The Corpse with the
Eerie Eye





The Corpse With
The Eerie Eye
A TOLEFREE MYSTERY,
R. A. J. WALLING

PUBLISHED BY
P. F. Collier & Son Corporation
NEW YORK


Copyright, 1942, by
R. A. J. Walling
xp
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA





The Corpse with the
Eerie Eye





Chapter One
ANTHONY BERESFORD LOOKED in the shaving-
glass, brushed his short moustache, pulled his tie. Out of a
bold face a pair of grey eyes peered at him beneath a high
forehead crowned by a cap of brown hair.
Rather a hard face, with a square jaw. About the eyes
were wrinkles, not too marked, but indisputable wrinkles—
the feature he liked least. The touch of grey in the brown
hair was almost unnoticeable. For thirty-five it did not do
badly. But the wrinkles betrayed the passage of time and
other things.
He saw a straight nose, rather thin, which combined
with the high brow to modify the bold impression. A fin-
icking nose, he thought, but less conspicuously out of tune
with the rest of the countenance now than it was a year
ago, when the skin was roughened by exposure. Since he
came back and lived a civilized life again, the complexion
had come into better harmony with the features.
And his nerves were quieter. There was only the occa-
sional involuntary twitch of the right eyebrow, intensified
during those long years of absence, which, though not
now so pronounced, refused to leave him.
He turned away from the glass and walked to the win-
dow. He looked south across a valley where, below him,
3


4
THE CORPSE WITH
the grey roofs of a little town baked in the sun. Leaning
out, he could catch to the right a glimpse of a sturdy round
tower on a conical hill above the roofs. His foreground
was a garden, sloping downward in two terraces. He idly
followed the movements of the woman who wandered
about with scissors among the flowers.
Not a bad show. Desperately slow. But it suited him.
One could get re-accustomed to polite society here without
too much trouble or expense.
He had never thought that he might settle down in a
place like Castle-Dinas. It was a strange place, rather un-
like anything he had ever struck. It had little money, but
it had an air. It not only had an air. It gave itself airs. It
had royal traditions and traded on them. It had pretensions
to culture, which made him smile. It was exclusive, caste-
ridden. Caste!—ye gods! It set boundaries. There were
people one must know; they were few. There were people
one might know; more of them. There were people of
whose existence one might be aware; they kept shops.
And a vague number of hewers of wood and drawers
of water, the noises off in the social drama of Castle-
Dinas.
He had found that strangers did not easily get access to
the people one must know. The way to them lay through
the people one might know—the professional people, the
rector, the lawyer, the doctor. It was fortunate for him
that Trahair, the lawyer, had links with everybody, for he
had managed to interest Trahair. Fortunate also that Dr.
Mapperley had a few young people about him, who came
and went, like Jardine, who was a gentleman and rather
laughed at the pretensions of Castle-Dinas and was not


THE EERIE EYE
S
inclined to be exclusive. Not too clever, Jardine, but a
useful man to know. He made a convenient liaison with
the Lowells; and when he had smashed down the pride
of the Lowells, Beresford would have reached his goal.
His first step towards it that afternoon had not been a
failure. Indeed, according to Trahair it was a remarkable
success for any person who had been in Castle-Dinas only
a few months, especially a bachelor. For any bachelor to
carry off a Castle-Dinas tea-party so well, even with the
assistance of a cocktail bar, was unknown. It would cer-
tainly be talked about in the drawing-rooms for weeks.
"You've made 'em curious, Beresford," said Trahair.
"A new bachelor establishment isn't a common object of
the countryside."
Quite a representative slice of Castle-Dinas society had
come and admired the view from the windows and drunk
the tea dispensed by a white-capped maid under the super-
intendence of Mrs. Young, or sipped side-cars in the little
room across the hall.
True, they were mostly the people one might know;
but two had accepted from the circle one must know—
Jardine, and Miss Lowell who came with him. The ancient
house of Menadon on the opposite hill had thus not en-
tirely refused to make acquaintance with the new house
which Beresford had rented for a year, furniture and all.
Nothing else mattered. His drawing-room had been
full of inconsiderable people who made a background for
the startling beauty of Miss Lowell. She was slight, dark,
with perfectly modelled features. She looked intelligent,
alive, sensitive; but she had been curiously quiet—inter-
ested, he thought. She was going to be an important per-


THE EERIE EYE 7
tone. "I grudge the seven years I spent in the East and the
antipodes and America. Wish I'd found Castle-Dinas first."
He was compelled to give some idea of the adventures
of a rolling stone. He felt relieved when the talk turned
from customs and occasions abroad to the annual great
occasion of Castle-Dinas.
It went off well, though. Only one thing puzzled him.
Jardine and Sharpe and Miss Lowell were standing to-
gether when little Trahair came in. The lawyer, a touch
old-fashioned, bowed over Miss Lowell's hand as he said,
"Good afternoon, Katherine." Then he turned to Sharpe.
He said, "Sharpe, you look like a fish out of water. Didn't
expect to find you here. Jardine—you lose your bet."
The girl had asked, "What have you two been wagering
about? I thought Mr. Sharpe was the only gambler."
"Oh, he never gambles. He's a card-sharper pure and
simple. Knows so much mathematics that you simply can't
beat him," said Jardine.
But what Jardine had bet with Trahair did not become
known.
Yes, it went well. Ann had done the thing to a T, from
the moment when she added the last touches to the flowers
in the drawing-room as Jardine and Miss Lowell came in.
She stayed for a few minutes giving directions to the white-
capped maids. She returned discreetly once or twice to
see that everything was in order.
Undoubtedly some of the women looked at her with
hardly veiled curiosity. She was a striking woman, was
Ann, with her yellow hair—naturally yellow, however
deeply her complexion, her lips and her finger-tips were
in debt to the cosmetic shop.


8
THE CORPSE WITH
But Ann took no notice. She played the Compleat
Housekeeper to perfection. She spoke not at all, nor did
she smile more than an automaton.
Beresford had not reaped from his first party that invita-
tion to Menadon to meet Mr. and Mrs. Lowell which he
desired almost as much as anything on earth just now. But
there was plenty of time. And Miss Lowell was interested.
That was a rather boring talk about the great annual
Feast of Castle-Dinas, coming off in three weeks' time.
Trahair and Sharpe had been very learned about it for his
benefit. Seemed to be the Day of the Patron Saint, when
Castle-Dinas went gay, the one day of the year when it
was permissible to know everybody, when the people you
must know and those you might, and the tradesmen all
mingled with noises off, danced together through the
streets, held revels on the castle green, and took a thrilling
look at the famous dungeon in which the malefactors of
old spent dark and insanitary years.
Trahair's local archseology and Sharpe's scientific deriva-
tion of the Feast from some remote pagan bacchanal left
Beresford cold. But it warmed him to think that on this
occasion Menadon would come out of its shell.
The yellow-haired woman came in from the garden.
He went down and met her in the hall.
"Well, Mrs. Young?"
"How did I do, Tony?"
"Norma Shearer never did better, Ann. Come and have
a drink."
He put his arm round her waist and pulled her into the
little room.
"You're rather taken with that girl, Tony," she said,
slipping away, her voice metallic and her eyes hard.


THE EERIE EYE 9
"She's going to be useful, Ann."
"All right. But hold your horses. You fall for 'em too
easily."
"Trust me. Have some of this muck?—or a spot and
splash? Notice the scarecrow who drank cocktails for a
pastime?"
"A Mr. Pugsley?"
Beresford nodded. "You don't know him, and he
doesn't know me. But I know him."
"I'm not so sure I don't know him," said she.
"No, Ann. You don't know him. I insist that you don't
know him. Understand?"
"Very well. Is he the reason why you came to this
God-forsaken hole, Tony?"
"No—and I didn't want him here, Ann. He could be
awkward. So—watch him."
2
Jardine parked his car next morning in the Market
Square and walked to Trahair's office in one of the narrow
streets near by.
"Glad to see you, Bruce," said the lawyer. "Don't throw
away your cigarette. How did Katherine enjoy the party?"
"Rub it in! You won your bet. Five bob, wasn't it?"
Trahair waved it away. "You can stand me a drink at
the Club some time. I'm quite satisfied with the gloat
which is my due—being a better judge of women than
you."
"You've known more. But I fancied I knew Katherine.
And I didn't. She wanted no pressing. When I said, 'Are


10
THE CORPSE WITH
you going to see the Mystery Man?' she said, 'Of
course.'"
"Of course?—the mot juste, Bruce. What did you ex-
pect?"
"Her father and mother didn't seem too pleased," said
Jardine, evading the question.
"Ah, I daresay they didn't. They have antique ideas.
But the young—what do they say?—they'll try anything
once."
"Once?" Jardine grinned. "The mot juste. I'll bet
Katherine doesn't try it again. What did you think of the
party?"
"Highly interesting," said Trahair. "I've been trying
to guess why Beresford gave it. He doesn't strike me as
a man overflowing with the milk of human kindness."
"I don't like the cynical beggar."
"Not the sort of man you'd expect to spend a lot of
money on social climbing in Castle-Dinas, eh? Man of
the world. Probably frequented society a bit more thrilling.
Travelled a lot. He keeps me speculating hard. Why did
he throw that party?"
Jardine shrugged. "You say."
"Didn't you notice that he seemed anxious for a personal
success? It looked so to me. But I'll have a second bet
with you. If he throws another it won't be a success."
"Shouldn't wonder. You're a sportsman who only bets
on certainties, Trahair. So I'm not a taker. But why?"
"He set the ladies of Castle-Dinas by the ears. That
housekeeper—"
"Didn't particularly notice her."
"Katherine occludes the landscape for you, I wager


THE EERIE EYE
II
Katherine particularly noticed her! A housekeeper about
thirty with golden hair and a Hollywood make-up—"
"I say! That's a slight exaggeration, eh?" Jardine ex-
claimed.
"Perhaps a little. Anyhow, not the sort of housekeeper
known and approved by Castle-Dinas. If Beresford's ideas
were purely social, he'd have kept her in the background.
Therefore—but he's a queer chap altogether. If he wanted
to stagger the burgesses he couldn't have thought of any-
thing more explosive. However, he's interesting. Good
style. Good fund of information. Been in some wild places
and has an eye for country. Did you hear him say he'd
never in the world seen a lonelier spot than Goonbarrow
Downs?"
"Yes. And I'd guess he's right about that. A weird spot
to have so close home."
"Well, the Mystery Man's still a mystery, Bruce. But
you didn't come to talk about Beresford. What is it you
want?"
Jardine pulled up his chair to the table and stubbed out
his cigarette. Trahair, watching his pleasant, open face,
noted the frown that creased the brow.
"Trahair," said he, "I want some advice from you. Not
as my lawyer. As a friend. Afraid of making a fool of
myself. Want you to stop me. And yet I don't. I'm puz-
zled to death about the Lowells. You know them well—
see as muchv of them as anybody. I'm deeply interested
in the Lowells—naturally, being determined to marry
Katherine. Have you seen anything—well, anything amiss
lately?"
Trahair looked long at him before he answered.


12
THE CORPSE WITH
"That's a curious question, Bruce. Won't you be a little
more—er—specific?"
"Deuce of it is, I simply can't be specific. I know there's
something wrong. But I'm unable to specify. I can't even
say a word to Katherine, not to mention her father and
mother. I have a feeling of something gone awry in the
Lowell family. I wondered if anybody else—if you'd no-
ticed it."
Trahair pushed back his chair, took a cigarette, lit it,
puffed it.
"Well, what have you noticed?" he asked.
"It's nothing tangible. The first thing was a sort of
perpetual preoccupation in Mr. Lowell. He seemed to be
—sort of not there. And a nervousness in Mrs. Lowell.
To put the lid on it, Katherine's getting difficult—not her-
self. Not so keen. Used to be merry as a grig. Now deadly
serious. Hardly ever has a laugh. Doesn't want to go
places—"
"She went to Beresford's party."
"That puzzles me most of all. I'd never have believed
she would go. The fact is, Trahair, some cloud's come
down on 'em all. And it's damned uncomfortable. That's
as specific as I can be."
Trahair made no answer while he blew several long
puffs from his cigarette.
"Well," said Jardine, "have you noticed anything?"
Trahair said, "Lowell's my client. I can't discuss him.
But you're my friend. I can discuss you and Katherine.
How long are you staying with Doctor Mapperley this
time, Bruce?"
"Oh, indefinitely. He likes to have me around."


THE EERIE EYE 13
"Think he's conscious of anything unusual at his
brother-in-law's?"
"You know him—a Sphinx in trousers."
Trahair nodded. "Well, I confess you don't surprise
me. There really is something strange in the atmosphere
at Menadon. What it is I don't begin to guess. Lowell's
a man you can't probe. But he has just that preoccupation,
and Mrs. Lowell has nerves—as you say. But I can't tackle
it for you—haven't a right to inquire and can't give advice
unless I'm asked for it. You're in a different position. If
your engagement to Katherine's at stake—"
"You put it into words for me, Trahair!" cried Jardine.
"That's what's driving me frantic. Not only that. She's
unhappy."
"Spoken to her about it?"
"Sounded her more than once. Nothing. Not a word
or a hint. Displeases her to hear a suggestion of anything
fishy in her young life. I daren't go any further."
"Naturally."
"You're Lowell's man of affairs. Haven't you an idea?"
"Not a vestige, Bruce. If you're thinking affairs may
have something to do with it, set your mind at rest. Low-
ell's affairs are in a perfect state of order and prosperity."
They sat looking at each other for two minutes.
Trahair spoke again. "I suppose you'd do anything to
prevent your hopes from blowing up?"
"Anything in the world!" said Jardine, fervently. "You
know how it's been between Katherine and me."
There was another long pause.
"Well, Bruce," said Trahair at last. "Whatever strange
and secret thing's affecting Menadon seems like affecting


THE EERIE EYE
»5
"Of course, Trahair, you wouldn't suggest this to me
unless you wanted me to do it."
"I'd be sorry to see your hopes crash, my boy. You
mustn't push me too far. I can't accept any responsibility.
But I'm rather fond of Katherine. I should like to know
what the trouble is."
"In other words, you have half a notion, you can't see
your way to confirm it, and you pass the buck to me!"
"Now," Trahair exclaimed, "you're pushing me too far.
I shan't go. Here's the fellow's name and number. You
run off and think it over. Send the invitation or not, just
as you please. I'm due at the Court in ten minutes. See
you some time."
Trahair finished scribbling on a card, passed it to him,
and rose.
Jardine looked at the paper and read the name and
address of one Philip Tolefree.
3
As the train ran down the narrow valley along a river
bank, beneath overhanging woods, a turn and a clearing
gave Tolefree his first glimpse of Castle-Dinas. He saw
through a gap a pinnacle of old houses clinging to a hill,
and, crowning it and dominating them, a great Norman
keep above which a flagstaff lifted a royal standard to
the sky.
It was a strange, un-English-looking, tumbled hill-town
which seemed to have jutted up out of the Middle Ages.
A glimpse and no more: the train was pulling into a
prosaic railway station and the porters were shouting "Cas-
tle-Dinas!"


THE EERIE EYE 17
of the steep street with scarcely more fuss than a purr.
Listening to a few off-hand remarks about the gateway,
the ancient market square, the astonishing grey church with
its bloom of carving in granite, the hotel which had been
part of a religious house, the crooked, narrow streets about
the market, Tolefree was carried swiftly through Castle-
Dinas, down the slope on the other side, and up into the
higher country beyond.
In fifteen miles the car swirled left through a gateway
and a long avenue of beeches and chestnuts to an old, grey,
gabled house of two storeys under the shoulder of a moor-
land bluff.
Nantivet had no distinction from a hundred other
houses save its situation on the side of a wooded glen, now
deep in foliage, with a stream curling through the bottom,
one reach of it visible.
"My mother and I live very simply," Jardine said.
"James, here, is our man of all work"—as a gardener in a
green apron came up to the door. "Take the bags up,
James. I'll bring Mr. Tolefree along."
One of the rooms with the mansard windows over-
looking the glen was Tolefree's portion. Having changed,
he spent a spare twenty minutes before dinner and his
introduction to Mrs. Jardine in gazing upon the scene and
speculating on the possible reasons why a young man of
Jardine's quality, placed in this idyllic country, wanted to
import into it a private detective. Bill Bland had been able
to tell him nothing of Jardine. The lawyer Trahair was
but a name. Jardine's own letter had brought Tolefree
down. He liked its sincerity and modesty. He recalled the
words which ended it,


18 THE CORPSE WITH
I have nothing to go upon, but the mystery threatens to ditch my
best hopes. If you can unravel it you will either make two human
beings happy or prove that happiness is not for me.
Tolefree was not a heart-specialist. Love-affairs whose
course failed to run smooth were none of his business. But
a bare hint in the letter pointed to some disturbance under
the surface which had nothing to do with the lovers.
Evidently, though, he was not to get to work on the
mystery at once. He observed with mild amusement that
he had been brought to this pleasant house for a day or
two to be passed himself under observation. First, by
Jardine and the now fragile and sedate lady who had
brought him into the world. He met her at dinner—a
piece of Dresden china in appearance but, in fact, a woman
of strong common sense. Jardine was the apple of her eye
and the heir of her dead husband's estate. She, first of all,
would decide whether Tolefree passed muster as a con-
fidant of secrets.
The next day he came under surveillance by a truly
remarkable man—one Dr. Mapperley, who lived near
Castle-Dinas and had family connections with the great
houses round. He dined at Nantivet.
The meeting with this big, gruff personage startled
Tolefree. His large head was made immense by a shock
of iron grey hair and a bush of dark beard. Penetrating
the bush to the well-remembered features underneath,
Tolefree watched for any sign of recognition in the dark
eyes. He caught a questioning look now and then—but
Mapperley soon gave up the quest. There was no recog-
nition.
They soon got on terms. He towered over Tolefree and
even over Jardine, who was no midget. He had a terse,


THE EERIE EYE 19
jerky fashion of speech. He had learning—his degree a
doctorate of Laws and not a practising one of medicine as
Tolefree first thought. He and Mrs. Jardine, of about an
age, round the fifties and sixties, were contemporaries in
understanding and attitudes as well as in years. They had
one particular interest in common—Jardine. Mapperley's
business at Nantivet was to push or probe into his quality.
Tolefree felt it searching the recesses of his knowledge,
taste and discretion.
Never averse from thrust if he could see his way to
riposte, he soon discovered that Mapperley had a strong
suit which was also a weak spot. It was psychology. He
contrived to engage him in an argument on the lines of
his own interminable disputations with Professor Gregory
Pye. In Jardine's den that evening, to Jardine's bewildered
amusement, between Mapperley with a huge cigar and
Tolefree with his pipe, there flew a rattling fire of causa-
tion and causality, free will and determinism, motive and
motivation, and a hundred other deathly missiles. They
kept it up to an hour unheard of at Nantivet.
What Mapperley thought of Tolefree would doubtless
appear in due course. What Tolefree thought of Mapper-
ley was expressed to Jardine next morning.
"A shrewd person," he said.
"A learned person," Jardine admitted. "But shrewd?
Is that a compliment?"
Tolefree smiled. He wasn't thinking of the doctor's
powers of ratiocination, he said, but of his powers of
observation. "I intended a compliment. Very little in the
conduct of his fellow-men escapes Doctor Mapperley, I
imagine. Of course, you've confided your mystery to him?"
Jardine baulked at the question. To some extent he had.


20
THE CORPSE WITH
But there was a difficulty. "In a way, you see, he's in the
mystery himself. Mrs. Lowell is his sister."
"Yes?" Tolefree waited.
"So, you see, it's in the family."
Tolefree raised his eyebrows.
"Damn it!" cried Jardine— "I can't stall any longer.
Let's get out and walk over the hill. I'll tell you the whole
thing. You've been so patient I could hardly believe you
were true. Good for an hour's walking?"
"Or three," said Tolefree.
The woods above Nantivet thinned two or three hun-
dred feet higher and finally gave place to an open moor.
The rough land stretched east and north for many miles,
without roads save for one narrow ribbon and a narrower
of rude cart-tracks, a high plateau clothed with a fine turf,
ling and patches of furze, depressed here and there into
folds where small streams ran.
"Goonbarrow Downs," said Jardine as they came over
the edge and stopped to look. Not a building showed, not
a thing moved, between them and the far horizon. "I've
heard this called the loneliest place in the world. Castle-
Dinas that way—a dozen miles, in the valley beyond."
Tolefree said, "A bracing air—and a good place for
confidences."
"Yes," Jardine answered. He looked down with the
symptom of a grin. They strode away over the turf when
their path had petered out. "The first confidence has to
be a confession, Tolefree. About Mapperley. He's a great
friend of mine and of my affair with Katherine. Known
me and my family all my life. The Mapperleys had
Carnmarth, a place near the town. A huge house. Came to
them by marriage long ago. He and Mrs. Lowell are the


THE EERIE EYE
21
only Mapperleys left. Many years between them—ten or
perhaps twenty, I guess. Fine people; all the same they're
both highbrows."
"Oh?" said Tolefree. "Ladies are not often meta-
physicians."
"No—and she's not. But donnish. Broke loose from
home, university and all that, and went to profess some-
thing or other up north. Force of example, perhaps. He'd
been a don ever since she could remember. I think she
hardly knew her mother—died when she was a small kid.
Old Mr. Mapperley went out aged eighty about five years
ago. Doctor Mapperley inherited the estate and enough
to live on while he writes his book."
"Philosophy?" Tolefree asked.
"No—history. Age of William the Silent or some such
thing. He's still collecting material. Thinks that'll take
ten years and the writing another ten, so he's fitted out
with a programme for life. We never disagree about any-
thing but the comparative importance of the fifteenth cen-
tury and the twentieth."
"William the Silent versus Winston Churchill?"
"I'm a complete philistine, Tolefree. But he's fond of
me as well as of his highbrow devotees like Sharpe. You'll
like Sharpe. But the point is that Lowell married Map-
perley's sister not long after the time of Mapperley's
inheritance. Lowell bought a lovely old place, Menadon,
about two miles away, expressly so that she could live in
her own country. He's much older than his wife—he was
a widower and Katherine was a school-girl when they
married."
"A rich man?"


22
THE CORPSE WITH
"Bags of money. Son of a woollen manufacturer in
Yorkshire. A fine type. Devoted to his wife and daughter.
You'll see. Never was a jollier house until— But I'd bet-
ter short-circuit the story. My concern is Katherine. I
fell for her the first time I met her at Mapperley's. I
pestered her till she agreed to marry me. I adore her. My
mother does too. Lowell and his wife like me. We were
perfectly happy till two or three months ago."
"And then?" Tolefree encouraged him.
"And then of a sudden something went wrong. It
wasn't a jolly house to me any more. Whenever I'm there
Lowell seems to squeeze back in his shell and go into a
coma. Mrs. Lowell is all nerves. Katherine, who'd been
the brightest thing on earth to me, has changed com-
pletely. She hasn't said she wants to break the engage-
ment, but if I broke it I believe she'd be glad in a way."
"No doubt you've a clean sheet?" said Tolefree. "Noth-
ing to do with you?"
"Certainly nothing that I'm conscious of. And nobody
else in Katherine's life that I can see. It's a mystery.
Mapperley seems to suspect something, but I get nothing
out of him."
"I feel sure," Tolefree mused, "that Doctor Mapperley
was quite aware of me last night."
That, Jardine declared, was another point in his con-
fession. "Trahair and I talked it over. He thought I ought
to tell Mapperley I was inviting you down and why. So
I did."
"And how did he react to that?"
"He made a condition, or rather two. First that I should
allow you to do nothing till he'd seen you. Next that, if


THEEERIEEYE 23
you did stay on to explore the affair, both you and I
should go to stay at Carnmarth. I often do stay there. It's
near Katherine. Are you offended?"
"Not so easily as that," Tolefree smiled. "But you see
what it means? Either he knows nothing definite what-
ever he suspects. Or, if he does know, he means to control
the inquiry. We're to be under his eye."
Jardine nodded. "Evidently. Will it make any differ-
ence to you?"
"Not an atom. I'd have thought, by the way, that the
solicitor, Trahair, might be more likely to have detected
the nigger in the woodpile than anyone else."
"I challenged him," said Jardine. "But he rides off on
the sacred relations of lawyer and client. He says he's as
much in the dark as I am; but I fancy he's come across
some evidence of trouble. You know, it was he who sug-
gested your name."
"Yes . . . Well, we'll wait and see. I shall be happy
to improve Doctor Mapperley's acquaintance."
"No difficulty about that, Tolefree. He took to you last
night. If you agreed, I was to bring you along to Carn-
marth to-morrow . . ."
Jardine was an ingenuous young man. Sincere—and
simple, said Tolefree to himself. If Mapperley and Tra-
hair both wanted a private detective on the spot, there was
something more in the wind blowing across this delectable
country than Jardine's love-troubles—and with a fishier
smell.
"I'm dining at Menadon to-night," said Jardine when
they were returning from the walk on Goonbarrow Downs.
"Lowell would like you to come too. Is that all right?"


Chapter Two
AFTERWARDS, Tolefree reflected that this dinner-
party at Menadon was the mildest and most decorous in-
troduction to wild tragedy that irony ever designed.
They were six at table: all the Mapperleys left in the
world in the persons of the vast doctor and his sister, Mrs.
Lowell. All the Lowells of the piece in the persons of
Henry Lowell and his daughter Katherine. And Jardine
and himself.
They dined in a rich-looking old room, with the after-
math of sunset glowing through the windows, and soft
shaded table-lights, and soft-footed maids to serve them.
Mr. and Mrs. Lowell received him cordially as a casual
guest and Jardine's friend. Dr. Mapperley seemed to lay
himself out to show Tolefree off to the family, and kept
the talk flowing across the table to him. But he stole
chances now and then to observe his hosts and their
daughter.
Katherine Lowell was a strikingly lovely girl, mani-
festly the darling of her father's heart. She took no part
in general talk, speaking in asides to Jardine occasionally,
but mostly listening to Mapperley and Tolefree with
unobtrusive curiosity. He got the impression that, if
Lowell and his wife accepted him at his face value, the
girl had a speculative eye on him.
25


26
THE CORPSE WITH
She was very good to look upon. If this seventeenth-
century room was not the most appropriate setting for her
modishness it seemed to emphasize her dark beauty, as
Jardine's fair skin and hair and his bulk foiled her warm
colouring and her lissome figure. They were a well-
assorted couple. Tolefree understood Jardine's anxiety
about any threat to the partnership.
Lowell gave no hint of the coma described by Jardine.
He was quiet—perhaps a little withdrawn, but not too far
to listen to an argument, as he showed by putting in a
perceptive word to Tolefree or Mapperley. He was a
dark, grey-haired, clean-shaven man, blue-eyed, with fine
features; athletic-looking for all his more than fifty years.
A chance smile betrayed a natural good humour. A pol-
ished manner put him in startling contrast with his big,
hirsute, casually-dressed brother-in-law, who sat beside
the girl, ate his dinner with gusto and chopped badinage
with her in the intervals of his bouts with Tolefree.
Mrs. Lowell, much younger than he, perhaps in the
early thirties, fair and handsome, on an ampler plan than
her step-daughter, had some of her brother's largeness
without his incult roughness. She realized Jardine's ac-
count of her, but she neither flaunted her high brow nor
displayed the harrowed nerves of which Tolefree had been
told.
Whatever strain of trouble or mystery might be in the
background of the Lowell family, it did not now appear
at this dinner-table.
How the talk got round to travel, Tolefree could hardly
have said; but presently Mapperley was holding forth on
Egypt and turning to ask whether he knew anything of
the country. He sorrowfully admitted that his acquaint-


THEEERIEEYE 2?
ance with it was confined to a call or two at Port Said and
a few hours' scurry around the city of Alexandria where
his ship once put in to do a day's business.
"Ah?" said Mapperley. "Juliet—you and Henry have
a soft place in your hearts for old Alex, eh?"
Tolefree saw a smile pass between them, but there was
no sequel till Mapperley supplied it.
"These two met on a Nile boat and got married in
Alex," said he. "Regular forcing house for romance,
Egypt. Not that Alexandria has anything more to do with
Egypt than Brighton or Atlantic City."
Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Lowell pursued the subject.
Tolefree, turning over the evening, came to the conclu-
sion that Mapperley had dragged this privacy into the
light for his special benefit.
Up to this point, in fact, the party made Jardine's fears
seem a figment of fancy. Either Lowell and his wife were
serene and happy people without a shadow on their hori-
zon, and Katherine was a young woman without a serious
care in the world—or they were all great actors.
Then, while the talkative Mapperley held forth on
Egyptian marriage customs, with various sly digs at his
sister and her romance, a maid came to call Mrs. Lowell's
attention to a message. She excused herself, went to the
telephone, and was absent for some minutes. The maid
came a second time to speak to Lowell. Tolefree saw an
angry flash in his blue eyes. He said to his brother-in-law,
"Martin—look after our guests. Juliet wants to consult
me about something."
Tolefree glanced at Katherine. She saw the glance and
met it boldly. Turning to Jardine, she said,


28
THE CORPSE WITH
"Bruce—some stuff about your precious old Feast Day,
I bet."
"Very likely. But, my girl, that tone's high treason in
Castle-Dinas, and don't you forget it. Watch your step!"
Mapperley put in, "Has anyone told Tolefree about
Feast Day?" and launched into a disquisition on the origin
and meaning of the festival, keeping it up till at last
Lowell and his wife came back to the room.
The interlude had lasted ten minutes. Tolefree had a
jerk of the nerves when he caught sight of Mrs. Lowell as
she entered. Her face was a tragedy, so worn that she
looked ten years instead of ten minutes older. In the next
half-hour he understood perfectly what Jardine had told
him. The three Lowells had completely withdrawn from
them into some private world of misery.
Frowning and glooming under his bushy eyebrows,
Mapperley went ploughing on about Feast Day. Katherine
made a brave effort to pretend that all was normal, but
she almost leaped at Jardine's suggestion that he and Tole-
free had better be starting for Nantivet. The hospitality
of Menadon had collapsed. Mapperley rose with them.
"You needn't go yet, Martin, need you?" said Mrs.
Lowell.
He went into the hall with Jardine and Tolefree, said
he understood they would both be staying at his house
from to-morrow, shook hands and went back.
"You see?" said Jardine.
"Very queer indeed," said Tolefree, getting into the
car beside him. "Has it happened like that before?"
"Like what?"
"Has a telephone-call transformed a delightful dining-
room into a torture-chamber?"


THE EERIE EYE
29
"No, Tolefree—at least not in my presence. It's the
first time I've seen anything you could call an incident—
and I never saw Juliet so broken up."
Tolefree was silent for a few minutes.
"Useless to ask what you make of it?" Jardine said at
last.
"What is there to make of it? Merely that Mrs. Lowell
heard some bad news on the telephone, that Mr. Lowell
knew it would be bad news, that it was bad enough to
call for a consultation, and that Doctor Mapperley, if he
doesn't know all about it, is well aware of bad news in the
offing. I don't think you need me, Jardine, or anything I
could possibly do. Whatever the trouble may be, it's a
family affair."
"How d'you mean—about Mapperley?"
"Every gesture he makes shows that he's in the con-
fidence of the Lowells. Even if I could make a shot I
should be stymied at every hole."
"For Heaven's sake don't think of clearing out, Tole-
free! If Mapperley's going to be awkward, you're my
only chance. Stick it. See Trahair. Size it up. This means
everything to me."
Tolefree said kindly, "Of course, I'll not clear out
immediately. Certainly not before I've had a heart-to-
heart talk with Doctor Mapperley. But, my dear Jardine,
realize that you may be up against something insurmount-
able. A family's a terrible organization to challenge."
"I know. But somehow I can't believe there's no way
of preventing Katherine and me from foundering. I want
to know what it's all about. I believe you can find out.
Let's leave it at that, shall we?"


30
THE CORPSE WITH
2
With his kit in the back of the car, Tolefree was driven
by Jardine to Castle-Dinas next morning.
In other circumstances the Feast Day ceremonies would
have provided him with a pleasant study of the survival
into the twentieth century of a medieval Merry England
festival. He was, however, from the first too deeply
puzzled by the Lowell family to pay much attention to
the dancing through the gaily-flagged streets and on the
castle green, or to the delights of the fair, the play-acting
of children and the rejoicing horse-play of the multitude
which thronged the town.
For Lowells, Mapperleys, Jardines and the like, the
heart of the affair was the castle green. There under the
shadow of the Norman Keep the elite of Castle-Dinas
assembled to hear speeches from the vicar in full canon-
icals and the mayor in scarlet robes, to listen to brazen
band music, to watch the folk-dancing before lunch, and
afterwards to make the annual ceremonial tour of the
castle ruins.
Jardine's unerring eye picked out Katherine and her
party immediately they arrived. Presently Tolefree found
himself sitting on a bunting-covered bench among the
Lowells and Mapperley and other people in privileged
prominence. Then Jardine was introducing him to a thin,
dark man of about thirty who stopped in front of the
bench.
'Hello, Sharpe! Looking bored as usual. You don't
know Mr. Tolefree? This is Christopher Sharpe, Tolefree


THE EERIE EYE 31
—sort of satellite of Doctor Mapperley, or do I mean
acolyte?"
Sharpe nodded to Tolefree, made a pass at Jardine, and
sat down between them.
"Great doings in Castle-Dinas," said he. "You down for
the show, or—?"
"Didn't Mapperley tell you he's asked Tolefree to stay
at Carnmarth?" asked Jardine.
"Oh!—so you're the man? He did say something about
a guest of Jardine's. You must be an expert on William
the Silent, of course. We're nuts on William just now."
Tolefree told him that the only William he could place
with any confidence was William of Normandy 1066.
"Ah—he mayn't be a dog on history, Sharpe—but you
should hear him and Mapperley chopping logic on meta-
physics!" Jardine exclaimed.
"I refuse, Jardine—absolutely. Ghastly bore, meta-
physics. And what's logic got to do with it, anyhow? Now,
if you said they chopped logic on criminology—" He gave
Tolefree a keen look out of his dark eyes.
"Don't mind him, Tolefree. He has a low nature," said
Jardine.
Tolefree, returning Sharpe's glance, answered him:
"Doctor Mapperley interested in criminology? He didn't
impress me that way."
"I never heard of it, either," Jardine declared. "Sharpe's
invented it."
"What you don't know about Mapperley is quite a lot,
Jardine. What's stuffed into that great cranium would
surprise you, Tolefree. But hist!—he comes."
Dr. Mapperley had risen from his place at the other end


32 THE CORPSE WITH
of the bench and stood before them. A look passed and
Sharpe got up.
"No—don't move, Christopher," said the doctor. "Try
Tolefree on causation. I'm going for a walk round."
Sharpe sat down as Mapperley strolled away.
"You've seen something, Tolefree, that mortal eye ne'er
saw before!" he said.
"What's that?"
"Doctor Mapperley going for a walk by himself when
he had a chance of holding forth to somebody else. What's
the causation there? But hold!—I perceive it, if my eyes
deceive me not."
Tolefree looked where Sharpe and Jardine were staring.
"Beresford?" Jardine said under his breath.
"The Mystery Man," said Sharpe.
A powerful-looking fellow, well-built, square-jawed,
with rather close-set grey eyes, a straight nose and a mili-
tary moustache, a well-dressed man of good carriage, was
walking up the green slope towards the bench. He raised
his hat as he approached Miss Lowell, nodded to Jardine
and Sharpe, and began to talk to her.
Katherine said, "How do you do?" Mr. and Mrs.
Lowell made no sign.
"Won't you introduce me to your mother and father?"
he asked.
"Mother—Mr. Beresford." The girl turned for an
instant to look at Jardine, and Tolefree caught a glimpse
of Mrs. Lowell's face as she inclined her head an inch to
the newcomer, who stared her boldly in the eye. Lowell
did not so much as nod. He said, "Juliet, I see Trahair
beckoning to us," and rose. Mrs. Lowell said, "Excuse


THE EERIE EYE
33
me," and took her husband's arm. The man was left
standing in front of Miss Lowell.
"The frozen mitt!" Sharpe whispered in Tolefree's ear.
Aloud he said, "Hello, Beresford—how d'you like our
show? Does it come up to the preliminary blah?"
Miss Lowell said, "Excuse me," and went after her
parents. Tolefree said to Jardine, "See you later," and
took himself off. Beresford sat down in his place.
Having noted the way Dr. Mapperley went, Tolefree
came up with him on the steep path to the Keep.
"Ah, Tolefree, here you are," he boomed. "Care to
climb up to the parapet? A great view."
Tolefree said he would like nothing better. The doctor
led the way by a winding, unprotected stair to the top of
the tower. They found an embrasure looking down on
the green, speckled with gay costumes and illuminated by
the scarlet and gold of the band's uniform. Dr. Mapperley
enlarged pleasantly for a moment or two on the spectacle.
Then he said,
"Well?—I suppose you chased me up with a purpose?"
"I did. It occurred to me that, since you know how
and why I came to Castle-Dinas, and I know that you
know—"
"Yes. I've heard something of you. I'm hoping for the
best. But—you'll forgive candour?—I don't think you can
do any good."
Tolefree was inclined to agree. "I said as much to Jar-
dine. But I promised not to throw in my hand until I'd
had a talk with you. He's in great perplexity. I like him.
I'd like to satisfy him. But of course the idea's absurd. It
can't be done. If I go digging around—"
"Well?" said Mapperley. "If you do—?"


34
THE CORPSE WITH
"I shall get myself disliked by unearthing skeletons.
Isn't that so?"
"Very likely. But you won't dig. Nobody will show you
where."
"I thought so," said Tolefree. "But then—what best do
you hope for?"
"Can't tell you. A vague notion. Perhaps a vain wish."
"So I'd better thank Jardine for his hospitality and take
myself back to London."
"Not at all, Tolefree!" The doctor put his huge hand
on Tolefree's arm. "You're to be my guest for a day or
two. That's a promise. You can't get out of it."
Tolefree looked surprised. "I'm a wretched poor liz-
ard," he said. "I must always be doing something."
"Well—stay and entertain me. Tell me more about
Wiindt. You know, I wasn't aware that anyone in the
world still read Wiindt. It gives me hope. I may even
be able to interest a few people in William the Silent!
Who knows?"
"That would be delightful—I mean, to stay and chew
over Wiindt with you. But if I do stay I fear I can't
promise to forget Jardine. His letter moved me strangely.
His plight moves other people too. You if I'm not mis-
taken. Certainly Trahair. You knew Trahair suggested me
to him? He's a lawyer. He's Lowell's lawyer. Doesn't that
want explanation?"
"Does it? You'd better ask Trahair," said Mapperley.
Tolefree shook his head. "That would be the first stroke
of the spade. Besides, I find lawyers elusive persons. Will
you forgive candour too? I think you know more than
Trahair does about the sudden affliction which has de-
scended on the Lowell family. I think you probably know


THE EERIE EYE 35
who telephoned to Mrs. Lowell last night and crashed a
spanner into the smooth machinery of Menadon."
"Candour? Yes." Dr. Mapperley paused, his gaze fol-
lowing a figure crossing the lawn below. The dancing had
ceased. People had found seats. The man whose arrival
broke up the Lowell party, moving with an easy stride
over the turf, was conspicuous. He joined a bright-haired
woman on the other side of the green. They walked to-
gether to the arched gateway and passed through it. Dr.
Mapperley turned to Tolefree.
"Candour? In moderation, yes. Tacitus, wasn't it?—
said immoderate candour leads to ruin? I won't answer
that question, Tolefree."
"Somehow, I thought you wouldn't."
"But I'll tell you this: if you feel sympathetic to Jardine
and his affair with Katherine, so do I. More—if you stay
you may be able to do him a good turn. Not certain—but
you may. Anyhow, a day or two in the country won't hurt
you. Keep your eye open for the objects of the country-
side. Now—shall we go and find the others?"
He started down the stairway.
The Lowells had returned to their places. With them
was a short, dapper man with black hair, the bluest of blue
eyes, and a pleasant smile. Jardine said, "Tolefree, this is
Trahair. He'd like to know you."
The lawyer got up and moved briskly to a seat by Tole-
free's side. "Heard of you from Bland," said he. "Seen
him lately?"
"He came round and showed me your letter last week,"
Tolefree replied for Trahair's ear only.
"Glad you were able to come. Bland thinks the world
of you—"


36
THE CORPSE WITH
Tolefree shouldered off the flattery. "He's prejudiced.
We're old friends. A delightful visit, Mr. Trahair—but I
think it will be futile."
"You've been talking to Mapperley. Don't rush into
pessimism. Take your first chance to come and have a talk
with me—to-morrow, privately. I feel certain you can do
something for Jardine. Better not discuss it now."
"Fine. I will," said Tolefree.
Trahair enlarged the conversation to take in the whole
party. They saw more dancing. They went to lunch at
the old hotel in the town, where Tolefree sat at a table
with Mapperley, Sharpe and Trahair. Not a word was
said of the single episode which had interested Tolefree—■
the elaborate presentation of the Frozen Mitt to the gen-
tleman hailed as Beresford. Sharpe kept the table amused
with anecdotes of a person rejoicing in the name of Pugs-
ley and an old school-tie, whose chief attributes seemed to
be an unslakable thirst and a perpetual shortage of the
means of slaking it, plus an unhappy habit of holding
hands of cards in which there were rarely any trumps.
They all met this child of misfortune, it seemed, at the
Castle-Dinas Club. Captain Pugsley, the sole remaining
scion of an old family of the neighbourhood which had
fallen on penurious days, was born to be the cause that
humour is in others. His type excited more condolence
than mirth in Tolefree.
At that time he had no inkling that Pugsley was to be
anything more than the passing butt of a luncheon-table.
One other passage of Feast Day at Castle-Dinas fixed
itself in Tolefree's mind, and he met one other personage
who was to play a part in Jardine's mystery.
The personage came up to the table towards the end of


THE EERIE EYE
37
their lunch, saying, "Hello, Mapperley—may I have my
coffee with you?" and swung round a chair. He was a
man of about Mapperley's age, tall and spare, broad-
shouldered, sallow-complexioned, grey-eyed, with sparse
greying hair already receding over the crown of his head.
The others were familiar with him. He gave Tolefree a
keen glance, and nodded a "howdydo" when Mapperley
mentioned his name: "This is Mr. Tolefree, Lose; friend
of Jardine's, staying at Carnmarth for a day or two. Lose
is our sawbones, Tolefree. Great man for the knife. They
say there are fewer vermiform appendices per head of the
population in Castle-Dinas than anywhere else in the
country. Lose won't be satisfied till there's not one left."
The medico creased his face into a rather attractive
smile.
"I have my knife into most people, Mr. Tolefree," he
said, "but Mapperley beats me. He's one of the perfect
mechanical eliminators. Shovels in mountains of food and
oceans of liquid, takes very little exercise, breaks all the
rules—and keeps as healthy as a cart-horse. The doctor's
despair. How's your mother, Jardine? Haven't seen her
for months . . ."
Tolefree's eyes wandered to and fro among the crowd
in the big room. He saw a tall figure, threading its way
among the lunchers leaving, in the wake of a woman with
shining yellow hair and carefully-painted features. Pres-
ently he heard the word "housekeeper" said by Trahair.
"Looks to me like a tart!"
"Learned professors," said Lose, "have no business to
know what a tart looks like."
Tolefree's attention wandered again till it was caught
by the words "Mystery Man." Lose was speaking.


38
THE CORPSE WITH
"Had my first close-up of the Mystery Man just now.
They were sitting at the next table. Queer pair. That tart
of yours, Mapperley, could be a tigress. But I'd rather a
female tiger than a male rattlesnake. I dislike the look of
that fellow."
"On sight?" said Sharpe. "Case of Doctor Fell—?"
"Instinctive—yes. But I've a curious feeling that I've
seen him before. Can't pick up the clue. Still, there's some-
thing familiar about him. I swear I've met him some-
where."
"He a great traveller, Lose," said Sharpe. "If you've
travelled much—"
"But I haven't. What G.P. can? Just the usual month
every year here and there. Never been farther than a
Mediterranean cruise."
"That," said Trahair, "would be far enough. Remem-
ber our friend Pugsley's trip up the Nile, Sharpe—at the
cocktail party?—and Beresford mentioning that he'd spent
seven years abroad?"
"Yes. And there was Egypt in that, wasn't there? Not
that Beresford knew much about Egypt, if I recall what
he said. Might have seen him at some hotel out there,
Lose?"
But the doctor doubted whether a chance meeting would
have made any impression that lasted. He finished his
coffee, lit a cigarette and departed.
The first scene of the afternoon which registered with
Tolefree was the inspection of the castle dungeons. A
bizarre ceremony, that—beginning with a formal proces-
sion of the scarlet cloaks, canonicals and uniforms under
the gatehouse, where a beadle, clanking huge keys, opened
a round-headed door in the side of the archway, and


THE CORPSE WITH
The moment the light shone down the slope past the
cell-door, Katherine Lowell hurried up. She passed close
to Tolefree without seeing him, and greeted Sharpe. He
growled a complaint: did she want to get locked in? They
turned and disappeared.
Tolefree still waited, perhaps a minute. Then he heard
a stumbling footstep. A bright beam shone. A voice cried,
"Who the hell are you? Switch off that damned thing!"
"Mr. Beresford, I perceive," another voice answered,
and it was Mapperley's gruff bass. "That's the way out.
Have a care. I keep my eye on you. Any more of this,
you damned scoundrel, and you'll hear from me. March!"
"Go to hell!" said Beresford. "What business is it of
yours?"
"The way out is straight ahead, Beresford. Take my
advice. If you molest Miss Lowell once more it'll be the
last time. Now, march!"
Tolefree shrank into his niche. He could see the form
of Beresford move past as a silhouette against the rock
illuminated by a torch, and six feet behind him came the
man carrying it, himself invisible.
Letting them go, Tolefree remained still until their
footsteps had faded. Then he took a pencil torch from his
pocket and slowly followed. The beadle was just about to
lock the door under the archway when he reached it.
The first thing he saw as he came up with Jardine and
Katherine in the open was Mapperley and Beresford in
conversation under the gatehouse arch. Near by stood scat-
tered a group of people apparently waiting for the talk to
end. As Katherine passed, one of the eyes of the woman
with the yellow hair followed her with a hard look of
animosity. She stopped to speak with a shock-headed man,


THE EERIE EYE
41
whom Tolefree had not seen before, standing a yard or
two from Mapperley. Beresford moved away and joined
the woman. Mapperley hailed Tolefree:
"What do you think of our dungeons? Some queer
things have happened down there."
"I'll bet," said Tolefree.


Chapter Three
THE LOWELLS LEFT Castle-Dinas soon after, taking
Katherine with them. Jardine had implored her to stay.
In vain: they were dining with Mapperley; he would see
her then; at present she could produce twenty reasons for
going home, none of which relieved Jardine's gloom.
A spectator of this incident, Tolefree wondered how
Jardine would have felt had he chanced to see what de-
layed Katherine in the catacomb.
After her departure, what had been a pleasant fete bored
Jardine stiff: so he told Tolefree. Should they call it a day
and go along to Carnmarth, whither Sharpe was already
driving Dr. Mapperley?
Tolefree agreed, Jardine fetched his car, and within five
minutes they were ascending a short steep drive to the
plateau where stood the large Palladian mansion of the
Mapperleys.
In the meantime, Tolefree had said, "Jardine—who is
this Mr. Beresford?"
"Ah—so you took notice? Well, lots of people would
like to know. A Mystery Man. Almost anonymous.
Nobody ever heard of him till six months ago. He turns
up with lashings of money, takes a big house, sets up a
bachelor establishment, and proceeds to cultivate society
in Castle-Dinas. Rather too assiduously. Don't like the
42


THEEERIEEYE 43
brute myself. He has a treacherous eye. But there's noth-
ing against him. Been abroad for years. Wants a quiet
and pleasant place to settle in. Hence Castle-Dinas."
"Seems to be cultivating stony soil," said Tolefree. "I
couldn't help noticing a few things. Doctor Lose, for in-
stance—instinctive dislike, didn't he say? And something
about rattlesnakes?"
"Um—um," said Jardine.
"Does anybody like him?"
"I never heard anybody say so."
"Obviously the Lowells don't."
"Obviously," said Jardine. "And for some reason he's
itching to get to know the Lowells."
"Oh?"
"Well, I wouldn't know anything about it but that
Katherine wanted to go to a party he threw a week or two
ago, and I went with her. He was crawling all over her
for an invitation to Menadon."
"So? And didn't get it?"
"He didn't."
"How does Doctor Mapperley react to him?" Tolefree
asked.
"By repulsion," said Jardine. "Didn't you twig why he
left the party before lunch?"
"I heard what Sharpe said. By the way, Sharpe seems a
lively fellow." Tolefree abandoned Beresford.
"I thought you'd like him. He's the salt of the earth."
At which point the car, passing the classic portico of
Carnmarth, was rolling up a gentle slope of gravel. Jardine
drove round the house and under a bell-turret which sur-
mounted the clock over the gate of a great stable-yard.
"You don't mind if I put the car up first? Can't trust


44
THE CORPSE WITH
her to old Peter. He handles her as if she were the Ad-
miral's barge."
Jardine glided to the end of the yard, and brought the
car up smoothly under the roof of one of a number of
coach-houses transformed into garages. A stumpy man in
a blue reefer jacket and bell-bottomed trousers appeared
and saluted Jardine.
"Mr. Tolefree's bags to his room, Peter."
"Aye-aye, sir," said the stumpy man, taking them from
the car.
They strolled back to the house. Looking down over
the lawns, Tolefree thought, not for the first time, that the
Palladian architects had at any rate known where to place
their stiff and formal houses. At the end of the perspective
of trees which framed this view, the keep of Castle-Dinas
rose dark against the sky, with the standard splashing
colour above it—a striking prospect.
They followed the stumpy man as he waddled under
the portico.
"Nautical touch there?" said Tolefree in an undertone.
"Peter? An old sailor. Mapperley's pet and factotum.
Mapperley's one of a naval family. They've always bred
admirals in these parts. I'll go up with you."
Tolefree's room commanded the same view as the por-
tico. It was large, square, airy. What had probably been a
dressing-room was converted into a bathroom. Jardine
said he and Sharpe had similar rooms on the other side of
the corridor. Like Jardine's car, Mapperley's house spelt
money.
"I feel a sybarite," said Tolefree, looking around.
"Rather spacious for my taste. But Mapperley has these
ideas. Costs a bit to keep a bachelor here—but then, he's


THE EERIE EYE
45
got plenty. I'll wait for you downstairs. There'll be tea or
something. Ring for Peter if you want him."
The nautical pet arrived without a summons immedi-
ately Jardine had gone, and began unstrapping Tolefree's
bags, laying out his things, putting them away in drawers
and wardrobe. Tolefree had washed, and brushed his hair,
before Peter finished his job.
"I think that's all shipshape, sir—"
"And Bristol fashion," said Tolefree, smiling.
"I hear you'm one of us, sir." The mahogany face dis-
played a grin.
"False pretences, Peter. I'm no sailor, but I have a
friend who'd be after your own heart. I pick up some of
his tricks."
Peter saluted and waddled out.
Jardine took Tolefree into a room as big as a public hall,
with a row of windows overlooking the lawns. Mapperley
and Sharpe were there drinking tea.
"Tea?" said Mapperley. "Or will you help yourself
from the sideboard, Tolefree?"
Tolefree elected for tea. There was a clublike atmos-
phere about this room, as innocent of the drawing-room
touch as room could well be. Had no mystery lurked in
the offing, Tolefree would have enjoyed lounging in a
deep leather chair and having a set-to with Mapperley—
the Mapperley with whom he had sparred at Nantivet.
But he could not forget the Mapperley he had seen an
hour or two before, driving Beresford before him through
a catacomb, and the tone in which he ordered him to
"March!" or the Mapperley who in the next two minutes
was engaging Beresford in polite converse.
However, nothing was said of Beresford, or indeed of


46
THE CORPSE WITH
Castle-Dinas. Mapperley had a manuscript on the table
and Sharpe a file of papers on his knee. They apologized
for being deep in William the Silent. Within a short space,
Sharpe made his adieux. He was returning to the town
for dinner at the Club, a flannel dance and a hand at cards.
Presently he waved his left hand to them at the window as
he passed in a small saloon car. Mapperley excused himself
and went off to his library. Jardine took Tolefree for a
walk in the grounds until it was time to dress for dinner.
Tolefree did not then reopen the subject of his friend's
troubles, nor did Jardine speak of them. Nor was it going
to be possible to discuss them at the dinner-table, for the
Lowells were dining. So far, Tolefree reflected, everyone
concerned in it was deadly shy of the mystery which he
had been brought down ostensibly to unravel.
He found that Peter had laid out his dinner clothes in
professional style. The handy man himself was in the
room when Tolefree returned from the bathroom, and
inquiring whether he could be of any use. Tolefree, dis-
claiming the need for valeting, got Peter into conversation
about his sea service. Yes, he'd been through the Great
War—torpedoed a time or two and had a few marks on
him, one of which he displayed on a hairy arm. A most
annoying one that, because it had destroyed the beauty of
the feminine form elaborately tattooed thereon. He was
still in the Naval Reserve, and if there was another war,
which seemed quite likely, he'd be in it again. This time
he'd not have the sorrow of losing a Mapperley as he did
last time, because Dr. Mapperley was the last of the fam-
ily and, for some reason utterly inexplicable to Peter, had
chosen to navigate seas of black ink instead of blue water,
and in the last war was in the Army. However, he was


THE EERIE EYE 47
like all the Mapperleys that ever were—no nonsense about
him, and he wouldn't stand any nonsense.
"I suppose there's no chance us won't fight this time,
sir?" Peter asked anxiously.
Tolefree refrained from saying that he sincerely hoped
there was a chance. He remarked that it looked serious.
"Ah!" said Peter with a sigh of satisfaction. "You was
in it last time, sir, no doubt?"
"Four years of it," said Tolefree. "It was there I met
the friend I told you about. He's a rare fellow with ships
and boats. But as a matter of fact, we were both in the
Army. I'm a terrible landlubber, Peter."
"Takes all sorts to make a world, sir," the handy man
conceded in a tone of condolence. He lingered to give a
last pull to Tolefree's coat-tails and brush away the last
imaginary specks of dust.
The dinner-table was set in another huge room, with
dark walls and a galaxy of departed Mapperleys looking
on from their heavy gilt frames. Round the table assem-
bled exactly the same party as at Menadon the night be-
fore. But now Mapperley sat at the head with his sister on
one side, his niece on the other, and Jardine at the foot.
The sole difference was that no interruption came on
the telephone. Lowell and his wife appeared to be serenely
comfortable. Mapperley, holding the key of the talk, kept
it impersonal, except that, apologizing for Sharpe's ab-
sence, he gave Tolefree a portrait of his acolyte which
showed how strong was the bond between them.
"Extraordinary fellow," he called him. "Strung up like
a piano wire. Often acts the mountebank. Terrific zest.
But—a brain! Don't play cards with him, Tolefree. He's


48
THE CORPSE WITH
a wizard. Or any game. Nothing he can't do and nothing
he won't dare."
Tolefree said he seemed to be blessed with a sense of
fun.
"Enjoys life to the dregs," Mapperley declared.
"Should have been a don. He'd have ruled the common
room. But he went off schoolmastering instead."
"He'd have a success with boys, Doctor Mapperley?"
"Undoubtedly he did. He liked the boys well enough.
But he couldn't breathe the atmosphere. Too much petti-
coat. Some small school in the North. Did I say he was a
favourite student of mine in the History School? He was.
When I retired and came here, he found a godsend in the
job I offered him to potter round with me."
Tolefree said he could quite believe that. "I'm sorry he
has so poor an opinion of metaphysicians; we'll have to
worry out the Wundt question without his help."
"An unregenerate leg-puller, Tolefree. I bet you he's
read more philosophy than I have."
It went on like that, with no hint whatever of Beresford
till some allusion to Castle-Dinas society tempted Kath-
erine to mention the cocktail party at his house. Lowell
frowned. Mrs. Lowell looked anxious. Jardine gloomed.
Katherine stared straight at Tolefree while she spoke of
Mr. Beresford having set the town by the ears. She gave
the impression of deliberately dropping a brick, and drop-
ping it on Tolefree's toes.
He disregarded it. "That's the man who came up to us
on the castle green, isn't it?" he asked. "I saw him after-
wards, when we went down into the bowels of the earth—
and oh, yes, he was in the hotel at lunch-time. Of course.
The doctor—Doctor Lose is it?—was curious about him.


50 THE CORPSE WITH
waste the midnight on speculation. He submitted grace-
fully. Peter waited on the landing for them.
"Do anything you can for Mr. Tolefree, Peter," Map-
perley said.
"Aye-aye, sir," Peter intoned.
"Good night, Tolefree. Breakfast at eight if you want
it. Or ring for Peter. Sleep well."
Mapperley walked along the corridor. Tolefree, smil-
ingly dismissing the handy man, heard his door bang.
Alone, he sat for ten minutes before the open window
looking down the vista where the castle keep now made a
silhouette against the haze of light rising from Castle-
Dinas. Faint strains of music came to him from the
Fair. . . .
All extremely pleasant and utterly futile.
What did Mapperley hope for if he kept everything up
his sleeve? He knew perfectly well what was upsetting
the Lowell family and he knew Beresford's place in the
muddle. Why keep Tolefree there and pull wool over his
eyes?
What did Katherine mean by lying to him? It was she
who signalled to Beresford to follow her and not he who
molested her.
This was no case for him. Tolefree resolved to take his
leave to-morrow. If Katherine and Beresford were in some
intrigue which the Lowells and Mapperley disliked but
would do nothing to uncloak, it was just too bad for Jar-
dine; but Tolefree refused to have that baby handed to
him.
Whereupon, he drew back from the window, disrobed,
and turned in. He was a good sleeper. Long before mid-


52
THE CORPSE WITH
was distant, away in the road, not at Carnmarth. Its gear-
noises receded and died.
Why did he fuss about noises? He reached the bedside
wondering why. Tolefree had a pretty good knowledge
of the working of his mechanism. He knew that at one in
the morning nothing but a sudden and violent noise would
have aroused him; but he could not place it. The sound
had infringed on a sleep-deadened ear and brain. He knew
that a vehicle of some sort had rolled over the gravel
under his window three minutes ago, and not a mechani-
cally propelled vehicle; and that footsteps had accom-
panied it.
These were strange proceedings outside a sleeping
country house at two a.m. Or were they?
Well, why worry?
He was getting into bed when he heard what sounded
like the thud of a door. Jardine coming in? He listened.
There had been no footsteps outside before the thud; no
footsteps inside followed it.
The accumulation of unexplained noises was too much
for Tolefree. He thrust his arms into a dressing-gown,
his feet into slippers, picked his torch-pencil off the bed-
side table, and opened the door. Dead silence and perfect
darkness in the corridor and on the stairs. He was prob-
ably fooling himself. Yet he could not have mistaken
wheels and footsteps. The pin-point ray of his torch guided
him to the head of the stairway. The hall below was a pit
of blackness. No sound came; nothing moved.
Tolefree went slowly down. The Palladian builders left
no creaking steps in their stairs; his progress was as silent
as the void. He threw the tiny ray across the hall to the
entrance and followed it.


THE EERIE EYE 55
Nobody on the premises. Till I sees your light coming
downstairs—and then you could have knocked me down
with a feather. When you makes for the door, sir, I thinks
I've got something, and I goes after you. Only then I
drops me blinkin' torch."
"You didn't notice that the door was open?" Tolefree
asked.
"Door? Was it? Why, yes—of course. For Mr. Jardine.
He ain't come in yet. I never goes to bed till everybody's
in."
"You must often be tired," said Tolefree. "I wondered,
seeing you in your clothes. It couldn't have been Mr. Jar-
dine made the noise—and went upstairs before you were
aware?"
"No, sir. He's not in. If he had a-been, he'd have shut
the door."
"Of course. Well, whatever it was, Peter, or whatever
it wasn't, Peter, I'm going up."
Peter opened the door. "Pity you was disturbed, sir."
Tolefree pointed to the bulbous timepiece on the wall.
"Is that watch right?"
"Yes, sir. Near enough. Five to three."
"Mr. Jardine's keeping late hours to-night, eh?"
"Very, sir. Never knowed him out so late. I must
a-dropped off in me chair."
"And no wonder!" said Tolefree. "Did you hear Mr.
Sharpe come in?"
"Yes—he come early. Put up his car and was gone to
bed afore one."
Tolefree looked about him before leaving. "Cunning
little quarters you have here, Peter."
"'Ome-like, ain't it?" said Peter.


56 THE CORPSE WITH
"And so convenient to the hall."
"Yes, sir; very. Good night, sir."
Making his fourth attempt to get to sleep, Tolefree had
some pressing speculations about more than one person in
this Palladian house, but especially about Peter the handy
man. A far less plain and unsophisticated person than he
seemed, Peter. Tolefree was notoriously blessed (some-
times he thought cursed) with an eye which told him
unerringly when a man had a secret weighing on his mind.
Peter had all the symptoms of a man with a burden. He
cloaked it clumsily. He invented on the spur of the mo-
ment absurd reasons for unreasonable actions.
Such as staying up dressed till three in the morning for
Jardine after having left the door open for him—and hav-
ing left it open unnecessarily so far as Jardine was con-
cerned, since he had a latchkey.
Such as dropping off to sleep in his chair so as to be
unable to identify noises which nobody could mistake,
especially with the door ajar; such as having steaming
cups on the table.
Such as carrying a revolver and a torch at three in the
morning about a dark hall whose door he had himself
opened.
Whatever Peter's other name might be, it could not be
Simple.
Tolefree had a sense of furtive things in the dark hours
of that night at Carnmarth, things he was not meant to
know. He threw off the bedclothes once more, took his
little torch, and stole into the corridor. He quietly turned
the handle of the door opposite his own and listened.
There was silence. Putting has head inside he flashed his
beam round the room in a split second. Peter was right in


THE EERIE EYE
57
one statement. The bed had not been disturbed. Jardine
was not there.
He went on to the second floor. Even more cautiously
he repeated the performance. Sharpe was not there.
Under the door at the end of the corridor a thin streak
of light showed. Mapperley was there.
3
That broken night was shattered again not much more
than an hour after Tolefree had dropped asleep. A vio-
lent noise awoke him at five o'clock. A thunderstorm split
the sky with lightnings and his ears with the crackle of
close-by discharges. Torrents of rain hissed down. The
performance lasted an hour.
He slept again; but by habit he woke finally at seven.
He calculated that he had about four hours' slumber to
his account—enough for Peter, perhaps, but insufficient for
him.
However, he found some compensation in the fresh
glory of a morning after rain with the summer sun flaming
in a blue and cloudless sky.
Tolefree flung open a window and looked down upon
the gravel drive, long and attentively. But had a vehicle
passed over it at half-past two the heavy rain would have
washed out traces. Perhaps he had made a mystery where
none was. One did not so readily credit furtive and hidden
things with the sun lighting up every corner of a lovely
landscape.
He turned into the bathroom.
In the dining-room at five minutes to eight, he felt a
little surprise at finding Mapperley, Jardine and Sharpe


58
THE CORPSE WITH
already busy with their bacon. All three greeted him
cheerily.
Mapperley's voice boomed out. "Had a good night,
Tolefree?"
"Excellent." Tolefree walked to the hot plate. "And
you too, I hope."
"Perfect. Help yourself there. I'll ring for hot coffee."
Peter was not on view this morning. A maid attended
to the coffee. If Mapperley did not know of the nocturnal
adventures of Carnmarth it was not for Tolefree to exploit
them. If he did know, it was for him to open the subject.
But so far as an outsider could have judged from that
breakfast table, Carnmarth might have slept undisturbed
the livelong night. Sharpe had a newspaper. He read out
a sentence now and then. Such talk as passed was on affairs.
Sharpe supposed that he and Jardine and everybody else
would be in the great shemozzle that loomed on the hori-
zon. He dropped his paper and looked at Tolefree.
"You're of an age—pardon me!—which suggests that
you may have known something of the last one?"
"Four years of it," said Tolefree.
"Army?—Navy?"
"Three years footslogging, one asking questions."
Mapperley planted his cup in its saucer with a bang.
"Hi!—Sixth Corps h.q., Tolefree?"
Tolefree nodded.
"Well—if—"
"If it isn't a small world, were you going to say?" Tole-
free asked, grinning across the table.
"I wasn't. But I've been saying to myself for two days,
this fellow's face isn't strange."


6o
THE CORPSE WITH
"Pugsley sitting in?" Mapperley asked.
"No—lying out. I saw him asleep on the pavement
when I left the Club. Anyhow, I don't play bridge with
Pugsley any more. Unprofitable. Always paid with a post-
dated cheque which was never honoured."
"Serves you right for fleecing the neophytes, Christo-
pher," declared the doctor.
"People shouldn't play bridge if they can't keep sober
enough not to think every tray's a six. However, it was a
good Feast Day, I thought. Jardine didn't seem to enjoy
it a lot—but then, he's in love and can't ever enjoy any-
thing."
"You didn't see him going off after dinner with Kath-
erine," said Mapperley. "He probably thought it a per-
fect day."
"Well, he certainly dragged it out! Did you know he
only came in about an hour ago?"
"He told me. Borrowed Lowell's car and drove to Nan-
tivet for something he wanted. Spent the night there."
"Oh?" said Sharpe, as Jardine strolled back.
Mapperley rose. "Sharpe and I want to do a morning's
work, Tolefree. Can you make out with Jardine?"
"Why, of course—if he's willing to have me."
Jardine was quite willing. "Nothing I'd like better.
Let's go for a good hard tramp, Tolefree."
Tolefree had gone to his room to get a small pair of
binoculars. He had taken an ash-stick from a stand in the
hall. While he waited for Jardine in the portico, he made
up his mind on two points: The night's events at Carn-
marth should be left to discover themselves, and he would
be wary of both Mapperley and Sharpe until that hap-
pened. Jardine had, so far as he knew, hidden nothing,


THE EERIE EYE
61
but he would take this opportunity of testing his good
faith. If he failed to pass the test Tolefree would not sleep
another night at Castle-Dinas.
He filled a pipe and walked out on the gravel. A stumpy
man crossing the stable-yard looked round but took no
notice of him; Peter's mateyness of yesterday had evap-
orated.
Jardine breezed out, praising the morning, prophesying
a hot day. "What about a little air of Goonbarrow Downs,
Tolefree?" he suggested. "We could see it from this end
and be back in time for lunch."
That suited Tolefree exactly. They passed across the
main road to Castle-Dinas and up the hill on a secondary
road. In three miles they reached open, hedgeless country
where the road crossed the downs in a long white ribbon
and passed over the skyline to the west.
"I drove that way to Nantivet last night," said Jardine.
Then he began to talk about the recognition at breakfast.
He said, "I think men of my age rather envy your genera-
tion. There's a freemasonry about it that we don't feel."
"Not to be envied," Tolefree insisted. "We made
friendships, it's true. I have a precious one which has stood
twenty-five years' hard wear. But for Heaven's sake don't
envy us the war! Envy the days before it, if you like,
when we were young and lived in a settled and ordered
world. I feel sympathy for those who never knew it."
"Well, whether it was the war or not, there is that free-
masonry. Something philosophic and assured about you
all. I sense it in Mapperley and Lowell. In my mother,
too. I suppose we've got to be of our own age; but it
seems strange to me that while I wore my first knicker-


62
THE CORPSE WITH
bockers Mapperley was a staff officer and you were a star
detective."
"Mapperley grossly exaggerated," Tolefree declared.
"I'm not so sure. I think you might be formidable.
Anyhow, I've no secrets for you to worm out."
"Is that really so, Jardine? If it is, it may mean all the
difference to me between going back to London this eve-
ning and staying at Castle-Dinas."
"What! Of course you're not going back to London.
That would be letting me down and Katherine. You can't
do it, Tolefree!"
"I can. I shall—if you don't put down on the table every
card you hold. You were going to walk back to Carnmarth
last night after you'd seen Miss Lowell home. Instead
you stayed out all night and didn't get in till seven this
morning—at least Sharpe said so. It seemed a remarkable
thing to me."
Jardine said, "Did it? Why? I had to go home to Nan-
tivet. It was rather late. I slept there instead of driving
back. That's all."
"Not all," Tolefree said. "Only one card in a hand. I
have a reason for pressing this, Jardine. Mapperley said
you went home for something you wanted, and the second
card is this: What did you want that meant driving all
that distance late at night?"
"Can't see how it concerns anybody but myself. Still,
I'll tell you. I went home to fetch a book I'd taken from
Menadon. Katherine wanted it."
Tolefree looked his surprise. "A book! So urgently that
you had to take a long drive after midnight, and yet not
so urgently that you took, let's say, six or seven hours to
fetch it?"


THE EERIE EYE
63
Jardine, staring at Tolefree's raised eyebrows, walked
a space without replying. Then he said,
"Of course, put like that it seems silly. I'd better tell
you how it happened. I went indoors with the Lowells
when we got to Menadon. We talked a little. Katherine
passed upstairs with her mother. When she came down
and I'd said good night to Lowell, Katherine mentioned
the book. It belonged to her mother. Mrs. Lowell wanted
it back. Katherine said, 'I wonder whether you'd mind
getting it now? You could take one of our cars.' I said,
'But, my dear girl, I'll be two hours driving there, finding
it and bringing it back. You don't want to wait up till two
in the morning for it.' She said, 'No. But fetch it. I want
to know you've got it—you yourself, I mean. You can
give it to me in the morning.' So that's what I did, Tole-
free. Katherine's word's my law. I drove home. It was
nearly one when I got there, routed out the book, put it
in my pocket, went to bed. I left at six this morning, and
gave it to Katherine at Menadon before I walked down
here."
"That's a remarkable incident, Jardine," said Tolefree.
"You can imagine how it appears to me."
"Queer, no doubt. But that's what happened."
"All right. I accept it. Third card: What was the book?"
"Yes—the book . . . Silliest thing of all. It was a book
of poems."
"And why not? But what poems?"
"You'll shout! It was Ella Wheeler Wilcox."
Tolefree smiled, but did not shout.
"I believe she was popular in her day," he said. "But
it's plain there'd be no midnight urge to read her. There-
fore the poems had nothing to do with the urgency, but


64
THE CORPSE WITH
only the volume which contained 'em. Had you read it?
Miss Lowell hadn't—I'd take a bet on that."
"Of course. It was her mother lent it to me—wanted
me to read some verses or other. I've even forgotten
which. It was a long time ago—perhaps a year—when
everything in the garden was fine."
"And you noticed nothing about the copy to suggest
why it might be needed in a hurry?"
"No—except that it wasn't Mrs. Lowell's copy. At
least somebody else's name was written in it. I thought
that might account for what you call the urgency. Owner
demanding it back."
"Perhaps," said Tolefree. "But not, one would think,
wanting it hard enough to justify a long drive after mid-
night and delivery before the milk in the morning. How-
ever, that's the card as it looks to you. We'll leave it on
the table. Fourth card—but, Jardine, don't fly off the
handle, will you? I'm going to ask a question you can an-
swer yes or no, and if you'll do so without wanting to
punch my head I shall be grateful. That was all you did
last night?—drove home, slept there, brought the book
back between six and seven this morning?"
"Yes, everything."
"You weren't near Carnmarth any time between half-
past twelve and three o'clock?"
"Certainly not!"
"And you didn't see Sharpe, or Mapperley, or Peter
after you left with the Lowells and before you met them
this morning?"
"No, I didn't!"
Jardine showed white about the corners of his mouth:
Tolefree guessed he might conceal a temper under his


66
THE CORPSE WITH
Temper was near the surface. Tolefree touched Jar-
dine's arm. "If we're to get anywhere, my dear fellow, we
mustn't let the thermometer boil. You've no lead to Beres-
ford, but you suspect him. Has it ever struck you that
Beresford may be in Castle-Dinas because the Lowells
are here?"
"No!—how the devil—"
"Matter of coincidence. He springs from nowhere—so
anonymous that he's nicknamed Mystery Man. Not long
after, you observe the disturbance in the Lowell house-
hold. Beresford shows great anxiety to have the entree at
Menadon. The Lowells repel him, won't know him, cut
him dead. All but Miss Lowell, who is at pains to make
his acquaintance. Doctor Mapperley ostentatiously avoids
him. I've noticed some other things, Jardine; but these
are enough. I fancy that, if I stay here, I shall have to
spend my time exploring Mr. Beresford. And perhaps I'd
better not. There's no knowing what I may find. How-
ever, you've put your cards on the table. So I'll undertake
to go one step further. I'll go as far as to have a yarn
with Trahair and that Doctor with the curious name—
Lose, wasn't it?"
Jardine looked at him doubtfully. "If you're thinking
anything about Katherine and Beresford—"
"Not a thing. Now, let's drop it and enjoy the
morning."
On the downs, with a gentle cool wind from the east,
the morning was perfect. They had followed the narrow
white road for a mile when Jardine proposed breaking
across country and returning by a shallow combe through
which a stream rattled down to join the river above Castle-
Dinas. By tracks of sheep through the gorse and rabbit-


THE EERIE EYE
67
runs among the heather they came, in half an hour, to a
fold in the ground sloping down to a brook which was
invisible even half a mile away. It burbled and splashed
over a bed of boulders, and sand turned to the colour of
gold by the peaty water. Jardine led the way down. He
showed Tolefree the trout which spent their infancy in this
upland, free from the wiles of fishermen since none of
them were of any size.
"Spell-ho here, Tolefree?" he said.
Sitting on a slab of granite overhanging the water, they
lit their pipes. Absolutely alone in all the sunlit landscape,
silent but for bees in the heather and the purling of the
stream, they had no itch to talk. Tolefree closed his eyes
and lay back basking in the sun. Jardine bent over trying
to tickle a trout. In ten minutes only one question and
answer passed.
"Distance is deceptive in a country without incident, like
this," said Tolefree, looking up towards the ridge they had
crossed. "From the top I expect we look quite small, eh?"
"Hardly noticeable," Jardine answered.
Tolefree took the binoculars from his pocket and
squared the scene.
Presently he handed the glasses to Jardine, saying, "I
thought so. Look at that fellow there—about three-quar-
ters up the slope. You can hardly see him without the
glass."
Jardine found the spot and peered.
"Yes—but he's lying down, that's why, and part of him
hidden by a furze-bush. We'd look a lot bigger than that."
Tolefree took the glass again.
"I see—yes, as you say . . . Asleep, probably."
They had smoked two pipes when Jardine said, looking


68
THE CORPSE WITH
at his watch, "Pleasant here. Shall we have another ten
minutes?"
Tolefree nodded. Once more he applied the glasses to
the sleeping man.
"Look at that fellow again, Jardine. Something queer
about him from this point of view." Jardine took the
glasses. "What d'you make of him?" Tolefree asked.
"Lying flat on his back} seems sound asleep."
"Focus up sharp. Look at his eyes," said Tolefree.
"By Jove!—you've got a good magnifier. I couldn't
see his face clearly before. He's—he's not asleep! Wide
awake, looking at the sky."
Jardine returned the glasses, and began to paddle his
hand in the water.
"I wonder," said Tolefree. "Let's go and take a peep
at him, Jardine."
Jardine looked at his watch again. "Any point in that,
Tolefree? I don't much like it. He might resent being
disturbed."
Tolefree said impatiently, "Do as you like. I'm going
up. I feel sure he won't resent it."
"Oh, of course I'll come with you if you make a point
of it."
Not another word was said. Jardine eyed Tolefree,
trudging along in front of him with a touch of anger in
the look. Tolefree kept straight on. It took them five min-
utes to walk to the clump of furze beside which the man
lay.
Tolefree reached him first and stood looking silently
down upon him until Jardine came up. The young man
cried,
"My God! He's—"


THE EERIE EYE
69
"Yes" said Tolefree, quietly, and stooped to touch the
hand stretched stiffly at the side. "He's been dead a long
time."
He rose and said to Jardine, "Come away a little. We
can do nothing for him. Now, Jardine, think hard. Other
people will be asking questions soon. You knew this was
Beresford—?"
"When I focussed the glass on his face—yes."
"You didn't want to come and look at him."
"Why should I?"
"Not even if you saw he was dead?"
"But, Tolefree!—I couldn't see he was dead."
"Didn't it seem curious to you that he should be lying
out alone on Goonbarrow Downs, a fellow of that type?"
"No. I knew he was familiar with Goonbarrow, I'd
heard him say he never saw a lonelier spot in the world.
You won't claim you knew he was dead until we got
here?"
"Of course I knew it, Jardine. I looked at that face for
a full half-minute, the eyes staying wide open with never
a wink."
"You're more used to that kind of observation than I
am, Tolefree. I had no idea. You won't expect me to go
into mourning, will you? But he's a ghasdy sight."
Tolefree regarded him with a look of amazement.
"I'm afraid, Jardine, you don't quite realize. But never
mind. How far away is the nearest telephone?"
Jardine thought there would be one at a large farm on
the edge of the downs. It might be two miles.
"One of us must go and ring up the police. The other
must stay here. Which shall it be?"
"As you please."


70 THEEERIEEYE
"Then, you go. You'll probably make better time than
I should. Tell the police everything and then come back
to me."
Jardine hurried away towards the road. Tolefree was
left on Goonbarrow Downs with the Mystery Man.


Chapter Four
FIVE MINUTES had utterly transformed Tolefree's
situation.
Not an hour before, he had been talking to Jardine
about exploring Beresford, with no idea of what he might
find. And here was Beresford, dead as a doornail. A mere
corpse—who could answer no questions, had no more active
power of good or evil in the world, but might possess a
passive potentiality of evil which hardly bore contem-
plation.
If Beresford really was the irritant body in the Lowells'
secret, and if people in Castle-Dinas were capable of mak-
ing two and two into four, trouble in plenty lay ahead
of the Lowells and their friends.
Of Jardine especially. As Tolefree smoked a pipe sitting
on a stone a few yards away and scrutinized Beresford's
boldly handsome countenance, he reflected that it was
almost impossible for anyone to be so simple as Jardine
seemed. It would be sad indeed for Jardine to find himself
under examination by a competent policeman. Yet Tole-
free found it distasteful to disbelieve in Jardine's sin-
cerity.
He bent forward. Something cynical in the face of this
Mystery Man. Certainly not an admirable person. At
present the grey eyes staring at the sky were horrible.
71


72
THE CORPSE WITH
Unusual, too. They failed to betray the astonishment
commonly seen in people who met with violent death.
They were eerie. The pupils seemed scarcely larger than
pin-heads . . .
Tolefree sat back . . .
If the snuffing out of this entity had rid the Lowell fam-
ily of a skeleton, he hoped the Lowell family had not, in
losing it, acquired another more alarming. He did not be-
lieve in premonitions. But it was at least curious that he had
felt so much apprehension last night—that so many strange
things had passed at Carnmarth—that so many lies direct
and lies by inference were told about them. If the police
proved as efficient as usual and no respecters of persons,
not only Nantivet but Carnmarth and Menadon were due
for some unpleasant inquisitiveness.
Tolefree got up and stood near the body, looking down
on it. This fellow had been dead hours—many hours.
His limbs, as the touch of his hand had told, were stiff as
ramrods. A bullet had hit him in the middle of the fore-
head. He had never known anything about it. He had
not killed himself. No weapon lay near.
A queer place for a murder. One of the loneliest places
in the world: the fellow himself had said it. How could
a man of that stamp have been lured there by a person who
meant to murder him? Had the pin-head pupils of his
eyes anything to say to that? Perhaps.
Tolefree looked around, tried to picture the scene which
must have been enacted on that spot in the small hours of
the morning. He shook his head.
Careful to disturb nothing, he crouched, sniffing at the
face and the clothes. He put a finger on the sleeve of the
coat. He lifted it off the grass a little. He took a mag-


THE EERIE EYE
73
nifying glass to examine the wound. He walked around,
peering at the ground . . .
He had returned to his place on the stone and filled
another pipe before Jardine came over the brow of the rise,
followed by a group of men, some in uniform, two carry-
ing a stretcher. The file came quickly down the slope, Jar-
dine guiding them straight to the spot. Tolefree went
forward to meet them.
One of them he knew—Dr. Lose, who nodded to him.
Jardine introduced two officers, Superintendent Fisher and
an Inspector.
The Superintendent eyed him closely. "Must have given
you a shock, sir," he said. "You've left him just as he
lay?"
"Precisely," said Tolefree.
"Have a look at him first, Doctor." The Superintendent
beckoned Lose. Tolefree and Jardine stood back as the
police party made a ring and Lose went down on his knees
beside the body. He was thorough. He took a full ten
minutes over his examination. Then he got up, wiping
his hands.
"Well, Fisher," he said, "this is it: He was shot in the
head by a fairly heavy bullet. Hit from some distance—
not near enough to have done it himself. He died instantly.
It happened perhaps ten hours ago, and not more than
twelve, I think. That would make it—let's see—anything
between midnight and two this morning. He'd been
drinking, but not a lot. He'd also taken some drug.
Smells to me like Indian hemp. He probably didn't know
he was being killed till he was dead. Bled very little.
There's hardly a stain under his head. He lay here through
that thunderstorm this morning: his clothes are wet
i-


74
THE CORPSE WITH
through, but the ground under him's dry. That's as much
as I can tell you till we get him in the mortuary."
"Thanks, Doctor. Very clear."
The Superintendent took a careful look about the
ground near by. Then he summoned the bearers, who
lifted Beresford on to their stretcher, and started back
across the downs. The Superintendent distributed the re-
maining three men to search the neighbourhood before he
and Lose joined Tolefree and Jardine.
No one had said anything about the identity of this
corpse. It was taken for granted that all knew. But also
no one, to Tolefree's mind, showed any concern whatever
for his snuffing out. It was as though he had little im-
portance in Castle-Dinas while he lived and none now that
he was dead. He wondered how long that indifference
would last.
"A pretty dismal end to your morning walk," Fisher
was saying. He stepped aside from the group, with a hint
in his glance to Tolefree.
"Not a nice incident," Tolefree agreed, taking his tone
from the occasion.
"Mr. Jardine tells me you spotted him through your
glasses when you were down by the stream. Shall we
stroll that way?"
Dr. Lose raised his voice. "I say, Fisher, you don't
want me any longer? I can give Jardine a lift to Carn-
marth. Can you do the same for Tolefree?"
Of course he could, Fisher said. "We'll follow. See
you back there, Mr. Jardine."
"That suit you, Tolefree?" Jardine asked.
Tolefree nodded assent. He gave the Superintendent a
sideways look and smiled.


THE EERIE EYE 75
"Doctor Lose is a very good friend of mine," said
Fisher, returning the smile. "He'll do anything to oblige
me. I wanted a private word with you."
Tolefree said he was delighted—which perhaps exagger-
ated his joy.
"I was asking about the way you spotted him," the
Superintendent pursued, as they started down the slope.
"Could you take me to the place, or near about?"
"To the exact place, Superintendent. Down by that
flat rock on the edge of the water. We'd been remarking
how small a man seems in a big expanse like this. I thought
I caught sight of a figure on the ground, looked through
the glass, and found it was his head and shoulders. I could
see his face quite well in the strong sunlight, and—well,
you know no living body's ever quite motionless. But
this one didn't bat an eyelid."
"Good eyes, good glasses, and a pretty quick observa-
tion, sir, if I may say so. And so, your name's Tolefree?
And I expect I've heard of you?"
"Perhaps," said Tolefree. "Nothing disgraceful, I
hope?"
"I won't make you blush. You know the C.I.D. at
Westport down this way, don't you? Would it be too
much to ask if you're here on business—or on pleasure?"
"You put me on the spot, Superintendent! I could say
pleasure, and that would be true. This is a pleasant
country and I've met some pleasant people. But it wouldn't
be the whole truth. Mr. Jardine asked me to come down
and look into a little matter for him. After spending a
day or two at his place, I'm staying with him for another
day or two at Doctor Mapperley's. If you'll leave it for


THE EERIE EYE 77
point nearest this, and, what?—nearly a mile, I should say,
across the rough."
"Wouldn't it have been smart work for a dopey man
to walk six miles in the time?"
"Yes—and why would he walk? Of course there's a car
in it, Mr. Tolefree."
"I thought that," Tolefree said. "But unless you can
connect him with a car?—if he ran a car himself—"
"He didn't. He always hired from the big garage in
the town. We can track that down."
"I was going to say that if you can't connect him with a
specific car there's a little difficulty about getting him here.
And that thunderstorm played the dickens with the chance
of clues from tyres. Could a car have come further than
the road—I mean across the rough?"
"I daresay a little way. Why do you want a car to do
that, though?"
"He'd be a fair lump to carry a mile over the rough,
wouldn't he? I expect he weighed a hundred-and-fifty
pounds."
"Carried? Oh, you mean if he was doped? But is there
any suggestion that he must have been insensible?"
"Perhaps not insensible, but in no condition to walk a
dark mile. I've been here nearly an hour looking at him
and making guesses. If you don't have a car you must
have an accomplice as well as a murderer. Two might
have done it, but I don't think one could. Quite a lot
was done. If you look through a glass at the wound in
his forehead you'll see particles of silk or some such fabric
sticking to it. Looks to me as if the wound was dabbed.
Strange—"


78
THE CORPSE WITH
"Most strange," said the Superintendent. "It might
give us something, that."
"I thought so," Tolefree agreed, stopping as they
reached the slab of granite overhanging the stream.
"So this is the place, Mr. Tolefree?"
"We were sitting on this rock. You can see the clump
of gorse which half hid him. Take the glass, Mr. Fisher.
What's the distance?—four or five hundred yards? It's a
good glass. You'll pick out individual flowers. You could
see his eyes if he lay there."
Fisher took a long look and handed back the binoculars.
"Yes—and I wonder how long he'd have lain there
unseen if you hadn't spotted him? Nobody but the sheep
and the rabbits might have come here for days. And that
makes you think, eh?"
"About the choice of the spot? Naturally."
"It might be important, Mr. Tolefree, that choice of a
spot! I wouldn't say the spot was known to many people
outside the district."
"Do I get your meaning?" Tolefree asked.
"Let's sit down and wrangle it out. Will you smoke
a cigarette? . . . You know who this chap was?"
"A man named Beresford, a bachelor, reputed rich,
who's been in Castle-Dinas six months. I saw him yester-
day at the Castle. People talked about him as a Mystery
Man. That is, nobody knew anything of his past, except
that he seemed to have travelled far and lived much
abroad, and had hit on Castle-Dinas as a pleasant place to
live in when he decided to settle down."
"Well, that tapes him off so far as I know. Some people
liked him. Some didn't. I wasn't impressed myself. I
don't care for anonymous people—is that the right word?


THE EERIE EYE
79
—I mean mysterious people. Not in a country town. He
was the sort of chap who might have enemies, I guess.
Well, he had!—that's clear enough, or he wouldn't now
be on the way to the mortuary. But I mean he might
have made an enemy or enemies who lost sight of him.
Castle-Dinas would be quite a good place to get lost in,
don't you think? Still, they might have tracked him here
and polished him off. That would be a good working
theory, but for one thing—"
"Which is?" Tolefree had followed the argument at-
tentively.
"This," said Fisher, waving his arm around. "Goon-
barrow Downs. What stranger, turning up in Castle-Dinas
to shoot a man, would know anything of Goonbarrow
Downs where a corpse could lie for weeks without being
seen?"
"A point," said Tolefree. "Distinctly a good point. It
means that whoever killed Beresford—or rather, whoever
was with him here last night—must have been well ac-
quainted with the country?"
"Consider, Mr. Tolefree. Think of this place between
twelve and two of a moonless night. The dead certainty
which did the murder and left the body just there—in-
visible from the road—indistinguishable even from here
without a glass. Does that look like a casual visitor to
Castle-Dinas?"
Tolefree conceded that it did not—on the face of it.
"But you have to speculate whether Beresford himself
brought his murderer here or near here—say to the near-
est point on the road."
"Why would he?"
"I can't guess that, Superintendent. Unless—"


8o
THE CORPSE WITH
Fisher waited. Then he said, "Unless the tables were
turned? Well—that's an idea. The would-be killer
killed—"
"Don't credit me with the theory," Tolefree said hur-
riedly.
"I won't blame you for it, if that's what you mean.
But we'll have to find out a lot more than anyone here
knows about Beresford—and also to trace his steps last
night. It shouldn't be too difficult."
This country officer, Tolefree said to himself, has his
head screwed on firmly. He won't let go when he gets his
teeth in. I don't think he's a respecter of persons, either.
"Curious," he heard Fisher saying, "that you and Mr.
Jardine should have been walking on Goonbarrow Downs
this morning and come down this way."
"Not very," he replied. "We saw the downs from the
western end near Nantivet two days ago; he thought we
might see this end and get a mouthful of good air on a
hot morning."
"And very nice, too," said Fisher. "Now are you going
back to Doctor Mapperley's? If so I'll get you there
almost as soon as Mr. Jardine."
Driving a fast police car skilfully, he did. Jardine and
Dr. Lose were talking under the portico when Fisher
drove up. As Tolefree got out of the car, the Superintend-
ent said, "I shall want to take formal statements from you
and Mr. Jardine. When would it be convenient?"
"I'll ask Jardine to run me in to your office this after-
noon. Will that do?"


THE EERIE EYE
8l
a
That huge man, Dr. Mapperley, seemed to grow in
stature before Tolefree's very eyes. The discovery of
Beresford's body affected him no more than the beating
of the luncheon gong on which Peter was operating when
Lose drove off and Tolefree walked with Jardine into the
hall.
The doctor and Sharpe, strolling from the library to-
gether, found the other two in the washroom.
Jardine at once began to tell of their adventure. The
doctor had stripped off his coat and had his hands in the
water when Jardine described how Tolefree had seen the
body through his glass. He went on washing, and was
busy towelling himself as Jardine said Beresford had been
shot in the head and looked horrible.
"Shouldn't wonder," said Mapperley, through the
towel. "To me the fellow always looked likely to come
to a bad end. Christopher—you thought so too, eh?"
Sharpe looked up from his basin and nodded. "How
was it, Jardine? Shoot himself?"
"No. Somebody shot him."
"Then Fisher's landed with a murder mystery? A spot
of excitement for Castle-Dinas. Just the right time.
There's generally a fearful anti-climax after Feast Day."
"Bad luck for you, Tolefree," said Mapperley. "Moral:
don't take your binoculars out with you if you want a
peaceful life."
Tolefree made a non-committal noise, and added, "Took
your advice and kept my eyes open for the common ob-
jects of the countryside."


82
THE CORPSE WITH
"Yes? Well—thank heaven this sort of object's not
common in our countryside. If Fisher's got hold of it,
he'll find out the public benefactor that did it, no doubt.
Hope it hasn't spoilt your appetite for lunch, you two?"
And that was all Carnmarth troubled about the murder
of Mr. Beresford. Mapperley started a number of hares
at the luncheon table, but never ran one of them to Goon-
barrow Downs. Sharpe did not mention the subject; Jar-
dine seemed glad to be rid of it. Tolefree, very silent,
still keeping his eyes open, observed that Peter, standing
at the sideboard, or occasionally helping the maid with the
dishes, kept his blue eyes open too, and that they often
came his way questioningly. Tolefree returned blank
glances.
As Mapperley was following Sharpe to the library after
lunch he said to Tolefree,
"You'll be staying on for a day or two? Fisher's sure to
want your evidence at the inquest."
Tolefree hoped not. "Quite unnecessary," he said.
"Still, if you'll put up with me—yes, I'd like to stay a
day or two."
"Of course," said Mapperley.
At three o'clock Tolefree and Fisher sat in the Super-
intendent's room at the police offices in Castle-Dinas.
Fisher had taken a brief formal statement from Jardine,
who was patently glad to be released and promised to call
for Tolefree in an hour.
"No doubt where he's going," Fisher smiled. "You
can't give me an idea of the job you're doing for Mr.
Jardine?"
"Sorry. Quite a private job," Tolefree answered. "Had


THE EERIE EYE
83
no opportunity of speaking to him yet. And you won't
want an amateur playing around, will you?"
"Don't be mock-modest, Mr. Tolefree. I've had a word
with the Chief Constable over the 'phone. He says: any-
thing you like to make a quick job of it. So I hoped you'd
give me half an hour. I've got Beresford's housekeeper
here. Just going to talk to her. Will you listen in?"
"If you like," said Tolefree.
"I do like. This woman's our best immediate hope of
facts about Beresford. Not another soul in the place knows
a thing about him. He comes out of the blue a few months
ago, stays at the hotel for a few days, goes prospecting for
a house and takes that place on the hill. Plenty of money.
Sends his housekeeper down. She engages servants. All
that takes a bit of time—about six weeks. Then he arrives,
slings his money around, picks up acquaintances, gets pro-
posed for the Club; and two or three weeks ago he throws
a party. Half the town goes to it, and the women are all
in a fuss about the housekeeper person. I don't wonder!
But you'll see her."
"I think I've seen her already," Tolefree said. "Golden-
haired dame, is she not? Youngish for a housekeeper?"
"Youngish and a few other things. However, we may
be a year or two behind the times in the parts. I'm no
judge of the proprieties. Shall I have her in? You take
a sheet of paper and pretend to be busy."
"Mrs. Young, sir," said the constable, ushering in the
woman who, according to Mapperley, looked like a tart.
She had put on a dark dress, modified her make-up, and
was a less startling object than yesterday. Fisher placed a
chair, remarked that the news of Beresford's death must
have shocked her, and hoped she felt well enough to an-


84
THE CORPSE WITH
swer a few questions. She glanced at Tolefree, bent over a
sheet of blue foolscap with a pen in his hand; then devoted
her attention to the Superintendent.
"I'll tell you anything I can."
The voice was harsh, but the accent good. She was
probably thirty years old or more—but not much more.
"Then, will you tell me how long you had known Mr.
Beresford?"
"About a year."
"And how and where you met him, Mrs. Young? By
the way—your husband—?"
"I'm a widow. I met Mr. Beresford in Paris. I had a
small apartment-house there. He took an apartment last
summer. We became friendly. He told me he meant to
settle down in an English country town and offered me
the position of housekeeper. I accepted."
Deliberate, concise, composed; no enlargement.
"How long ago was that arrangement made? Did he
live in your house for some time?" asked Fisher.
"He rented the apartment for six months. Towards the
end of that time he proposed the arrangement. He then
came to England, found a house here, and when I'd settled
my affairs in Paris, I came over and took charge of the
place."
"That was about four months ago?"
"A little more."
"Yes, Mrs. Young, I see. Now, our difficulty is that
we have no information whatever about Mr. Beresford
except his name. Can you give me any?"
"What sort of information?"
"Personal details. His family. Where he lived in Eng-


THE EERIE EYE 85
land. His position—profession or occupation if he had
one."
She shook her head. "I know very little. He never
spoke of his family. So far as I know he never had any
communication with a family. I don't know where he lived
in England—or whether he did. He spoke as though he'd
spent many years abroad. He was a well-educated man;
but he said nothing to show that he'd ever been in any
business or profession. He would not discuss such things
with a housekeeper."
"Perhaps not—but little hints of such things? However
—you know nothing of him except as his landlady in Paris
and his housekeeper here?"
"Nothing at all."
"Though you became friendly."
"Yes. He was a friendly man without friends. He liked
to talk to me, but he never talked of personal matters."
"He must have been fairly well off—even rich?"
"He never seemed short of money. He spent a good
deal. I should think you might call him rich. But I know
nothing of his money affairs."
"So that, as far as you are concerned, he didn't begin
to exist till a year ago. You know nothing of his life before
that. And you say he had no friends?"
"No intimates. Casual acquaintances in Paris. Nobody
here—though he made many acquaintances."
"If no friends—any enemies?"
"Well—it looks as though he must have had enemies
or an enemy. Friends don't—"
"Quite so," said Fisher. "But no enemy that you knew
of?"


THE EERIE EYE 87
"Not too bad; but he certainly had a few whiskies dur-
ing the evening."
"Why d'you mention that, Mrs. Young? Was it un-
usual with him?" Fisher wanted to know.
"Quite unusual. I never knew him take so many
before."
"Just the spirit of the occasion, Mrs. Young? Or did
you know of any other reason?"
Mrs. Young considered the question. "I don't think a
country hop would excite him. I don't know of any other
reason. But—"
Fisher waited.
"There is one thing. He'd seemed a bit irritable all day.
When we were walking away from the hall, he said, 'You
find your way home. I've got a man to see. Don't wait
up.' Just like that—and he left me."
Fisher stared at her. She returned his gaze steadily.
"A man to see?—Well!" said Fisher, softly. "That
makes a difference. And that was all, Mrs. Young? Just
like that? No idea what man—or where?"
"Not the least."
"You say he left you. Where was that?"
"In the street not far from the hall. I don't know it
well. We'd just passed a man sitting against the wall,
drunk, and we'd walked on a few yards. Then he said
what I've told you and turned back; I hurried on home."
Fisher stared again. "Did you know the man you'd
passed?"
"No. It was pretty dark, you know."
"And you didn't watch where Beresford went—see
whether he stopped to speak to the man?"
"I heard some voices and glanced back. There was


90 THE CORPSE WITH
night. Could it have been Beresford who stood him up-
right?"
"Half a moment." Fisher rang a bell and summoned
the constable who had brought in Mrs. Young.
"Williams," said Fisher, "you were on duty last night
and lent a hand to Pugsley. What time?"
"Twelve-twenty, sir."
"And Mr. Beresford passed you with a lady before you
came on Pugsley?"
"Yes, sir."
"See Beresford again?"
"No, sir."
"See Mr. Sharpe about that time?"
"Yes—he took his car out of the park as I was helping
Captain Pugsley, and drove past me. He called out, 'All
right, Williams?' and I said I could manage."
"And then, having no occasion to watch anybody else
you took Pugsley along to his lodgings, I believe."
"That's right, sir."
"So you see, Tolefree," said Fisher when the constable
had gone, "Beresford's date wasn't with Pugsley."
"Who is Pugsley? The pet dipsomaniac of Castle-
Dinas?"
"More of a nuisance than a pet. A retired Army officer.
Rather a likeable man—himself his only enemy. His
family was well known here. Fell on evil days. He's got
just a small regular income—spends it all on the bottle and
the cards. A happy loser, they tell me; but it's not much
sport to play with a chap who can hardly ever pay up.
He's an artist—so they say. Paints trees that look like
deformed mushrooms and people like propositions in


THE EERIE EYE
91
Euclid. A man of Beresford's sort wouldn't have a date
with him."
Tolefree supposed not. He inquired whether Beresford
had been seen after he passed the policeman attending to
Pugsley. But nobody had seen him. Wasn't it queer on
a night of jollification? Not so queer, said Fisher.
"It was too early. At two when the dance finished
you'd have had plenty of people about the streets. At
midnight they were all in the ballroom."
"And by two o'clock Beresford was dead. Well, Mr.
Fisher, he must have gone a certain way and met a certain
person. It's a long inquiry. But you'll get there."
Fisher admitted a feeling that he would get there. "But
I'd like to know what you're doing for Jardine."
Tolefree was taken aback by this association of ideas.
"Why?" he asked.
Fisher hesitated.
"You'll keep it to yourself," he said. "But I've learned
that Jardine was on Goonbarrow Downs last night. I tell
you as a colleague. I have a witness who saw him. I can't
tell you his name at present. But if you didn't know the
fact, I thought you ought to."
"Well, that's a sportsman," said Tolefree. "I expect
Jardine will be able to give you a satisfactory reason if
you ask him."
"He'd better," said Fisher. "But I thought you might
tell me what was his commission to you."
"I would willingly, with Jardine's consent, but not
without, Fisher."
"Well—if it has anything to do with Beresford—"
Fisher hesitated. "I'm not asking you to play a trick on a
client. But—you see—"


92 THE CORPSE WITH
"I'm afraid I don't," said Tolefree.
"This way: Jardine's engaged to Miss Lowell. They
say—I've heard gossip—that Beresford's smitten with her.
People notice things like that. It was one of the topics after
his party—and yesterday too."
"Still, I'm afraid I don't see," said Tolefree, frowning.
"Well—if you don't—" Fisher shrugged.
"A suggestion that Jardine and Beresford were rivals,
and therefore—?"
"Therefore nothing," Fisher declared. "But if Jardine
was on Goonbarrow Downs last night, he may have seen
something. Anyhow, I mean to ask him, and I don't want
you putting a spoke in my wheel."
"Of course. And obstruction's the last thing I'd dream
of." Tolefree looked dubiously at him. "Is the idea that
Beresford may have had his date with Jardine?"
But Fisher averred that he had no ideas whatever: he
merely wanted to know what Jardine saw on Goonbarrow
Downs if anything. Tolefree nodded. There was a pause.
Jardine erected a difficulty between them. Fisher turned
to something else.
"I had a word with Sharpe on the telephone just before
you came in. You heard what the constable said? Sharpe
saw him handling Pugsley. Beresford was there or there-
abouts at the time. Yet Sharpe says he never saw Beres-
ford."
"Driving a car at night you don't see people distinctly,"
said Tolefree.
"All the same, just starting up it's strange that Sharpe
didn't see him. The way he walked when he left the
woman is the way Sharpe would drive to Carnmarth. But


THE EERIE EYE 93
Beresford turns away from Mrs. Young and within a
few seconds he vanishes. Nobody sees him any more till
you see him on Goonbarrow, and then he's dead."
Tolefree looked at his watch. "Patience, Mr. Fisher,"
he said. "Your case isn't five hours old yet. It seems un-
likely to me that nobody at all saw Beresford after that
moment. Your witnesses will turn up."
"The first one I shall question is Jardine. I'd have done
it just now, but thought I'd see you first."
Tolefree said he would certainly not interfere between
Fisher and Jardine. "Why don't you ask him yourself
why he sent for me?"
"That's a notion," said Fisher. "I will."
3
Tolefree, postponing perfect candour with Fisher, went
to find Trahair, the lawyer, at his office in the old street
near the Market Place.
"Well, Mr. Tolefree?" said he, handing his visitor
cigarettes and matches.
"Well, Mr. Trahair," said Tolefree, blowing a cloud.
"Exactly," said Trahair, his blue eyes twinkling.
"Quite," said Tolefree, with a grin. "And so, which of
us begins?"
"Begins what?"
"Frank and free delivery of all he knows. Well—not
quite all. I'd never propose that to a lawyer any more
than you would to a detective. But if you and I can't be
reasonably candid I'm going to throw up my commission
and go back to London. Indirectly it was you who got me


94 THE CORPSE WITH
down here. If you want me to stay we must know each
other's minds. What's happened to-day—"
"Makes a difference." Trahair nodded slowly. "A great
difference." He drew two or three puffs. "Queer that you
of all people should have found Beresford's body—at least
Jardine tells me you did."
"Saw it first, certainly. But—is it so queer? This is where
our confidence has to begin, Mr. Trahair. I come down
here on your suggestion to hunt for any chance of discov-
ering what's wrong between the Lowells and Jardine. I
get introduced into two houses. Both treat me with polite
hostility. I find everyone behaving strangely. There's a
general detestation of the man Beresford, who's appar-
ently the source and origin of Jardine's trouble—"
"Dangerous ground for assumption, Tolefree."
"You think so? Well, I'm not in the witness-box. I'm
close-tiled with Jardine's lawyer, talking at large. To my
mind it's clear. What about yours? You're in a privileged
position, Mr. Trahair, sitting well up and seeing both
sides. Lowell's lawyer and Jardine's lawyer—why, it's
Olympian!"
"Eh?—but I don't feel a bit Jove-like. Not enough
knowledge. Lowell doesn't confide. Jardine's too agitated.
I know no more of Beresford than the next man. I met
him at the Club and I went to his party, that's all."
"The lawyer's maxim!" Tolefree exclaimed. "Ex ahm-
dante cautela— But I have no reason for over-caution.
As you're Jardine's friend, I'll tell you how it looks to me.
There are several points . . ."
Tolefree made them briefly in turn.
"First, there's a feud between the Lowells (with Map-


THE EERIE EYE 95
perley) and Beresford; and the only person apparently
unaffected by it is Katherine."
"A feud!"
"A mutual dislike, an incompatibility, a grudging—
Beresford trying to worm himself into the Lowell circles,
the Lowells freezing him out. Beresford playing up Kath-
erine. Mapperley in the background hating Beresford—"
"Mapperley's a good sound hater," said Trahair; "but
I'd have thought Beresford outside his notice."
"So?—Well, you shall hear . . ."
The dinner party at Menadon, the telephone call, the
withdrawal of the Lowells into their private shell . . .
Beresford's arrival to greet the party on the Castle Green.
Mapperley's escape, the Lowells' departure, Sharpe's
irony, Tolefree's own talk with Mapperley on the quality
of candour . . . The luncheon, the glimpse of Beresford
and the impression he made on Dr. Lose . . .
Trahair listened to it all.
"Everyone hostile in a greater or less degree to Beres-
ford except Miss Lowell," said Tolefree. "Mark that."
"Surely you don't think—? But go on."
"Surely I don't think Beresford a rival of Jardine? It
doesn't strike me as likely. But it seems to be a theory in
Castle-Dinas. Anyhow, Superintendent Fisher hasn't any
doubt about it."
"Absurd!" Trahair growled.
"Personable fellow, Beresford—or he was. Well-edu-
cated. Travelled. Looked as if he had means—"
"Still—absurd, Tolefree."
"Well, I agree. Now, shall we be frank? Will you tell
me whether, when you and Sharpe were looking for Miss


THE EERIE EYE
97
"Staggering!" said Trahair; "bewildering."
"It surprised me," Tolefree admitted. "Mapperley
must somehow or other have got a hint and gone down
there to catch him. When I sat out on the moorland this
morning looking at Beresford's mortal coil, I recalled it
with extreme discomfort."
"But!—you can't think—not Mapperley!" Trahair
tousled his dark head. Tolefree said,
"Early to speculate. But I ask you now to believe in
the feud—and consider what it may mean to your clients."
Trahair gazed at him earnestly.
"I said it was dangerous ground—but I didn't realize
how dangerous. Tolefree—I think we should keep out,
leave it to the police. You're down here on a commission
from Jardine—"
"Which has lost all purpose," Tolefree declared. "If I
don't miss my bet the trouble between the Lowells and
Jardine evaporated on Goonbarrow Downs. We shall see.
But Jardine has another trouble coming to him. Fisher's
quite convinced that Beresford was after Jardine's girl—"
"I said it was absurd—but—"
"But it's feasible? I don't want to believe in it. The
point is that Fisher does believe, and it's a nasty belief for
him to have, because he's discovered that Jardine was out
on Goonbarrow Downs last night."
"What!" Trahair jumped out of his chair. "Impos-
sible!"
"No—a fact. He was there. Fisher has a witness who
saw him. Won't tell me who. But that's not necessary.
Jardine as good as told me so himself."
Trahair slumped into his chair again. "It beggars


98 THE CORPSE WITH
words!" he muttered. "Jardine—what did he tell you?"
"An astonishing yarn. He went back to Menadon after
dinner last night and was to have returned to Mapperley's.
He didn't—until just before breakfast this morning. Per-
haps you know Mapperley's house well enough to believe
that nobody there worried whether he was in or out, or
where he'd been."
"I daresay," Trahair agreed. "Mapperley doesn't care
a damn for anything or anybody and Sharpe would make
a joke of Judgment Day. Yes, I understand. But you—?"
"Several things made me inquisitive. I tackled Jar-
dine—"
"That was before you knew Beresford had been put
out?"
"Oh yes—as we walked up to Goonbarrow. The yarn
was that after he'd seen the Lowells home Katherine sug-
gested that he should take their car, drive to his own place,
Nantivet, and get a book her mother lent him about a year
ago."
"Well!" Trahair breathed.
"Insisted on it, though it meant two hours' driving after
midnight. She wanted, she said, to be sure the book was
in his hands and that he'd return it to her in the morning."
Trahair's eyebrows went* almost into his hair. "If that's
an invention," said he, "it's a rotten invention."
"I don't think he invented it."
"Then it must have been some book!"
"It was. That's the strangest thing of all. It was a book
of Ella Wheeler Wilcox's poems."
"I'll be damned!" cried Trahair, and sat gaping at
Tolefree. "He drove across the Downs after midnight at


THE EERIE EYE 99
Katherine's request on a pretext like that!—And Beres-
f ord was murdered on Goonbarrow Downs between mid-
night and two in the morning—so Fisher says. Tolefree—
can you make any sense of it?"
"Don't know what to make of it, and I'm as cautious
as any lawyer about jumping at conclusions. Some things
tell in Jardine's favour. He made no bones about admit*
ting he'd driven across the Downs. He actually took me
that way for our morning walk. Some impressions of my
own count for him, too. I don't believe he had any sus-
picion of Beresford as a rival. And he's not the type to
commit murder on a man who'd been doped—"
"Doped! Beresford?"
"I noticed it. Lose did too. Fisher knows it. But the
police are on a trail, and you realize what that means.
Jardine will have to account for himself to them. And
they'll be right. Now—Mr. Trahair—do you still say,
*Keep out'? It's exactly what Fisher wants us to do. If
your mind goes that way—"
"You raise doubts in it, Tolefree. On the whole I still
think it would be wise. But I must see Jardine and Lowell
too. Leave it till after?"
"Maybe. But I don't think there are any traces of Jar-
dine on Goonbarrow Downs," said Tolefree, as he took
his leave. He found Jardine's car in the street.
"Waiting for you, Tolefree. Jump in." Jardine seemed
strangely light-hearted. Tolefree stepped in beside him.
"Want you to come to Menadon. Katherine invites you
to tea."
"Delighted," Tolefree murmured.
"Just been seeing Fisher." Jardine started the car and


100
THE CORPSE WITH
drove slowly through the twisting streets. "He's a real
policeman, Fisher is. Wants to know, all the time. Wants
to know where I was last night at such and such moments,
and why, and who saw me. I think he has an idea that
I probably shot Beresford."
"Don't think he's reached the stage of ideas yet. Some-
body saw you last night on the Downs, that's all. Did you
tell him about Ella Wheeler Wilcox?"
"Not in detail. I said I drove to Nantivet for the night
instead of going to Mapperley's, and he wanted to know
why—so I told him I lived at Nantivet. And that was
that."
"Did you say you were driving Lowell's car?"
"No, I thought that concerned Fisher just as little as
Ella Wheeler Wilcox. Ought I to have told him?"
"I think so," said Tolefree, looking wonderingly at
him. "You know, when people conceal anything unusual
in their conduct, the police begin to get ideas, as you call
them. They have suspicious minds. When they find out
that you drove Lowell's car, they'll say, Hello, what's
this? An improvised drive across the Downs when he was
expected to walk to Mapperley's and sleep there? What's
it mean? So I'd take the first opportunity of letting Fisher
know you forgot that detail, and admit that the real reason
for going home was to fetch a book Miss Lowell wanted
first thing in the morning."
"Making rather much of it, aren't you?"
"Not so much as Fisher will if you leave him to discover
this for himself. I suppose, by the way, that you didn't see
anything of Beresford and whoever was with him?"
Jardine flushed and looked angrily at Tolefree. "Cer-


102
THE CORPSE WITH
to the Lowells'. Peter, dispensing with a maid, served them
himself. He made no sign of sharing a secret with Tole-
free, but was less distant than in the morning, paid special
attention to his wants, and occasionally accorded him the
shadow of a grin.
Tolefree deliberately avoiding the topic of Beresford, it
did not crop up while Peter was in the room. But when
he had left them to their cigars, Mapperley immediately
switched away from William the Silent. Leaning back in
his chair he blew a large cloud of smoke to the ceiling and
said,
"Well, Tolefree?"
"I saw Trahair this afternoon," said Tolefree. "He
asked me the same question. I answered it in the same
terms: 'Well, Mr. Trahair?'"
"A beggarly trick," Mapperley laughed. "You can't
work it on me. Of course I mean, Who killed the Mys-
tery Man?" Mapperley contrived to get the capital letters
into his big voice.
"I haven't the remotest notion. Have you? No? Well,
the police are displaying great activity, following up clues,
and expect to make an arrest at any moment."
"Classic—and dull," said Mapperley. "Now, if you
could only tell us whom they're going to arrest—"
"What would you do then, Doctor?"
"Why, I'd tip the wink to the fellow and tell him to
make himself scarce."
"Ah, yes, I remember. This morning you spoke of
Beresford's murderer as a public benefactor. Bold, but
risky."
"Don't take too much notice of me, Tolefree. I descend


THE EERIE EYE 103
from a race of buccaneers. The old Adam's always lurking
in the background. But tell us about the clues."
"I've no knowledge—if there are any. It seems to me
Fisher's been served with a tough portion. If nobody's
particularly concerned about what happened to Beres-
ford—"
"Can't imagine why anyone should be," said Map-
perley.
"Exactly. And no one will bother to volunteer infor-
mation. But after all, the man was murdered. And, how-
ever insignificant he was—"
"Fiat justitia? To judge by my own instincts and im-
pressions, Tolefree, justice has already been done. Why
bother?"
Tolefree disregarded the interruption. He went on:
"This man was murdered, and anyone who has knowl-
edge which would help the police should volunteer it.
That's basic. Of course, you can't have any information,
Doctor; but if you had I gather you wouldn't feel obliged
to disclose it. Would you?"
"Hypothetical cases. Who could say what he would do
in circumstances he's never encountered?"
"I know what I'd do, Tolefree," said Sharpe. "If dis-
closure didn't threaten danger to any person in particular,
I'd disclose. If it did threaten I'd leave the police to get
on with it."
"Subversive man! But you'd play with fire."
"Afraid I don't follow that, my dear fellow. I'd call it
standing back from the fire."
Tolefree broke the ash off his cigar. "You know, Dr.
Mapperley, I should hate to see the bachelor dignity of


104 THE CORPSE WITH
all this upset," he glanced round the dining-room, "but
it might happen. So I implore you both to drop the affec-
tation of indifference and take Fisher seriously. He seems
to me a persistent fellow, and he at least has one clue—or
so he thinks of it. Did Jardine say anything to you of his
talk with Fisher?"
"Nothing," said Mapperley.
"Jardine's almost as—well, he's not prepared to take
Fisher seriously enough, either. But Fisher has one line of
inquiry, and it leads to Jardine."
"Eh?—what rot!" cried Sharpe.
"Ridiculous, Tolefree," said Mapperley.
"I'm not commenting—merely telling you the fact.
After he left the dance last night, Beresford sent his house-
keeper home and walked off to keep an appointment."
"What's that?" said Mapperley, sharply. "An appoint-
ment?—after midnight—in Castle-Dinas? And left that
unhappy woman in the street alone? Preposterous!"
Tolefree's eyes expressed surprise. "I remember that
yesterday you called the woman a tart. Well—that's her
evidence. He walked away from her to keep an appoint-
ment with a man. No one admits seeing him after that
till Jardine and I came across his corpse on Goonbarrow
Downs. Fisher naturally looks for people who may have
been on Goonbarrow Downs after midnight. He's found
one—Doctor Lose, no doubt driving home from a visit to
a patient. No—of course he doesn't suspect Lose. But
Lose found another person for him, driving in the oppo-
site direction into the Downs. It was Jardine."
"Well? Why shouldn't Jardine drive home that way?"
Sharpe asked.


THE EERIE EYE
105
"That's not Fisher's question. He wants to know why
Jardine drove home at all—or at any rate why he was that
way in a car at that time—when he was expected to be here
for the night."
"Why does Fisher want to know that, Tolefree?"
Tolefree shrugged with a touch of impatience. "If
Beresford had a date with a man after midnight and he
was dead on Goonbarrow Downs between midnight and
two, Fisher—but you know, Sharpe, this is like questions
and answers in a school for infants! Do accept the obvious.
I thought if you had no concern for Beresford you might
have some for Jardine. He might be the particular person
in danger and it might be to his interest to disclose instead
of concealing."
"If so—" said Sharpe, coolly, but did not pursue. He
said, "We were discussing hypothetical cases. How the
devil could I know anything?"
"You were out between midnight and—was it one
o'clock you said? Yes, one. You drove home after you'd
satisfied yourself that the policeman could handle Pugsley.
At that time Beresford was walking along the same road.
But Fisher says you didn't see him. That's all right,
Sharpe. You know nothing. Doctor Mapperley, you know
nothing about Beresford. But you'll both rally round Jar-
dine, no doubt."
Mapperley said: "There's some subtle intention under
all this, Tolefree. May we know what it is?"
"I thought I was being brutal rather than subtle," Tole-
free answered. "I've no more to say. I hope this won't
get nasty for Jardine, but if it does—"
"You aren't suggesting that our friend Jardine made a


1o6 THE CORPSE WITH
date with the Mystery Man on the moor at midnight, are
you?" asked Sharpe.
Tolefree gave him a smile. "Don't under-estimate the
trouble this can make for Jardine. Detach yourself for a
moment from your parti pris. Look at it from the police-
man's point of view. You'll see trouble in plenty ahead.
Fisher gets the gossip that Jardine may have been jealous
of Beresford—"
"Good God!" said Sharpe; "I didn't guess Fisher was
that sort of old woman."
"But there is gossip, Sharpe. If you were a policeman
you'd seize hold of the clue of the hated rival with both
hands."
"Tolefree—I'm astonished," Mapperley boomed. "I
mean astonished that you take this stuff seriously. Jardine
jealous of Beresford!—why, I don't suppose Katherine
ever saw the fellow except in public."
"You really think that?" Tolefree looked the doctor
straight in the eye. "Then there's nothing more to be said.
But you'll take my advice, won't you, and not make the
mistake of being contemptuous of the police?"
"To be frank, Tolefree," said Mapperley, "you have an
accusing air. You don't imagine that we—any of us—"
"I'm not imagining, or even speculating," Tolefree re-
torted. "I'm here to help Jardine, that's all."
Whereupon these surprising people slid away from the
subject. At nine Mapperley excused himself and retired
to the library, presumably for further communion with
William the Silent. Sharpe was left.
"I had the notion of a hand at snooker at the Club," he
said. "Care to come? We could be back by half-past
eleven."


THEEERIEEYE 107
Tolefree confessed his indifferent skill, but said he was
a good spectator. They went in Sharpe's little car. He
watched Sharpe win some games and pocket a number of
half-crowns. Then Trahair came in and sat beside him on
a divan with a hint of excitement in his manner.
"I've been 'phoning to Carnmarth for you. Peter
answered—said you were here. Tolefree!—Fisher's on the
warpath. He's found the gun."
Tolefree's exclamation was a mere whisper: "Where?"
"Out there—Goonbarrow. Down in the valley. Hidden
under a rock by the riverside."
Tolefree swallowed hard. "Know any details, Mr.
Trahair? I mean—who found it, and when?"
"Fisher told me ten minutes ago. He found it himself
this evening."
"Ah!" said Tolefree.
A vision passed between him and the varicoloured balls
at which Sharpe was aiming: Jardine leading him to the
rock, Jardine leaning down to tickle a trout, Jardine resist-
ing the trip up the hillside to look at Beresford. He said
to Trahair:
"Your car here?"
"Parked fifty yards away."
<fWould you drive me to Carnmarth? I don't wish to
disturb Sharpe's game. Pll just tell him I want a little
talk with you."
The drive took no more than five minutes. Tolefree
asked to be put down at the gate. Trahair turned the car,
waved to him, and returned to Castle-Dinas. All of any
significance that had passed between them was one question
and answer.


Chapter Five
TOLEFREE, standing at the gate of Carnmarth, watched
the red tail-light of Trahair's car slip down the hill and
disappear.
It was ten o'clock. Sharpe had seemed to be good for
• at least another hour of snooker. He turned up the drive.
In the gathering darkness only two lights showed from
the house. One came from the library window; the other
through the hall where Peter probably sat in his cabin
under the stairs.
Tolefree did not enter. He lit a pipe and took two or
three turns on the narrow lawn bordering the drive along
the front of the house.
Trahair's news had set up a train of thought which car-
ried his mind back from the talk at Mapperley's dinner-
table to the scene in the Lowells' dining-room. In the two
houses towards which Beresford seemed to be climbing
there was (he could not doubt it) gloating over the death
of Beresford and indifference to the horrible manner of it.
Or was it mere indifference? His mind reverted to the
episodes of the morning. His walk with Jardine. That
apparently casual trend across the rough to the stream,
bringing them unerringly to the rock from which Beres-
ford's body was visible. And further than that—to the
tog


112 THE CORPSE WITH
for tidiness among amateur drivers—or perhaps it was
Peter, with his traditions of spit and polish, who kept it
so neat and clean. The oily mess was recent: Sharpe's
engine clearly needed attention. But, save for the patch
in which the cigarette case lay, the floor was almost spot-
less. It looked as though hose and broom had been busy
no long time since.
Nevertheless, Tolefree's point of light travelled
methodically all over it and into every cranny. In the
corner behind the door, the broom had missed one single
object—the butt end of a cigarette about three-quarters
smoked. Tolefree, smiling at his own action, picked it up,
threw the little ray upon it, held it to his nose, and finally
tucked it into a match-box.
His inspection of the garage continued.
He now gave special attention to the walls. They were
whitewashed and fairly clean save at the foot where the
hose had spattered them with mud from the floor. From
the walls he turned to the doors. His point of light
travelled slowly up and down each plank and across each
member of the frame, but did not stop until it reached the
middle of the left-hand doorpost. There he kept it steady
for some seconds.
Suddenly he straightened up, listening.
He moved quickly to the centre and listened again. A
cautious footstep, a touch on the door . . . Tolefree's
light was now flickering across the floor in zig-zag lines,
and when the door opened it had neared the oily spot.
The turn of his head, the movement of his ray, to the
doorway and the smiting of Tolefree's eyes by a large
beam came simultaneously.


THE EERIE EYE 113
"Oh, it's you, sir! Beg pardon, I'm sure," said Peter's
voice.
"Why, hello, Peter!" Tolefree burst into a laugh.
"Comic, eh—two meetings like this? Were you thinking
of burglars again?"
Peter protested: he noticed a light and came along to
see whether Mr. Sharpe had arrived home unusually
early.
"Why, no," Tolefree told him. "He's playing billiards.
So Mr. Trahair gave me a lift. I'd lost my cigarette case—
wondered whether I dropped it here when we were leav-
ing. Don't see it anywhere—"
Peter put his big light over the floor and exclaimed,
"There, sir!—almost under your feet."
Tolefree looked. "So it is—and thanks, Peter. I would
drop it on the only dirty spot, wouldn't I?" He stooped.
"Excuse me, sir," said Peter, fishing a rag off the bench
at the back, retrieving the case and wiping it.
Tolefree played the farce to the end, without much
hope that wary old Peter had any illusions; but it saved
his face.
He kept a close watch on Peter's light during the min-
ute or so they were together: it never touched the spot
on the doorpost. They walked back to the house.
"Doctor Mapperley alone?" Tolefree asked in the hall.
"Mr. Bruce is with him, sir. Came in quite early.
They're in the library. Shall I tell the doctor you're back?"
But Tolefree preferred to go to his room: the doctor
was not expecting him.
"Aye-aye, sir," said Peter, and went before him up the
stairs.


H4 THE CORPSE WITH
Mapperley looked up from his papers when Tolefree
entered the library after breakfast. Sharpe rose, passed
him with a grin, and departed, saying, "What shall I give
you? Half an hour?"
"Tolefree—?" said Mapperley.
"Much less. A few minutes," Tolefree answered. Map-
perley, smoking a pipe, pushed his tobacco jar across the
table. Tolefree smiled his thanks and took a fill. "But,"
he said, "I shan't light this unless we can make of it a
ceremony of the calumet."
Mapperley's huge laugh filled the room. "Can make
of it? Why not, Tolefree?"
"The calumet is a token of peace and agreement, Doc-
tor. It's occurred to me that we ought perhaps not to
smoke it."
"Your parable's a trifle obscure, Tolefree. Will you
drop it and talk plain English?"
Mapperley knocked out his own pipe, leaned back and
folded his hands.
"Very well," said Tolefree. "Two days ago we had a
little talk about candour and you quoted Tacitus. Since
then we've had a murder. I don't think Tacitus would
have argued that there could be any immoderate candour
about a murder. Anyhow, Doctor, we must part company
—with much regret on my part—unless I can give you
my confidence. To do that I must have yours."
Mapperley, frowning, fishing and tushing over this
speech, burst out,
"For mercy's sake spare me the formality, Tolefree!
What the dickens is the murder to me—or am I to the
murder? And for that matter, what's the murder to you?"


n6 THE CORPSE WITH
"No!" said Tolefree. "Or only on condition that you'll
be frank. That is, you won't deny what you know to be
true or assert what you know to be untrue."
"I don't lie, if that's what you mean. But I'm not ac-
cepting any conditions. Why should I?"
"In the interests of truth and justice," said Tolefree.
"Bunkum, my dear sir! Sheer bunkum. Who's the
arbiter of truth and justice here? Fisher?"
"No. But what Fisher represents—the Law. You'll not
involve me in any casuistry about private and public jus-
tice. A man's been murdered, and his murderer will have
to be found."
"I'm not in the least concerned about finding the mur-
derer. Why should I be? Let Fisher run his own busi-
ness. What do you mean by private justice?"
"You know very well what I mean, Doctor. But believe
me, I'm not to be stood in a corner. I'm resolved to tell
Jardine he wants me no longer. I throw up a commission
which has lost its point now that Beresford's dead—"
"What d'you mean by that?"
"As soon as Beresford died, Jardine's trouble vanished.
His love-affair smoothed out. Menadon became normal
again. No more will any telephone messages make Mrs.
Lowell look like Tragedy and her husband like a hermit
crab. Well—that gets you, I see, Doctor! No need to
pursue the theme. It's plain that Beresford was the thorn
in the Lowells' side, and when he disappeared—" Tolefree
shrugged.
Mapperley made no comment. Tolefree went on, "So
Jardine has no further need of me. The only person who
does need me is Doctor Mapperley. That's because the


THE EERIE EYE
117
affair of the corpse on Goonbarrow Downs looms threaten-
ing, and the storm centre's this very house of Carnmarth."
Mapperley exclaimed, but inarticulately. Tolefree
waited. "Go on," said Mapperley. "Finish the fantasy."
"Not so fantastic," Tolefree protested. "Do you admit
that Carnmarth's up to the eaves in the mystery of Beres-
ford's death? But it doesn't matter whether you do or
don't: I know it is. And you're anxious to have me here
just to keep an eye on me. Well, Doctor—it's a charming
house; I like your society; I think Peter's the quaintest
sea-bird I ever saw; Sharpe's zest and humour attract me.
But I'm not staying unless you'll play ball, as they say
over across."
"What d'you want?" Mapperley asked gruffly.
"I wouldn't ask you to tell me who killed Beresford
and why. You wouldn't tell if I did—"
"How the devil could I tell?" Mapperley asked.
"Well, whether you could or not, I'm not putting the
question. I shall make some assertions:
"You had a gusty interview with Beresford two days
ago in the catacomb at Castle-Dinas; it concerned Miss
Lowell; you used a threat to Beresford—"
Mapperley muttered, "How—! But go on."
"Five minutes later you were talking to him in public,
to all appearances quite amicably. I guess you made an
appointment with him. You're not saying anything on
that? Well, here's another assertion:
"The appointment was to be kept at Carnmarth, and
in fact was kept. Beresford arrived here some little time
after midnight—"
Mapperley showed signs of disturbance. Tolefree
paused; the doctor was silent.


n8 THE CORPSE WITH
"Three people know what happened at Carnmarth—
you, Sharpe, and Peter. Jardine may: I suppose you told
him last night, if not before? Now, Doctor Mapperley, I
don't know in detail what happened; but I do know that
Beresford didn't leave Carnmarth alive—"
"Good God! Tolefree—you can't act on a farrago like
this!"
Mapperley, now in a state of violent agitation, got up
and walked about the room gesticulating.
"And why?" said Tolefree. "I know I can't, but not
for the reason you will give me. I don't believe in private
justice, Doctor Mapperley—"
"You're talking balderdash about private justice!"
Mapperley declared, angrily.
"I think not. But let it pass. The reason why I can't
act at present is that I've no real evidence—only a set of
pointers to evidence. Such as the hurried goings and com-
ings and the noises off at Carnmarth in the night, the
absence of Jardine and Sharpe, Peter's nervous terror.
No wonder Peter was terrified. Of course he must have
told you how I was disturbed and came upon him in the
hall. Other pointers, not so definite—to the presence of
Beresford here, to the death of Beresford here. You would
be wise to make a clean breast of it, Doctor Mapperley.
You know of Fisher's discovery that Jardine was on Goon-
barrow Downs between midnight and two in the morning.
But have you been told of another and more alarming
find of Fisher's?"
"Eh? What's that?"
"The Superintendent's got hold of the gun hidden in
the water under that rock where Jardine and I sat yester-
day morning."


THE EERIE EYE
119
Mapperley caught at his beard and suddenly sat down.
He was the first of his friends to whom Tolefree an-
nounced the discovery of the gun. The effect upon him was
startling. He sat silent, staring across the table at Tolefree.
"Now, Doctor—do you think it possible still to go on
with your conspiracy of silence?"
"Stop the rhodomontade!" growled Mapperley. "Let
me think . . ."
Tolefree sat back and eyed the doctor's furious, gloom-
ing face. This man was in a quandary. It was a whimsical
thought that, had a Mapperley and a Tolefree of the
sixteenth century found themselves in this position, the
Tolefree would not have been long at large. In the
twentieth century the procedure was different. Tolefree
was to have been nursed, pampered, persuaded, instead
of being put in irons and shut in a chain-locker.
But because Tolefree, in this game of pull-devil-pull-
baker, had established an initial advantage, a thunder-
cloud sat on Mapperley's brow. The doctor attracted Tole-
free. For all his arrogance he was a likeable man. They
had mutual recollections which, as Jardine had acutely
noticed, bound them together. But Tolefree had meant it
when he said he would not stand for the "conspiracy of
silence" . . .
Mapperley was speaking. "Is this true about the gun?"
"Certainly. I believe Fisher's greatly excited. He ac-
tually found it himself."
"And does he connect it with Jardine?"
"Imagine what you yourself would have thought if
you knew not Jardine, but, say, Smith, or a Jones, had
yesterday selected that rock for a resting-place, and sat


120
THE CORPSE WITH
there for some time dabbling his hands in the water," said
Tolefree.
"What then? My imagination doesn't react," said the
doctor.
"I was about to add if you knew that Smith had driven
across the Downs between twelve and two, and Beresford
was murdered between those hours—"
"Still no reaction," Mapperley declared.
"Not sensitive to-day? Put it another way. If you were
looking for a man well acquainted with the district, who
could take a car over the rough to a place where a murder
might go undiscovered for weeks. If you learned that
Jardine was driving a car, no weapon was found near the
body, and the gun you discovered under the rock was a
gun of sufficiently big calibre to have fired the bullet which
in killing Beresford, went right through his head—"
"I'm trying to reconcile this with your own theory that
Beresford was killed here—"
"And driven in a car to Goonbarrow? Well, you'd make
a mistake if you thought Fisher a fool. He can deduce
facts from evidence as well as the next policeman. Do you
think it likely he's not seen the possibility, even the like-
lihood, that the murder was done elsewhere and a dead
body taken to Goonbarrow? Fisher was quick enough to
spot several things which I'd worked out by sitting looking
at Beresford for half an hour—that he was doped before
being killed, that he must have been carried to the place
where he lay, since a car could not have got within three
or four hundred yards. Who is to say that Fisher didn't
notice other things which occurred to me: no bullet any-
where near; the position of the body, arms stretched at


122
THE CORPSE WITH
Beresford's death. We're not so indifferent to it as we
seem. Are we going any further?"
"No," Mapperley answered. "Whether I go any further
with what you call the discussion depends largely on other
people. I must consult my friends. You'll do nothing
immediately with all this structure of supposition?"
"I'm seeing Fisher this morning. But I'll hold my hand
for to-day. I'll stay one more night—and hope you and
your friends will see reason."
2
In Tolefree's sense of the words, Mapperley and his
friends did not see reason.
Three incidents of that day ultimately brought to
naught his resolution to wash his hands of the Beresford
affair. The first occurred during his visit to Fisher.
The Superintendent was not exactly cock-awhoop, but
he displayed a natural elation over his discovery. Tolefree,
congratulating him, detected a little touch of police pride.
"You thought the murder wasn't done out there, didn't
you?" Fisher asked, and Tolefree confessed that he had
entertained doubts.
"But it was," said Fisher, "and I've an idea who did it."
Poor Jardine! thought Tolefree. But, surprisingly,
Fisher was not thinking of Jardine.
"I want," said he, "to know something about Captain
Arthur Pugsley and what he was doing on Feast Night."
"Pugsley! I understood Pugsley was too tight to know
what he did. He's entirely unknown to me, but—"
"You hadn't counted him in? Well, neither had I. But


124
THE CORPSE WITH
"And dumped him—where?"
"At Mrs. Belliver's door, sir. Found his keys and
opened the door for him. He wouldn't let me go in—said
he'd be all right."
"And then—any noise inside?"
"Not a sound, sir. I guessed he'd lain down in the hall."
"And you don't think he could have shammed drunk?"
"Never occurred to me. I should guess not."
"So you see," said Fisher when the constable had de-
parted, "it looks to me a bit too artistic, and I've sent for
his landlady. She's waiting now. We'll have her in. I im-
agine she can tell us something interesting."
Mrs. Belliver, who presently sat in front of the Super-
intendent, was a lady of mature years, matronly aspect and
(as it proved) decided views about the childishness of men
and of policemen in particular. She seemed surprised and
a little indignant at a request to call at the police office,
and when she learned that the subject of the interview was
Captain Pugsley she discharged boundless wrath. Captain
Pugsley, it appears, was a child like the others, but an en-
gaging child, a pet child, more sinned against than sinning,
for whom Mrs. Belliver had what amounted to a maternal
feeling. And if the police thought otherwise that did but
show the depths of folly to which men could descend. It
was impossible for Fisher to stop the torrent of words
rolling over him. He let them roll till Mrs. Belliver be-
came breathless.
Then he gently explained that Pugsley had some infor-
mation badly needed by the police. He had learned that
Pugsley left Castle-Dinas yesterday morning. Did Mrs.
Belliver know where he might be found?


THEEERIEEYE 125
She did not—or if she did she wouldn't say.
"I'm told," said Fisher, "he's your only lodger. Is that
so?"
Yes—and as good a lodger as she'd ever had, declared
Mrs. Belliver defiantly. He occupied three rooms in her
house, a bedroom, a sitting-room and one he'd turned into
a studio.
"Now, Mrs. Belliver, everyone knows that Pugsley's
often short of money—no! let me finish. Does he pay you
regularly?"
"He pays when he can—though I don't see what busi-
ness that is of yours!" said she, stormily. "Anyhow, if he
owes me anything at the end of the quarter, when he gets
his allowance, he always settles up."
"Good. Then we'll go on to something else," Fisher
said, eyeing her warily. "Feast Night. We know he was
out rather late—after midnight. Did you hear him come
in?"
"Yes, I heard him."
"You'd retired by that time?"
"I was in bed but not asleep."
"We know something about Pugsley's—er—failing,"
said Fisher, apologetically. "I'm saying nothing of that.
But were you aware when he came home whether he was
very drunk?"
"No, I wasn't!" Mrs. Belliver proclaimed. "I don't
believe a word of it. He went to bed quietly enough."
"I thought it might be a false report," said Fisher—and
thereby, to his own astonishment, completely ingratiated
himself with Mrs. Belliver. For a few moments she ate out
of his hand. "And in the morning?" Fisher pursued. "Did
you see him?"


126
THE CORPSE WITH
"No—he was gone before I got up."
"Did he leave a message?"
"None."
"Did that commonly happen, Mrs. Belliver?"
"Not quite like that—not so early. Occasionally he went
away for a day or two, but he always told me."
"Where did he go?" That she didn't know. "Did you
ever hear him say anything about Beresford?—express any
opinion on him?"
Fisher leaped out of Mrs. Belliver's good graces more
quickly than he'd got in. She stood up, put her hands on
the table and leaned towards him menacingly.
"Are you trying to connect Captain Pugsley with that
man's death?" she cried. "Because, if you are—"
"No, Mrs. Belliver. But do sit down. You mustn't ask
me questions, you know—"
"Why not? You're asking me enough."
Fisher, taken aback, had no effective retort. He said,
feebly, "If you'll just say yes he did, or no he didn't—"
"No! He didn't!" Her mouth shut with a snap.
"You couldn't say for certain whether he left the house
during the night—after you heard him go to bed?"
"He did nothing of the sort. He slept in his bed like a
Christian, and I've no doubt he got up to catch the early
train and wouldn't disturb me. Just like him. Captain
Pugsley, at any rate, is always a gentleman!"
Tolefree kept a straight face with difficulty. Fisher was
making heavy weather of it.
"No servant saw him go?"
"I keep no servant. I look after Mr. Pugsley alone."
Fisher was glad to put an end to the session.


THEEERIEEYE 127
"Good day to you!" exclaimed Mrs. Belliver, and four
words never expressed more contemptuous pity for the
foolish sex.
Fisher breathed deep when the door had closed upon
her. Tolefree said,
"Well, Pugsley's not lacking a champion, eh?"
"A very decent woman, Tolefree. She'd tell the truth.
But it doesn't amount to a lot. However, we've got a call
out for Pugsley."
Tolefree looked surprised. "On what score?" he asked.
"Oh, just a request to call and see us. You don't think
that excessive? A man who suddenly disappears a few
hours after a murder—"
"Yesterday," said Tolefree, "I asked whether you
thought Beresford could be keeping a date with Pugsley,
and you produced evidence to show that it wasn't likely.
Now—"
"But we didn't know then that Pugsley'd done a bunk,"
said Fisher. "We'll get the truth before long. I've another
card up my sleeve. I'm going to see Mrs. Young. Care to
come?"
"I'd like it well. But you wanted me to keep out, didn't
you?"
Fisher said, "Don't hold that against me. To tell you
the truth I reckoned that you'd be tied up with the Map-
perley people, and it mightn't do; but now the thing's
leaning away from them. You saw Mrs. Young before.
Bring a sheet of foolscap and a pencil and come along."
Fisher, Tolefree reflected, must have a string to his bow
whose strength he hadn't revealed, or he would not talk
this way. The mere fact that Pugsley had taken an early


128
THE CORPSE WITH
trip the morning after the murder would not bear much
strain: there must be another string somewhere.
In the car, Fisher said, "You haven't asked me what we
found at Beresford's."
"No—if you volunteered it, I thought—well, if you
didn't—"
"Keeping out?" smiled Fisher. "Anyhow, it was noth-
ing. Not a single paper or any sign of Beresford's past be-
fore he came to Castle-Dinas. Unless you could count a
school-book—a battered old Latin Grammar, and that
didn't seem to be his. Somebody else's name in it. No
documents older than the last six months or so. Corre-
spondence with house-agents and with lawyers here about
the house. Cheque-book stubs, of course—all recent. I've
seen his bank. He lodged a few hundreds here when he
came—"
"How?"
"That was queer. In cash—notes. Of course, if it came
to that point we might trace 'em to some bank."
"Of course," said Tolefree. "Or he may have changed
foreign money into English through an agency. By the
way—passport?"
"Not a glimmer of a passport. Not a letter from anyone,
except the business letters I mentioned. But I've a few
questions to ask Mrs. Young. The answers may be en-
lightening."
"Perhaps not," Tolefree murmured. "Mrs. Young
doesn't seem to me to yearn for your enlightenment."
And in the sequel Mrs. Young's most ardent yearning
was evidently to get rid of them at the earliest possible
moment of time. She could not pull Fisher's bowstring
for him.


THE EERIE EYE 129
Tolefree glanced curiously about the house Beresford
had taken. It had no virtue but its situation on the hillside,
overlooking the old town, and its gardens. The spacious
rooms had a fair modicum of good furniture, but there was
no sign of a library or indeed of any number of books.
The pictures were a job lot. It looked as though a man of
Beresford's calibre had no intention of remaining long in
Castle-Dinas.
"Took the house on a lease, I suppose?" said Tolefree,
strolling round the drawing-room and pulling up before
an open cabinet.
"One year—cash down. The agents told me," said
Fisher.
"Who did his legal business?" Tolefree picked a small
package from a pigeon-hole and looked at the label.
"Here?" answered Fisher. "Trahair's opposite number
—firm of Trevanion and Trevanion, old school sticklers.
They know nothing to give us a light on the real Beres-
ford. Merely vetted the lease for him—that sort of thing."
Tolefree unwrapped the package, took from it a card-
board box, opened it, glanced at the contents, and passed it
to Fisher. "Now we know," said he, "where Beresford got
his dope. Mrs. Young ordered it for him." He showed
Fisher the label.
"Well!" said Fisher. "That's a find. Here she comes."
Mrs. Young gave Fisher a curt greeting, looked down
her nose at Tolefree, and took a chair. Her hair flamed in
the morning sunshine. Her make-up justified Trahair's
analogy of Hollywood. She was cool, self-possessed—in a
different way almost as contemptuous of them as Mrs.
Belliver.


130 THE CORPSE WITH
Fisher got down to cases at once. "Mrs. Young, I wish
to ask you whether you know anything of Captain Arthur
Pugsley," he announced.
"Nothing at all. I've been told he was the man we saw
drunk in the street."
"He was, Mrs. Young. Did you ever hear Beresford
say anything of him?"
"Only once. Captain Pugsley was at the reception Mr.
Beresford gave about four weeks ago, and spent most of
his time in the cocktail bar. After they'd gone, Mr. Beres-
ford said something about him—that he was a poor fish
and a hopeless soaker."
"And nothing before or after that?"
"Nothing at all."
"Could you say whether Beresford was a bit of a
gambler?"
"I could. So far as I know he never touched a card. Said
he had better things to do with time and money. That was
when he talked about the card-playing at the Castle-Dinas
Club."
"That's strange. Of course he wouldn't necessarily tell
you of such an incident. But I happen to know that he sat
in at a game at the Club with Pugsley and won quite a
tidy sum of money. Pugsley paid him with a cheque, and
the Bank sent it back to him—'R.D.'"
"So that was it!" she exclaimed, a gleam of recollection
in her face.
"That was what?"
"Oh, I heard him one morning growling over a letter
from the Bank and damning people who didn't pay their
honest debts. But he never mentioned Mr. Pugsley."


THE EERIE EYE 131
"Well—and that's all you know of Pugsley? I suppose
it never occurred to you on Feast Night when you passed
Pugsley, and Beresford suddenly turned back to keep an
appointment, with a man, that the man might be Pugsley?"
"How could it be? The man was dead drunk," said Mrs.
Young. "Anyway, it certainly never occurred to me."
"And you've never thought what other appointment he
could have at that time of night?"
"No—impossible."
"Then, thank you—unless there's anything you'd like
to ask Mrs. Young, Tolefree?"
Tolefree started: he hadn't expected to be asked to take
a hand in the questioning. "I don't think so," he said.
"You've probably asked elsewhere the only question that
occurs to me. Does Mrs. Young know whether Mr. Beres-
ford made a will?"
Fisher threw a questing glance at Tolefree and turned
to the woman.
"Do you know that, Mrs. Young?"
"Not to say know it," she answered, slowly. "Some
time ago he did say something about getting the lawyers
to draw up a will for him."
"Since he's lived at Castle-Dinas, Mrs. Young?"
"Oh, yes, quite recently. Some weeks ago—I can't
remember exactly."
"Didn't say what lawyers?" She shook her head. "And
I suppose he gave you no idea of what he proposed to do
with his property?"
"Naturally not."
"One other thing, Mrs. Young," said Tolefree. "You
told us before that you never knew Beresford to take drugs


132 THE CORPSE WITH
in any form. Perhaps you hadn't thought of cigarettes?"
"Cigarettes? Could that be?" Her glance went for an
instant to the cabinet now closed. "He asked me to order
some special cigarettes from London. I did once or twice.
I didn't know you could drug with cigarettes."
That was the end of the inquisition upon Beresford's
housekeeper. Within ten minutes of entering the house
they were in the car again. Fisher, seeing Tolefree in a
brown study, left him to it. He suddenly said,
"Fisher—that woman's hiding something. And so are
you."
"Hello, Tolefree!" exclaimed the Superintendent,
"coming to life? Put me on one side for the present.
What's Mrs. Young hiding?"
"Couldn't say. But something. She's afraid of you,
Fisher, under all her bravado. If she's telling the truth,
it's only a fraction of the truth. She knows a lot more about
the late Mr. Beresford than she pretends to know."
"Including the man who'd given him a date?"
"Perhaps even that. But you didn't go to see her to fish
for her knowledge of Pugsley. You know all about Pugs-
ley. What's the other string to your bow?"
Fisher thought for a moment or two. "Well—I've got
to tell you, Tolefree; but it must be under a pledge of
secrecy. My string is the gun. You knew I found it under
that rock you took me to?"
"I thought so. What made you go to that rock?"
"An impossibility."
"Eh?—What impossibility?"
"Jardine's. It was said he was tickling for trout! Not
in that place, Tolefree, with the water tearing past at five


THE EERIE EYE 133
knots in a smother of foam. You know that?" Tolefree
assented. Fisher went on, "If not trout—then what? When
I found that Jardine had been out on Goonbarrow after
midnight—but I needn't go on with that. I had to search
that place, Tolefree. It was a hunch and a bit over. And
immediately I found the gun I began to think the hunch
wrong—"
"Why did you alter your mind then?" Tolefree asked.
"I began to think Jardine may not have put it there or
found it there. And that's all I can tell you for the
moment."
"Most strange," said Tolefree. He left it to Fisher to
decide whether the strangeness lay in his facts or his han-
dling of them.
He reached the town just in time to keep his luncheon
appointment with Trahair. The lawyer took him to the
Castle-Dinas Club, of which he had heard so much. Tra-
hair hailed the few men seated at small tables in the
dining-room, a vaulted chamber said to be a relic of the
old monastery and fondly described as the Refectory.
Tolefree accompanied him to a table reserved in one of the
alcoves lit by pointed windows. There they were effec-
tively in private.
Tolefree remarked that he recognized nobody in the
room. In a small town, said Trahair, most married men
went home to lunch, and most bachelors preferred the
hotel restaurant. The Club filled up only in the evening
for cards, billiards and talk in the smoke-room.
A few glances were cast at them as they sat in their
corner.
"You create a certain club curiosity, Tolefree," said


134 THE CORPSE WITH
Trahair. "Wouldn't wonder if somebody's taken your
name in vain in Castle-Dinas, or you've been seen with
Fisher."
"Maybe," Tolefree smiled. "But there's only one man
seems truly interested. You won't look. I'll describe him.
Sitting alone at the table nearest the door. Man of near
sixty, tall, dark eyes, grey hair, touch of side whisker—"
"His portrait!" said Trahair, and added under his
breath, "Dick Trevanion, the junior partner in the other
law firm in Castle-Dinas. Disapproves of me as a frivolous
upstart. Has never forgiven me for getting Lowell's
business."
"Ah—is that so? I'm told the firm did Beresford's legal
work. If Mr. Trevanion's not merely chewing his old
wrath over you personally may he be wondering whether
I've come down to conspire with you in some new mis-
demeanour?"
"Oh, no—we're quite formal friends and fellow-mem-
bers. I'll introduce you in the smoke-room after lunch.
Trevanion always smokes one cigar, takes one liqueur
brandy, and stays half an hour. Methodical old boy. Came
out of the Ark. His father, the senior partner, at eighty-
six is almost back in it. I expect Trevanion's speculating
whether I've succeeded in trapping a new client. Well,
Tolefree—afraid I've no news for you. So far as I can
learn, Fisher's said nothing more about the gun. Probably
he won't mention it at the inquest. You got anything
fresh?"
Tolefree told him of his talk with Fisher, of the uprising
of Mrs. Belliver and the attitude of Beresford's house-
keeper.


136
THE CORPSE WITH
"I shall be there," said Tolefree. "But you don't think
Fisher will disclose the gun, and I don't think he'll say a
word about a will."
"It's two o'clock now. The Coroner sits at half-past. If
you like we'll have coffee in the smoke-room and beard
Trevanion—if a man who wears only side-whiskers can be
bearded."
Mr. Trevanion was seated, still in lonely state, in a deep
chair with his coffee and cognac on a small table beside
him, and half an inch of white ash on the end of his cigar.
He looked up at Trahair and Tolefree and nodded se-
dately.
"Hello, Trevanion," Trahair greeted him. "Want to
introduce Mr. Tolefree, of London, friend of Bruce Jar-
dine, staying with Doctor Mapperley."
"How do you do?" inquired Trevanion, half rising.
"Down for the Feast Day ceremonies?"
Tolefree expressed his enjoyment of the ancient occa-
sion, and Trahair pulled up two chairs as the waiter arrived
with their coffee. But, said Tolefree,
"That was an unpleasant sequel—the tragedy discovered
next morning."
"Ah—yes," said Mr. Trevanion. "A sequel, you say?
Did I catch your name accurately?—Mr. Tolefree? I
heard that it was a Mr. Tolefree who found Beresford's
body."
"While walking on Goonbarrow Downs with Jardine,"
Tolefree explained. "A mysterious affair, don't you think?
Mr. Trahair tells me Beresford was a newcomer to Castle-
Dinas and no one seems to know anything about him.
The police—I think you said, Trahair?—are astonished
that not a single relative has turned up."


THEEERIEEYE 137
"There is time," said Mr. Trevanion. "The news-
papers—"
"True. But the suggestion, I understand from Trahair,
is that nobody ever heard him mention a family or any
relatives. On Feast Day at the Castle, I heard people
speak of him as the Mystery Man."
"Umph!" said Mr. Trevanion.
Taking the cue, Trahair chimed in, "By the way, he
must have had a lawyer to represent him in the property
transaction—" and left it at that.
"Yes—he must," said Mr. Trevanion, and also left it at
that.
"And I understand he was a man of some means—which
always implies legal business."
"Generally," said Mr. Trevanion.
The oyster refused to open, and the talk drifted away
and soon came to an end.
"I have an appointment," said Mr. Trevanion, looking
at his watch, putting down his half-smoked cigar with a
sigh of regret, and rising. "Good afternoon, Trahair. Good
afternoon, Mr.—er—Tolefree."
"You can't prise him open," Trahair remarked, looking
at the receding back.
"An exceedingly close lawyer," Tolefree agreed. "But
not so wooden as he looks. I don't think you succeeded in
putting me across him."
"Obviously not. Somebody's been talking. You're a
marked man. Bet you he knows as much about Beresford
as anyone in Castle-Dinas. Bet you another—that he drew
Beresford's will. Now—the inquest? You'll be just in
time."


138 THE CORPSE WITH
The inquest, opened in the old Guildhall, was a mere
formality. A crowd of the curious packed the room. A
number of newspaper men recorded every word of the
proceedings. But there was nothing in them to provide a
new thrill for the public. The sensational elements of the
story had been already printed. On the ground that the
police were making inquiries into a difficult matter, the
Coroner confined himself to taking the evidence of Fisher,
who told of the telephone call from Jardine and his visit
to Goonbarrow Downs, where he found the body; and of
Dr. Lose, who stated that Beresford died of a bullet
through the brain, and said nothing of the pin-point pupils
or any other peculiarity of the corpse. He said in answer
to the Coroner that it seemed unlikely, indeed impossible,
that Beresford could have shot himself.
Whereupon the Coroner adjourned his inquiry for a
fortnight—and, as a matter of history, had no more to do
with discovering the how, when and where of Beresford's
death.
3
Fisher had seen Tolefree in court and given him a sig-
nal. He lingered while the newspaper men packed up and
the disappointed curious melted away. Fisher, having
shaken hands with the Coroner, stepped over to him.
"Follow me along to my office," he said. "There's a
little more news."
Tolefree tracked him along the corridors and presently
found himself in the now familiar room.
"Come in, Mr. Tolefree," said Fisher, formally, and
the cause of the formality revealed itself at once. Three


THE EERIE EYE
answer. I've no right at present to press you. That's quite
understood?"
"Is it? You may understand it, Fisher, but I'll be
damned if I do! Once more, will you cut the cackle?
What d'you want to know?"
Fisher gazed into the blue eyes, so supercilious, for a
moment or two.
"Would you care," he asked, "to tell me when you last
saw Beresford?"
"I wouldn't care if the occasion could be buried in
oblivion, Fisher. Nothing to boast about, I assure you. I
had a few drinks on Feast Night and they deprived me for
a time of the power of locomotion. While I was resting,
Beresford passed by with that dame of his. That's open
confession, but I don't know that it does my soul any good.
I hope your Mr. Wotsisname isn't taking it all down?"
He glanced at Tolefree, who sat idling with his pencil and
a clean sheet.
"Why, certainly not. That incident occurred shortly
after midnight, I believe. Then my man Williams hap-
pened and reinforced your low locomotive power—in fact
saw you home."
"Good chap, Williams," Pugsley nodded.
"And by that time the works were good enough to get
you upstairs unaided and without undue noise?"
"I'm always careful not to disturb Mrs. Belliver's
beauty sleep. Excellent woman, Mrs. Belliver."
"And that, I suppose, would have been half-past twelve
or thereabouts?"
"Do you?—I'm afraid that night, so far as I was con-
cerned, Fisher, time was made for slaves," said Pugsley.


142 THE CORPSE WITH
"Notice anybody else while Williams was with you?"
Fisher pursued.
"Did I?" He frowned. "Yes—I did. Sharpe. He was
in his little beast of a car, and shouted out something to
the worthy Williams. I don't know what. Can't remember
anybody else."
Fisher seemed to have difficulty in his next approach.
He began,
"Now, I'm going to repeat what I said: I've no right
to expect you to answer questions and you can refuse, Cap-
tain Pugsley. But would you care to say all that happened
after you got home that night?"
"I'll tell you in one word. Sleep, my dear Fisher. Sleep,
which covereth a man like a cloak—you know your Sancho
Panza? That's what happened to me. Can you doubt it?"
"But not a specially long sleep, was it?"
"To my regret, it wasn't. I woke up at five with a head
—oh, such a head! I was nothing but a head, racked by
devils who'd let me sleep no more. I tried cold water. I
tried a hair of the dog. I went down to Mrs. Belliver's
pantry and took a swig of the Worcester sauce bottle. All
no good. All much worse. Nothing for it but to cast the
dust of Castle-Dinas off my shoes and take a trip to the
seaside. Which I did forthwith."
"Leaving by the train at five minutes past six, I be-
lieve?"
"Your credo is perfect, Fisher," said Pugsley, and the
shadow of a smile passed over the thin face. "And I dare-
say the railway porter has led you to believe that I took a
ticket for Goonbarrow Porth where the train arrives at
eight o'clock. If so you are still in the true faith. And my


THEEERIEEYE 143
good old friend Polpenna has, perhaps, told you that he
opened his pharmacy punctually at 8.30 and found me on
his doorstep, whereupon he said, 'What!—Captain Pugs-
ley again?' and without further word proceeded to mix a
miraculous draught known only to himself—the one cer-
tain cure for a jag that I ever struck. If he did, and you
believe him, Fisher, you're still completely orthodox. And,
by way of parenthesis—"
"Excuse me, Mr. Pugsley—"
"Let me finish, Fisher. This is important. If ever you
go on a jag, if ever you get a head—a real Napoleonic
head, I mean; none of your heads that just ache—Pol-
penna's your man. Fly to Polpenna, Fisher, immediately,
and in fifty minutes he'll reduce it for you to its normal
proportions."
"Valuable information," said Fisher, without a smile.
"But fortunately I expect not to need to use it. And it's
not what I want to know."
"What the hell do you want? You asked what happened
after I got home, and I'm telling you." Pugsley had a
broadening grin on his face. Fisher became grimmer.
"I'm only concerned about the hours immediately after
you reached home, and the reason why you left Castle-
Dinas at six in the morning without saying a word to any-
body about it. Now you tell me that you went fifty miles
to get a dose of medicine. Well and good. Only it seems a
costly way of recovering from what you call a jag."
"Fisher!" exclaimed Pugsley, "either you've resolved to
make me cross or you're after something you've said noth-
ing about. I'll play with you as long as you like, but you
don't seem to be in a playful mood. Get it off your chest,
whatever it is, and then I'll toddle along."


144
THE CORPSE WITH
Fisher said, "This isn't play, Pugsley. I'm inquiring into
a rather beastly murder. What I'm after is the exact truth
about your relations with Beresford, because they may
throw some light on it."
"Well, they won't—because they don't exist. Relations
with that skate? What the devil d'you mean?"
"If you had no relations with Beresford, you're an ex-
tremely unfortunate man," said Fisher in low, emphatic
tones. "Once more, answer no questions you don't wish
to answer. The first one is, Have you a revolver?"
Pugsley started out of his chair.
"Look here, Fisher!" he cried. "Are you fool enough
to be thinking that I killed Beresford? Good God! You've
got another think coming to you—"
"Steady, Mr. Pugsley. I've said nothing of the sort and
you shouldn't attribute thoughts to me."
"All right, Fisher—I won't."
Fisher, too intent on his quest to take offence, went on,
"We know you have a revolver. The permit to keep a
Colt of the type served out to officers in the War is regis-
tered with us."
"All right, then. Why ask superfluous questions and
answer 'em yourself? What's my revolver got to do with
you, anyhow? It's a relic of the War, and may become a
family heirloom if I ever marry."
"And naturally you take great care of anything you
intend to become a heirloom, Mr. Pugsley. So where is
your revolver now?"
Pugsley's jaw stiffened and he stared coldly at the Su-
perintendent.
"What the hell does that matter to you?" he asked.


THEEERIEEYE 145
"I'm asking the questions," said Fisher. "As I said, you
can please yourself whether you reply. You don't care to
tell me where it is?"
Pugsley pushed his hands into his pockets, leaned back
and stared at the ceiling. He said, slowly,
"No—I don't. I might alter my mind if you told me
why you want to know."
"Very well," said Fisher. "I wanted to spare you this,
Mr. Pugsley. But if you must be told, there's a certain
amount of evidence that Beresford was shot with your
Colt."
Pugsley jerked himself upright. "Well—I'm—
damned!" he growled, glared for a moment or two,
and said quietly, "Fisher—are you quite insane?"
Fisher shook his head. "I'm only too certain, Mr. Pugs-
ley. For you to decide whether you'll be frank with me.
But I advise you that you have a right to consult your
lawyer."
4tWhy should I pay a lawyer to do what I can do my-
self? What's the reason for making this hell of a state-
ment, Fisher? Why—it's almost a direct accusation that I
shot the blighter! I shan't say another word unless you
give me the reason. And be damned to you, Fisher!"
"The reason is that I've found the gun. It has your name
on it—'Arthur Pugsley, Captain, R.A.' It is the gun reg-
istered in your name in our record of permits."
Pugsley seemed shaken for the first time.
"You've—found—the gun!" he muttered.
Fisher, frowning at him, kept silent. But Pugsley's reac-
tion after the first shock was a glorious tribute to the effi-
cacy of Mr. Polpenna's cure for a jag. He was cool-headed
and lucid as though he had never taken a drink.


146
THE CORPSE WITH
"I think, Fisher," said he, sitting back, "you might have
saved valuable time by not trying to be so dam' clever.
Now the cat's out of the bag, what about it? Are you going
to arrest me for murdering Beresford?"
"No, Pugsley, I'm not."
"Are you charging me with anything?"
Fisher shook his head.
"And all the palaver about the time I got home and
how I spent the night and what I did yesterday morning
—all just for fun?"
"I see nothing funny in it, Mr. Pugsley."
"Nor do I. Only a piece of intolerable tomfoolery,
Fisher. I shall have the pleasure of wishing you a very
good day."
Upon which he rose, rammed his soft hat on his head,
turned right-about and marched to the door. There he
turned. "It may interest you to know, Fisher, that I've
not seen the gun or had it in my hand for a month." The
door banged behind him.
"I can understand," said Tolefree, when the echo died
away, "why Pugsley, if he's a bit of a nuisance, has a cer-
tain popularity."
"A taking fellow," Fisher admitted. "But it was his
gun, and if he didn't use it on Beresford—"
"And you don't believe he did—"
"I keep an open mind. But you'll agree that he's got
to explain the gun. I don't know whether you heard of
something that happened at Beresford's party? It's why I
harped on his relations with Beresford. Pugsley, I'm told,
was the fellow who started the talk in the cocktail bar
which led Beresford to say something of his travels abroad.
Egypt in particular."


THE EERIE EYE 147
"Oh?" said Tolefree. "And that suggests—?"
"Possible relations, doesn't it? We asked Mrs. Young
about any acquaintance who might have had enmity for
Beresford. She says she knew of none. But such a man
exists, and we want him. You remember the man who
was chasing Beresford in Paris. He must have known
Beresford in the past, he must dislike Beresford intensely,
he must be acquainted with this neighbourhood, and he
must have a revolver of a certain calibre."
"And," said Tolefree, "Pugsley has all the qualifica-
tions, in addition to which his name is on the gun you
found."
Fisher nodded. "It was probably the gun."
"If he hasn't seen it for a month, it may have been used
by somebody else."
"Of course, Tolefree. I'm not charging Pugsley—yet.
But whoever used it was no friend of Pugsley's."
"That's certain." Tolefree pulled out his pipe. "May I
smoke? Thanks. You know, Fisher, there's something
queer about this discovery of the gun. It seems to show
that the murder was done on Goonbarrow Downs, and
that Pugsley did the murder. Pugsley may be a soaker,
but he's got all his wits about him. One would think the
last thing he'd do if he committed a murder is to hide the
gun nearby, with the certainty that if it's discovered his
name will be seen on it, and you'll arrest him in no
time."
Fisher said, "Exactly. That's why I don't arrest him—
because I know he's nobody's fool except his own. To leave
his gun, which he might have taken to the seaside and
lost in the Atlantic, would have been the act of a mental


148 THE CORPSE WITH
deficient. Yet, there's the fact that a gun of this kind killed
Beresford, and I've got to find out what's happened to it
during the month it's been invisible to its owner. It's a pity
Pugsley got up the pole. He won't be easy to handle now."
"I suppose you wouldn't care for me to see him and try
to get at the truth?"
"Why not?"
"Well—I was to keep out, wasn't I?"
"That?—oh, while you were Jardine's man and Jardine
was under suspicion. But now—see Pugsley and get what
you can out of him by all means. Jardine's clear—or, well,
is he?"
"Precisely, Fisher. Somebody else used Pugsley's gun
if he's telling the truth. It might have been Jardine."
"But you don't think so, Tolefree. Nor do I. This thing
goes much deeper. Try your hand on Pugsley if you like."
Tolefree rose. "I will. Did you ever consider whether
Beresford was killed elsewhere and taken to Goonbarrow
as a dead body?"
"Not really. There was a hint of that in what you said
when we first met. But all the evidence—"
"Not quite all. You remember the threads of silk? What
if they were left by a scarf or handkerchief bound round
the wound during a journey by car and then taken off? If
so you have an attempt to make you think he was killed
on Goonbarrow, and perhaps a device to prevent blood-
stains in the car which carried the body."
"Maybe," said Fisher, but looked doubtful.
"I shouldn't put too much on the gun. There are lots
of Colts of that calibre, and till you find the bullet—"
"If ever we do—"


THE EERIE EYE 149
"That may seem unlikely, but it's not impossible," said
Tolefree. "Or if there were finger-prints—"
"And of course there weren't any."
"Wasn't to be expected, was it? Well, I'll see you later,"
said Tolefree.


Chapter Six
MRS. BELLIVER displayed a certain pugnacity when
she opened her door to Tolefree. He assured her that he
was making a friendly call on Pugsley, and brought his
best smile to bear on her. Even so, she only reluctantly
conducted him to Pugsley's room.
Pugsley's reception of his visitor was quite otherwise.
"Hello!" he said, turning from the window where he was
examining a picture and giving Tolefree a long and curious
stare. "Why—you're the chap that was writing it all down
in Doomsday Book. How do I get the honour?"
Tolefree tried his smile again. "I want to tell you who
and why I am. Then, if you don't take a violent dislike
to me, we may be able to talk a little to advantage," said he.
"Always mistrust people who promise I shall hear some-
thing to my advantage," Pugsley objected. "It's never
happened."
"Still," said Tolefree persuasively, "you're a man of the
world; you keep an open mind. You'll at least listen to
what I have to say?"
"All right." Pugsley came towards him. "Sit down.
Have a drink? No? Well, for once I won't either.
Cigarette? No? Pipe? Good. I will too."
Pugsley apparently occupied the whole first floor of
Mrs. Belliver's house. This room was a pleasant cross be-
150


THE EERIE EYE
tween informal lounge and formal sitting-room. Through
the window came a gleam of blue sky, and under it a
corner of the church, with two gargoyles grinning eter-
nally into Pugsley's apartment. Tolefree, filling his pipe,
nodded at them.
"Those old fellows seem amused about something," he
said.
"Why wonder? Castle-Dinas society trooping below
them into church every Sunday as ever was for five hun-
dred years! Robust primitives, true realists, the old carvers
in granite. Epstein hasn't anything on 'em!"
Tolefree struck a match and passed the box to his host.
"You're an artist, Mr. Pugsley?"
"I like to think so. Most people doubt it, and every
soul alive in Castle-Dinas denies it."
"One day I must ask for the privilege of seeing some
of your work," said Tolefree.
"You won't like it, but you're welcome. However,
Mr. —?"
"Tolefree."
"Ah, yes. Now, where have I heard that name? It don't
matter. You didn't come here to talk art, Mr. Tolefree.
So, plunge, will you? What is it?"
"The Beresford affair. A little irony of space-time
landed me in it. I'm what's called a private detective—"
"The devil you are? You don't look the part. And how
comes a private detective playing amanuensis to that ass
Fisher?"
"Let me tell you," said Tolefree. "Not that Fisher's an
ass: make no mistake about Fisher. I came down to look
into some small question for Jardine. What it was doesn't
matter. We were out walking on Goonbarrow Downs when


152
THE CORPSE WITH
we came across Beresford's corpse. An hour or so later, I
met Fisher there. He knew of me. I always work with the
police. He found me a little useful—and, well, that's it."
"No you don't, Mr. Tolefree!" Pugsley exclaimed.
"You can't ride off on generalities. What is it?"
"The reason I've invaded you this afternoon. I find it
hard to believe you shot Beresford, though he may have
been shot with your gun. But your gun was found not far
from the body, and had been hidden—"
"How and where?" demanded Pugsley, glaring.
"Under a rock overhanging the river below the slope
where Beresford lay."
"Good God! Well—anything else?"
"One or two things. The fact that Beresford on that
night had, or said he had, an appointment with a man
after midnight. He passed you sitting on the pavement
and immediately turned back. It was almost as if his ap-
pointment might have occurred to him on the instant, and
was with you. It wasn't? But the argument would run:
Pugsley was shamming drunk and lying in wait for
Beresford—"
"Tchah!" said Pugsley.
"Lying in wait. A policeman fortunately intervened;
but Pugsley had plenty of time to leave his lodgings after
the policeman took him home and keep the appointment
with Beresford, and shoot him, and return, and it is most
curious that in the morning he was off to the seaside before
the streets were aired."
"All dam' rubbish! Not a word of truth in it. I hardly
know the fellow. Don't suppose I've spoken to him three
times—"
"Before you go on," said Tolefree, "clear up one point.


THEEERIEEYE 153
There's a suggestion that you may have met Beresford in
the past?"
"I never did."
"Not while travelling in the East?"
"East be blowed! All I know of the East is that I once
spent a holiday in Egypt. Tried a bit of desert painting—
made nothing of it—Beresford?—did he ever pretend he'd
met me in the East?"
"Not that I know. Let's pass that up. So, you've never
seen him except here in Castle-Dinas?"
"That's all. I've some vague recollection of talk about
Egypt at the party Beresford gave. Nothing precise. As
for the rest of it, I wasn't shamming drunk that night. I
was 'way down below the Plimsoll line. Don't remember
anything except the policeman—and my head in the morn-
ing. Saw about Beresford's death to-day in the paper.
Then I had a message from the police saying that Fisher
wanted to get in touch with me. And so—bung-ho! for
Castle-Dinas."
"All quite straightforward," said Tolefree, "save for
the gun. Very awkward, that gun. How did it get to
Goonbarrow Downs?"
"My dear sir—I've not the slightest idea," declared
Pugsley.
"Somebody took it there. You don't know who that
somebody was?"
"Not the faintest."
"Then all you have to do to keep Fisher quiet is to
describe the last occasion when you saw the gun, and the
circumstances, and leave him to find out what happened
to it."
Pugsley snorted. "I've finished with Fisher. He's a fool.


154
THE CORPSE WITH
But I'll tell you. The last time I saw the gun was about a
month ago when I turned over some stuff in my old uni-
form case. After that, I never set eyes on it or gave it a
thought."
"Haven't taken a look at the case since you came home
to-day?"
"Why should I? Fisher says he's got the pistol."
Tolefree seemed surprised.
"In your position I think I'd have had a look—if only
to see whether anything else was missing."
"Would you? It all seems so dam' silly to me. Let's
go and take a peep."
Pugsley rose and Tolefree followed him across the land-
ing to the room which was evidently his studio. Stacks of
canvases lay against the walls; one large picture on an
easel recalled Fisher's objurgation on Pugsley's landscape
style; a large tree certainly resembled a large mushroom;
but then, Tolefree reflected, Pugsley might argue that
both were vegetables. There was another at which Tolefree
stared curiously. It was a portrait, in very different style,
of Mrs. Lowell—at a younger age, but indisputably Mrs.
Lowell.
The artist said nothing about pictures. He marched
straight to a corner where, from under a tumble of books,
papers, and soiled canvas, he pulled a long japanned tin
case, much the worse for wear. He chose a key from his
bunch to open it, disclosing a gunner's brilliant mess-kit
but little else. There was no Colt in the box.
"That's a reminder," said Tolefree, looking at the scar-
let and blue and gold.
"You in it too?" asked Pugsley. Tolefree nodded. "I've


THEEERIEEYE 155
kept the glad rags for special occasions. Sold all the other
junk. You see, Tolefree?—the gun's not there."
"Yes, I see," said Tolefree, looking at him sideways.
"You didn't sell the gun with the other stuff?"
"No, I never sold the gun."
"But it isn't there. So somebody must have taken it."
"I suppose so," said Pugsley, but did not meet Tole-
free's eyes. "Now are you satisfied?"
Tolefree said, "You have to satisfy Fisher, not me. I
imagine he wouldn't be satisfied. Think it over, Mr. Pugs-
ley. Something may remind you of what happened. Now—
don't put down a blank negative, I beg you. Think it over.
If you really can remember nothing, it wouldn't be a bad
idea to take Fisher's advice and see your lawyer—"
"Old Trevanion? A hell of a lot of good he'd do!"
"Nevertheless, tell him. But first, task your memory
about the gun. Ask yourself, Did I lend it to anyone?—"
"Well, I didn't. I'd have remembered that. And why
should I lend anyone an old Service revolver?"
"Try to put yourself in Fisher's mind. What's he think-
ing at this moment? That, whether or not he shot Beres-
ford, Pugsley's behaving strangely. He's not helpful. His
gun, which he hasn't seen for a month, almost certainly
killed Beresford. Yet he volunteers nothing. If he's tell-
ing the truth, someone must have stolen it, or borrowed
it, or he lent it, or he sold it. My dear man, you're in an
impossible jam—and you know it," Tolefree concluded.
"You're too confounded smart," he retorted. "I do
know I'm in a jam. But I'm not worrying, because Fisher's
in a worse one. I shall stay put. Let him do his damdest."
Tolefree told him that he was wrong. "You're in an
equivocal position, whether you see it or not."


156
THE CORPSE WITH
"Why equivocal?" asked Pugsley, with a show of indif-
ference. "You and Fisher put it that I must have lent my
revolver—I didn't, and you can't prove that I did; or sold
it—I didn't, and there's no purchaser to help you; or given
it away—I didn't, and Heaven knows I can't afford to give
anything away except pictures that nobody'll have in a
gift. Then, my revolver must have been stolen. Very well,
let Fisher find the thief. I'm not interested enough in the
thing to want it back. Equivocal?—I don't think so, Tole-
free. A clear conscience, not a spot of apprehension. Don't
you worry."
Tolefree turned away. "You're not going to take me
into your confidence? I'm sorry. I hope you won't regret
it some day."
Pugsley puzzled Fisher and would have puzzled Tole-
free but for that revealing visit to the studio. He was, as
Fisher said, nobody's fool. He had quality, notwithstand-
ing his two flaws—a chronic and torrid thirst and the des-
perate stroke of fate which had made him a clumsy and
unlucky gambler. Pugsley's conscious mind was good
enough. But why had he failed to see the staring fact
which utterly destroyed his story of the gun?
The nearly empty uniform case was a pathetic thing.
Tolefree could see the gunner officer on his beam ends
"realizing," bit by bit, the equipment that once meant so
much to his pride and his memories, keeping his "glad
rags" to the last. But there was a blind spot in everybody's
vision: Pugsley had failed to see the inference from the
fact that his uniform case was locked and could not be
opened without the key he carried on his ring. Well,
Fisher would discover that as soon as he began to explore
Pugsley in earnest.


158
THE CORPSE WITH
shortly walked up the drive to the portico of the Pal-
ladian house.
Peter met him in the hall.
"Good afternoon, sir. The doctor was asking for you just
now. Tea's served in the Library," said the stubby man,
with a touch more formality than his wont.
"Thanks," Tolefree said. "I'll find my way there when
I've washed my hands."
Peter walked in front of him towards the wash-room.
"The doctor came out just now, sir, and said you might
be leaving. The six-thirty train, I suppose? Shall I pack
now?"
Tolefree stared at the square face turned over Peter's
shoulder. "I'll let you know," said he, after a long pause.
This was a new aspect of Mapperley, he reflected, as he
turned taps, and performed with soap and towels. If Map-
perley, having done everything to keep him under surveil-
lance, had suddenly changed his mind and wished him
away, it might make a difference. A family conclave behind
the Library door, a discussion on this fellow Tolefree, a
decision that he was better in London than in Castle-
Dinas?—yes, that would certainly make a difference.
The picture of the Library in his mind's eye as he stood
before the door was realized as he opened it. Mapperley's
bulk reposed in his big chair. Sharpe sat with a file of
papers on his knee and a tea-cup on the table beside him.
Mr. and Mrs. Lowell were at the tea-table where Mrs.
Lowell presided over the silver and the electric toaster.
Jardine and Katherine stood in one of the long windows
looking down over the lawn. They all turned to face him.
"Hello, Tolefree!" boomed the doctor. "Just in time."
"Sugar?" said Mrs. Lowell. "And milk?"


THE EERIE EYE 159
Tolefree greeted them all with an easy smile, and fixed
his gaze on Mapperley.
"Well," said the doctor, as Tolefree took the cup Mrs.
Lowell prepared for him, "made up your mind? Going to
desert us or not?"
Tolefree shook his head. "I did think of catching the
six-thirty train, Doctor Mapperley. But if you'll put up
with me for one more night—"
"Of course, my dear fellow. Night journey to London
—horrible! There's a good train at ten in the morning."
The others were staring into Tolefree's eyes, not hostile
but anxious, waiting on his rejoinder. He gave Mapperley
a straight look.
"Thank you," he said.
He did not doubt that there would have been more ease
in the library of Carnmarth had he insisted on trying to
catch the six-thirty. They would have put the fastest car
in the place at his disposal and given him a royal send-off.
But he would stay one more night despite their eagerness
to speed the parting guest—perhaps because of it.
Tolefree addressed himself to tea. Mapperley and the
Lowells resumed whatever talk he had disturbed: it
seemed to be about estate improvements, taxation, the state
of the world. Jardine and Katherine continued to stand at
the window and talk in undertones. Mrs. Lowell alone
occasionally had a word for him. He recalled Sharpe's
"frozen mitt." Beresford had been frozen out of the
circle; Tolefree found the temperature falling. Sharpe
threw him a glance now and then, a queer, understanding
glance with a hint of amusement, tinctured with sympathy.
But he went on reading and making pencilled notes and
no word passed his lips.


160 THE CORPSE WITH
Tolefree sat tight. He did not mean to be frozen out. A
break must come.
It arrived when Jardine turned, looked around the
room, and said,
"Tolefree—Katherine and I are going for a stroll. Care
to come?"
Declaring his pleasure, he rose, excused himself to Mrs.
Lowell, and followed them through the window. Jardine
manoeuvred him to a place between them, and led the way
through the gardens at the back of the house to the woody
hill beyond.
Jardine, Tolefree perceived, was not in the frigid con-
spiracy. He said, as they climbed by a broad path among
the trees,
"I daresay you think us an ungrateful lot, Tolefree."
"My dear Jardine—why should you be grateful? I've
had a pleasant stay in a beautiful country, made the ac-
quaintance of interesting and attractive people, and done
no work. What could be more to a lazy man's liking?"
Jardine walked on silently; Katherine kept pace with
him on the other side.
"Tolefree," he said at last, "I'm a simple type—"
"People who know their types," Tolefree laughed, "are
usually quite subtle."
"I'm a simple type," Jardine persisted. "I'm no match
for you in irony. I can only state things as I see 'em. You
were conscious just now of walking in on a family con-
sultation. Anyone could see it in your face."
"More simplicity!" Tolefree exclaimed. "Do I so wear
my heart on my sleeve?"
"Whether you do or not, you interrupted a pow-wow
about yourself."


THE EERIE EYE
161
"And not the first, I imagine, Jardine."
"You can't deflect me, Tolefree. I've something to say
to you and I'm going to say it. Katherine and I talked it
over. I've told her why and how you came. In spite of
appearances we're both grateful to you."
"But Doctor Mapperley isn't, and Mr. and Mrs. Lowell
aren't. I'm quite aware of that."
"Katherine!" cried Jardine, "you tackle the fellow, I
can't."
Miss Lowell said, "Let's go on to the Bower and sit
down to it, Bruce."
The Bower was a bay in the path, with a view through a
clearing of the wood over the valley where Castle-Dinas
lay. Jardine pulled up at a bench. Looking down to the
casde keep and its banner in a cleft of the landscape,
Tolefree waited for Miss Lowell to tackle him.
"Mr. Tolefree," she began, "the trouble Bruce thought
he saw has gone. But we're none the less obliged to you
for being willing to help us. Now we two hope you'll
stay as long as you wish, but think no more of the reason
why you came."
"That's good of you, Miss Lowell," Tolefree re-
sponded. "But I intend to leave at ten to-morrow morning
by the excellent train mentioned by Doctor Mapperley.
As to thinking no more of the strange experiences of the
last few days, Miss Lowell—well, you know, thought's
a wayward faculty. Thought shut up wants air, some poet
said. I expect that, as I read the newspaper references
to Castle-Dinas during the coming weeks, my thoughts
will often turn to you and Mr. Jardine. You're a cou-
rageous young woman. You can bear the truth, I guess
—and I hope."


l62
THE CORPSE WITH
"Yes—in private," said she quietly. "I don't always want
to hear it shouted in the street."
"Naturally. If you had a family conclave to-day and the
upshot was that the family, much as it loves me, will be
glad to see my back, no doubt Doctor Mapperley gave
you some idea of my attitude towards him."
"Yes, Mr. Tolefree, he did."
"And he included the two things that made it impos-
sible for me to stay without being hated at Menadon and
Carnmarth?—the first, Beresford's part in the trouble, and
the second, the conspiracy of silence hatched at Carnmarth
about what happened to Beresford that night?"
Katherine bowed her head.
"Here's my little bother, Miss Lowell. I believe Beres-
ford was a thoroughly bad lot. I don't want to know
what he stood for in your life. But he was murdered, and
I can't sit silent and see the circumstances of a murder
hushed up. Therefore—"
He ended with a shrug of the shoulders.
Jardine burst out, "Tolefree!—I should agree with you.
But I don't believe in the conspiracy. Anyhow, I'm not
in it."
"I don't think you are. Mapperley's not likely to have
taken you into his confidence. But you've just escaped a
charge of murder by the skin of your teeth, Jardine.
You were on Goonbarrow Downs about the time when the
man was killed—"
"I swear to you—"
"You needn't swear. I believe the story of your errand,
strange as it is—incredible to most people, and especially
to the police. I think you knew nothing of the murder
until we found Beresford, unless, indeed—"


THEEERIEEYE 163
"He knew nothing!" the girl cried out. "It was I who
sent him. It would be too awful—"
"Yes, Tolefree?" Jardine frowned down on him. "Un-
less what?"
"I'll ask you a secret question," said Tolefree. "Don't
breathe it, either of you. Jardine, had you ever any trans-
actions with a man named Pugsley?"
"Transactions? No, I like him. We're old acquaintances.
But—transactions?—certainly not."
"You never bought anything from him? He never gave
you anything?"
"Absolutely not, Tolefree."
"Very well. I asked you this once before, but to keep
up the sequence, I'll ask you again. You weren't anywhere
near Carnmarth on that night?"
"No. I've satisfied Fisher. I went straight to Nantivet.
I got home about one. Had a few hours' sleep, and took
the book to Katherine early in the morning. Fisher's been
on the telephone to Nantivet and confirmed it all."
"You haven't a Colt revolver?"
"No—all the firearms I have are sporting guns."
"And you led me to that rock by the river where we
sat by mere chance—with no special motive whatever?"
"No. What motive could I have had?"
"Well, that's all. I shall go to-morrow with an easy
mind. Beresford's part in your affair doesn't really concern
me. I came down to help you. That's over, and I shall
get out. Unless, of course, Fisher now takes action against
you directly or indirectly."
"But that's not enough, Tolefree!" cried Jardine. "You
talk about transactions with Pugsley—"
"Please, Jardine! Don't pursue it. If you and Miss


THEEERIEEYE 165
nothing if the right person is murdered. I can't take that
view. We must really leave it at that."
2
While Tolefree talked with Pugsley and walked with
Jardine and Katherine, Superintendent Fisher spent a busy
afternoon. In the discovery of Pugsley's revolver he had
a clue to rejoice the heart of a police officer. His energetic
mind made the most of it.
Pugsley himself was an elusive rather than a slippery
person. It might well be that he had lost or got rid of
this or any other piece of property in one of his debauches.
Or in one of the impecunious spasms which occurred so
regularly he might have sold it. Fisher refused to think
that Pugsley pulled its trigger when Beresford died. But
he knew how hard it would be to drag information out of
Pugsley. There were shorter cuts.
Tolefree had not left his office more than three minutes
before Fisher was out scouring the little town. First, its
one gunsmith received him—with some obvious appre-
hension, wondering what offence he might have committed
to incur a visit. But the gunsmith knew nothing of Pugs-
ley's gun. All he could say, when he had consulted his
books, was that he sold a box of Colt ammunition some
months ago, but there was no record of the customer and
he could not remember the transaction. As Fisher knew
nothing of any ammunition save the one discharged shell
in the gun itself, this got him no further. Abandoning the
gunsmith, he made a tour of the few pawnshops which hid
themselves in back streets. Not one of them had sold a
Colt revolver within years, nor had any Colt been re-


166
THE CORPSE WITH
deemed from pawn. In fact Castle-Dinas seemed to con-
tain only one such weapon, and that one was under lock
and key in Fisher's table drawer.
As a last resource Fisher called the Club. It occurred
to him that if Pugsley had made any transaction with the
revolver, some member might possibly have heard of it,
and as the Steward knew pretty nearly everything there
was to know about every member, he closeted himself
with that functionary in his pantry, and with wiles brought
the conversation round to the subject of Colt guns. The
Steward, who had been in the war (nearly all stewards
had), thought a good many ex-officers might have kept
their guns as souvenirs, but he knew of only one, and
that was Captain Pugsley. He knew that only because
he had heard Mr. Trevanion and Captain Pugsley talking
about the revolver one day in the smoke-room. It was
an occasion when Mr. Trevanion was strongly disapprov-
ing of Captain Pugsley. He did not put it quite like that,
but Fisher gathered as much from a prolix account of the
talk in the smoke-room. It appeared to have consisted
chiefly of a scolding administered to the gallant captain
by his trustee.
Fisher maintained his politeness with difficulty to the
end of the story and then bolted for Trevanion's office.
The oyster was inclined to keep tight-shut, but he was
also inclined to keep on good terms with the police. Fisher
succeeded in extracting one pearl of information from him
on which he acted immediately.
The action took place at Carnmarth.
Jardine, Katherine and Tolefree had returned from
their walk and dispersed to dress for dinner. Tolefree,
coming downstairs, found no one in the hall and went


THE EERIE EYE 167
into the Library. Sharpe stood there alone, looking from
a window down over the lawns. He turned at the sound
of Tolefree's entrance and his thoughtful frown changed
to a grin.
"How goes the sleuthing?" he asked. "Or is this truly
a farewell dinner?"
"Farewell, I think," Tolefree responded. "Sleuthing at
Carnmarth is sleuthing under too many handicaps,
Sharpe."
"Why sleuth at all? You're under no obligation to
sleuth, are you? Why worry? That fellow Beresford was
a dreadful rotter."
Sharpe's frown had returned. Tolefree regarded him
gravely.
"Sharpe," he said, "I don't want to believe you're
speaking seriously. I don't think you are. I had all that
out with Doctor Mapperley. He's for private justice—
the greatest illusion on earth. Look here—I've never had
a real chance of a straight talk with you. I wish you'd try
to dissuade the doctor—"
"Good Lord!" Sharpe interrupted. "I'd rather try to
dissuade a mule. But from what?"
"Regarding this as a mere nothing. Astounding that
such a man should take such a line. It literally makes me
afraid. If he doesn't see it, at least you must—that you're
all in for a terrible stink when the facts come out. And
they must, you know, Sharpe, whether I'm here or not."
Sharpe took his hands out of his pockets, pulled up a
chair and sat astride it with arms over the back. He scru-
tinized Tolefree's face.
"You're telling me!" he said with a twist in his smile.
'Yes, I'm telling you, Sharpe."


168
THE CORPSE WITH
"Why am I supposed to have all this knowledge and
foresight, Tolefree?"
Tolefree made an impatient gesture. "If you want to
play with fire, you aren't going to play with me, Sharpe.
You've got a big stock of intelligence. Credit me with
some. You know all about this affair and it won't be long
before Fisher knows, or I miss my bet. Then, look out
for squalls."
Sharpe said, steadily, "Translate all that into English,
will you, Tolefree?"
"Very well. If you will have it, you shall. I'll ask you
a few questions and you can tell me the answers if you
like.
"Wasn't Beresford the enemy of the Lowells, and didn't
he come to Castle-Dinas to persecute them and to do it
through Katherine? Wasn't he the cause of all the trouble
between her and Jardine? You don't answer. He was.
"Since I've been talking to you I've conceived the idea
that Beresford wasn't such a stranger to you as he appeared
to be. You knew something of him. You don't answer
that? Let it go.
"But Doctor Mapperley had more knowledge of Beres-
ford than you. He knew Beresford was trying to get at
the Lowells through Katherine. He detested Beresford
with an active hatred, not the mere contempt he showed
in public. You don't deny it?
"Things were working up to a crisis before Feast Day.
That day the crisis came when Beresford forced himself
upon the Lowells. There was something between Kath-
erine and Beresford—"
Sharpe put in his first word: "What d'you mean?
How d'you know?"


THE EERIE EYE
169
"Because I saw it—Katherine going down into the
galleries beyond that dungeon, Beresford following her—"
"If you say anything to the detriment of Katherine,
Tolefree—" Sharpe spoke acidly.
"Not a word, Sharpe. I see it quite differently. I would
guess that Katherine, the only member of the family who'd
face Beresford squarely, was acting in defence of the fam-
ily. She's a quiet girl but she has a realistic mind."
Sharpe relaxed. He nodded. "She's a stunner."
"On the same occasion," Tolefree continued, "I saw
Mapperley driving Beresford out of the gallery, heard
him threaten Beresford, call him a scoundrel, tell him that
if he molested Miss Lowell once more it would be the last
time."
"Well—who wouldn't?" Sharpe exclaimed.
"The point is that this really was the last time," Tole-
free said solemnly. "Now, Sharpe, you won't deny that
Mapperley made an appointment to meet Beresford that
night and you knew it—?"
"Hold on!" cried Sharpe. Then, "Never mind—con-
tinue."
"It was the appointment he mentioned to his house-
keeper, Mrs. Young—"
"Mentioned to her!"
"So she tells Fisher. He was on the way to keep it when
he must have passed you—and you were supposed not to
have seen him."
"How do you mean—supposed?"
"So you told Fisher. If you did—but no matter. The
point is that Beresford, however he came, kept the appoint-
ment by coming to Carnmarth. Mapperley got me off to
bed early and pretended to retire himself. Said it was no


170 THE CORPSE WITH
Use to wait up for you or Jardine. Then, to cut the story
short, while I was theoretically asleep, Beresford arrived
here and you arrived here. Jardine may have arrived but
I don't think he did. Another person was probably in the
party. Beresford somehow or other got into the garage
where you keep your car. There, some time between mid-
night and two in the morning, he was shot through the
head and killed—"
"My God!" cried Sharpe, jumping up and backing
away.
"Somebody tied up his head with a silk scarf or hand-
kerchief. He was put into a car and the car was pushed
along the drive towards the gate in order not to rouse the
house—that is, me! It was driven to Goonbarrow Downs,
with at least two men in it besides the body. They carried
him to the spot where he was found. I believe they stuck
the gun in the water under a granite boulder. What they
did with the scarf, I don't know. They came back after
three."
Sharpe had sat down in a chair by Mapperley's work-
table. He stared at Tolefree as though he were a basilisk.
"I don't know who were the chief persons of this
tragedy," said Tolefree. "And it's fortunate for me, be-
cause if I did know I'd be condoning a felony. But I
can tell you at least three people who're aware of all that
happened. One's Doctor Mapperley; one's yourself,
Sharpe; and the other is Peter. You've thought it was
all so secret that nothing could be known. Beresford was
out of the way—the Lowells were happy; everything
could go on swimmingly at Menadon and Carnmarth. A
complete delusion! That's all I have to say. If I stay here
I must tell Fisher what I know. I don't want to stay and


THE EERIE EYE
17!
get the last piece of information he'll need before he claps
somebody in gaol. But my advice to you and Mapperley
would be to tell Fisher everything, if you can do it with-
out incriminating yourselves. And here's somebody com-
ing-"
Sharpe said, "I admit nothing, Tolefree! but I'll see
you again."
The voices which had interrupted Tolefree drew nearer.
As they became distinct he and Sharpe looked at each other
with raised eyebrows. Peter's, agitated . . . Fisher's, pre-
sumably the cause of the agitation.
Sharpe said under his breath, "Not a word from you!"
Tolefree gave him a nod for agreement.
The Library door opened. Peter came in and stood in
Fisher's path.
"Mr. Christopher, sir—a gentleman inquiring for you,"
said the ancient mariner, with the air of adding, "Shall I
send this bloke to the right-about?"
"Hello, Fisher," Sharpe called out. "Come right in.
What is it?"
Fisher was in uniform. Seeing Sharpe and Tolefree in
dinner kit, he said, "Afraid I've called at an awkward
moment, Mr. Sharpe; but you'll excuse me, no doubt."
Tolefree went to Peter in the doorway as Fisher stepped
into the room. "Doctor Mapperley know he's here?" he
murmured. Peter said out of the side of his mouth, "Yes.
Policeman wanted to see Mr. Christopher alone"—and
what contempt and animosity the old rascal squeezed into
the word Policeman!
Tolefree followed Fisher across the room to the window
where Sharpe was sitting, the Superintendent still apolo-
gizing. Sharpe said,


172
THE CORPSE WITH
"That's all right, Fisher. What's the trouble?"
"The Beresford affair, Mr. Sharpe."
"Oh?—and what can I do for you about the Beresford
affair?"
Tolefree said, "Shall I disappear?"
"No. Stay," Fisher answered. "I want some informa-
tion from Mr. Sharpe about points we've discussed. I'll
put it off till after dinner if you like."
"Why?" Sharpe looked at his watch. "We've got a
good quarter of an hour in hand. That ought to do,
Fisher?"
"As you like." Fisher was rather heavy. "I'll begin
by asking whether you'd care to tell me in more detail
what you did and whom you saw on Feast Night. You
needn't say anything if you don't want to."
"Gosh!—is that a warning, Fisher, to me?"
"In a sense, yes. I'm bound to tell you that I've no
right to demand answers."
"Sounds devilish official," Sharpe declared. "Just as if
you suspected me of putting Beresford to sleep."
Fisher protested that he'd made no such suggestion; he
wanted information. "I wish to check some statements
made to me, Mr. Sharpe. If you'd like to assist—"
"All right, Fisher. You needn't contort your conscience.
You want me to show you my alibi. It's just the same as
before. I came home not long after midnight and went
to bed. Nobody else seemed to be up, so I can't call any
witnesses. Tolefree could tell you that he and Doctor
Mapperley toddled up to bed quite early, and Jardine was
at Menadon."
"That," said Fisher, "is the general outline you gave
me. You can't fill in details?"


THE CORPSE WITH
you don't mind. I suppose it's in the garage? No—you
needn't come. I'll ask the man to show me. I prefer it
that way. You talk to Mr. Tolefree till I come back."
He was now the Compleat Superintendent. Sharpe put
up no show of objection. As Fisher closed the door, he
offered Tolefree a cigarette.
"Well, my friend," said Tolefree, "Fisher's moving fast.
You'd better watch your step. Remember what I said
about the danger of trying to mislead him."
Sharpe looked at his watch. "Mapperley will be here
directly to tackle the policeman," said he.
"I imagine not. He's already told Mapperley he wants
to see you alone."
"The devil he has!" Sharpe grimaced.
Fisher came back within three minutes, bringing Peter
into the room with him, scandalized, but angry and a little
fearful.
"There's no gun in the car, nor in the garage. That's
so?" Fisher turned to Peter.
"It is," Peter growled.
"You can go," Fisher told him; and Peter stumped out,
patently hating Policeman worse than ever.
"A mystery to me," said Sharpe. "Don't remember put-
ting it anywhere else. Might have stowed it in my room
and forgotten it. Like to come and have a look?"
Fisher, with a gesture of humouring a fool to the top
of his bent, followed Sharpe into the hall and there en-
countered Dr. Mapperley.
"Hello, Mr. Fisher," said the doctor, with sardonic
joviality, "taking him away? What's he been up to?"
Fisher would not smile. "Mr. Sharpe's giving me some
help in an inquiry," he said, and passed on, Tolefree in


176
THE CORPSE WITH
Sharpe turned on him. "Don't be so mysterious, you
fool! What d'you propose to do?"
"You force me to it, Mr. Sharpe. I've no wish to do
it, but if you don't come out with the facts I shall have to
charge you with being concerned in the death of Beresford
and warn you that anything you say then may be given
in evidence against you."
"Before you do that, Fisher—" Tolefree broke in.
"Yes?"
"I was going to appeal to Mr. Sharpe to think hard
about the consequences of refusing. No doubt you'd al-
low all the rigmarole to be forgotten if he had anything
else to tell you."
Sharpe had sat on the foot of the bed and grasped the
rail when Fisher produced his ultimatum. In a minute
he was as nonchalant as ever. He now took a cigarette and
lit it. He puffed a cloud of smoke before he spoke.
"Good of you to mother me, Tolefree. But—nothing
doing. I'm not built for the part of little Eric. Let Fisher
get on with it."
"I beg you—" said Tolefree.
"No use," said Sharpe.
"Then," Fisher pronounced in a doomsday voice, "I'll
ask you to accompany me to the police station, Mr. Sharpe.
Sorry to spoil your dinner, but we'll see you get some
refreshment. I can't tell you how sorry. But you insist.
You leave me nothing else to do."
Sharpe got up and slapped him on the shoulder. "Cheer
up, Old Misery! You're making an ass of yourself, but
I don't mind in the least. I suppose I can take my pyjamas
and a clean shirt?"
"Tell the man to bring them," said Fisher.


THE EERIE EYE 177
"You're in a deuce of a hurry to get me under lock and
key, aren't you? Don't I have to know something about
the charge before I disappear into the dungeon?"
Fisher looked worried. "I haven't charged you yet.
You'd better consult your solicitor, Mr. Sharpe. Perhaps
he can give you some better advice than mine," said Fisher
bitterly. "But I'd have thought a man of your quality
had more sense."
"None of your fulsome flattery, old chap," Sharpe said.
"The velvet glove and the iron hand are outmoded. I'm
sorry for you, Fisher. You're making a horrible muddle of
this. Also I doubt whether you're quite fair to me. All
very well to say I was concerned in Beresford's death with-
out producing a single spot of reason. I might as well say
you were concerned in the execution of Charles the First."
Fisher seemed a little puzzled.
"You have the remedy in your own hands. If you
don't want the indignity of riding to Castle-Dinas with
me and the prospect of spending a night at the police of-
fice, it's up to you to say what you did on Feast Night—
and all of it."
"I can be as pig-headed as you, Fisher. I've told you
all I have to tell. Now, produce the manacles and let's
go. I'll leave a message with Peter."
3
Tolefree saw the end of the fantastic scene from the hall,
where he stood beside Mapperley.
Sharpe had said good-bye and shaken hands with the
doctor, asked him to shed a tear for his unhappy secretary,
and recommended him to employ Tolefree in sleuthing


178
THE CORPSE WITH
William the Silent. As he went with Fisher to the car he
appeared to be in the highest spirits. Peter followed with
a bag. The Superintendent would have fallen dead on the
drive if they'd been real daggers that Peter's eyes flung
at him. Sharpe waved his hand merrily when the car
moved off.
"I think," said Mapperley to Tolefree, "you said Fisher
was no fool?"
"The wisest man makes an occasional bloomer," Tole-
free answered.
"Well—let's have some dinner, Tolefree. Cur quis non
frandeat, hoc est?"
"Certainly not," laughed Tolefree. "If you can swal-
low food after so affecting a scene, there's no reason why
I shouldn't."
Mapperley talked while Peter served their dinner. His
talk was, however, of anything on earth but Sharpe
and the episode just past. He seemed to make a point
of allowing no agitating matter to interfere with the
heroic digestive machinery so praised by Dr. Lose. Tole-
free listened with one-half his mind while the other fol-
lowed the course of things at police-headquarters in Castle-
Dinas . . .
Fisher, he felt, must have struck some strong new line
to have gone as far as he went with Sharpe. Somehow a
hint that Sharpe had not passed so commonplace and
placid a Feast Night as he pretended must have come to
Fisher's ears.
Probably he would not go the length of an arrest, but
plainly he had solved the mystery of Pugsley's gun and
traced its later possession. He gave no hint of this in his
questions, but nothing else fitted the facts. Fisher was wily.


THE EERIE EYE
179
He must have found the box of ammunition in the car,
but he had said nothing of it: saving that up, doubtless, to
stagger Sharpe on some future occasion . . .
Sharpe was a strange, attractive fellow. How foolish
he had made Fisher look by holding out his hands for the
darbies!—a debonair gesture which was certainly not mere
bravado. Sharpe was sure of himself. Such confidence
could only come from certainty that the conspiracy of si-
lence would hold and that while it held Fisher would
never be able to discover what really happened on Feast
Night . . .
Peter had put a cobwebby bottle in a basket on the table
and left it. Tolefree refused port.
"You're as bad as the youngsters," declared Mapperley.
"A man of your generation ought to drink port if only
to set an example to the pink-gin fiends. Wine, that
maketh glad the heart of man—"
"But nobody smoked in those days," Tolefree objected.
"If I had to choose between a pipe of tobacco and one of
port—"
"Incorrigible one—a toast to you: Confound your
knavish tricks," said Mapperley, eyeing the ruby lights in
his glass.
"Which ones?" Tolefree asked.
"Resurrecting corpses better left at rest. Still, that's
finished, so we needn't waste time on it. What are you
doing about the train to-morrow? Catching it?—or giving
it a miss?"
"Catching it," said Tolefree, decisively. "For I per-
ceive that you're not yet in the mood to pursue the dis-
cussion of Beresford's tragedy—although I suppose you've
consulted your friends on it. If I stayed in Castle-Dinas,


180 THE CORPSE WITH
Doctor, you and I would be in opposite camps. Therefore
—London for me."
"Even though Christopher Sharpe's in a police-cell?"
Mapperley drank the last drop of his port and took a cigar
to trim.
"Even so," said Tolefree. "Sharpe manifestly thinks
he's in no danger and Fisher just amuses him. You're of
the same opinion. I hope you'll not be brought up with
a round turn. Your danger lies in undue contempt for
Fisher. He's not done this without knowing something
that you think he can't possibly know."
Mapperley pondered this. "Perhaps," he said. "But I
question it. In any event Sharpe's in no danger. Don't
excite yourself on that score. You don't know what Fisher
thinks he's found?"
"No; but I can guess. He's convinced that Sharpe
gave him an untruthful, or say an incorrect, account of his
movements on Feast Night. He has traced to Sharpe the
ownership, or the possession, of a gun for which Sharpe
won't account. It's a gun of the same calibre as the one
which killed Beresford. I don't doubt, Doctor Mapper-
ley, that you'd make sure, in the last resort, that your
friend Sharpe was in no danger of his life; but don't be
too certain he's not in danger of unpleasant and damaging
experiences."
"You're a queer fellow, Tolefree," said Mapperley
through his heavy cigar-smoke.
"I've known others," said Tolefree.
"You seem to know much that I thought must remain
unknown. I shan't ask how you came to know it. But
I confess that, as things look now, I'd be content if you
went back to London and let Fisher handle his own job."


i8a THE CORPSE WITH
road with other people in his car between Castle-Dinas
and Carnmarth after half-past twelve.
His searchers on Goonbarrow Downs had found in a soft
place the print of a car-tyre, traced for twenty yards,
which bore the mark of a defect found in the off back tyre
of Sharpe's car. Fisher had no doubt that Sharpe's car
took Beresford to the moor.
He had discovered from Trevanion, the lawyer, that
Pugsley had parted with the revolver to Sharpe—he be-
lieved half as a joke—in discharge of a bridge debt on
which Trevanion refused to advance him money. Sharpe
merely said Fisher could stuff himself with all the fairy-
tales he pleased. But there was no doubt the Colt was in
Sharpe's ownership at the time of the murder.
The triangular talk between Fisher, Trahair and Sharpe
went badly for Sharpe, and Trahair's anxiety mounted
as the interview went on. For some reason, whether in-
tuition or a tip, Fisher was certain that Sharpe had knowl-
edge of Beresford before the Mystery Man arrived in
Castle-Dinas. Sharpe merely told him to be as certain as
he liked. Trahair insisted that this insouciance was not
suitable wear for the threshold of a police-cell, and he
asked for a word with his client in private. He then
got out of Sharpe the fact that, though he had never seen
Beresford till within the last six months, he had known of
such a fellow.
It was some years ago, when he joined the staff of a
school at Ashling, in Yorkshire. He heard there of a
clever master with an unsavoury reputation, who left a
legend behind him. He had certain mannerisms which
people remembered—a characteristic of his face was a


THE EERIE EYE 183
twitching of the right eyebrow. He left after getting into
trouble with some woman.
Sharpe, it appeared, would never have connected Beres-
ford with the picture he got of the Ashling master if Lose
had not mentioned one day that he fancied he'd seen
Beresford somewhere before, and included the twitching
eyebrow in his recollection. If Sharpe ever perpended the
master's name he'd forgotten it, but it wasn't Beresford:
he was quite sure of that.
All through Trahair's narrative Mapperley had main-
tained a leisurely attention, smoking a fresh cigar; but he
had said no word.
Tolefree now remarked, "Fisher said something about
Beresford being an 'anonymous person.' He has no back-
ground we can hear of—might have been born eighteen
months ago in Paris."
"Yes," said Trahair. "But there's no doubt in my mind
that he was the fellow Sharpe heard about in the north,
and Sharpe knows it. I told Fisher that Sharpe had no
ground other than a twitching eyebrow for believing that
he had ever come across Beresford's trail—and that wasn't
enough. But Fisher was most intent on the gun. Sharpe
refused to give an account of it. One thing stumps Fisher.
He hasn't got the bullet, and without it he can't definitely
say this gun shot Beresford."
"Of course not," said Tolefree, with a side-look at Dr.
Mapperley.
Sharpe's answer to the evidence that he was seen on the
road was, said Trahair, merely a blank denial, and Trahair
himself caught up the point that it was not easy to identify
people in cars on dark roads. His answer to the clue of the


THE CORPSE WITH
tyre-print was that any one of a thousand tyres might have
a similar defect.
"He seemed to know," Trahair commented, "that up
to this point Fisher is stumped on all his evidence. The
gun carried no finger-prints. It held one discharged shell.
It could have killed Beresford, but no proof exists that it
did. Then Fisher produced a box of Eley cartridges found
in the car, an unbroken box. He said that though Sharpe
denied using the gun he had a plentiful supply of ammuni-
tion for it. But that didn't help Fisher, for I pointed out
that a man who was going to commit a murder and had
a box of shells would certainly have loaded the gun
completely."
"A good point," said Tolefree.
"It's awkward for Fisher. But then he turned out his
prize piece of evidence—with almost a whoop of triumph.
It was a white silk scarf, faintly stained with what might
be blood; his searchers had found it in the stream half a
mile below the point where the gun was hidden."
"And what did he conclude from that?" Tolefree asked.
"He was a bit shy of chasing it far, though he gave
me the impression of knowing more than he said. Sharpe
wanted to know what the scarf had to do with him? It
was a foolish question. Fisher's eye gleamed when he
replied with evidence from the Club that Sharpe had such
a scarf and often wore it at night. Of course, I jumped
on that: white scarves are as common as defective tyres.
Fisher said, with a queer sort of smile, that he'd be quite
content if Sharpe would produce his own scarf. The fact
is, Tolefree, that Fisher hasn't a single piece of evidence
that counts as vital—but taken all together these things
look bad."


THEEERIEEYE 185
Tolefree nodded. He turned to Dr. Mapperley as
though for some judgment on the story. The doctor got
up from his chair.
"Well, Trahair," said he, "you're doing nobly. Carry on
with the good work. I feel sure Fisher can fasten noth-
ing on Sharpe. What's your opinion? Is Fisher going to
arrest him?"
"He's hesitating. Consulting the Chief Constable. If I
know anything of that gallant colonel the first thing he'll
do is to insist on calling in Scotland Yard. Personally
I think they won't lock Sharpe up. Probably they'll let
him go and keep an eye on him till Scotland Yard gets off
the mark."
"So far so good. One thing's quite certain. Sharpe won't
run away," said Mapperley.


THE EERIE EYE
187
"If Fisher's lucky," said Mapperley. "But you're not
going to help. If Christopher comes home to-night we'll
open a bottle for him. If he doesn't he'll sleep easily
enough. Go and do likewise, Trahair."
When Trahair had gone, Mapperley said, "Tolefree—
bed-time for you? Or do you want to masticate Trahair's
story?"
Tolefree replied, "Bed, I think. But you might try to
switch your mind away from Carnmarth and see the thing
from the outside. A young man who's concealed every-
thing he knew about Beresford, whose gun's found near
the body, his car-tyre prints on the ground, his scarf in
the river!—Sharpe may sleep easily to-night, but I'd be
a little apprehensive myself. You make the mistake of
under-estimating Fisher. He's covered a lot of ground in
a short time. How long do you think he'll take to reach
Carnmarth? He'd have been here already, Doctor, but
for his error in supposing that Beresford was killed on
Goonbarrow. You've plenty of material there for mastica-
tion."
Whereupon he wished his host good night.
No bottle was cracked for Sharpe. When Tolefree got
down in the morning, Sharpe was in effect under arrest,
though Fisher used the polite euphemism "detained for
inquiries."
Such detention could not last long, Tolefree told Map-
perley and Jardine, who were at breakfast when he went
in. Fisher would have to charge him or let him go.
In the middle of breakfast, a silent meal, Peter came to
announce a long-distance telephone call, looking with dis-
taste at Tolefree as he spoke 5 but then, Peter had given
1


188 THE CORPSE WITH
him ugly looks almost ever since that meeting of theirs in
the small hours . . .
It was his friend Pierce on the line at Scotland Yard.
Tolefree exclaimed in surprise: how did Pierce know where
he was?
"Oh, we just look for trouble," said Pierce; "you're
sure to be there." The Chief Constable of the County,
he added, had called the Yard last night and requested its
assistance in finding out what had happened to a man
named Beresford. Pierce had been talking to the Superin-
tendent, who asked him if he knew Tolefree. "He said
you're on the job."
"Off it," was Tolefree's instant reply. "I'm leaving for
London by a train at ten."
"Not on your life!" said Pierce. "You stay there till I
come, or we're friends no longer. When did you turn
quitter?—you, of all men!"
Tolefree in a few sentences told Pierce his quandary.
Pierce saw it. All right, he said; Tolefree could quit
to-morrow if he wanted to; but if he didn't meet him at
the station at two o'clock to-day he'd deserve the pain of
the rack, with a turn or two of the thumbscrew and a
spot of boiling oil to top off with. "It sounds interesting,
Tolefree, and I wager you know more about it than any-
body else."
"Pierce—be yourself," Tolefree urged him. "Don't
follow the lead of the local big noises and under-rate the
police. Fisher—that's the Superintendent—is a smart man,
only he's got off on the wrong foot."
"That's enough. You stay and get me off on the right
foot, you beggar—"
Pierce rang off.


THE EERIE EYE
189
In the hall Peter lingered to waylay Tolefree. "I'll
pack your bags, while you're at breakfast, sir, and fetch
'em down. You'll be wanting the car for the station—say,
half-past nine, sir?"
Tolefree smiled at the old pirate's anxiety to see his
back, told him to bring down the bags and he'd settle
about the car later on.
"Well, Tolefree," said Mapperley, "sorry to lose you.
Have you ordered the car? Peter'll see to it."
Mapperley's grief at losing him did not affect his appe-
tite or depress his spirits. Tolefree considered for a mo-
ment whether he should fling a thunderbolt. He decided
that it would do His Royal Complacency no harm.
"My plans are a little altered," he said. "I've just
heard on the 'phone from London that Scotland Yard has
been called in—"
"Scotland Yard!"
"Already?"
Jardine cried and Mapperley boomed in the same in-
stant.
"Yes. The Inspector who's coming is a friend of mine.
I'm to meet him this afternoon, so I shan't be taking the
ten train, Doctor. Still, I think I'd better say good-bye
to Carnmarth after breakfast."
Mapperley frowned, rose, hesitated, made up his mind.
"This makes a difference, you know. If you're staying
in Castle-Dinas, why not here?"
"No," said Tolefree. "Inappropriate. I told you we
should find ourselves in opposite camps if I stayed."
"Pish and tush!" Mapperley retorted. "There aren't
any camps. You stay here, Tolefree, while you're in
Castle-Dinas. Bring your Scotland Yard sleuth to see us


190 THE CORPSE WITH
if you like. I'll hear no refusal. Jardine—put in a word."
"I'd like you to stay, Tolefree—and so would Kath-
erine," said Jardine.
"Sorry, but I can do no good. I'd like to help Sharpe
if he'd allow himself to be helped; but I can't agree to
conceal evidence from the police."
"All right, Tolefree. We've had all this out before.
I don't suppose even a Scotand Yard man can do what
Fisher can't—conjure up evidence where none is—"
"None?" Tolefree murmured.
"Let's leave it. See you at lunch?"
"Thanks, possibly. But if I may bring Pierce here this
afternoon, I propose to leave by the night train. Depend
on it I'm much better away than here now that things
have taken this turn."
In the hall Tolefree was asking Peter to have his bag-
gage taken to the Priory Hotel when Jardine came to
him. He took hat and stick, and walked with Jardine out
on to the lawn.
"Think Sharpe's in any real danger, Tolefree?" Jardine
asked, anxiously.
Tolefree gave him a searching look. "That depends
in the first place on Sharpe," he said, "and in the next on
his friends. I told Mapperley last night that anyhow
Sharpe is in for some remarkably unpleasant experiences.
So I beg you, Jardine, if you know the truth about Beres-
ford, to get it off your chest."
"You mean—the truth about his death?"
"Of course. The rest of it doesn't concern me."
"Then the answer is that I know nothing whatever
about Beresford's death. But I'm terribly afraid—" He
pulled up suddenly. "No, Tolefree, never mind that."


THE EERIE EYE 191
"You're terribly afraid that if the truth about the mur-
der of Beresford comes out, other things will have to be
made known which you want to keep secret. Well, Jar-
dine, that's as may be. If I have a notion what they are, I
shall do nothing to suggest it. But I've made my attitude
towards the murder perfectly clear. I won't move a finger
or keep a finger still to prevent the truth of that becoming
known."
"I understand," said Jardine, miserably.
"Now, I'm going into the town. If I'm not at luncheon,
make my apologies to the doctor."
Tolefree was not at luncheon. In Castle-Dinas he sought
out Trahair at his office, and found Sharpe with him.
"Hello, Tolefree!" Sharpe exclaimed, holding up his
wrists. "Dodged the manacles so far, you see."
"Congratulations," said Tolefree. "Did Fisher put you
through the third degree?"
"No. He put me to bed after an excellent supper. The
miseries of the prison cell are grossly exaggerated."
Sharpe was irrepressible. Trahair looked worried.
"You've heard?" he said to Tolefree. "Fisher con-
sulted the Chief Constable. He was against an arrest, and
all, as I guessed, in favour of calling in Scotland Yard.
There's a man coming down to-day. Meanwhile, they've
let this fellow loose on the understanding that he doesn't
bolt."
"Ye-es," said Tolefree. "I see the idea. I should tell
you, Trahair, that Fisher took the extraordinary step of
informing the people at Scotland Yard that I was here and
mixed up in the Beresford affair. By chance, the man
who's being sent is a friend of mine. He rang me up this
morning and insisted that I should meet him. Threatened


THE EERIE EYE 193
Trahair glared at him and turned to Tolefree. "You
don't say this without knowing it?"
"What! The most painful thing I've ever struck? Of
course I don't. I've tried to make Sharpe see reason. He
won't. I tell you now as his lawyer. Beresford was shot
in that garage. The revolver was kept in the pocket of
Sharpe's car. After the shooting Beresford was taken away
in a car to Goonbarrow—you know whose car—and laid
there. The gun was hidden. It needed at least two men
to do all that. Fisher has worked his way round to Sharpe
by another route. Do you think Sharpe would now be
at liberty if Fisher, instead of believing the murder was
done on Goonbarrow, knew it to have been done at Carn-
marth?"
"Certainly not!" declared Trahair, still glaring at his
indifferent client.
"I came to see you," said Tolefree, "because Pierce will
discover what I've discovered, whether I tell him or not.
And it's my duty to tell him. Yet Sharpe, for some silly
reason, won't say a word to clear himself if he's inno-
cent."
"He's an ass!" Trahair exclaimed.
"Keep your hair on, old man," said Sharpe, coolly.
"I'm for the eight-foot drop, not you—according to
Tolefree."
"Sharpe's playing a game," Tolefree replied. "But it's
a dangerous game. He certainly knows everything that
happened at Carnmarth that night. And two other people
know, if not more. There's a plot to keep silence. They
forget that actions speak louder than words."
"Who are the two?" asked Trahair.


THE EERIE EYE 195
police, and is the reason why you're here. He's the
brother-in-law of Lowell, and the Lowells are, in my
opinion, the reason why Beresford came here. But I'd
better lay it all out for you. So mount a pipe and lis-
ten . . ."
Pierce listened for half an hour. Then he held up a hand
and sat brooding a while with his customary expression
of deep melancholy. Tolefree lit his pipe.
"I'll go over the ground with you," said Pierce pres-
ently. "But—come across with all of it, Tolefree. Know
who killed him?"
"No—but I know three people who do. They're Map-
perley, Sharpe, and Mapperley's old-man-of-the-sea,
Peter. There may be others, but these three certainly."
"Looks that way. Still, Tolefree, you wouldn't be so
cocksure unless you were holding out on me with some-
thing. So—kindly oblige toot sweet."
Tolefree shook his head. "I'd rather you made your
own discoveries, Pierce. You see, I've some sort of obliga-
tion to these people."
"Hooey!" said Pierce.
"No—really."
"Won't do, Tolefree. There's only one strong point in
this case of yours. If the man was killed on the moor, or
wherever it is, you may be mistaking mere coincidence for
evidence. But you never do that. So there's evidence in
that garage and you haven't disclosed it."
Tolefree got off his perch and took a turn across the
room. He sighed. He came back to Pierce holding out a
matchbox. "I knew it would come to this as soon as I saw
you. You're just a policeman. Peter will sum you up in
two ticks. Here you are."


196 THE CORPSE WITH
Tolefree held out the matchbox. Pierce took it and
looked inside. A mournful smile spread over his face.
"Same old stuff!" said he.
"This fellow was dopey when he died," said Tolefree.
"I found these two cigarette ends, one in the car and one
on the garage floor. Sniff 'em."
Pierce sniffed. "Marijuana—yes? Any evidence that he
was addicted?"
"I never saw him alive. May be so. And he was cer-
tainly dopey when they killed him. It's not enough in
itself; but there's one other thing—a round hole in the
door post of the garage, about an inch deep. It's a deal post
and pretty old. You'll find a piece of metal buried in it,
and if it's not an Eley bullet from the Colt—I was going
to say I'd eat it, but perhaps it's not worth while. Put
it together with that night's noises and my encounter with
Peter the Pirate—"
"Now we're getting somewhere," Pierce exclaimed.
"But the police—?"
"They know nothing of the garage. Fisher's quite con-
vinced that Beresford was killed on Goonbarrow Downs."
"And you're sure he wasn't. But you believe in your
friend Jardine?"
"You can bet he isn't a murderer. I don't believe he's
in the plot at all."
"And that goes for the girl?"
"It does."
"But she had something to do with Beresford, eh?"
"You'll see her. She's a very fine young person. Her
father and mother shrank from Beresford. She stood up
to him. Plain, isn't it, that you can't get the hang of this


THE EERIE EYE
197
till you know something about the relations of Beresford
with the Lowell family?"
"Seems so. And then what? The Lowell family will
have to cough it up."
"Optimist! I'll bet you they cough up nothing. Wait
till you get into that atmosphere. For my part I should
go for the Beresford end of it. A dead man's incapable of
resistance. I'm not at all sure that Fisher's pumped that
housekeeper dry. There simply must be more to be learned
about Beresford's past before he showed up in Paris, and
that's where you'll pick up the trail of the Lowells."
"I get an impression of a rolling stone—travel," said
Pierce. "What sort of travel could it be?—that no one
knows anything about it? And where—that it brought him
up against these Lowells?"
"Pierce, you're like the Sphinx. You propound ques-
tions that nobody can answer. But, talking of the Sphinx,
some people think—though I have my doubts—that it
possibly included Egypt, where Miss Mapperley met Mr.
Lowell and they were married—at Alexandria, I'm told.
The doctor dragged out the circumstance and place of the
marriage for my special benefit the night I dined with the
Lowells."
"Egypt?" said Pierce. "That might be a trail if it
wasn't too long ago. I'll get it out of Lowell."
"Well, you couldn't find a stickier man when he's made
up his mind not to play. The Lowells are rid of Beres-
ford. They want to forget him."
"I'll remind 'em, Tolefree. I'm not like you, all balled
up with these folks. A touch of naked callousness about
their tender feelings—why, it'll do wonders. And any-
how, I like the short route. If we can't find out in Castle-


198 THE CORPSE WITH
Dinas what happened in Castle-Dinas—" Pierce wagged
his head. "What's the name of the place Sharpe men-
tioned, where he heard of the schoolmaster with the jittery
eyebrow?"
"Ashling, in Yorkshire. But there's another line on that.
You remember what I told you of Lose, the medico? He
felt sure he'd seen the fellow somewhere before, and he
mentioned the twitching eyebrow."
"Ah, yes—but I shouldn't ladle out my famous optimism
over that, Tolefree. Twitching eyebrows aren't uncom-
mon. Tell you what: you take me to this Mapperley's
place and let me in. I'll try a fall with the Pirate King.
You can then buzz off and do what you like—track down
Beresford's lurid past or go fishing. So far as I'm concerned
you seem likely to be more hindrance than help. I simply
hate being impolite while you're around."
"I shall buzz off to London to-morrow," Tolefree told
him. "No ill-feeling, Pierce? I've given you all I know
and a bit over. I want to have a word with two people
in Castle-Dinas before I depart. So I leave you to fix
things with Fisher and I'll be back here by four-thirty.
We shall get to Carnmarth in time for tea."
It had been hard to work with Fisher; it would be
harder still to work with Pierce, Tolefree reflected as he
went down to the lobby. Better throw it up entirely. He
would, unless Sharpe seemed to be in a desperate fix. He
had handed all his facts over to Pierce. The ideas washing
about in his head might be fantasy and he didn't feel
called upon to part with them. If Pierce could do his
job without bringing woe on the heads of Jardine and


THEEERIEEYE 199
Katherine Lowell or making a bloomer about Sharpe,
those ideas might stay where they were.
He picked up a telephone directory in the lobby, noted
an address and set out in the sunny afternoon to walk
through Castle-Dinas to the hillside beyond. He turned
in at the gate of a quiet house whose brass plate denoted
the residence of Richard Lose, M.D.
Dr. Lose was at home, but he never saw patients be-
tween three and four. Tolefree rebutted this impeachment
of his health and sent in his card. The tall doctor rose as
he was shown into the study and met him with an out-
stretched hand.
"My one lazy hour per day," said he. "But you have
the liberty of the bailiwick. Well, Tolefree—I hear
Fisher's let Sharpe go. Why in Heaven's name did he pull
him in? Rotten faux fas, that! Take a pew. Cigarette?—
pipe? Try this mixture."
Tolefree settled himself in a chair by the open window.
"Why did he pull him in?" he echoed, smiling. "You
have the jargon pat, Doctor. Fisher had a number of leads
to Sharpe. No doubt you've heard of them? He owned a
gun that may have killed Beresford. He possessed a scarf
like one that Fisher's men found in the river—"
"Yes; I know all that. And somebody's supposed to
have seen Sharpe out in the small hours. But anybody
who knows Sharpe—" He paused.
"I have the same feeling," said Tolefree. "What looks
a little more than a physical possibility seems a psycholog-
ical impossibility."
"Well, of course!" growled Lose.
"But, Doctor, I was at Carnmarth when Fisher pulled
him in, and I confess that Sharpe did his utmost to get


200
THE CORPSE WITH
pulled in. He literally held out his hands for the wrist-
lets."
"Nevertheless," said Lose, "it was a mistake. You think
it is a mistake, don't you?" He seemed anxious.
"I don't think Sharpe killed Beresford, but I think he
knows who did. Fisher might be justified in charging him
as an accessory. However, he's at liberty for the present."
"And Fisher's had Scotland Yard called in over his
head—which isn't too good for Fisher. And," Lose added
with a laugh, "I've plunged right into the middle of the
muddle. I suppose you did call to say something about the
case?"
"Rather to ask a question. That is, if I may?"
"Carry on. I'm tremendously interested in this puzzle."
"You remember," said Tolefree, "that when we met
after lunch on Feast Day you said you had a feeling of
having seen Beresford before? There was something fa-
miliar about him; but if you had met him you couldn't
recall where."
"That's so," said Lose.
"Well now, last night, when Trahair saw Sharpe at the
police office, he, who'd always denied having any knowl-
edge of Beresford before he turned up at Castle-Dinas,
admitted that he'd heard a long time ago about a fellow
who might be Beresford, and he declared that it came to
his mind because of something you said."
"I said? What the deuce—!"
"It was this—that one thing which made Beresford seem
familiar to you was a trick he had of twitching the right
eyebrow."
"Not a trick. A nervous affection," said Lose. "Yes, it
was one of the things. But you can't count on it. That sort


THE EERIE EYE
201
of affliction isn't exceptional. And in this case I'd put
nothing on it. I had more than that, Tolefree—a general
impression of a familiar bone-structure, and physical man-
nerisms—attitude, walk. But it's delicate ground. Just a
resemblance. All right to mention it when no consequence
attached to a recognition, but now, well, it's not strong
enough."
"I see what you mean. So that, if Beresford did happen
to be the man you'd met, a consequence would attach to
the recognition?"
Lose did not reply at once. Then he spoke hesitatingly.
"I'd rather not have told you, Tolefree. But—well, say
Beresford was my man with the twitching eyebrow, then
the answer is Yes."
"And you'll go no further than that?"
"At present I won't."
"The cause of Beresford's murder," said Tolefree, "lies
in Beresford's past—before he came to Castle-Dinas."
"That seems axiomatic." Lose waited for more.
"There's a question I haven't put to Fisher. It's this:
I suppose nobody by any chance thought of taking his
finger-prints?"
"Good Heavens!—have you got that far?"
"In my mind, yes," Tolefree admitted. "I've not said
a word about it till now. I perceive that your mind's going
the same way."
Lose frowned. "I told you this was delicate ground.
When I looked at him the other morning on Goonbarrow
I feared we might reach it, possibly. And again when I
did the autopsy. And so, though I've not mentioned it
to a soul, I did take his finger-prints."
Tolefree relaxed with an air of satisfaction.


202
THE CORPSE WITH
"You didn't even tell Fisher?"
Lose shook his head. "Naturally not. There was no
suggestion in the case that Beresford's finger-prints would
interest anyone or be of any importance. Fisher would
concern himself only in the murderer's prints."
"I suppose so." Tolefree looked at the doctor quizzi-
cally. "Man of wealth, education, style—how could his
finger-prints interest anyone? The only interesting collec-
tions of finger-prints in the world are those in the police
libraries. Yet, Doctor, you thought it well to get them
before Beresford went underground."
"You're pressing me, Tolefree!"
"Not at all. But I link up finger-prints with a twitch-
ing eyebrow, and a face you've studied, and a gait you
know, and I come to a necessary conclusion."
"Which is—?"
"Whether he was Beresford or not, you were in touch
for some time with a man whose eyebrow twitched, whose
bone-structure you learned to know, and his gait. You
were aware of his affliction of the nerves. You are a doc-
tor. The necessary conclusion is that the man was, at some
time or other, your patient. As you thought it worth while
to finger-print him after his death, a possible though not
a necessary corollary of this is that you knew the man had
broken the law. I'll go one step further, Doctor, and ask
whether you were ever the medical officer of a prison?"
Lose had assumed a curious expression, almost of an-
noyance, as Tolefree unfolded this thesis. Now he said,
"The reason why I've kept quiet about the finger-prints
is that I'm not sure Beresford was the man. Except in the
particulars I've mentioned, Beresford didn't resemble him
at all. He was a poor specimen, pale, sickly, morose. Beres-


THE EERIE EYE
203
ford was in the pink of condition and full of vigour. I
know what you'll say—"
"Then you really were a prison doctor?"
"I did a spell as locum tenens in a convict prison. That's
where I saw the man. He stuck in my mind as the most
secretive, furtive creature I ever met. I can't even remem-
ber his name. But in appearance he might have been a
puny brother of Beresford. Now you've got it all out of
me. I didn't mean to risk it unless it seemed necessary to
prevent a miscarriage of justice."
Tolefree nodded his understanding. "Does the fact that
Sharpe lies under suspicion make any difference?"
"Is he in danger?"
"He may want all the help he can get, especially since
it's now known that he concealed some knowledge of
Beresford in the past. I think, Doctor, you're bound to
hand over those finger-prints. There are deeps in this case
where several people may get stogged. Any chance of
throwing light on the Mystery Man—"
Lose had not shed his look of annoyance. He tapped his
fingers impatiently on the table at his side. But he said,
"I suppose you're right."
3
The doctor's reluctant testimony made Tolefree more
than ever anxious to see the second of the two people he
had mentioned to Pierce.
The housekeeper with the flaming hair should yield to
the pressure he'd put on her with the aid of this infor-
mation.
He was destined not to apply it.


204
THE CORPSE WITH
He passed on up the hill towards the house where
Beresford had lived. But as he entered the gateway, Pierce
walked down the drive, gave him a wan smile, caught his
arm, and turned him round.
"Great minds think alike," said he. "Only I happened
to think first."
"The Scotland Yard touch," Tolefree said, returning
the smile with a grin and falling into step. "However,
you saved me a painful five minutes. That woman has
been longing to get me alone and say what she thinks
of me. What does Scotland Yard make of Mrs. Young?"
"Ruddy-haired gold-digger, as cute as they come. What
did you want with her?"
"A little less sketchy account than she's yet given of
her late lamented employer and their relations."
"Hum—not so lamented, Tolefree. I know that type.
I guess she'd got as far as she was likely to get with him.
And I doubt whether the secretive gentleman ever let her
into his secrets. Anyhow, her story's true. They checked
it up with Paris this morning. She'd been in her so-called
boarding-house for several years before Beresford turned
up."
"Ah!—that's an interesting point," said Tolefree. "How
many years?"
"Five, if I noted it correctly. Why this exactitude?"
"Thereby hangs a tale which you haven't heard—or
anybody else, yet. How would you fancy Mr. Beresford
as an ex-convict?"
"Eh!" cried Pierce, stopping in the road. "What's that?"
"A person who's done time in a certain kind of prison.
Sometimes called a lag."
"Beresford? The accomplished traveller, educated man,


THE EERIE EYE
205
rolling in riches? You astonish me. But you don't say a
thing like that without reason. So—yield it up right now."
"I will," said Tolefree. "I endow you, my friend, with
a first-class theory—a parting gift before I take the train
to London. If Beresford was an ex-convict it would ex-
plain lots of things for you—among them Mapperley's
attitude and the Lowells' trouble."
"It would, granted some association between them in
the past."
"As undoubtedly there was. But what association? Was
he a relative of the Mapperleys or the Lowells? Sponging
on them? Playing off his disgrace against their wealth and
position? A form of blackmail? I wondered about that,
Pierce, and dropped it. Beresford appeared to have money
—more money than he was likely to get out of either of
them by playing up the Bad Boy of the Family. There's
something that goes deeper."
"Well, what is it? No doubt you've made up your
mind," said Pierce.
"No, I don't know enough. But I think it could be
discovered—at a price."
"What price?"
"I'm not prepared to pay it. So we won't go on with
that. You've got a good lead. I believe this fellow had
probably just come out of Dartmoor or some such place
when he turned up in Paris. I'll tell you"—and Tolefree
told him . . .
"Doctor Lose," he ended, "fears he may be making
a bloomer. He isn't. I've bullied him into turning over
those finger-prints to the police. You get 'em from Fisher.
Up to you then to find Beresford's real name, his crime,
the length of his sentence and the date of his discharge."


206
THE CORPSE WITH
"You bet I will," Pierce exclaimed. "But, golly!—
what a deuce of a way round from Dartmoor via Paris
to Castle-Dinas! And if we do it we aren't sure we'll
pick up anything on the way. You always had a tortuous
mind, Tolefree. I prefer direct routes. So I'm for the
Lowells, meanwhile. I was thinking a lot about these
Lowells while Fisher told me what he's done. What he
hasn't done, and you haven't done, is to tackle the Lowells
good and hearty. Why!—nobody's ever inquired where
Lowell was on the night of the murder. Here's the man
with the nearest approach to a motive, and he's not even
checked up for an alibi, though everybody can see that
he's in the seventh heaven because the fellow's dead—just
gloating over it."
"Now, now!—that's excessive," said Tolefree.
"Well, the confounded case wants waking up. Fisher's
general theory seems to be that nobody with ten thousand
a year, or whatever it is, could possibly do a murder. I'd
rather bank on Lowell than on Sharpe at present, Tole-
free. Not but what they've all certainly gone into a huddle
on it. I'll give 'em huddle!"
"The voice of the authentic old Pierce—bark worse than
bite. I'd like to see you browbeat Lowell! But I shan't
have the pleasure. I'd have loved to see you tackling the
yellow-haired housekeeper whom Mapperley wrongly
thought to be a tart—"
"Wrongly?"
"Yes. Not the tart type. A woman of great intelligence.
You observed her cuteness. She certainly knows lots more
about Beresford than she's owned up."
Pierce said, "I doubt it. If you think so, and want to
get it, you'd better go back and see her now. Fisher's


THEEERIEEYE 207
given her leave till the adjourned inquest, and she's off to
London to-morrow."
"Ah? Well, I shan't pursue it, Pierce, I leave the field
to you. Only—go easy on the Lowells. There's just a
possibility you may be wrong, you know."
"Of course I know. But for the first time ever, Tole-
free, I'm glad you're throwing in your hand. Too deep in
with all these people—you aren't seeing the wood for the
trees. Lowell, now, for instance. You've never thought
of Lowell. Yet you heard four separate disturbances that
night. Might have been Sharpe returning in his car and
leaving in his car, and Mapperley and the deputy-pirate
making noises when they would have had all the reason
in the world for making none. But what about Lowell?
On your theory he has the motive, and he has the car—"
"But he hasn't Sharpe's gun, and if he'd been going to
murder Beresford he wouldn't have gone to Carnmarth to
do it. Anyhow, Pierce, in my opinion Lowell is incapable
of the job."
"I'd think most murderers incapable of the job till
they've done it. What would you say if I could prove that
Lowell hadn't an alibi?"
"That his luck was out."
"Tolefree—you're hopeless!" Pierce exclaimed. "You're
unrecognizable. Too much psychology hath made thee
mad. Here's a garage. Let's get a car and drive to Map-
perley's and get it over."
Half an hour later, Pierce was sitting in one of Dr.
Mapperley's lounge chairs with tea on a table beside him.
Of the five men in the room he and Sharpe were the
coolest. Sharpe had said, when Tolefree introduced him,


208
THE CORPSE WITH
"Shan't say I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Pierce.
You've probably come to re-arrest me."
"That remains to be seen," said Pierce. "Not till you've
finished tea, at the earliest."
Mapperley had shaken hands and said little. He now
sat half reclining, his dark eyes studying Pierce over the
mass of beard projecting on his chest. Jardine, manifestly
on edge, and Tolefree looked on at the fencing match with
Sharpe.
"I can't imagine any reason why you shot Beresford—if
you did," Pierce said. "I understand you didn't like the
fellow, but if we went round shooting people we disliked
there'd be no population problem."
"Interesting," said Sharpe. "But as I didn't shoot him
the question doesn't arise."
"I was careful not to ask a question, Mr. Sharpe, and I
don't propose to ask any; but I can't help it if you make
comments on any remarks of mine. For instance, that story
of the pistol seems queer to me."
"But it's quite true. Pugsley will tell you."
"I don't mean that part of the story, but the sequel.
How, having acquired the gun, you lost it."
"Surely there's nothing queer about losing anything out
of a car? Fisher's always prosecuting people for stealing
things out of cars," said Sharpe.
"Hum. Your idea would be that somebody who wanted
to shoot Beresford knew your gun was kept in the pocket
of your car, doped Beresford, put him in your car, took
him out to the moor, killed him, hid the gun in the river,
and brought the car back in the garage."
"That's your idea? I'm afraid I haven't any ideas at


THE EERIE EYE
211
introduce you at Menadon? If so, Jardine—couldn't you
drive them over?"
Pierce shook his head. "Many thanks," said he. "But
I'll not trouble Mr. Jardine. I'm going to make a purely
official call on Mr. Lowell, and Tolefree is not going with
me. When I say official I mean a call not to discuss facts
and inferences, but to ask questions. I shall take Mr.
Lowell alone, and Mrs. Lowell alone, and Miss Lowell
alone. I shall then be able to check up their statements
one by the other."
Pierce stared hard at Mapperley while he spoke. Map-
perley said,
"It sounds something like a secret session of the Holy
Inquisition. But I wish you good hunting, Inspector."
"I'm sure you do. The wiliest fox provides the best
hunting, I believe."
Pierce gave Mapperley a slight bow, nodded to the
others, and passed out into the hall. Tolefree, lingering a
moment or two to say his adieux, came upon him facing an
indignant, wrathful Peter. Pierce was saying,
"Think it over, my man. Have a better yarn ready when
I see you again. You'd better, you know. You can't get
away with that one."
Tolefree, sympathetic with Peter, had an impulse to
say a word, but, noting that Peter's scowl covered him as
well as Pierce, thought better of it. They went out to-
gether. Pierce said, "Did you say something about an
atmosphere?"
"I believe I did."
"Pouf! One good hard breath of common sense, and
no dam' nonsense about it, and away goes that atmosphere.


212
THE EERIE EYE
You're too civilized, Tolefree. What you want in a job
like this is not good ring manners but a hefty punch."
''Yes," said Tolefree. "By the way, Mapperley was very
quiet. You'll run up against him though if you persecute
the Lowells."
"Persecute! Well—but you're out of this, Tolefree.
You see it, of course; they're all in a plot to protect
Lowell. You won't admit it—but I shall blow it up first
thing."
"You're a good guy, Pierce," said Tolefree. "You'll
blow up something. I hope the ruins won't fall on your
head." They reached the road. "Coming into town for a
car or walking? Take you half an hour."
"Do me good."
"Then that's your road. My train goes at eleven. If
you're not back before that, au revoir. See you in London
when you've found your man."


Chapter Eight
PIERCE HAD NOT YET SHOWN UP when Tole-
free was told that the hotel 'bus would leave for the sta-
tion in ten minutes.
Knowing that indefatigable officer intimately, he had
not expected to see him. Pierce had dismissed Tolefree
from the case—with excellent reason, he had to admit.
Pierce would now go on with his job on the usual lines.
It was no business of Scotland Yard to shield people's
delicacies, or to think of anything else but getting hold of
a criminal. Not that Pierce was likely to have extracted
much from the Lowells, who would smother him with
polite negation, or from Mapperley, who would choke him
with irony.
But unquestionably Pierce would plough through to
the truth, whatever it was . . .
On the platform at the station he came upon Jardine,
standing with a suitcase at his feet and a porter hovering
near.
Tolefree exclaimed "Hello!" and murmured something
about a surprise.
"Hope you won't be annoyed, Tolefree," said Jardine.
"I'm going to travel to London with you."
Whatever he felt, Tolefree smiled pleasantly and said
of course it would be pleasant to have Jardine's company.
213


2l6
THE CORPSE WITH
"Scotland Yard is accustomed to a little nervousness in
its clients," said Tolefree.
"Well, Lowell wasn't nervous—a little annoyed, per-
haps, and stiff. Pierce continued to insist on the separate
interviews, but he didn't get 'em. I think it peeved him
and accounted for his show of bad temper afterwards."
"Show is probably the right word. Pierce is a capital
actor," Tolefree remarked.
"I can't say he seemed to me to be acting."
And Jardine's account of the interviews bore out his
opinion. Lowell's grave politeness, masking what seemed
to be complete indifference to Pierce, coupled with an
utter refusal to answer any questions he chose to ignore,
and compulsion on Mrs. Lowell and Katherine to follow
his example, appeared to have enraged Pierce.
He probed in vain into the question of past associations
with Beresford. Lowell denied that there were any, and
left it at that. He said he had never seen Beresford until
Feast Day and knew nothing of him. He was not the sort
of man he could tolerate; and, when he forced himself
upon them, he and his wife withdrew.
"But not Miss Lowell," said Pierce. "Miss Lowell knew
Beresford."
"My daughter happened to have gone with Mr. Jardine
to a party at Beresford's house along with numbers of
other local people," said Lowell. "Common courtesy com-
pelled her to recognize him when he addressed her."
Then Pierce tackled the telephone call which had dis-
turbed the dinner table at Menadon. He suggested that
it was from Beresford. Lowell seemed to have difficulty
in recalling the occasion. He knew nothing of a call from
Beresford, whom he had not then seen, and he believed


THE EERIE EYE
217
that his wife knew nothing of any such call. Mrs. Lowell
assented to this.
Then Pierce said, "Who was it that telephoned?"
Lowell gave him a haughty stare. "That," he said, "is
an impertinence, if you will allow me to say so."
That sent Pierce off the deep end. He declared, "I'm
the judge of what's pertinent or impertinent."
"You seem to me," retorted Lowell, "to be a poor
judge, and anyhow you're not to sit in judgment on me
in my own house. If you do, I shall bring the conversation
to a close."
Pierce raised his voice. "It will come to a close when I
say so and not before. Now, Mr. Lowell, I mean to have
my questions answered. If I get no answers I shall ask you
to come to the police office and answer them there."
Lowell rose and rang a bell. A maid came in.
"Mr. Pierce is leaving, Ellen," he said. "Will you show
him out and give him his hat?"
Pierce stepped towards the girl. "Mr. Lowell is mis-
taken," he said. "I am not leaving. But you are," and he
held the door open for her.
The maid made a sound which, according to Jardine,
was as near a snort as she could get, and said to Pierce,
"Your hat's on the hall-table, sir."
"Mr. Pierce will find his own way out, Ellen," said
Lowell, and the maid passed Pierce with another ejacula-
tion of contempt. Pierce shut the door and stood in front
of it.
"I shall take off the gloves, Mr. Lowell. If you don't
give me answers and satisfactory ones to the questions I'm
going to put, I shall charge you on suspicion of being
accessory to the death of Anthony Beresford. Where were


2l8
THE CORPSE WITH
you between midnight and two in the morning after the
Feast Day ceremonies?"
Lowell took no notice and made no answer.
"Were you not in a car on Goonbarrow Downs? You
don't say. Silence gives consent. You were. You were
seen there."
Then, Jardine said, he himself exclaimed, "Good God!
Are you mad?"
And Pierce answered him, "No, sir—I am in my right
senses. The mad people are those who think they can play
ducks and drakes with me. You were seen, Mr. Lowell—
and what's more, you know you were seen. Do you wish
to give any explanation of what you were doing on Goon-
barrow Downs at that time of night? You don't. Well,
perhaps you will explain why your daughter, who'd met
Beresford only once at a party, went down on the after-
noon of Feast Day to meet him in the underground gal-
leries, or catacombs, or whatever they are, at the castle?
No answer? I challenge you to deny that there were rela-
tions between you or your family and Beresford before he
came to Castle-Dinas. And to say why you were out on
Goonbarrow Downs."
Jardine asked Tolefree to understand that this was a
near paraphrase of the talk. He wished to give an impres-
sion of the fact that Pierce was intolerable.
"Just trying it on," said Tolefree. "But what about the
discovery that Mr. Lowell was out on Goonbarrow?
That's a bit awkward. Did you know it?"
Jardine certainly didn't, and he'd wondered whether
Pierce was merely trying that on.
"No,—he must have had some information. And you


THE EERIE EYE 219
can't guess at any reason why Lowell should do a thing
like that. It would be quite unusual?"
"I should say it never happened before," said Jardine,
unhappily, "and I can't think of a reason."
"I can—a possible one. He was at Menadon when you
left?"
"Yes—I'd said good night to him before Katherine
asked me to get that book."
"Well—here's a theory. Lowell saw Katherine after
you left, and she told him what she'd done. He disliked
the idea. He took another car and drove after you. Lose
saw you—recognized you. Suppose that after he passed
you he encountered Lowell, following? Pierce seems to
have said Lowell knew he was seen. That may mean that
he either spoke to Lose or they saluted each other, just
as you and he did."
"Great idea!" Jardine exclaimed, brightening up.
"But," he depressed himself again, "why should Katherine
tell him? And why should he hare after me?"
"There may be several reasons. The likeliest one is that
Lowell knew what it was that made his wife so frantically
anxious to get the book back, but thought she acted un-
wisely in drawing attention to it. I rather judge that Kath-
erine and her father are on specially confidential terms—"
"They are. Extraordinary friends."
"And we must assume that all the Lowell family is
united in this trouble about Beresford, whatever it is;
so that nothing is more probable than that Katherine told
her father what she'd done and why."
"It seems sheer fantasy, Tolefree—a book of Ella
Wheeler Wilcox's poems—how could it have anything to
do with the family trouble?"


222
THE CORPSE WITH
face from time to time, and puffed contemplatively at his
pipe. When he spoke it was to ask a question.
"You don't doubt that there was some association in
the past between Beresford and the Lowells, and that the
Lowells strove to conceal it?"
"I suppose it must be so, Tolefree. Anyhow, it's been
concealed from me."
"Do you wonder at it when I tell you that Beresford
served a term in a convict prison?"
Jardine cried out "No!—impossible."
His finger-prints are on the way to Scotland Yard. I'd
wager they find him in their Rogues' Gallery," said Tole-
free. "Then you won't wonder. But all the cleverness of
Scotland Yard would never have conjured up a connection
between this gaol-bird and the Lowells but for the Lowells
themselves. Why do you think they made it so obvious
that Beresford was a thorn in their flesh if there was in
the connection nothing detrimental to them or their
pride?"
Jardine groaned.
"The last folly," said Tolefree, "was Lowell's midnight
escapade. Though possibly that wasn't inspired by Beres-
ford. But imagine yourself a policeman. You're told of
the blood relationship of Mapperley with Mrs. Lowell,
and of the scene between Beresford and Mapperley at the
Castle. You hear of Miss Katherine's meeting with Beres-
ford there. You learn that without a shadow of doubt
Beresford was killed in a garage at Carnmarth. Then you
discover Lowell driving across the moor where Beresford's
body lay. You will certainly conclude that Lowell has
something to account for. His attitude when you challenge
him confirms that conclusion. Doesn't it?"


224
THE CORPSE WITH
"I don't know, but I suppose not. You can see, Tolefree,
that it was a successful marriage. Katherine had her father
to herself all her life, but you couldn't meet a closer pair
of friends than Katherine and her stepmother."
Tolefree nodded. "I don't think Beresford was in sight.
I think Beresford was then in gaol. We shall learn of that.
But now tell me of Mrs. Lowell. She followed her brother
into the world of dons, you told me, and went as a pro-
fessor somewhere up North. Where was that?"
"Leeds University, I think."
"Ah? But hadn't met Lowell in Yorkshire?"
"Not that I know. I understand they first met in
Egypt."
Tolefree knocked out his pipe, relit it, and mused a
while.
"Jardine," he said, "you've been quite candid with me,
I think? There's nothing more about the Lowells that
you know?"
"Nothing, Tolefree. They never say a word about
the Beresford business. I believe Katherine does know
things—"
"Of course she does!" exclaimed Tolefree.
"But she's never given me a hint. She seemed on the
point of speaking more than once—and drew back. The
last day or two the old cloud's come down again."
"With the ghost of Beresford peeping through it."
Tolefree got up. "Well, it's time we had some sleep."
At seven in the morning they left the train at Padding-
ton, had a bath and breakfast at the station hotel. Tolefree
parted from Jardine at half-past eight.
"I'll think about this," he said. "If I can see a way of


THE EERIE EYE
225
helping you and Katherine out of the mire I'll do it,
Jardine. Meanwhile, you get back and hold her hand. She
may be in for troublesome times."
2
Mapperley was the god-in-the-machine. Tolefree felt
sure of that. Mapperley, so certain of his ground, so con-
temptuous of the world at large.
Tolefree smiled to himself as he sat at the table in his
little office in Watling Street, which, not much more than
a year after, was to crumble into ruin under a bomb. It
would be an intellectual pleasure to confront Mapperley
with the secret he thought impenetrable and see how that
buccaneer turned savant reacted.
But Tolefree would not have interfered further save for
Jardine. That pleasant young man's distress affected him
strongly. Something Jardine said in the train had started
him on a new line of thought. There might be a way out
if he followed that line, and the pursuit would not mean
breaking his assurance to Pierce; if it brought him any-
where, it would enable him to have that highly satisfac-
tory bout with Dr. Mapperley in which he would hold all
the cards.
He summoned Allen, his clerk.
"There's nothing here you can't tackle, Allen," he told
him, pushing a bunch of papers across the table.
"Oh, sir!" said Allen, blushing but self-derogatory.
"I mean it. I'm going to Yorkshire this afternoon. I
shall be away a day or two. You may get a wire from me."
Tolefree smiled after him affectionately as Allen walked
proudly out, papers in hand.


226
THE CORPSE WITH
He slept that night at the Grand Hotel in Leeds. Next
morning he was closeted in the University Building with
the Assistant Registrar. Having invented a plausible reason
for his questions, he left the place with the knowledge that
Miss Juliet Mapperley, M.A., was a member of the Fac-
ulty of Arts for five years and an able and popular pro-
fessor. She resigned unexpectedly seven years ago, and, so
far as the office knew, left Leeds. There were rumours at
the time of some romance which had disturbed her aca-
demic calm; but as to that the office knew nothing.
Anyone now in the Faculty who was acquainted with
Miss Mapperley, Tolefree inquired?
Yes—the Dean himself, who (for Tolefree's private
ear) was reported to have been smitten by her charms and
to have put his fortune to the touch without success.
The Dean received Tolefree in his room. It was not
easy to insinuate into a rejected suitor the probe he wanted
to use; but as it happened, however hard the grey-haired
professor was hit seven years before, he had evidently quite
recovered from his injury.
Being persuaded that Tolefree had good cause for his
inquiry, the Dean expanded. A most charming woman,
Miss Mapperley, and a loss to the University when she
left so abruptly. The ostensible reason for her resignation?
Family affairs. But, the Dean twinkled, unostensibly he
thought another reason could be found. He had reason to
suppose that Miss Mapperley was in love and contem-
plated marriage. The happy man? He did not know, but
he understood someone she had met in the North. A rich
man? So it was said; but no real information came to
the common-room—certainly he heard none. And from
that day to this he had lost sight of Miss Mapperley.


THE EERIE EYE
227
The Dean seemed to be as good an authority as Tolefree
could expect to find on one other point. Did he know of
a school at Ashling which would be likely to employ a
man of some intellectual quality?
Why, yes. There was a school at Ashling, of good repu-
tation (even though it wasn't a conference school), and it
had a pretty good staff. He knew a young fellow who'd
taken a job there—one Sharpe, an Oxford man. He un-
doubtedly had intellectual quality; but he didn't stay long:
went off south as secretary to a man he'd known at Oxford.
But the Dean had never heard of an Ashling man named
Beresford.
Tolefree did not linger on the theme of Sharpe. He
thanked the Dean and went his way. It took him to
Ashling. For the location of Ashling had given him to
think. It stood at the base of a triangle, whose other points
were Leeds and Bradford. A few questions established the
fact that Lowell's old place was close by. No Lowell owned
it now; but Lowell was well remembered.
At the school he had little luck at first. The further he
went the more elusive Beresford became. To begin with,
the Principal of Ashling was a comparative newcomer.
He had taken charge only four years ago, but that was
sufficient time for him to have changed his staff from top
to bottom.
Tolefree started with Sharpe.
Oh yes, he remembered Sharpe—an admirable scholar
but a fish out of water among the boys at Ashling. The
Principal had parted with him regretfully as a friend, yet
confessed that he had made no great stir as a master.
There was, said Tolefree, another man at Ashling some
years ago whom he was anxious to trace. A man of whose


228
THE CORPSE WITH
name he was uncertain—could it be Beresford? The Prin-
cipal knew nothing of Beresford, and the staff books re-
vealed no Beresford.
"I happen to know your friend Sharpe," said Tolefree.
"It was he who told me of Ashling. I described to him
this man, whose name probably wasn't Beresford, and he
immediately fastened on one idiosyncrasy. The man suf-
fered from an involuntary twitch of the eyebrow. Sharpe
said he'd heard of a man who was once a master at Ashling,
and suffered from this affliction."
The Principal shook his head. No twitching eyebrow
had come within his purview. But—wait half a minute
. • . He pressed a bell-button and sent the maid with a
message to Mr. Pridham. Arriving, Mr. Pridham proved
to be a spare man of fifty and a fine example of the form-
master who stays put.
"Oh, Pridham," said the Principal. "This gentleman's
inquiring about a man who was once on the staff and may
have been called Beresford. You've been at Ashling a long
time—"
"No Beresford here in my time," said Mr. Pridham,
confidently.
"I said he may have been called Beresford. On the
other hand he may have been called something else. Per-
haps, Mr. Tolefree, you could describe him?"
Tolefree said the man in whom he was interested was
a tallish man of good figure, brown-haired, grey-eyed,
with a high forehead, a straight nose, and he wore a mous-
tache—"
None of these vague indications struck a note in Mr.
Pridham's memory, but when Tolefree came to the twitch
of the eyebrow, Mr. Pridham exclaimed,


230
THE CORPSE WITH
Ashling was Beresford's. But he admitted to himself that
he had no evidence fit to present to a judge and jury.
He went from the school to the telegraph ofEce, sent a
wire to Allen, returned to Leeds and caught a London
express.
3
When he reached Castle-Dinas the following evening,
Tolefree had in his pocket Allen's answer to his telegram.
He found Pierce in his room at the hotel. His greeting
showed that he bore no malice. His irritation had gone.
"Hello, old horse! Couldn't keep away, could you?
Been up to something with Jardine in London, eh? I
thought that youth had bolted, so I told 'em to put a man
on to him. They found him with you and let him alone.
What was it?—just a joy-ride in your pleasant company?
He came back by the next train."
Tolefree smiled. "Brilliant example of Scotland Yard
thoroughness—snooping the snooper! If you must know,
Pierce, it was you sent him running to me."
"How so?"
"By trying to scare Lowell and dragging in his Kath-
erine. You'll be pleased to know he thinks you intol-
erable."
"Ah," said Pierce, pridefully, "I meant to put the fear
of God into 'em. They're deep in it, Tolefree. I'd have
expected to find some trace of the Lowells in Beresford's
papers. I ransacked the house yesterday, every nook and
corner. But he was wise enough not to leave anything
about. However, I shall get 'em where I want 'em. As
to Beresford, up to now your roundabout way has got us
nowhere. I'm further on—a long way further, my boy!"


THEEERIEEYE 233
if he was arrested and charged as Biddle, she never knew
what happened to him."
"I'm not interested in her!" cried Pierce. "Good Heav-
ens! while you're sentimentalizing about her you don't
seem to realize that you give Lowell a perfect motive.
You hand him to me on a plate. The ex-convict-black-
mailer knows that his wife's become a bigamist. She's mar-
ried tons of money. The luck of it! But Lowell's not the
sort of man to stand for blackmail. The easiest way out
is to shut the blackmailer's mouth. He takes the first
chance of doing it."
Tolefree frowned. "It might look like that, I admit.
But somehow I don't believe in it."
"You watch me getting the rock-bottom stuff out of
them with this up my sleeve! But—there's no doubt about
the marriage, I suppose?"
"No. Allen got a copy of the certificate for me from
Somerset House yesterday. 'Anthony Browne, bachelor,
to Juliet Mapperley, spinster, at the parish church of St.
Eustachius, Leeds, on the 29th October, 1931.' A suburban
church, probably in the parish where Miss Mapperley
lived.?'
Pierce made a note of date and place. They dined to-
gether. Tolefree explored his friend's mind on the part of
the case that most interested him. Pierce had spent some
time at Carnmarth. He agreed with Tolefree that the
shooting occurred in the garage, and that Beresford was
killed with Sharpe's gun; but he was certain that neither
Mapperley nor Sharpe killed him. He admitted that Map-
perley might be provided with a motive in the plight of
his sister, and he hated and despised the .blackmailer.
"But the man Beresford was going to blackmail and in-


234 THE CORPSE WITH
jure was Lowell. He could have done it. He was out in
his car. He was on Goonbarrow Downs."
Tolefree said Pierce had not allowed for the facts that
Sharpe's gun was used and Sharpe's car, and that Lowell
was out in his own car.
"That's easy," said Pierce. "What's to prevent Lowell
from driving over here and using Sharpe's 'bus as a funeral
car?"
"Fantastic!" said Tolefree.
"If Beresford's date was with Mapperley, as you de-
duce, what more natural than for Mapperley to tell
Lowell? Lowell's the only reason why there's a date at all.
Indeed, the date may have been with Lowell. He wouldn't
be likely to make it at his own house. Can't you see him
getting out his car to keep the appointment here?"
Tolefree chewed this over. Pierce liked a clean-cut case
with a strong motive and no abili.
"Anyhow," Tolefree told him, "you're determined not
to have either Mapperley or Sharpe as a murderer, and
that seems good psychology to me, whatever else it is.
But what does the good Fisher think?"
"He wants Sharpe. He's peeved with his boss for butting
in. He's peeved with me for declining Sharpe. The dis-
gust on his face when the bullet was found and proved to
have been fired from Sharpe's gun, and still I wouldn't
have Sharpe! But I was right not to have Sharpe. I fancied
Lowell from the start, and now you bring the evidence
that damns him."
"Just a theory, Pierce."
"But you won't have Mapperley or Sharpe. True, they
know or guess who did it. I threatened Mapperley with


THEEERIEEYE 235
the accessory stuff. He challenged me to prove it. I
couldn't."
"Well—you always do your business your own way. Go
on with it. But do me one favour. I want to go over to
Menadon to see Jardine and his Katherine right away. If
I get anything you shall have it. I couldn't go without
letting you know."
Pierce said, "Why not? I couldn't stop you if I wanted
to. I don't. I shall tackle Lowell in the morning. All I
ask is that you don't let him know I'm wise to the mar-
riage at Leeds. And, by the way, any objection to leaving
that copy of the certificate with me?"
Tolefree handed it over. He parted from Pierce outside
the hotel, walked to Menadon, and asked for Jardine, who
came to meet him in the hall.
"Tolefree!" he cried; "you've got something?"
"Maybe," said Tolefree. "It rather depends on the
Lowells. If we could have a talk with them—?"
"Why, of course."
"Then let's get it over. Pierce is in a dangerous mood.
And, Jardine, before we go in—can you keep your counte-
nance if I take a pretty firm line with Lowell and make
an unpleasant revelation?"
"Katherine—"
"Miss Lowell, I feel sure, knows all about it."
"All right. Go ahead. I trust you." And Jardine led
him to the drawing-room.
Tolefree had seen nothing of the Lowells since they
dined at Carnmarth on Feast Night, and therefore not
since the murder of Beresford. He was prepared to find
Lowell somewhat less self-composed than at their first
meeting. It would be surprising if the menacing Pierce had


236 THE CORPSE WITH
not upset him. But Mrs. Lowell received him graciously
and Lowell with calm cordiality. Katherine gave him a
lovely smile. She spoke first.
"Bruce has told us you withdrew your threat to leave
us alone, Mr. Tolefree."
"I'm a weak-minded creature. I should like to help
him." He turned to Jardine. "You know that."
Jardine nodded. The circle kept their eyes on Tolefree,
waiting for him to continue. "After you left me—but, by
the way, you know we were shadowed by Scotland Yard?"
"What!" Katherine grasped Jardine's arm nervously.
"Oh, mere routine curiosity. Why did anyone figuring
in the Castle-Dinas affair go to London so hastily? That
sort of thing. Well, when we parted, I decided to make a
few inquiries on my own account. I'm going to say what
I found. Though it won't be news to anybody but Jardine,
I hope you'll bear with me and think gravely of the things
that may possibly follow. To begin with, my inquiries took
me to Yorkshire."
Mrs. Lowell uttered a little cry. Lowell moved closer
to her.
"I shan't weary you with the story of my day in Leeds
and Ashling—"
Mrs. Lowell had a convulsive start.
"Nor," said Tolefree, "will I make a long business of
what must be painful to you. I discovered the truth about
Beresford. The police have got at it in another way. His
finger-prints made Beresford's life an open book to them.
I believe Jardine knows nothing of this. Do you wish him
to know?"
"Certainly, Mr. Tolefree," said Lowell quietly. "If


THE EERIE EYE
237
we'd thought this abominable story would have to be un-
folded he should have known long ago."
Katherine looked anxiously into Jardine's face.
"All right, Katherine. Whatever it is, I can take it,"
said he. "Nothing makes any difference to us. Carry on,
Tolefree."
"I'll tell it in a few words. Beresford was a scoundrel,
a blackmailer, who served a long term for a piece of fiend-
ish extortion. Unhappily, Jardine, some few months before
his arrest, he had married in his real name of Browne—
and he had married Miss Juliet Mapperley."
"Juliet Browne!" cried Jardine. "Sorry, Mrs. Lowell
—I didn't mean to burst out."
"I suppose," said Tolefree, "that was the name inscribed
in the book of poems? Yes? Well, Mr. Lowell, you see
where the police are. They provide you with what they
think to be a powerful motive for wishing to get rid of
Beresford—that he was blackmailing you with a bigamous
marriage as his menace. I feel sure," he hurried on, as
Lowell seemed about to speak, "that they are wrong.
There was no bigamy, was there? Miss Katherine knows
there wasn't. Jardine says he can take it. Well—if I'm
not a bad judge, Mrs. Lowell was horrified when she dis-
covered the true character of the man she'd married and
the source of his money. Whether she left him or he de-
serted her doesn't matter. Anyhow, at the time of his arrest
she wasn't in the picture. Also, if I have any vision, when
you met her in Egypt she told you her position and you
accepted it—"
"We'd met long before that," said Lowell, quietly. "I
knew Miss Mapperley in Yorkshire before this rogue
turned up. You're right, Mr. Tolefree. We had no secrets


238 THE CORPSE WITH
from each other. We resolved to face the consequences if
ever need came, and we took Katherine into our con-
fidence."
"But you thought the need would never come. Of the
two hands you held the strongest. Beresford was a convict:
you'd committed no offence against the law. Was that the
idea?"
"Roughly. When he came here we weren't conscious of
him at first. Then Juliet got a telephone call which
alarmed her. Presently he was trying to blackmail me in
a particularly devilish fashion. He didn't know his man.
I'd have paid him to hold his tongue—but not in the way
he wanted."
"Ah?" said Tolefree.
"But if you don't mind we won't pursue that."
"Very well. It doesn't matter. Apparently he didn't
know his case, for he blackmailed in the belief that there'd
been a bigamous marriage, didn't he?"
"Yes. I didn't undeceive him. I just told him he'd
better get out before I exposed him. That was what hap-
pened the night you were here. Martin didn't agree. He
thought the fellow might be spiteful and take me at my
word, but leave behind some hint of the truth about us.
However, I gave him the ultimatum. Katherine said that
if he took his revenge that way she'd stand up to it. She
believed Bruce would too; but if he didn't she couldn't
help it. Katherine's been heroic."
Tolefree gave her a glance of admiration. "Well," said
he, "that squashes Pierce's motive theory. But what about
the alibi? You took a car out on Feast Night, and you were
seen on Goonbarrow Downs. There's some explanation,


240 THE CORPSE WITH
When he entered Pierce's room at the hotel, Pierce
turned round from the writing table and asked,
"Well—seen the faithful lovers?"
"Yes, and Scotland Yard's suspect. He's particularly
calm for a man on the brink of the gallows, Pierce."
"Ah? But you watch his jitters when I show him that
certificate! It's a snip. I've seen Fisher. He still hankers
after Sharpe. Clever chap, but can't rid himself of his fixed
idea."
"Et tu, Brute!" said Tolefree.
"We're both on the wrong track, eh?" Pierce packed
up his papers, switched his chair round and re-loaded his
pipe. "The trouble with you, Tolefree, is that you don't
want any of your friends to be hurt."
"Is that a trouble? I find it a pleasure to be able to
eliminate my friends from a messy business like murder."
"Elimination," Pierce retorted, "is your besetting sin.
You go on eliminating and eliminating till there's nobody
left. You've eliminated Jardine and old Mapperley and
young Sharpe and the deputy pirate—and now Lowell.
And who is there?"
"Ah, who? Have you considered? Plenty of other
people weren't fond of Beresford, you know. There's Tra-
hair the lawyer, Pugsley the dipsomaniac, Lose the doctor
—our original authority on Beresford. There's any other
person who'd fallen against Beresford in the past."
"Don't monkey about, Tolefree. Push the case wide
open and there's all the world. I want the best motive and
the best opportunity combined. I find 'em in Lowell."
"You can have Lowell. I don't want him. He doesn't
fit my ideas. I want somebody else—a little less grand
seigneur, a little more reckless. I hope to be able to find


THE EERIE EYE
243
A quixotic thing to do—and worse, plain foolish. But you
did it."
Sharpe made no reply. He fastened attentive eyes on
Tolefree.
"You couldn't have done it alone. So there was some-
body with you. It wasn't Jardine: his alibi holds. It wasn't
Mapperley, because he was back in his room long before
you returned from Goonbarrow. It wasn't Peter: I was
talking to him at that time, and the old pirate was knock-
kneed with fear lest you should turn up before he could
shoo me off to bed. It wasn't Lowell: he has a perfect
alibi—"
"Pierce doesn't think so," Sharpe intervened.
"Pierce doesn't know it. He'll learn this morning. It
wasn't any of these. Who was it?" Tolefree shot the ques-
tion at him.
"I'm not admitting your first premiss that I removed a
body from the garage. Therefore I can't admit that any-
one was with me."
Tolefree stirred impatiently. "You rely on what you
imagine to be a copper-bottomed agreement between all
parties to hide what they know. But there's no conspiracy
that can't be penetrated. I've got right through this one.
So you may as well tell the truth. Pugsley was the man,
wasn't he?"
Sharpe jerked. "Pugsley! Why, I've been told Fisher's
satisfied of a complete alibi for Pugsley."
"Sharpe!—don't trifle. Pugsley has no alibi. He says
he was home asleep. He shammed drunk and deluded the
policeman. You know he wasn't drunk—none better. I
don't suppose you took him to Carnmarth in your car, be-
cause you took somebody else. But Pugsley could have


244
THE CORPSE WITH
walked out there in twenty minutes and been present at
the show-down."
"I admit nothing, Tolefree," said Sharpe. "But as a
matter of curiosity, how do you arrive at Pugsley? Just
by cancelling out all the rest?"
"Partly. But other things point to Pugsley as the man
who helped you to cart the body away. He's a smouldering
sort of chap. If he had any special reason for disliking
Beresford— Had he?"
"He gave Beresford a cheque for a bridge debt, which
came back referred to drawer. They say if you've done a
man down that's a good reason for disliking him, but—"
"Don't frivol!" Tolefree exclaimed. "I run a serious
risk in giving you this chance to tell me the truth. I do it
because I don't want Pierce to be the first to tackle you in
earnest. If he does, the balloon will go up and you'll be in
it. I give you the chance—and here you start clowning!"
"I knew nothing of these people till I came here less
than two years ago," said Sharpe in a measured way. "I
have no first-hand knowledge of Pugsley."
"I never supposed you had. But the Mapperleys know
all about Pugsley, and in this affair you know all that they
know. Many things together convince me that Pugsley had
some special reason for hating Beresford, and that there
lies the secret of Feast Night. Precious time's running on.
Tell the truth now, Sharpe, or much as I dislike it I'll
have to get Pierce to put it across you."
"Look here, Tolefree," said Sharpe, "come out to Carn-
marth and see Mapperley."
"You can't tell the truth without Mapperley's consent?
Well, I thought so."


THE EERIE EYE
245
"I could, but I won't," declared Sharpe, and firmly shut
his jaws.
Five minutes later, Tolefree sat beside him in the little
car with the defective tyre on the way to Carnmarth, and
in less than half an hour was in the thick of an ardent dis-
cussion with Mapperley.
"Well, Sharpe," said the doctor, "we may as well give
him Pugsley. He's cunning. Somehow he's got at poor
Arthur."
Sharpe said dubiously, "If we give him Pugsley—"
"We'll have to give him the rest? I think so, but per-
haps not quite all, eh? Just as much as he's got for himself
and no more." He turned to Tolefree. "Apologies for
treating you in this extremely third-person fashion. How
much have you got?"
Tolefree shook his head. "You're in the confessional
box, not I."
"Nothing to confess. I never in my life confessed any-
thing."
"I can quite believe it," said Tolefree. "But this is
where you begin. You've known all about this murder
from the start. You had the foolish idea, that since you
thought Beresford better dead than alive, you'd prevent
the police from discovering who killed him."
"Then you don't really think I myself am the felon?"
"Not your hand that pulled the trigger. I've told Sharpe
why: you weren't out of the house when it happened."
"And how in the name of the foul fiend did you know
that, Tolefree?"
"Because I've sharp ears. As the shot disturbed me, so
it disturbed you. I heard you come out of your room.
You had a conversation with Peter. I can give you the


250 THE CORPSE WITH
"Of course. But I guessed right, didn't I?"
"Mainly. At any rate right enough to show me that we
can't keep up the game any longer. You agree, Sharpe?"
Sharpe answered gloomily, "I suppose so. But before
you say anything, sir, I'd like to know how Tolefree gets
Pugsley."
"Yes. Pugsley, Tolefree? How do you bring him in?"
"He's been in all the time," said Tolefree. "He's a
queer, rather fascinating man. People haven't thought of
him, except yourselves, as anything but a rather feckless,
drinking, gambling fellow. You, Doctor Mapperley, knew
of him as a soldier in the last war, as a son of a neighbour-
ing family. Sharpe must have known of him as the brother
of a schoolmaster. I observed his smouldering watchful-
ness. He himself told me of his hatred of Beresford. He
was without an alibi for the night of the murder."
"Yes—but all this doesn't bring him to my garage that
night."
"It doesn't. But something more than a general hatred
of a cheap fellow like Beresford would—especially as he
was within earshot of you when you made your appoint-
ment with Beresford. Sharpe, I asked you this morning
whether he had a special reason for disliking Beresford,
and you fenced the question off. There was good cause to
ask, because at that moment I knew he had."
"What was it?"
Tolefree took from his pocket a sheet of notes. "This
morning I received the transcript of the shorthand notes
of Beresford's trial under the name of Ambrose Biddle,
alias Browne. In the trial the name of the schoolmaster
whom Beresford had ruined was suppressed. He was de-
scribed as 'Mr. A.' The notes gave the name. It was James


THE EERIE EYE 251
9
Pugsley. Not Pugsley himself. He certainly was never a
schoolmaster—"
"His elder brother." Mapperley spoke gently, for him.
"Ah?—well, was I right in saying that Pugsley was in
the picture? If a man has ruined one's brother—"
"Sharpe," Mapperley turned to him, "we'd better tell
Tolefree about Arthur."
Sharpe nodded.
"You're damnably right, Tolefree," said Mapperley;
"more right than you know. Arthur Pugsley had more
than one cause for hating the skunk. He was on service
abroad when that wretched case came on, and his brother
died two years afterwards. But by that time Arthur was
home, and he had learned from his brother about Browne
and his traits, and about his marriage and desertion of
Juliet. Arthur in his teens had worshipped Juliet—a hope-
less business, but he never ceased to worship her. Have
you seen the portraits he's done of her?"
"I recognized one when I talked to him in his studio,"
said Tolefree.
"Well, imagine that, when the Lowells returned to
Castle-Dinas, he's thunderstruck to find Juliet as Mrs.
Lowell. We all are, but we sympathize with her and we
like Lowell. Imagine again what Arthur's feelings are.
He doesn't conceal them from us. We're afraid of what
may happen. Sharpe, who sees a good deal of him, is so
terrified of what he may do under the combined influence
of drink and hate that he locks away his gun from him."
"So the bridge debt was a fiction?"
"No—but it was Sharpe who agreed to cancel it if
Arthur would hand over the Colt and the ammunition."
Tolefree waited. Mapperley did not go on.


252 THE CORPSE WITH
"There's a good deal more to be said, Doctor Map-
perley."
"There is. But let's have some lunch first, shall we?
Again, cur quis non prandeat—eh?"
2
Mapperley took up the tale in the library after lunch.
"Tolefree," he said, "this is a sad story I'm going to
tell you. I give you warning. I shan't complete it unless,
at a point where I stop, you undertake not to repeat it to
Pierce or anyone else."
"No undertaking in the dark," Tolefree answered.
"You don't suggest that without something at the back
of your mind. What is it?"
"That when it's told you won't be anxious to pass it on."
Tolefree shook his head. "Get to your point. Then I'll
see."
"I assure you I shan't help anybody to hang for that
carrion. But listen. Immediately after it happened I heard
of Browne's blackguardly behaviour to my sister. Nat-
urally, we weren't eager to have it known here that she
was the wife of a scoundrel in a convict prison. But I felt
doubtful about the supposed marriage to Lowell. It seemed
to me dangerous. However, we all liked Lowell and the
girl, and it might have passed off well enough if Beres-
ford—I'll call him that—hadn't chanced his arm on an-
other blackmail scheme. He didn't know what sort of
people he had to deal with."
"I can quite believe that," said Tolefree.
"Well, the convenient story of a marriage abroad carried
the situation for any Castle-Dinas people who might have


THE EERIE EYE 253
been curious. But Beresford's arrival blew the whole thing
up. Sharpe recognized him at once for a fellow who'd left
a filthy reputation at Ashling. Pugsley, too, from his
brother's account of him. It wasn't long before he began
to badger the Lowells, and Katherine and Jardine got at
cross-purposes. That was why Trahair suggested bringing
you in."
"And that horrified you more than ever," said Tolefree.
"With good reason. What did we want of a detective
prying into our affairs? However, you seemed a human
being, and I hoped for the best. It has been impossible to
take Bruce Jardine into our confidence. We were hoping
to scare Beresford away. And that was the situation on
Feast Day. Then, when Katherine was idiot enough to
think she might persuade the cur to hold off and I saw him
go down after her into the galleries, I took the bull by the
horns. I gave Beresford warning that he'd better clear out
or I'd hand him over to the police and chance anything
he could do to injure us. Trying to get at her mother
through Katherine was more than I could stand. I told
him to come out to Carnmarth late at night and I'd dis-
cuss the position with him. Sharpe was to look out for him
and bring him along. I got you off to bed early—"
"If I remember rightly, you said you felt you'd had a
day and wanted to go to bed yourself," Tolefree reminded
him.
"Yes—you were a nuisance. You compelled me to the
sin of prevarication. When I left you I went to my dress-
ing-room—I use it as a study—and waited there. Peter was
to come and call me when Sharpe arrived. Eventually
Sharpe brought Beresford along—"
"But not alone," Tolefree interjected.


254
THE CORPSE WITH
"No, not alone. He brought another person also. I
shan't tell you who the person was."
'There's no need, Doctor. I know."
"Do you?" Mapperley looked surprised. "Well, we
shall see. I heard a car. It was twenty minutes to one. I
waited. Nothing happened for several minutes, and I
thought I must have been mistaken. Then I heard the
shot and, immediately after, sounds of movement down in
the hall. I went out into the corridor and listened at your
door. All quiet. I passed on and down the staircase. Peter
had put the light on in the hall and was running up. He
told me Sharpe had just come in when the shot was fired,
and had rushed out again and told him to call me. I went
to the door, saw lights in the garage, and hurried there.
The lights were on, and Sharpe and another man were
bending down over Beresford's body, which lay on the
floor near the door."
"That other man," said Tolefree, "was Pugsley."
"It was Pugsley," said Mapperley.
Tolefree shrugged his shoulders. "Very curious," said
he. "And then you went into conference on the disposal
of the carrion, of course. You did rather well for people
who weren't in the habit of cleaning up a mess after a
murder, hiding their tracks, and creating alibis. But you
didn't do the rest of it so well. Goonbarrow Downs was
a mistake. You should have dropped him in the road some-
where near the town and kept the gun in the pocket of
the car, or given it back to Pugsley."
"Yes—I saw that afterwards," Mapperley admitted.
"It's also quite clear that you didn't look carefully at
Beresford, or you'd have seen that the bullet had gone
right through him and must therefore be somewhere in


THE EERIE EYE
255
the garage. If you'd noticed that, Peter could have looked
for it and removed it when he hosed away the symptoms
of a violent death."
"Beresford was an unpleasant sight," Mapperley re-
plied. "We had other things to do. But, for amateurs,
don't you think—"
"I think death has not modified your animosity, Doctor
Mapperley. You speak of other things to do. Of course,
you had urgent things to do for the murderer, which had
to be done before you could pay much attention to Beres-
ford. But at present I'm interested in your frank admis-
sion about Pugsley."
"I've made no admission, except that Pugsley was with
us when we considered what to do."
"Quite so; but that's important, you know, Doctor.
What would Pierce give to know that!"
"If you tell him, Tolefree—"
"I say nothing about telling him at present. Have you
arrived at the point where you propose to stop unless I
give you an undertaking?"
"Yes. Not another word."
"There'll have to be more words before I give that
undertaking. Will you answer a few questions?"
"I'll tell you when you ask them," said Mapperley. "If
my answers are going to help to hang anybody, you won't
get 'em."
"And you, Sharpe?"
"My answer's the same as the doctor's, Tolefree."
"Why did you leave Beresford in the garage while you
came in to see the doctor?"
"You said it yourself. He was dopey. He'd smoked one
of those foul cigarettes in the car on the way."


THEEERIEEYE 257
"Perhaps I could—if I knew everything that you and
Pugsley are able to tell me."
Mapperley was lying back in his chair, looking out over
his beard at Tolefree. "Ah!" he said. "Well—" and then
was silent for a full minute.
"Well—that's an idea," he proclaimed at last. "Sharpe,
will you run into Castle-Dinas in your car and bring Ar-
thur out? Don't take any excuse. Bring him."
Sharpe seemed reluctant, but he said, "Very well—if
you say so," and went out.
Mapperley reached for his cigar-box and offered it in
vain to Tolefree. He said, "Then light up your pipe. You
must be parched for smoke. Let's forget that filthy busi-
ness in the garage for ten minutes. Tell me what you think
of the Lowells now. I believe you saw them last night."
Tolefree, filling a pipe, said, "Very fine persons. Cou-
rageous—especially Katherine, who was prepared to lose
Jardine if it must be."
"She wouldn't have lost him, anyhow," Mapperley
declared.
"I'm glad to think so," said Tolefree. "He's fine, too.
But how would his Dresden china mother have taken it?"
"Dresden china! You don't know much about Mrs. Jar-
dine. She'd have taken it like a heroine . . ."
Talk about the Lowells and Jardine went on till
Sharpe's car passed the window and he presently came in
followed by Pugsley.
3
As he entered the library Pugsley nodded his shock
head to Tolefree.


260
THE CORPSE WITH
though I'd willingly have done it. But I admit I saw it
done."
There was a pause, broken only by a sigh from Sharpe.
"I never doubted that," said Tolefree. "You left Mrs.
Belliver's, I suppose, as soon as the policeman had cleared
off. You walked out here. You saw lights in the garage
and heard voices. You went there. You found no Sharpe,
but Beresford was there. While Sharpe consulted Doctor
Mapperley, Beresford was killed."
"Just as if you'd been there!" said Pugsley.
"Well, you carry on."
"You seem to know the rest, according to Mapperley."
<fBut—amplify the details, Mr. Pugsley. Amplify!
What was happening when you reached the garage?"
"A violent quarrel. Heard it before I looked in. When
I did, Beresford was standing by the car, hanging on to
the open door with his left hand, swaying, and fumbling in
the pocket. An instant—and then he had a gun in the right
hand and pointed it. The person with whom he'd been
quarreling dashed at him and pulled the gun away. An-
other instant—and Beresford was lying on the floor with
a bullet through his head, and the other person fell near
by unconscious. It all happened in about three seconds."
"Yes—dramatic, isn't it? And you're not mentioning
any names?"
"I said so."
"Well—next?"
"Sharpe came running while I was stooping over Beres-
ford to see whether he had any life in him, and then
Mapperley. I told 'em what I'd seen."
"And heard?"
"Yes—but it wasn't much. Five seconds at most."


THE EERIE EYE
263
describe her as a tart, and the daggers her eyes had thrown
at Miss Lowell that afternoon. The woman was jealous—
or at any rate she feared she was going to lose the man,
also the marijuana cigarettes were hers; no evidence that
Beresford was an addict. If he'd smoked her cigarettes
that night she'd given them to him when he'd got half
tight—working up Dutch courage for the interview with
you, no doubt. What I can't guess—but Mr. Pugsley
might know it—is whether she'd discovered his dirty
scheme against Lowell and thought it dangerous."
"Pugsley doesn't know, but I do," said Mapperley. "So
will Fisher, later on."
Tolefree shook his head at them. "You've all con-
nived at her escape. It's a grave offence."
"So we have; but Scotland Yard will never know we
did."
"You're mighty sure of yourselves!"
"That's not the point. We're sure of our Peter. Let's
have him in, shall we?"
Mapperley rang. Peter appeared in the doorway, was
invited to come in, and stood stiffly at attention, hands at
his sides.
"Peter," said Mapperley, "tell Mr. Tolefree exactly
what happened on Feast Night before you met him in
the hall."
"Aye-aye, sir." Peter began like a schoolboy reciting a
lesson: "I hears Mr. Sharpe's car. Mr. Sharpe comes in
and goes to see you upstairs, sir. While he's there I hears
a shot outside, and I noshes out. There's lights in the
garridge, and I goes there. A man and a woman's laying
on the floor. I thinks they're drunk. I comes back to the
house and tells you and Mr. Sharpe, and you both comes


268 THE CORPSE WITH
of the road to her house and drove away hell-for-leather."
"Same car?"
"Yes, Mr. Sharpe's. No doubt of that. No doubt, either,
that Beresford was tucked away in the back, with Mr.
Sharpe's scarf round his head. She didn't see the body,
but you can reason it out."
"And the man?" Mapperley persisted. "What does
Scotland Yard reason about that?"
"We're looking for the man. Some fellow out of Beres-
ford's murky past, perhaps. He may be hard to find. But
he committed a grave offence, and we shan't let up till
we've got him."
"Good luck to you," Mapperley said. "An impudent
fellow, borrowing Sharpe's car and using it as a hearse!"
"Wasn't he?" said Pierce, genially. "Of course we can
have theories about it—that the man was in collusion with
Beresford and knew of his intention: that might bring him
on the spot. Or if he hated Beresford for any reason and
was dogging him. But he can wait. The woman's story—
it's a confession—"
"Confession? How?"
"A confession, supported by her flight."
"Flight?" Mapperley exclaimed.
"Undoubtedly. Fisher let her go to London on condi-
tion that she came back for the adjourned inquest. But
she didn't go to London. Her passport was vu at Westport
when the French liner sailed on Friday. She's vamoosed
—cut and run."
"But," said Mapperley, "if her story's true—?"
"She committed no crime? Well, the plea of self-de-
fence might stand. There was the little question of motive.
If she'd benefited by Beresford's death—but she didn't.


THEEERIEEYE 269
There was no money to speak of in the bank, and what
was there she couldn't get at. I saw that lawyer, Tre-
vanion, and squeezed the will out of him. Beresford left
all he had to Mrs. Young, it's true. But so far as Trevanion
knows he had nothing to leave. Down on his uppers. Rely-
ing on what he could get out of his scheme, no doubt. Des-
perate. He was much more use to her alive than dead. The
Surete's looking for her. But the fact is, Doctor, that the
Beresford mystery will go off the front pages before the
end of the week. No murder, no front page."
"Then Scotland Yard has lost interest in it?"
"I won't say that. But we shall leave the rest to Fisher."
If Pierce noticed the sigh of relief which for a moment
pervaded the room, he said nothing of it. Mapperley in-
vited him to have tea . . .
Sharpe said, when Pierce's car had gone down the drive,
"Well, Tolefree, so that's Scotland Yard!"
"And a good sample," said Tolefree.
"You think so? One day I'll tell you why you're
wrong."
"It would be delightful," Tolefree answered, "to see
you at any time on any occasion, Sharpe. But for this pur-
pose there's no need. I know why you think Pierce is a
fool. A profound error. Pierce has let you down lightly
for the time. Even on the evidence of the letter he might
have pulled you all in for collusion. You knew it all,—and
you told him things that weren't. As to the letter itself,
you'll allow me to compliment you on a clever concoction,
Doctor Mapperley."
"Eh?" boomed Mapperley. "I concocted it? What the
deuce d'you mean?"


THEEERIEEYE 271
"No. And I'm going a little further. The letter's a
manifest travesty. Mrs. Young indignant with Beresford
because of a blackmail plot? Why, my dear sir, she'd been
living for years on his blackmail earnings. She was un-
doubtedly the woman of the Ashling scandal. The dates
fit too perfectly for anything else. She'd been in Paris
five years when he came out of prison. The money he
got from Pugsley's brother was never found. Of course
not—because it set her up in Paris to wait till he was out.
When they came here to blackmail Lowell she must have
known why they came. Why did she kill Beresford? Be-
cause she suspected him of planning to leave her, and the
price of silence he wanted from the Lowells was not money
alone, but Katherine plus money."
"Good God!" cried Sharpe. "You're romancing."
"I'm not. Ask Lowell. Ask Katherine. I would wager
anything that was his game. He hadn't reckoned with
gallant people like the Lowells, and he hadn't reckoned
with his paramour's fury. So, Mr. Pugsley—that wasn't
an accidental shot, was it? She shot him deliberately.
Didn't she?"
"Arthur!—Don't answer," Mapperley exclaimed.
"How do you arrive at that, Tolefree?"
"Because there's no other conclusion. If Beresford died
in a struggle where he was the aggressor, what reason for
secrecy? Why Goonbarrow Downs? Why the escape of
Mrs. Young? Why the letter? It's absurd. You all knew
that in such circumstances there was no crime and there
need have been no scandal. Inquest—either Accidental
Death or Justifiable Homicide. Great sympathy with Doc-
tor Mapperley that chance had brought the tragedy to
his door."


272 THE CORPSE WITH
The three of them gazed at Tolefree, speechless.
"You never thought of that in time. And why?" he
pursued. "Because it wasn't true. The truth was that Carn-
marth would have been deeply involved in the scandal
at the back of the murder. You welcomed the murder,
and you sympathized with the murderer. But you wanted
it removed from Carnmarth."
Mapperley recovered his aplomb. "We're not going to
admit it, even to you, Tolefree."
"It doesn't matter. You've had the devil's own luck so
far. But don't count on it for ever. Let Pierce find out one
thing—as I think he's bound to do—and you're for it."
"What's that?"
"The name of the unfortunate gentleman who was
Beresford's last victim—Pugsley's brother. He doesn't
know it because he's never read that transcript. But if he
ever does he will have the essential link. He will remem-
ber the man who was chasing after Beresford more than
a year ago in Paris, and he will know that it was Pugsley."
"Damn you!" Pugsley growled.
"Eh?" cried Mapperley. "What's this?"
Sharpe's eyebrows went up under his forelock.
"You didn't know, Doctor? Pugsley—you did hunt for
him in Paris, didn't you?"
"How the devil did you get that?" Pugsley asked
angrily.
"I heard Mrs. Young describe the incident to Fisher,
and Pierce has heard it too. Now, let him discover the
name, and imagine what he'll make of the suggestion in
the letter that the man in the car was the same man who
was looking for Beresford at her house in Paris!"
There was silence.


THEEERIEEYE 273
"However," said Tolefree, "all that's none of my busi-
ness now. I wanted merely to clear up things between us.
Lucky for you if the police can find no trace of Mrs.
Young. She'll drag you all in if she feels in danger. She
may have covered her tracks. Pierce may not think of
looking over the report. So you may get away with it.
I'll give you the one reason why I hope you do."
"What's that?" asked Sharpe.
"Katherine," said Tolefree.


278
THE EERIE EYE
of other business to trouble about the yellow-haired dame, and she
may get away with it. Which will be lucky for the Buccaneers. No-
body will give a tinker's damn for Castle-Dinas.
"I guess you'll soon be back on the old job. Which is better than
playing around with a corsair crew, old horse—come now!"
"Is that the end?" asked Mapperley.
"There's postscript, Doctor. I didn't want to read it,
but here it is:
"I suppose she really did shoot him, and it wasn't Pugsley, after
all? But of course, she'd never have made that admission unless she
had to, even to a bunch of pirates flying the skull-and-crossbones at
her,
"I thought I'd spare you that," said Tolefree. "Let's
turn to something else, shall we? Jardine's been in
Brittany. What do they think of the outlook there, Jar-
dine?" . . .
"Listen!" said Mapperley, an hour later. He went to
the window and threw it open.
Cries came from the street. "Special! Ultimatum to
Hitler! Special!"
Katherine caught at Jardine's arm.
"Ah, well." Mapperley turned to them at the table and
picked up his glass. "That settles it. Tolefree, I'll walk
down Whitehall with you. Where the Fates propel, there
let us follow, eh? Here's to victory!"
Tolefree rose. He held out his hand to Jardine and
said, "Good luck, Jardine." And to Katherine, "Be brave!
But I needn't say it."