-cooling embers.
Jimmy let his hand fall slowly from Tom's shoulder.
"Do you mean that?" he asked. And then, automatically
aware of Hanslet's eye upon him, he added the traditional
formula: "Do you wish to make a statement? If so, I must
warn you in advance that anything you say may be used
subsequently in evidence."
Tom's gaze strayed from Jimmy to the horrified face of
Mr. Velley.
"I'd like to tell you how it happened," he replied.
Jimmy glanced at Hanslet, who nodded approvingly. In
the Superintendent's eyes the more witnesses there were to
hear the statement the better.
"All right then, Adcorn, tell us all about it," said Jimmy
quietly.
"It's hard to know where to begin," said Adcorn painfully.
"There's others concerned whose names I wouldn't like to
bring in."
"That's all right, Adcorn," said Jimmy. "We know all
about Kate Rivers."
289


290
THE HARVEST MURDER
Tom started as though Jimmy had struck him. "You
know?" he growled angrily. "And who told you, I'd like to
know?"
"She told me herself," Jimmy replied. "But I'm sure that
she doesn't know that you share her secret."
Tom looked vastly relieved.
"Oh, if she told you herself, that's all right," he said. "But
she doesn't know that I overheard what that chap said to her
that afternoon. And I wouldn't never have told her. It was
her business and no one else's. I'm fond of that girl and I
thought once— But never mind, that's all over now."
In spite of Tom's inarticulateness his audience could feel
the depth of his emotion. He continued brokenly: "I would
have asked her long before this. But somehow I couldn't
bring myself to it. And something told me I had better wait
until I didn't know what. And I think she guessed, for when-
ever I said anything to her out of the ordinary she managed
to get talking about something else. It seemed somehow that
she knew what was at the back of my mind and didn't want to
give me the chance of saying it.
"Well, it's no use talking like that. It was on the Saturday
afternoon of last week that I made up my mind to speak to
her. I knew I'd find her alone at the hut, for I met Molly
Sheares and she told me Kate had stopped behind to tidy up.
So I went along, knowing that there wouldn't be many folk
about. And when I got there I saw a stranger go across to
her hut and speak to her.
"I thought this a bit queer, for I'd never known Kate to
have men folk from London come to visit her before. This
chap was a Londoner, I knew that at once. He had on a town
suit and one of them silly paper caps on his head. I thought
he might be wanting one of the other pickers and seeing Kate


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THE HARVEST MURDER
to put up with it and make believe that nothing had happened.
I came along here and helped Fred with his fires. He may
have noticed that something had upset me but he didn't say
anything about it. And when we'd finished Fred said there was
just time to go along to the Chequers for a quick one. I didn't
much care where I went; the Chequers seemed as good a place
as any other. Well, we went along and had a drink and at ten
o'clock we came out. There, standing outside the gas lamp, I
saw Kate's husband."
"Did you?" said Jimmy quickly. "You're quite sure of
that?"
"I wasn't likely to be mistaken. I didn't know his name ex-
cept that I'd heard Kate call him Chris. But I'd had a good
look at him while he was standing outside the hut that after-
noon. Besides, he'd still got the same paper cap on his head.
He was out there standing all by himself, just as if he were
expecting someone. As he saw Fred and me come out he came
up to us. 'Have either of you chaps seen Lavis about?' he said,
sort of insolent like.
"It was the same voice I'd heard that afternoon mocking
Kate, and all at once I came over black angry. I answered
him, but I can't tell you now what I said to him. I know I
told him that if I found him hanging about the place again
I'd punch his head for him. And if Fred hadn't taken me by
the arm and pretty near dragged me away I'd have done it
then."
"Did Lavis come up while this was going on?" Jimmy
asked.
"Lavis? Likely he might have done. He was in the other
room at the Chequers when Fred and I went in, I know that.
But I wasn't in a state to see anybody but the man whom Kate
had called Chris. It wasn't that I'd had too much to drink,


296 THE HARVEST MURDER
"'Hold the torch,' Fred said sharp like, 'so that I can see
what I'm doing.' He bent over the chap and turned him on
his face. Then he began fingering the back of his head. Then
he stood up straight and looked at me. 'This will break
Mother's heart,' he said.
"'There's no need for it to do that,' I said, 'not if you help
me to get rid of him.' And then I told him the whole story, the
same as I've just told you gentlemen. About Kate and what
I'd overheard that afternoon, I mean. Then I told him how
I'd met the man unexpected like and what had happened. 'And
now,' I said, 'if anybody learns about this I'll be hanged for
murder as sure as my name's Tom Adcorn.'
"And then I told him how easy it would be for the two of
us to pick him up and carry him to the oast. Fred didn't like
it at first. He said that somebody would be bound to find out,
and then I should be worse off than I was already. But I told
him that nobody ever could find out, for the oast would burn
up every trace of him. And at last he said that he'd do it.
"Well, we picked him up and put him right into the heart
of the fire, just as he was. We shut the door quick, for we
knew it would give us the horrors if we saw him burn. And
when we opened it a couple of hours or so later we couldn't
see anything of him."
"You didn't happen to look into his pockets, I suppose?"
Jimmy asked.
"His pockets!" Tom exclaimed. "We had other things to
do than that. I do remember they were all bulgy like as if
they were full of things, but we didn't stop to see what it was.
We wanted to see the last of him before anybody might hap-
pen along. And then I kept on drawing buckets of water from
the butt yonder, carrying them to the place and throwing
them over the grass by the roadside. I didn't stop until the


THE HARVEST MURDER
297
blood was pretty nigh washed away, so that no one would no-
tice it. . .
"For a day or two Fred and I were in mortal terror that
somebody would find us out. But as nothing happened we be-
gan to think it was all right. Then you came along here yester-
day and said you wanted to look over the oast. Fred was
afraid then that you'd guess what we'd done, but I said that
no one could guess a thing like that. And then Fred came to
me just now and told me that you and these other gentlemen
had come to look over the oast again. Said it was all up, and
that the best thing that I could do was to clear out while there
was still time. But I wouldn't do that. I told him that if the
worst came to the worst I'd stop and face it out. Then he came
a second time and told me that Mr. Velley had said that the
fires were to be drawn. I knew what that meant, right enough.
So I just went and emptied Kate's bin. I felt somehow that
I had to see her before I was put away. And then I came along
here and gave myself up."
"In its way a most instructive case," said Mr. Priestley
that evening. "It furnishes an example of an investigation be-
ing injured by the very simplicity of the facts. Our young
friend Inspector Waghorn did very well up to a point, but in
the end his imagination failed him."
Dr. Priestley was sitting in his study at Westbourne Ter-
race. He had invited Oldland to dine with him and after din-
ner he had, with the help of Harold's notes, unfolded the whole
story to his guest. "The facts were so simple that in nearly
every case only one deduction could be drawn from them,"
he continued. "The first incident was the burglary at Paddock
Croft. The burglar most obligingly left his fingerprints upon
the silver box. It so happened that a record of those prints


298
THE HARVEST MURDER
was in the possession of Scotland Yard, and they were imme-
diately identified. There was, from the first, no doubt that
the crime had been committed by Christopher Elver.
"The second incident was the immediate recognition of
Elver's photograph by Lavis and his sister. Having recog-
nized it they were called upon to explain where they had seen
the original. It then transpired, first, that Elver and Lavis
had been acquainted before the former's arrest and, second,
that Elver had called at Lavis' house on the afternoon pre-
ceding the burglary. This second point was of great impor-
tance as confirming Elver's presence in the neighbourhood
of Matling at the time.
"The third incident was the fire at Mr. Pershore's bunga-
low and the discovery that it was of malicious origin. Lavis'
former association with Elver and his local reputation had
already made him an object of suspicion to the police. Cir-
cumstances seemed to point to him as the originator of the
fire. The approximation of the scenes of these crimes and of
the time when they were committed suggested very strongly
that there must be some connection between them.
"To me the most puzzling feature of the case was the failure
of the police to arrest Elver. It was established almost be-
yond a doubt that he could not have left the neighbourhood.
I could not understand how he could remain concealed there
if still alive. I was logically forced to the conclusion that he
was dead. Considerations of motive showed me the likelihood
that he had been murdered.
"I did not, at the time, deal fully with these motives as I
had no wish to confuse the Inspector's mind. Two obvious
motives existed—those of his wife and of Lavis, and it was
upon these that I concentrated. But other possibilities had
suggested themselves to me. Elver had in his possession the


THE HARVEST MURDER
301
day evening I realized that his imagination had failed him.
I thereupon determined to visit the spot and investigate my
theory for myself. I asked Superintendent Hanslet to ac-
company me, for I thought that his authority might be use-
ful. But I did not tell him what I had in mind. I had very
little hope of discovering recognizable human remains, for a
week might have elapsed since the body was thrown into the
fire. But it occurred to me that Elver might have had the pro-
ceeds of the burglary still in his possession when he was killed.
And I remembered that among the articles stolen were a pair
of platinum bangles. If these bangles had been thrown into
the fire they would almost certainly be recovered intact, for
platinum would not be affected by any fire which could be
kindled in an oast house."
"A very neat piece of deduction," said Oldland approv-
ingly. "How do you suppose that Elver really employed him-
self that Saturday afternoon in Mailing?"
"That we shall never know with any certainty. But I think
we can reconstruct his movements from the various state-
ments which have been made. Undoubtedly he went to Mat-
ling to visit his wife. He had neglected her since his release
from prison, for he had no wish to renew their association.
But under the conditions in which he then found himself he
decided to appeal to her for support.
"He did so, and in the course of conversation with her he
discovered for the first time that Lavis resided in the neigh-
bourhood. No doubt he realized that Lavis was a far more
promising source of revenue than his wife. He went to see
him, found him away from home, but learned that he would
be at the Chequers that evening. And, during the hours of
daylight, he noticed Paddock Croft and the possibilities of
entering the house unobserved. At some time after six o'clock


THE HARVEST MURDER
303
concerned him almost word for word. Nobody in the neigh-
bourhood doubted for a moment that they were telling the
strict truth.
Examination of the ashes in the oast house revealed no hu-
man remains whatever. The most that the experts could say
was that there were indications of bone ash, but the platinum
bangles remained and also fragments of metal identified as
gold. No inquest could be held and, as was pointed out at the
time, Adcorn could not very well be tried for murder on his
own confession alone and in the absence of any indication of
his victim.
The judge obviously believed the story told by the brothers
and the jury brought in a verdict in accordance with his sum-
ming up. The Adcorns received short sentences, more on ac-
count of their having destroyed the body than for the death
of Elver, which, if their story was accepted, had been purely
accidental.
Lavis was not so leniently dealt with. He got seven years
and local opinion was unanimous in declaring that it served
him right.
Mr. Raymond is still the landlord of the Chequers, though
he swears that he won't stay there for another hop picking—
no, not if you were to offer him a thousand pounds.
After the trial Kate Rivers returned to London, but before
she went she confided in Jimmy that she had made up her
mind. If on his release Tom Adcorn asked her to marry him
she would accept, whatever people might say.
It is to be hoped that Mr. Velley's gloomy prognostications
will not be fulfilled.