Introducing 
 
 of mystery fiction. The story of 
 
 Charles Stafford, a distinguished 
 
 , > 
 
 airman (among other things) who 
 
 . -' 
 
 survived his own inquest and lived 
 to baffle Scotland Yard, is told with 
 speed, suspense, action and a *w- 
 markable denouement. Here is a 
 ix^ystery guaranteed to try the wits 
 of the most astute fan. 
 
 PROPERTY OF 
 
 ! Mr. Blow 
 ">od story . . . 
 down 
 o pages 
 - Times 
 
 YORK
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 BY 
 LYNTON BLOW 
 
 NEW YORK 
 HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
 
 AUTHORIZED EDITION 
 
 PRINTED IN THE 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
 
 To 
 
 MY FRIEND 
 
 R. VASSALL-ADAMS 
 
 2134526
 
 AUTHOR'S NOTE 
 
 All the characters in this volume are purely fictitious.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. THE CRASH 11 
 
 II. MURDER! 22 
 
 III. THE CRIME NEAR TOTLAND CORNER . 33 
 
 IV. THE SENSATION AT THE INQUEST . 45 
 V. THEORIES 57 
 
 VI. HUNT VISITS MOORLANDS ... 67 
 
 VII. THE CUT TIRE MYSTERY ... 80 
 
 VIII. THE ARREST 92 
 
 IX. ANOTHER BODY 103 
 
 X. SIR HENRY DISAPPEARS . . .112 
 
 XI. THE DEAD MAN'S BOOTS . . .125 
 
 XII. A LOOK ROUND THE GROUNDS . . 134 
 
 XIII. AT THE POND . . . . .140 
 
 XIV. THE CHIEF CONSTABLE SOLVES A 
 
 MYSTERY . . . . . .150 
 
 XV. PRO PATRIA 161 
 
 XVI. DEVELOPMENTS 166 
 
 XVII. AT THE BUNGALOW . . . .174 
 
 7
 
 8 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XVIII. THE HUNT BEGINS IN EARNEST . 184 
 
 XIX. THE SECRET CODE .... 193 
 
 XX. THE RED HOUSE 206 
 
 XXI. WHICH OUGHT TO HAVE BEEN CON- 
 CLUSION 215 
 
 XXII. HUNT SEES DAYLIGHT . . . 225 
 
 XXIII. IN THE ISLAND 237 
 
 XXIV. THE RACE FOR THE SENIOR TOURIST 
 
 TROPHY 244 
 
 XXV. ZERO HOUR 255 
 
 XXVI. CONFESSION ...... 259 
 
 XXVII. CONFESSION (continued) . . . 269 
 
 XXVIII. EXPIATION 283
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER
 
 I 
 
 THE CRASH 
 
 WILLIAM POPE, coastguard, set down his mug on 
 the table, drew his coat-sleeve across his mouth, 
 then pushed away his used plate. Delving into his 
 pocket, he withdrew, first his tobacco pouch and pipe, 
 and then a copy of the evening paper. Carefully 
 loading and lighting the pipe, he began, after set- 
 tling well back into the depths of his not altogether 
 uncomfortable chair, to glance over the card of the 
 next day's race meeting. 
 
 It was a lonely job this, watching night after 
 night for distress signals that seldom went up; and 
 for smugglers who never seemed to smuggle, at any 
 rate not around this part of the coast. 
 
 After a lightning survey of the whole programme 
 he decided to have another look around before going 
 more carefully in the matter of picking the winner 
 of the 3.10, the Big Race of the day. 
 
 He had soon seen that this was going to be a 
 much harder task than he had at first anticipated 
 seventeen runners, and half of them had not been 
 seen out this season ; an hour's work at the very least 
 before he could, from out of the chaos of Weights, 
 Jockeys, Distances, Form, and Latest London Bet- 
 ting, restore order and find the "Certainty" the 
 Handicapper and Press Correspondents had over- 
 looked. 
 
 11
 
 12 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 So, stretching himself, he rose, and went to the 
 door and out on to the short, tufted grass that covers 
 the headland. 
 
 Had it been daytime instead of 2 A.M., he would, 
 on opening the door, have been confronted by the 
 tall, white cliffs of the Isle of Wight, with a view of 
 the Solent, while nearer, just across Totland Bay, 
 The Needles, standing gaunt and detached from the 
 mainland, like sentinels guarding the narrow chan- 
 nel. 
 
 A treacherous part of the coast, this, as all mar- 
 iners know, for, hidden by the waves, but still only 
 just below the surface, wait cruel, jagge4 rocks, 
 eager for the ship that deviates but slightly from 
 her course. 
 
 However, as the moon, though full, was hidden at 
 that moment by heavy rain-clouds, all he could see 
 that night, or rather early morning, was the glow 
 from the lighthouse snuggled at the base of The 
 Needles, and the more powerful shaft of light from 
 the station at St. Catherine's Point, flashing inter- 
 mittently across the placid waters of Bournemouth 
 Bay. 
 
 Moving to the front of his hut, he could see, some- 
 what to his right, a solitary pin-prick of light from 
 somewhere on the Swanage shore and the glittering 
 portholes of a liner far out in the English Channel. 
 All was well at sea, it seemed, so he moved on his 
 little circuit. 
 
 Again, from the right-hand side of his little out- 
 post, he could see but a few scattered lights from 
 Bournemouth, and the beam from the headlamps of
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 13 
 
 a car far away on what he took to be the main Lon- 
 don-Bournemouth road. 
 
 From the back of his hut, across the broad expanse 
 of Christchurch Harbour, he could just make out 
 the ancient Priory, caught by a faint beam of 
 moonlight that broke through the now receding 
 clouds. 
 
 Feeling satisfied that all was well, after calling to 
 his dog Spot, who was busily engaged in scratching 
 at some rabbits' holes, he turned, to re-enter his little 
 station, there to settle in brighter surroundings the 
 question of which horse should carry his money in the 
 3.10 at Newmarket. 
 
 Withdrawing an envelope from an inner pocket 
 and producing a pencil from behind his ear, he set 
 about to consider the question in what he thought to 
 be the most scientific manner. 
 
 " 'Golden Glory,' " he wrote, " 'Jockey, J. Ross. 
 4 yrs. 9 st. 2 Ib. Rand 2nd to Rendezvous, Hurst 
 Park. August 8th. . . . Not been out this season.' 
 I remember that race," he ruminated. "Let me down 
 then, the blighter. Well, Rendezvous's not in the 
 3.10, anyhow, that's one good point." 
 
 He pondered over Golden Glory's chances awhile. 
 
 "I dunno !" he muttered at length. "I don't alto- 
 gether fancy it, once bitten, twice shy. 
 
 "Let's see" drawing his finger down the list of 
 runners. "Scarecrow don't know it, don't like it's 
 name either. 
 
 "Sweet Olive, Starlight 4th, Eagle's Claw, Jimmy 
 so Jimmy's running again, is he? I thought his 
 career was ended last season . . . sprained tendon, 
 I thought. Must be wrong, I expect!
 
 14 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 "Let's see now. Rose of Lincoln, Income Tax, 
 Mistake. Good! Here's another old favourite 
 Zadwig. 
 
 "Never shall forget when he won the Leger, five 
 shillings each way I 'ad on 'im. An' didn't we have 
 a night out? Not 'arf ! Tight as lords, the whole 
 gang on us !" 
 
 He grimaced at the recollection of his reception 
 home that evening. It was decidedly chilly, to say 
 the very least of it. 
 
 "Well, that was holiday-time," he said aloud, as 
 if an explanation was desirable. "That was diff'rent. 
 No time for drinkin' now. All up with your job if 
 they caught you squiffy on this beat. Quite right 
 too. Work when you works an' drink when you 
 play. That's what I holds with ! 
 
 "Now where was I? Oh, yes! Zadwig, wasn't 
 it? That's right. Now let's see. . . . Jockey, L. 
 Coombs. . . . Bright lad, that Coombs. Been out 
 of luck lately, though." 
 
 Old Pope worked on, while time flew by as on 
 wings. 
 
 Then, from out of the silence of the night came a 
 sound, indistinct at first, but rapidly getting louder, 
 clearer-defined, and nearer. 
 
 "What's that, I wonder?" muttered old Pope. 
 "Sounds like an aeroplane !" 
 
 Dropping the paper, he rose hurriedly and pulled 
 open the door. Still louder now, and almost over- 
 head! 
 
 Looking up, Pope saw it at once a small white 
 monoplane, showing port and starboard lights, fly-
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 15 
 
 ing very fast and rather low; right across the pale, 
 luminous face of the moon. 
 
 "That's young Dennis Evans," he said aloud. 
 "Silly young fool. What the 'ell's he doing up 
 there at this time of night ? He's got all day to play 
 about in, but that's not enough for the likes of him. 
 All the same, these young chaps," he grumbled, 
 "must turn night into day. 
 
 "Well, I suppose it's no concern of mine but I'd 
 rather it be him than me flyin' out to sea all alone !" 
 
 With a last glance at the fast receding lights of 
 the 'plane, the old fellow went back to his chair 
 and the 3.10. 
 
 The sound had almost faded by now. 
 
 Picking up the paper again, he started to con- 
 sider anew the chances of Redskin in the "Big 'Un." 
 
 "8 st. 7 Ib. . . . Favourably weighted," he 
 thought. "A furlong more than he's used to, 
 though; I wonder if that will be his undoing? Oh! 
 Crane up. An old hand. Hasn't had too good a 
 season perhaps this is where he is going to break 
 his run of bad luck. Hello! What's that? Could 
 swear my lamp flickered. 
 
 "No! It's steady enough. Funny, though. 
 
 "There it is again. 
 
 "No ! It's outside ... a distress rocket, it looks 
 like!" 
 
 Paper in hand, he rushed to the door, flung it 
 open, and stepped out into the night. 
 
 Looking up, he saw at once the cause of his anx- 
 iety. 
 
 A huge ball of fire seemed to be coming across 
 the harbour towards him.
 
 16 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 It was an aeroplane in flames! 
 
 "Good God! Young Evans!" he gasped. "He 
 must have circled!" 
 
 Nearer now, almost overhead. 
 
 The engine spluttered then stopped. 
 
 Instantly the 'plane banked over and began a 
 dizzy, mad, uncontrollable plunge earthwards. 
 
 As it dived, great blobs of fire fell from it, and on 
 each twist and spin the flames blazed up the fiercer, 
 for the leaking tanks sprayed more and more petrol 
 out over the whole. 
 
 It was still up 1,500 to 2,000 feet when Pope 
 first noticed the disaster, and it fell this distance 
 at an almost incredible speed, leaving a trail of black 
 fumes behind to catch and reflect the brilliance of the 
 flames. 
 
 Then, with a resounding crash almost enough to 
 split the ear-drums it hit the ground, throwing out 
 a ring of blazing petrol over the grass for twenty 
 yards or more around, and shooting a cascade of 
 sparks high into the air. 
 
 For several moments Pope stood petrified, awed 
 by the intensity of the flames. 
 
 Then, pulling himself together, he ran the two 
 hundred yards or so to the 'plane. 
 
 But he could do nothing. He felt the hot air on 
 his face when a good hundred yards away, and the 
 nearest he could approach to it was barely another 
 fifty. 
 
 For a while the wreckage burned with redoubled 
 fury as one of the tanks burst with a devastating 
 roar. Then they settled down to eat themselves out 
 in a little less terrifying manner.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 17 
 
 Pope had realised from the first that little he could 
 do would prove of the slightest use. If Evans was 
 in the 'plane, his body must have been burned to a 
 cinder long ago. 
 
 However, it was his duty to summon aid as soon 
 as possible, so he retraced his footsteps back to his 
 hut and speedily got into communication by 'phone 
 with Bournemouth police station. 
 
 The Superintendent himself happened to be in 
 the office at the time and the call was immediately 
 switched through to him. 
 
 "What's this?" he said. "Coastguard Station. 
 Hengistbury Head. 'Plane down in flames. Yes, 
 I've got it all right I'll let the fire brigade know 
 and we'll be along at once!" 
 
 Pope replaced the receiver and went back again 
 to the scene of the crash. 
 
 Although the heat was not quite so terrific now, 
 he could get no nearer than before, as the grass, due 
 to the scorching to which it had been subjected, had 
 become ignited and was giving off choking, acrid 
 fumes and banks of heavy smoke which absolutely 
 defied penetration. 
 
 After a few more moments spent gazing towards 
 the half-hidden wreckage, Pope turned to go part 
 of the way to meet the Superintendent. 
 
 At that moment, however, another figure appeared 
 coming hurriedly towards him from out of the pall. 
 
 For a few moments he thought it might be Dennis 
 Evans. "Has he been lucky enough to escape by 
 parachute?" he wondered. 
 
 But it was only the tenant of a near-by farm
 
 18 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 who had been awakened by the crash and immedi- 
 ately set out to render what aid he could. 
 
 Within another ten minutes the two were joined 
 by a sergeant and a constable from Christchurch, 
 who had seen the reflection of the blaze in the sky 
 and hurried over by motor-boat to investigate. 
 
 "A sad business, Pope, I fear," said the sergeant 
 as he drew near. "Not a dog's chance to get out 
 of there." 
 
 "No," agreed the coastguard. "Unless he has 
 managed to escape by parachute." 
 
 "I don't think so," pointed out the farmer. "He's 
 had ample time to get along here by now. No ! I'm 
 afraid we shall find all that's left of him in there" 
 indicating the debris. 
 
 "If he jumped, there's still a chance that he has 
 been carried out over the cliff edge by the wind, isn't 
 there?" inquired Pope, still sticking to his parachute 
 theory, " or even fallen short and landed in the 
 harbour. Perhaps he's marooned on one of those 
 mud-flats." 
 
 "Possibly," acceded the sergeant. "Let's hope so. 
 Anywhere rather than helpless in those flames," he 
 added with a shudder. 
 
 "Ah! Here comes Superintendent Walker with 
 the fire extinguishers." Old Pope's sharp eyes had 
 caught and recognised the approaching figures long 
 before the others were aware of them. "Now we 
 shall soon know one way or the other." 
 
 The Superintendent drew close, panting hard, fol- 
 lowed by a little army of firemen. 
 
 "Couldn't get the engine along here," he gasped. 
 "Hell of a place to get out to, this!"
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 19 
 
 "Never mind, sir," said the Christchurch sergeant. 
 "It would be too late now even if you had it the 
 grass is mostly out and the chemicals are the only 
 things that will have any effect on the wreckage." 
 
 "I suppose so," agreed the Superintendent, look- 
 ing at the debris. "No idea who it is, have you, ser- 
 geant?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes! As a matter of fact, Pope recognised the 
 'plane. It has been over here once before to-night. 
 Says it's young Evans from Bournemouth, and this," 
 pointing to the twisted metal work, "his little white 
 monoplane." 
 
 "Good heavens!" ejaculated the Superintendent. 
 "Are you positive? Why, only last week he tried to 
 persuade me to go up with him for a short trip," he 
 continued sadly, "and now this!" 
 
 While the two stood talking, the captain of the 
 fire brigade and his men had hurriedly donned their 
 respirators, and now, armed with the extinguishers, 
 they advanced towards the flames. In spite of their 
 most strenuous efforts, however, it was a full half- 
 hour before they could quell the fire enough to allow 
 the others to approach. 
 
 The sergeant was the first to draw close, and, after 
 one look at the debris, he withdrew. "I don't know 
 much about flying," he said, "but I'm positive 
 whatever Pope says to the contrary that's not the 
 wreckage of a monoplane and I'm pretty certain 
 it's a 'Moth.' " 
 
 "Then there must have been two of them," began 
 Bope excitedly, "and if it's not the single-winged 
 'plane lying here, young Evans is safe. Thank 
 goodness for that, for although I don't altogether
 
 20 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 hold with some of his ways, I can't say as I've ever 
 met a nicer fellow. No snobbery about him and 
 rich too." 
 
 "You're right there," seconded the sergeant. "A 
 rattlin' good sort I've always found him myself." 
 
 "Then if it isn't Evans, who is it?" asked the 
 Superintendent. 
 
 "Perhaps it's an army 'plane," suggested Pope. 
 "They do a lot of night flying over these parts, you 
 know. Come from an aerodrome out Winchester 
 way, so I'm told." 
 
 "That's an idea anyhow," said the Superintendent. 
 "Get on the 'phone to them and find out if they're 
 flying to-night." 
 
 They repaired to the office, and within a very few 
 minutes Pope had obtained the information they 
 sought. 
 
 No army 'planes were up in the district that night. 
 
 "I thought not," said the sergeant. "That's a 
 private 'Moth' 'plane." 
 
 "I wonder if we ought to ring up Sir Charles Staf- 
 ford's place out Lymington way?" the Superintend- 
 ent asked. "He has a 'Moth,' I know." 
 
 "I'll try if you like, sir," replied the coastguard. 
 "Perhaps I can find out from the butler without dis- 
 turbing Sir Charles." 
 
 "Righto ! Have a go at it. Even if we do fetch 
 him from his bed, the information will be worth it. 
 I say, sergeant, the flames are almost out now let's 
 go and see if they've found anything." 
 
 The two men left the hut and walked over to the 
 scene of the disaster once more.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 21 
 
 The brigade captain came part of the way to meet 
 them. 
 
 "It's a dreadful sight, Superintendent," he began. 
 "We can see the remains of a body at the bottom 
 of the wreckage, but the fuselage is still much too 
 hot to let us drag it clear!" 
 
 It was indeed a dreadful sight; the little group 
 could see it all too well. 
 
 And as they stood there, helpless, waiting for the 
 glowing metal to cool, old Pope came running up. 
 
 "I believe you're right, Superintendent," he 
 shouted. "A 'Moth' left Lymington at three o'clock 
 this morning bound for Plymouth. Sir Charles him- 
 self was piloting it, with Mrs. Evans as his pas- 
 senger ! The Head would be directly on their route !"
 
 II 
 
 MURDER! 
 
 INSPECTOR HUNT, of the Criminal Investigation De- 
 partment, New Scotland Yard, had spent an exceed- 
 ingly restless night. 
 
 After a fast run down in his car to Princetown 
 Prison, where he had hoped to obtain an important 
 statement from a convict, he had, instead of con- 
 tinuing his journey back to Town that night, re- 
 turned by the lower route, breaking his drive at 
 Bournemouth to pay a long overdue visit to his mar- 
 ried sister who resided in the Southbourne district. 
 
 Although he had retired to bed that night feeling 
 dog-tried, he had, to his annoyance, only remained 
 asleep for what seemed the space of a few minutes 
 before he had awakened rather suddenly and ap- 
 parently without cause. 
 
 Once awake, he had found it impossible to get off 
 to sleep again, as on each occasion that he managed 
 to settle comfortably he was disturbed by the sound 
 of a vehicle bumping and rattling over the unfinished 
 road a few feet beneath his window. 
 
 At last he could stand it no longer. It was just 
 getting light outside, so he decided to dress and go 
 for an early stroll. 
 
 Silently completing his toilet, he crept down the 
 stairs, unlocked the back door, and went out. 
 
 Although it was late spring May 23rd, to be 
 
 22
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 23 
 
 precise there seemed quite a nip in the air, and 
 the grass on the wasteland was white with frost. 
 
 Soon, after turning a corner in the road, Hunt 
 saw, drawn up on the grass edge by the roadside, 
 the vehicles that had disturbed his night's rest. 
 Three in all a fire-engine, and two private cars. 
 
 Looking towards the headland for the first time 
 Hunt saw where the trouble lay. 
 
 A thick bank of smoke hung over a hollow, and 
 little bursts of flame were visible from time to time. 
 He noticed, though, that each spurt was less active 
 than its predecessor. The firemen seemed to have 
 the outbreak well in hand. 
 
 As it was still some hours before breakfast-time 
 Hunt decided to take a stroll over the headland and 
 ascertain the nature of the outbreak. 
 
 He had picnicked on the Head on many occa- 
 sions, and was puzzled by the fire, as he could remem- 
 ber no building in the vicinity except the Coastguard 
 Station, which he could see was intact. 
 
 A sharp walk of a quarter of an hour's duration 
 brought him to the scene. Immediately he saw the 
 tangled wreckage he divined the cause of his abrupt 
 awakening. 
 
 As he drew near to the little knot of waiting men 
 he was recognised by Superintendent Walker, who 
 drew apart from the others and went forward to 
 meet him. "Well, bless my soul if it isn't Inspector 
 Hunt," he began. "Fancy meeting you down here 
 especially at this ungodly hour." 
 
 "You're to blame for the hour, Superintendent. 
 How do you expect a man to sleep when you drive
 
 24 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 your ramshackle old Ford by his window at fifty 
 miles an hour? But," he added in a more serious 
 tone, "what's the trouble here?" 
 
 "It's hardly in your line, Inspector," answered 
 Walker, "but no doubt you'll be shocked to know 
 that in there, we believe, are the remains of Sir 
 Charles Stafford and a Mrs. Evans!" 
 
 "Sir Charles Stafford!" echoed Hunt. "Surely 
 not the Sir Charles Stafford?" 
 
 "Unfortunately!" replied Walker. "But never- 
 theless true, I'm afraid!" 
 
 Sir Charles Stafford! 
 
 In a flash the exploits of Sir Charles leapt vividly 
 into Hunt's mind. 
 
 Barely a year ago he had startled the world by 
 a daring, successful, double crossing of the Atlantic 
 alone and in one of the smallest of light 'planes. 
 
 These had been the culminating flights of a series 
 that he had made which had helped considerably to 
 raise Britain's prestige in the air to a point not 
 hitherto attained. 
 
 And now disaster ! And by a cruel trick of fate, 
 he, who had conquered dense jungles and mighty 
 oceans, high perilous mountain ranges and torrential 
 tropical storms, had met his end on a clear, calm 
 morning in his native country. 
 
 And Mrs. Evans too. 
 
 He had seen both her and her husband several 
 times, though he did not know them to speak to. 
 
 With a sickening feeling in his heart, he looked 
 again towards the wreckage. Could it be possible 
 that all that remained of the beautiful wife of young
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 25 
 
 Dennis Evans was the hideous, distorted body they 
 could already see, or was it, even more horribly mu- 
 tilated, lying still lower in the funeral pyre? 
 
 At last the metal-work seemed to have cooled 
 enough to allow the firemen to remove the first body 
 from the twisted mass of wires and broken, half- 
 burned struts that held it prisoner. 
 
 Hunt, although he had during his career as a 
 police officer seen death in many forms, could scarcely 
 suppress a shudder at the ghastly scene now being 
 enacted before his eyes. 
 
 Soon, however, the body that of a man was 
 lifted clear, reverently laid out on a stretcher and 
 covered with a sheet. 
 
 Again the firemen returned to the wreckage; the 
 fuselage was soon hacked asunder and the burned 
 fragments charred almost to a powder that had 
 fallen in a heap on top of the half-buried engine, 
 removed. 
 
 But no other body did they find. 
 
 Within a few minutes of the conclusion of the 
 search Sir Charles' chauffeur-mechanic arrived with 
 the butler. He seemed to pale slightly and sway at 
 the sight of the body on the stretcher. 
 
 The Superintendent went over to them. "We have 
 recovered a body from the wreckage," he began, "and 
 we assume this is Sir Charles' 'plane though we 
 hope against hope we are wrong. Are you quite 
 sure Mrs. Evans was in this machine? Mr. Evans 
 is reported to have passed over here just before the 
 crash. Might she not have been with him?" 
 
 "No," answered the mechanic. "I am positive that 
 Mrs. Evans was 
 
 DOBRIN LIBRARIES 
 
 X/./rrarixo
 
 26 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 "Had she a parachute?" asked Hunt. 
 
 "No!" was the reply. "Sir Charles had, but 
 neither Mr. nor Mrs. Evans ever carried one." 
 
 "In that case it's rather remarkable that Sir 
 Charles didn't attempt to use it, isn't it?" commented 
 Walker. 
 
 "It is unless," replied Hunt, "unless he refused 
 to jump and leave Mrs. Evans to her fate." 
 
 "If that's the explanation and it's feasible that 
 would be the bravest thing that even Tie ever did 
 and his life was made up with doing things few other 
 men would attempt," said the Superintendent. 
 
 "In that case, where is the body of Mrs. Evans? 
 is the question we've got to answer," put in the ser- 
 geant. 
 
 Here Hunt again addressed the mechanic Bailey. 
 "Is there any way in which you can positively iden- 
 tify this 'Moth' as Sir Charles'? It's no use at- 
 tempting to form any theories until we are absolutely 
 sure of our ground." 
 
 The man considered for a moment. "Yes," he 
 answered, "I can tell you after I've had a look at 
 the engine. Several parts of it are absolutely special 
 fittings. There'd be no chance of any other 'plane 
 having them." 
 
 A quick glance at the engine sufficed. "There's 
 no doubt about it," he announced. "This is Sir 
 Charles' machine." 
 
 "Well, now we know definitely, the next thing to 
 do is to ring up Plymouth and get them to break 
 the news to young Evans. It'll be a blow for him, 
 no doubt. I'm glad I've not got to do it. He was
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 27 
 
 devoted to his wife, Inspector," said the Superintend- 
 ent. "And having done that," he added, "we must 
 try to find the body." 
 
 Old Pope soon got the necessary connection, and 
 was talking to the caretaker at the aerodrome. The 
 result of the call was in a way disappointing; Dennis 
 Evans had not yet arrived. 
 
 "That's extraordinary, isn't it?" remarked the 
 Superintendent. "It's just on half -past five, I be- 
 lieve." He looked at his watch. "Yes! your clock 
 seems right by this 5.30 exactly. Plymouth to 
 Lymington." He looked at the map on the station 
 wall. "Let's see how far he had to fly." 
 
 "One hundred and fifty miles," answered Bailey. 
 "I saw Sir Charles marking out the route yester- 
 day." 
 
 The Superintendent had found a pencil and six- 
 inch rule. 
 
 "I only make it one hundred and twenty," he de- 
 clared. 
 
 "Yes," replied Bailey. "That's all it is in a 
 straight line; but Sir Charles was not taking the 
 long sea hops from Lymington to Swanage and 
 Swanage to Torquay. He intended to follow the 
 coastline. I know Mr. Evans would take the same 
 route." 
 
 "Well say a hundred and fifty miles. What 
 would that little 'bus of Evans' do?" 
 
 "It's pretty fast," admitted Bailey. "It should 
 average a good hundred miles per hour." 
 
 "I thought so," said the Superintendent. "In that 
 case he's an hour overdue." 
 
 "Probably turned back when he missed the others,"
 
 28 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 suggested Hunt, "in which case, if he hasn't given 
 up the search and gone on again he'll soon be here." 
 
 "That's about it," agreed Walker. "Now let's get 
 busy and see if we can't find out what has become 
 of Mrs. Evans. I'm afraid she jumped without a 
 parachute, and in all probability she fell into the 
 harbour." 
 
 Those who are at all familiar with the district 
 will realise that this was the most likely explana- 
 tion, as the headland at the point where the crash 
 took place is barely a quarter of a mile in width, 
 bounded on its southern side by the English Chan- 
 nel, and on the northern by the broad expanse of 
 Christchurch Harbour. 
 
 The distance across the harbour in a straight line 
 running from the scene of the crash towards Lyming- 
 ton was a full two miles, and it was apparent that 
 the Superintendent had set himself no mean task. 
 
 However, the little party split up and set to work 
 in a willing manner. Mr. Jones, the farmer, had 
 to go back to his duties, and Pope was told off to 
 remain near the 'phone in case any news should come 
 through concerning Evans. 
 
 The fire brigade captain and his men were set to 
 work to search systematically the bushes and grass 
 covering the two hundred and fifty yards or so of 
 ground between the debris and the water's edge. 
 
 A constable, who had arrived some time previously 
 with a police surgeon and some ambulance men (who 
 had since removed the body), was posted to watch 
 over the wreckage. 
 
 Hunt joined the other little party, made up of the
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 29 
 
 sergeant and constable from Christchurch, Bailey, 
 Sturman the butler and, of course, the Superin- 
 tendent. 
 
 The sergeant started the engine, and the little boat 
 drew slowly away from the shore. 
 
 There are several reed-covered mud-flats in the 
 harbour, and by the time these had all been thor- 
 oughly gone over Hunt discovered that he would 
 have to hurry to get back to his sister's in time for 
 breakfast. 
 
 The other party had combed their ground long 
 since and were gathered around Pope's hut. Neither 
 group had met with success, nor had any news yet 
 come through from Plymouth. 
 
 A couple of R.A.F. officers, however, had arrived 
 not long after the search-parties set out, and they 
 were still engaged in examining the burned-out 
 plane. Seeing the Superintendent, they made over 
 to him. 
 
 They also were somewhat puzzled, they said, by 
 the failure of Sir Charles to jump, especially as they 
 were convinced that Mrs. Evans had done so with- 
 out a parachute. 
 
 Of the cause of the crash they could say nothing 
 yet; an Air Ministry examination would have to be 
 held. 
 
 Regarding Mrs. Evans, they pointed out that, 
 were Pope's account of the disaster correct they 
 saw no reason to doubt it, and the known facts con- 
 firmed it then they had the strongest arguments to 
 support it. 
 
 According to Pope, when he first saw the blazing 
 machine it was flying in a normal position at a height
 
 30 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 of approximately two thousand feet, and did not 
 seem then to be out of control. It had, however, 
 immediately afterwards commenced a spinning dive, 
 and had Mrs. Evans been flung out during this de- 
 scent it is reasonable to suppose that the body would 
 have been discovered on the ground covered by the 
 firemen. 
 
 Pope's figure of two thousand feet or thereabouts 
 was confirmed in their opinion by that being the alti- 
 tude they would have expected a "Moth," climbing 
 leisurely and flying in a straight line from Lyming- 
 ton, and not waiting to circle the taking-off ground, 
 to have reached. 
 
 Bailey had described the take-off and explained 
 that the wind what little there had been had 
 been blowing from a south-westerly direction, so the 
 'planes, after taking off against it in the usual man- 
 ner, were, without turning directly, on their course. 
 
 Should they have had engine trouble before gain- 
 ing sufficient height to glide back safely to their 
 landing-ground they would have been faced with the 
 difficulty of making a forced landing on unknown 
 ground and in most uncertain moonlight. However, 
 it was not the first time that Bailey had seen Sir 
 Charles take this risk. 
 
 The distance the engine had buried itself in the 
 earth, taking into consideration the weight of the 
 'plane and state of the ground, also supported Pope's 
 estimate of the altitude. 
 
 The theory they put forward regarding Sir 
 Charles' remaining in the cockpit was that he had 
 attempted to bring the blazing machine down on
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 31 
 
 to the Head, and had been overcome by the fumes. 
 That was, in their opinion, the only one to fit the 
 facts. 
 
 Yes; they had heard of cases of 'planes catching 
 fire at even greater altitudes and being brought to 
 earth safely. Why, only a year or two ago there 
 was the case of that other famous private 'plane 
 owner, Pat Lloyd, who successfully brought down his 
 blazing machine at a flying meeting up North. . . . 
 Largely a matter of luck, though. . . . One has to 
 side-slip a lot to keep the flames from the cockpit. 
 Still it was possible. 
 
 Yes ; no doubt Evans had made a forced landing. 
 Rather a coincidence that but plenty of safe land- 
 ing-places along the coast. They both knew the 
 route well. News would be along presently, no 
 doubt. Hallo! Reporters, by the look of things. 
 Extraordinary how soon they get on the scent. 
 
 The telephone bell rang again. Pope picked up 
 the receiver. 
 
 "News of Evans, I bet," remarked the Superin- 
 tendent, f 
 
 But no ! 
 
 "Wanted on the 'phone, sergeant," announced the 
 coastguard, handing over the instrument. 
 
 "James speaking," answered the sergeant. 
 
 The voice at the other end could be heard indis- 
 tinctly by those in the hut. 
 
 Then "What?" the policeman cried. "Good 
 God, no ! it can't be true !" 
 
 Dropping the instrument from his listless hand, 
 it fell with a clatter on to the table.
 
 32 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 He turned, facing the others. "My brother," he 
 muttered brokenly, "Constable James. Found in a 
 ditch in Redstock Lane murdered !" 
 
 And as the sergeant spoke Hunt noticed Bailey, 
 the mechanic, quiver, as if from a blow !
 
 Ill 
 
 THE CRIME NEAR TOTLAND CORNER 
 
 THE little village of Redstock where Constable 
 James was stationed can be reached from Bourne- 
 mouth from two routes. The quicker probably is 
 via Totland Corner on the main Lymington-Bourne- 
 mouth road. 
 
 This was the one Superintendent Walker was tak- 
 ing at no small speed on that glorious May morning, 
 with Inspector Hunt on the front seat beside him, 
 and Sergeant James seated in the rear. 
 
 Directly the news of the younger James' death 
 had been received the Superintendent had offered to 
 drive the sergeant over to the village ; and, thinking 
 it probable that the local police would decide to call 
 in Scotland Yard, he had invited Hunt to accompany 
 them. 
 
 Hunt had accepted the invitation, and, after stop- 
 ping for a moment at his sister's house and explain- 
 ing that he would not be in to breakfast, he hur- 
 riedly rejoined the waiting couple. 
 
 Over the bridge at Tuckton, where the toll-col- 
 lector, knowing the car, made no attempt to stop 
 them, sharp right over the tram-lines at the cross- 
 roads, on over the hump-backed narrow bridges on 
 the main London road at Christchurch, and, after 
 a fast run up the straight, right again towards High- 
 cliffe.
 
 34 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 A mile more, then a constable pulled them up. 
 "We are diverting the traffic down the loop road to 
 your right, sir," he explained. "Some footprints 
 are visible near the body, and the Chief Constable 
 does not want to run the risk of having them ob- 
 literated." 
 
 Parking the car where the constable indicated, 
 they followed another constable through a gate into 
 a field of young corn and along parallel to the main 
 road until they came to the spot known as Totland 
 Corner. 
 
 Then, after climbing over a fence into the adjoin- 
 ing meadow, they were asked to wait there for a few 
 minutes while their guide went for Major Williams, 
 the Chief Constable. 
 
 After a short interval, Hunt saw the Chief Con- 
 stable, a rather stern, grey-moustached, military- 
 looking man about fifty years of age, approaching. 
 
 "Sorry to have kept you waiting, Superintend- 
 ent," he began, "but we've a few interesting tracks 
 that we want to keep distinct for as long as pos- 
 sible." 
 
 "That's quite all right, sir," said the Superintend- 
 ent. "I've no business here myself really, but I 
 brought Sergeant James over. However, I should 
 like to introduce you to my friend Detective-Inspec- 
 tor Hunt from the Yard. 
 
 "You've probably heard of him," continued 
 Walker. "I expect you remember his handling of 
 the Collier case?" 
 
 "I'm pleased to meet you," said the Chief Con- 
 stable, shaking Hunt warmly by the hand. "Yes, I
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 35 
 
 recall the case quite well, and I must say I admired 
 the capable way the Inspector handled it. 
 
 "But," he continued, "we haven't got a clever, 
 scheming poisoner to deal with this time; instead 
 a callous, brutal murderer who shoots a man down 
 in cold blood ! We also have, I'm glad to say, some 
 very good clues, and I fancy his arrest will only be 
 the matter of a few hours." 
 
 "That's good!" remarked Hunt. "Let's hope so, 
 at all events." 
 
 "Still," continued the Chief Constable, "now 
 you're on the spot I don't intend to miss the chance 
 of getting you to help me. It's more than probable 
 that your trained eye will spot something we locals, 
 unused to anything more serious than petty larceny, 
 will overlook." 
 
 "Oh, no!" answered Hunt. "You mustn't expect 
 too much. But, if you like, I will try to get permis- 
 sion from the Yard to stay on, and I'll do my best. 
 Although," he added, "by your talk of an early ar- 
 rest the case seems as good as over." 
 
 "Yes. I hope I'm right but," he reminded them, 
 "there's many a slip you know the saying, Inspec- 
 tor. Now, before I take you to the spot where the 
 body lies, shall I tell you as much as we know?" 
 
 "Yes, if you would," answered Hunt. 
 
 "Then, briefly at seven o'clock this morning Ser- 
 geant Kirk at Christchurch had a 'phone call from 
 Mr. Abbot of the Home Farm here to say that one 
 of his cowmen, a man named Ball, had discovered 
 Constable James, the village policeman, dead in a 
 ditch in Redstock Lane. There was blood on his
 
 36 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 face, and it was plain to the cowman that he had 
 been shot. 
 
 "Kirk immediately instructed a constable to let 
 me know, then he came out on his motorcycle com- 
 bination with Constables Pryce and Brown, while the 
 police surgeon followed in his car. 
 
 "He that is, Kirk saw at once that James had 
 been murdered, and, noticing car tracks near the 
 spot, closed the roads. 
 
 "The surgeon soon arrived, and, after a brief ex- 
 amination, was able to say that the constable had 
 been dead some hours. Perhaps you'll see the cow- 
 man yourself, Inspector? He's coming over now." 
 
 "Thanks, sir, I will," replied Hunt. "So far the 
 story is very clear." 
 
 The cowman, a diminutive little man, looked scared 
 out of his wits. Hunt, however, obtained his story 
 without difficulty. 
 
 Mr. Abbot, the cowman explained, had two farms 
 Home Farm, up the lane in the village of Red- 
 stock, and Manor Farm, near Chalton, a little ham- 
 let on the loop road along which the traffic was being 
 diverted. 
 
 He, Ball, had a cottage near Manor Farm, and it 
 was his first duty in the morning to collect the cows 
 from the meadows on his way up to work at the Home 
 Farm. 
 
 This morning they had been in two meadows, the 
 Valley and Angels. 
 
 He had set out at his usual time 6.30. Going 
 across Valley Meadow, he had collected the cows in 
 the usual way thirty-nine he believed there were 
 and had gone on in front of them and opened the
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 37 
 
 gate, afterwards crossing the road and opening the 
 gate in Angels. 
 
 After closing the gate behind him, he had been sur- 
 prised to see the cows clustered round the hedge a 
 short distance up the meadow. This is a low hedge, 
 and the cows nearest to it were gazing with their 
 heads over it, evidently watching something in the 
 lane. As he approached them, he noticed that the 
 other cows which had spent the night in Angels had 
 already run from the vicinity of the pond to the 
 gate. Upon drawing close to the herded cattle, he 
 had looked over the hedge and had been staggered 
 to see the body of the village policeman sprawled on 
 his back in the ditch. 
 
 He had scrambled over the hedge, and found, to 
 his surprise, that the dead constable had blood on 
 his face and uniform, and what looked like a bullet 
 wound in his forehead. He had some difficulty in 
 getting the cows away from the spot, but eventually 
 managed to, and hurried up to the Home Farm, 
 where he informed Mr. Abbot of his discovery. 
 
 "That's all very clear," said Hunt, when the cow- 
 man had concluded. "Just a question or two and 
 that will be all. Firstly, I take it that we are now 
 standing in Valley Meadow?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Ball, "this is Valley Meadow." 
 
 "And is that your cottage I can see down at the 
 other end by the farm?" 
 
 "Yes," answered the cowman again. "That's it." 
 
 "Be about half a mile away, wouldn't it?" said 
 Hunt, half to himself. Then "Did you hear any 
 shot in the night?" he asked.
 
 38 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 "No," was the reply, but Ball added that he had 
 been disturbed by the noise of an aeroplane. 
 
 Dismissing the cowman, Hunt crossed the road 
 and passed through the gate into Angels. Walking 
 up by the hedge for a distance of about fifty yards, 
 he came to the spot opposite to where the body lay. 
 
 The passing of the cows had obliterated any foot- 
 prints that might have been there previously and 
 the few showing now had obviously been made re- 
 cently, as they were on top of the cow-tracks. 
 
 Satisfied that no clues were to be found there, 
 Hunt climbed the hedge, using the same place that 
 the others had done. 
 
 "One good point about this case," he thought, "is 
 that Sergeant Kirk has been careful to keep all the 
 recent footprints to the same comparatively narrow 
 section of the road, and I shall not have to spend 
 half the morning sorting out the footsteps of the 
 police and others concerned from any that may have 
 been made by the murderer." 
 
 The body still lay undisturbed, facing the road, 
 in the spot where it was found. For the second time 
 that morning it was not a pleasant sight that pre- 
 sented itself to the Inspector's eyes. 
 
 The head was in a slightly higher position than 
 the body, and blood had flowed freely from the wound 
 across the face and down the breast of the blue 
 tunic there was left a crimson stain. 
 
 After a short glance at the corpse, Hunt turned 
 his attention to the surface of the road. 
 
 A set of footprints running from somewhere 
 higher up the lane down past where he now stood 
 caught his eye.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 39 
 
 Following them, walking on the grassy border of 
 the ditch, he found they ran to the bottom of the 
 lane. (The spot known as Totland Corner.) 
 
 Here they crossed and re-crossed the narrow lane 
 a number of times but did not appear to go beyond 
 it on to the main Bournemouth-Lymington road be- 
 fore running back near the opposite bank until they 
 drew out suddenly to the ditch-side again. 
 
 At this point they showed the maker of them had 
 stopped and turned round. 
 
 Hunt glanced at the dead constable's boots, and 
 saw they were responsible for the tracks as he had 
 guessed. The U-shaped metal heel of the left one 
 had worn noticeably to one side, and the prints he 
 had found, on a close examination, showed this pecu- 
 liarity. 
 
 He then turned his attention to another set of foot- 
 prints intermingled with the others, made, he saw, 
 by a considerably smaller foot than the dead con- 
 stable's. 
 
 They started three-quarters of the way across the 
 lane, facing the ditch, just where the body lay, tak- 
 ing, he could trace, a couple of steps in that direc- 
 tion. 
 
 There the maker seemed to have stopped for a 
 moment. Hunt could see the slightly deeper im- 
 press, especially of the toe of the more forward print. 
 Then they turned, and, after two more paces, van- 
 ished. 
 
 It was obvious that the person responsible for the 
 tracks had climbed out of the car, walked to the 
 ditch, stopped, turned ; and, after retracing his steps,
 
 40 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 re-entered the vehicle. The tracks of a car showed 
 up plainly at this point. 
 
 Hunt next inspected these car-tracks. At the spot 
 where the footsteps vanished he could see by the much 
 deeper marks that the car had stopped. This was 
 exactly what he had expected to find. 
 
 A few drops of heavy oil had fallen here between 
 the wheel-tracks, and still showed up plainly on the 
 soft, damp surface of the lane. 
 
 He could see quite plainly, too, that the car had 
 afterwards gone on up the lane towards Redstock, 
 the cut-up surface of the roadway suggesting the 
 departure had been hurried. 
 
 Following the tire-tracks down the lane, the In- 
 spector noticed that in places they overlapped the 
 prints of the dead constable. On reaching Totland 
 Corner, he found that the car had come from the 
 direction of Lymington, before turning into Red- 
 stock Lane. 
 
 A good look round failed to reveal any more prints 
 except those made by the police and cowman 
 anywhere in the lane. 
 
 On the main road, however, there were four other 
 distinct sets of car-tracks. The first was obviously 
 the track of a heavy lorry and was definitely not 
 made as recently as the other three. (Later Hunt 
 ascertained that it was the delivery lorry of a brick 
 and tile manufacturer returning late to Highcliffe.) 
 
 The second tracks were those of a motor-cycle 
 combination, subsequently traced to a builder's son 
 at Highcliffe who had been to a theatre in Bourne- 
 mouth, returning about midnight. 
 
 The fourth tracks, which over-ran all the others,
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 41 
 
 were those made by the butler and mechanic on their 
 run to Hengistbury Head. Hunt had noticed that 
 the tires of the Rover they arrived in were all new 
 Dunlops. 
 
 Only the third set remained untraced. 
 
 These overlapped the lorry and combination 
 tracks, but were themselves crosed by the Rover's. 
 
 However, as they had themselves been lapped by 
 the car he took to be the murderer's and did not 
 appear to have stopped Hunt dismissed them as of 
 no importance. 
 
 Then, returning to where the Chief Constable 
 stood directing a policeman, who was busily engaged 
 in taking photographs of the body and the various 
 prints on the road, he looked carefully at the plaster 
 casts that Major Williams had taken. 
 
 They were almost perfect, and he saw at once that 
 they could not be bettered. 
 
 "So you've finished, Inspector," observed the Chief 
 Constable. "May I ask what you make of the case?" 
 
 "The same as you do, sir, I think," replied Hunt. 
 "It seems very straightforward. Find the car a 
 large one with the V-shaped flint cut in the near 
 front tire and you'll soon have your man unless, of 
 course, it's been stolen." 
 
 "Exactly, Inspector; that's what we've got to do 
 now ; and, as I told you, I believe it won't take long. 
 The following has been sent out to all police stations : 
 
 
 
 'Wanted for MURDER. Driver of a large car, 
 probably over twenty horse power. Fitted four 
 almost new Firestone extra heavy sports tires, size 
 31 x 5.25. Large V-shaped cut in the near front
 
 42 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 one. This car was in the vicinity of Redstock 
 and Highcliffe between midnight and 4< A.M., May 
 23rd. Driver is probably a small man. Was 
 wearing shoes size 6. Fitted new "Uskide" soles.' 
 
 "Every constable in the country will be looking 
 for that car, and promotion, by now," he added. 
 
 Just then a plain-clothes man came up to them. 
 "I've discovered a set of prints in the meadow run- 
 ning this way," he announced. 
 
 "Let's go and have a look at them," said the Chief 
 Constable. 
 
 The detective led the way. About midway up the 
 meadow, almost in the centre of it, was a patch of 
 boggy ground. 
 
 Here the tracks of a man's boots were plainly 
 visible. They appeared to lead from the corner op- 
 posite to that near which the body lay. 
 
 Hunt followed them for about fifty yards, losing 
 them in a maze of cattle-tracks. Continuing in the 
 direction they appeared to lead from, he came to a 
 gate in the corner of the meadow. 
 
 But no further trace of them did he find, although 
 he diligently searched both sides of the hedge from 
 the farm right round to the pond. 
 
 Returning to the marshy patch, he picked up the 
 trail again, only to lose it later some fifty yards from 
 the lane, and a good hundred yards higher up than 
 the spot where the body lay. 
 
 Here again Hunt made a thorough search, but the 
 mass of cattle-tracks running parallel to the lane 
 made it impossible for him to find the prints again 
 in the meadow. He knew from his examination of
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 43 
 
 an hour previously that they were not in the lane. 
 
 A further search round the remaining sides of the 
 meadow revealed nothing. Both ends of the tracks 
 vanished entirely. 
 
 On their arrival at the marshy portion of the 
 meadow, Major Williams had set to work taking 
 casts of these new prints, while Hunt endeavoured 
 to find out from whence they came and to where 
 they led. 
 
 After satisfying himself that all traces of them 
 were indeed lost after the passing of the cows, Hunt 
 returned, to find the Chief Constable had completed 
 his task. 
 
 "I don't think these have any bearing on the case," 
 he said, "or we should have had traces of them in 
 the lane, but it's as well to make sure of everything 
 in a case like this. Now," he added temptingly, "Mr. 
 Abbot has sent to say that if we could spare the tune 
 to go over to the farm, his wife would be glad to 
 serve us a meal. What about it?" 
 
 Hunt was by this time ravenously hungry, and 
 welcomed the suggestion. 
 
 Mrs. Abbot apologised profusely for what she 
 called such a "slap-up meal," but to the two famished 
 officials the eggs and bacon were as welcome as manna 
 from Heaven. 
 
 They found the Superintendent had been 'phon- 
 ing up the coastguard station, and Hunt learned to 
 his surprise that no news had yet been received of 
 Evans. 
 
 The doctor was holding a post-mortem examina- 
 tion on the body of Sir Charles that morning, and 
 the inquest was fixed for 4.30 that afternoon.
 
 44 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 While Hunt and Major Williams did justice to 
 the meal, Walker sat listening to the Chief Con- 
 stable's story of his discoveries. 
 
 He also was of the opinion that the car-tracks and 
 footsteps in the lane were made by the murderer. 
 The footsteps in the meadow, he thought, had been 
 made by a gipsy taking a short cut from the Forest 
 (where any number were encamped) across the fields 
 to the main road. 
 
 But, although Hunt realized that this was more 
 than likely the correct explanation, he hated leav- 
 ing loose ends in a case, and determined that he would 
 look into the matter more closely before being as 
 certain again, as he had been before the finding of 
 the prints, that the Chief Constable's deductions 
 were correct.
 
 IV 
 THE SENSATION AT THE INQUEST 
 
 THE inquest on the dead policeman had been fixed 
 for three o'clock that afternoon. Hunt decided, al- 
 though he would be unlikely to hear anything new 
 about the case, to attend on the off-chance of some- 
 thing fresh coming to light. 
 
 However, little did. The proceedings were almost 
 immediately adjourned to give the police time to 
 make their inquiries. Only Sergeant James' evidence 
 of identification, and then that of the doctor, being 
 taken. 
 
 Dr. Willing, the police surgeon, said that he had 
 found the bullet lodged in the back of the brain, 
 and, after exhibiting it to the jury, he passed it over 
 to the Chief Constable. 
 
 Hunt, when he saw it, was of the opinion that it 
 was a .22, but it was badly flattened and he was not 
 prepared to swear to it. He pocketed it, however, 
 for future reference. 
 
 So, by a quarter to four, he found himself once 
 more in the road. Just as he had decided he could 
 do no more there that day, and was wondering how 
 he could best get back to Southbourne, the Superin- 
 tendent appeared, coming, it seemed, from the direc- 
 tion of Bournemouth, and drew up alongside him. 
 
 "Doing anything important?" he asked, lowering 
 the window of the saloon. 
 
 45
 
 46 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 "No," replied Hunt. "I'm just going back to 
 Southbourne to get a shave and a decent meal." 
 
 "I'll drive you, then," said Walker, "and, if you're 
 not too tired, I should like you to take a spot of tea 
 with me at a little cafe I know at Christchurch, and 
 then come along to the inquest on poor Sir Charles. 
 I think it will interest you in fact I know it will! 
 By the way, no news of young Evans yet at least, 
 not up until I left the station half an hour ago. 
 Funny that it seems to me. 
 
 "Of course, he may have landed on some isolated 
 corner of Dartmoor, although I understand that 
 would not be directly on his route." 
 
 "Oh, yes !" said Hunt. "I'd forgotten the inquest 
 was this afternoon. I'd like to come." 
 
 He climbed into the car, and a few minutes later 
 they were seated in the cafe on the outskirts of 
 Christchurch. The predominant topic of conversa- 
 tion here appeared to be the fate of Sir Charles Staf- 
 ford. The occupants of a nearby table, Hunt noted, 
 were engaged in fierce argument as to who had 
 ranked as our No. 1 pilot prior to the baronet's crash 
 on the Head. The man on Hunt's right voted Staf- 
 ford, his younger companion was loud in his praise 
 for Pat Lloyd, while the two lady members of the 
 party were agreed that Jean LeLac, the handsome 
 young Anglo-French airman, deserved the palm. 
 However, as time was pressing, Hunt was not al- 
 lowed to remain to hear the finish of the argument. 
 
 The inquest was being held at the "Bull." As 
 Walker pulled the car up outside the premises, Hunt 
 noticed quite a crowd of would-be hearers, many of 
 them women, who had, he guessed, hurried down from
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 47 
 
 Town as soon as they received the news of the dis- 
 aster. 
 
 It was apparent that, owing to lack of room, they 
 had, despite their journey, been unable to gain ad- 
 mittance to the improvised court. It had always 
 seemed a strange thing to Hunt that Sir Charles, 
 who had the whole feminine world at his feet, had 
 never married, and as he looked at the many beauti- 
 ful women, some obviously on the verge of tears 
 one or two playthings of the dead man, he knew 
 he was more surprised than ever. 
 
 Inside, the little room was crowded, and Hunt 
 could see several leading airmen among those pres- 
 ent. The detachable leaves of the billiard-table had 
 been replaced, and seated at the head of it was Dr. 
 Wild, the Coroner, while down each side sat the mem- 
 bers of the jury. 
 
 The Coroner opened the proceedings with a short 
 speech deploring the circumstances that had gath- 
 ered them together that afternoon. 
 
 He then paid a brief tribute to the flying achieve- 
 ments of the late Sir Charles, mentioning especially 
 his lone Atlantic flights and his record-breaking 
 flight to Australia and back. "We all feel," he con- 
 cluded, "that the world will be left the poorer by the 
 passing of so gallant a gentleman !" 
 
 Then, after he had briefly thanked several aero- 
 nautical experts who were present, including the 
 aforementioned Pat Lloyd, for their offer of advice 
 on any technical points that might arise, the jury 
 were sworn in and taken to view the remains. And as 
 they filed back after completing the sordid task the 
 law demands and which must be fulfilled, Hunt could
 
 48 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 see that they had been shaken to a man by the awful 
 sight they had had to see. 
 
 The first witness was William Pope, the coast- 
 guard. He repeated his story of the disaster. The 
 Coroner had no questions to ask him, and he was 
 allowed to stand down. 
 
 The butler, James Henry Sturman, was then 
 called. 
 
 He was obviously affected, and gave his evidence 
 at first in a halting manner. He said he was in the 
 service of the late Sir Charles Stafford at Forest 
 Court, near Lymington. He had held that position 
 for the last twelve months. 
 
 He was then shown a gold hunter watch, a bunch 
 of keys, some buttons, and a wallet. He had no dif- 
 ficulty in identifying the articles as the property of 
 Sir Charles Stafford. 
 
 Asked to explain more fully how he could be sure 
 that the watch was not one similar to Sir Charles', he 
 replied that this watch had been presented to Sir 
 Charles on the completion of his Atlantic flights, and 
 bore an inscription on the back of four and a half 
 lines. He could still see traces of these lines. There 
 was no doubt about it this was Sir Charles' watch ! 
 
 The keys, he said, he had frequently used himself. 
 He gave a detailed account of the use of each. The 
 wallet he identified by its metal clasp. 
 
 As for the buttons they were off a new suit of 
 plus-fours Sir Charles had had made recently. He 
 could, even now, swear to the burned material hang- 
 ing from them. 
 
 Satisfied, the Coroner turned to face his man more 
 squarely. "Now. Will you please tell us exactly
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 49 
 
 what happened on the evening of the 22nd and early 
 morning of the 23rd of May?" 
 
 Sturman seemed to consider a moment before com- 
 mencing. "Last evening," he began, "Sir Charles 
 gave a little dinner-party to a few friends. It was 
 a farewell party he was due to sail to-day from 
 Plymouth on a prolonged visit to America. 
 
 "Mr. and Mrs. Evans were going with him. They 
 had arrived by air in the early afternoon. 
 
 "The other guests, a Mr. and Mrs. Lovel, Mr. 
 Day, and the two Miss Fensomes, also arrived early. 
 
 "Dinner was served at eight. At ten o'clock all 
 the guests left except Mr. Day and, of course, Mr. 
 and Mrs. Evans." 
 
 He, Sturman, was then told he could retire until 
 2.30 a.m. which he did. He believed Sir Charles 
 and Mr. and Mrs. Evans then went out into the 
 grounds. He could not say what happened after 
 that. 
 
 The next time he saw Sir Charles was 2.45 a.m. 
 Here the Coroner interrupted. "You say Sir Charles 
 and Mr. and Mrs. Evans went into the grounds about 
 ten. Did not this Mr. Day accompany them?" 
 
 Sturman hesitated for a moment, then, flushing, he 
 answered, "No." 
 
 The Coroner had noticed his embarrassment. 
 "Will you please tell us what happened to Mr. 
 Day?" 
 
 Again Sturman hesitated. Then "Mr. Day was 
 feeling unwell ; he went to lie down," he answered. 
 
 Hunt realised instantly what the Coroner was 
 driving at; guessed correctly, too, what the next 
 question would be.
 
 50 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 "Were any of the party under the influence of 
 drink? I know this is a painful question, but it must 
 be answered!" 
 
 The butler was now decidedly uncomfortable. 
 "Yes. I'm afraid so," he answered at length. 
 
 "Will you please name those who were?" 
 
 For a moment Hunt thought Sturman would re- 
 fuse to answer. Eventually, choking his indignation, 
 he did reply. "Yes. Only Mr. Day." 
 
 "You are sure that neither your late master nor 
 Mr. Evans were also?" 
 
 "Quite sure," replied the butler. "Mr. Day was 
 the only culprit." 
 
 "You realise that this is a most important ques- 
 tion and you are on oath ?" insisted the Coroner. 
 
 "I have answered it against my wish," said the 
 butler hotly. 
 
 The Coroner overlooked this outburst and con- 
 tinued. "And you saw Sir Charles again at 2.45?" 
 
 "Yes. Sir Charles was in flying kit," went on the 
 butler. "He was in the room he used as his office. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Evans and Mr. Day were witfr him. 
 Mr. Day was still intoxicated," he added maliciously 
 for the Coroner's benefit. "All four of them had a 
 small glass of whisky." 
 
 "You mean Mrs. Evans as well?" asked the Coro- 
 ner, somewhat surprised. 
 
 "Yes. Mrs. Evans as well," replied Sturman, now 
 really annoyed. 
 
 "And then" 
 
 "I went out to the hangars to see that everything 
 was ready. Sir Charles, Mr. and Mrs. Evans, and 
 Mr. Day soon followed.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 51 
 
 "Mr. Evans climbed into his little monoplane, 
 started the engine he had a self-starter and taxied 
 slowly out across the park. 
 
 "I helped Mrs. Evans into the front seat of the 
 'Moth,' And handed her up the little travelling-bag 
 she was carrying. 
 
 "Sir Charles swung the propeller. The engine 
 started first swing. Then he climbed in behind Mrs. 
 Evans, and, after I had handed him up his portman- 
 teau, he opened up and followed Mr. Evans out. 
 
 "I then closed the hangar doors and went into the 
 house again. A few minutes later, first one and then 
 the other 'plane roared over the housetop. 
 
 "Mr. Day had gone in before me. I found him 
 in the office. He said he had decided to go back to 
 Town that night instead of staying on as he had at 
 first intended. After another drink, he had, al- 
 though I tried to dissuade him, insisted on leav- 
 ing. . . . Although he was not, in my opinion, in a 
 fit state to drive a car, he managed, after two or 
 three attempts, to start his engine and drive away." 
 
 "Thank you," said the Coroner, seeing Sturman 
 had concluded. "That's all very clear. Now, just 
 one or two questions, please, then you may stand 
 down. Where is the hangar you spoke of situated ?" 
 
 The hangar, Sturman explained, was a building 
 Sir Charles had erected and was attached to one side 
 of the house. It could be entered from the house by 
 a door at the end of a passage. There was no need 
 to go outside to get to it. The garage was built 
 on the same plan, and was really part of the hangar. 
 
 "I imagined so," observed the Coroner. "Now, 
 lastly what had Sir Charles in his portmanteau?"
 
 52 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 "Oh, only his designs and private papers, I be- 
 lieve," said the butler. "I can't say definitely, as I 
 didn't see him pack it." 
 
 The next witness was Horace William Golding, 
 a dental surgeon of Lymington. 
 
 He said Sir Charles was one of his patients. He 
 was shown a set of badly distorted false teeth. He 
 was able to say immediately that, despite their con- 
 dition, he could recognise them as a set he made re- 
 cently for the late Sir Charles Stafford. He could 
 positively identify them by a gold tooth on the right 
 side of the upper plate. He thought it unusual to 
 put a gold tooth in a complete set, but Sir Charles 
 had insisted and he had done so. 
 
 This concluded Mr. Golding's evidence, and Sir 
 Charles' valet, Horace Stone, was called. 
 
 He identified the watch, keys, wallet, and buttons 
 as Sir Charles' property. He explained that Sir 
 Charles' luggage had already gone forward, and that 
 to the best of his knowledge the portmanteau con- 
 tained only papers. 
 
 Next, Bailey, the chauffeur-mechanic, was called. 
 He seemed to Hunt to be in a state of abject terror. 
 
 The Coroner noticed his nervousness, and began 
 his examination in a kindly tone. In reply to his 
 questions, the mechanic said he had been in Sir 
 Charles' service for the past two years. He had 
 gained some knowledge of aircraft whilst serving 
 with the R.A.F. towards the latter part of the war. 
 
 Sir Charles had lately taken him in hand and 
 he was now a qualified pilot. It had been arranged 
 that he was to go to Plymouth and fly the machine 
 back that day.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 53 
 
 He had previously been asked to make a rough 
 sketch of the house and grounds, and this he now 
 produced and handed to the Coroner. 
 
 At a quarter to three that morning he had gone 
 from his house to the searchlight that Sir Charles 
 used to aid him to take off in the dark. He had 
 immediately switched this on. 
 
 At about five minutes to three the 'planes taxied 
 out. They stopped by him and ran up their en- 
 gines for a time. He went over to Sir Charles to ask 
 if the searchlight was throwing the beam in the right 
 direction. Mrs. Evans was in the 'plane. Mr. Evans 
 had got out of his 'plane and gone over to the 
 "Moth." He saw Mrs. Evans speak to him. 
 
 Sir Charles then taxied into the far corner of the 
 ground. Mr. Evans' engine began "spitting back." 
 After a couple of minutes, however, it got going 
 properly again and he too taxied to the far cor- 
 ner. 
 
 Then for some inexplicable reason his light went 
 out of order. He managed to get it going again 
 after about thirty seconds. 
 
 A minute or so later Mr. Evans took off. Just as 
 he was getting up speed, the light flickered again 
 only for a few seconds, though. 
 
 Mr. Evans was travelling too fast to stop, and 
 had managed to take off in the dark a very risky 
 procedure. . . . But luck favoured him, and he got 
 clear. 
 
 A moment later Sir Charles taxied by at speed 
 and, by some amazing coincidence, the light flick- 
 ered yet a third time. Sir Charles, however, was not
 
 54 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 going quite so fast as Mr. Evans had been, and he 
 managed to pull up safely. 
 
 He had then turned round half way down the park. 
 Bailey could see him plainly now the light was on 
 once more. 
 
 He then taxied back to the spot where he had 
 stopped before, and got out of his 'plane. Qoming 
 over to Bailey, he had cursed him for not seeing that 
 the light was kept in good working order. 
 
 Then, going back to the 'plane, he had spoken to 
 Mrs. Evans, climbed in, and taxied once again to the 
 far corner. This time he had taken off without in- 
 cident. Mrs. Evans was definitely still in the 'plane, 
 for as the machine raced by he had seen her hair 
 blowing in the wind. He had noticed, he added, that 
 she never wore a hat when flying. 
 
 The time then was exactly three o'clock ; he heard 
 a clock strike the hour in Lymington, he believed. 
 
 He had waited until the 'planes got well away be- 
 fore turning off the light (in case they had engine 
 trouble and needed its beam to land by) and going 
 back to bed. 
 
 He had been disturbed later by the butler ringing 
 him up he had a 'phone extension to his house. 
 That was all he could tell except, of course, his see- 
 ing the wreckage of the "Moth" on the Head. 
 
 "That evidence was remarkably clear," said the 
 Coroner. "If all witnesses kept so closely to the 
 point, I should get through these proceedings in half 
 the time I now take. One question before you go 
 can you tell me what kind of weather you had at 
 Lymington last evening?" 
 
 "Yes," replied the mechanic. "It held fine up
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 55 
 
 until just after eleven, and then we had a couple of 
 hours' steady downpour." 
 
 "That will be all for the moment, I think," said 
 the Coroner, motioning him to stand down. 
 
 Miss Elsie Fensome was next called. She corrob- 
 orated the evidence. She was certain Sir Charles was 
 not drunk. After dinner, she continued, they played 
 a short game of roulette only for an hour or so; 
 then they all went home, except Mr. Day, who, she 
 regretted, had made a pig of himself. 
 
 Yes, she had seen his car a magnificent Rolls- 
 Royce. Almost new. 
 
 This was all Miss Fensome could tell. 
 
 Hunt began to wonder if the Superintendent had 
 meant by his remark, "I think it will interest you 
 in fact, I know it will," that it would come out in 
 evidence that a drunken man in a Rolls-Royce car 
 had been driving in the vicinity of Redstock Lane at 
 the approximate hour of the murder. (He guessed 
 Mr. Day would take the Lymington-Bournemouth 
 road past Totland Corner until he reached the main 
 London-Bournemouth road.) 
 
 The matter certainly wanted looking into, but he 
 did not think a man would go to the trouble of fitting 
 non-standard tires to a new car, no matter how good 
 the tires might be. Rolls-Royce, he knew, had stand- 
 ardised Dunlop. 
 
 He could see the proceedings were drawing to a 
 close. The Coroner was whispering to the Super- 
 intendent, who nodded in reply. 
 
 "Dr. Lawrence Grier." 
 
 The doctor went up to the table.
 
 56 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 "You are police surgeon at Bournemouth?" asked 
 the Coroner. 
 
 "I am, sir," was the reply. 
 
 "At 4.15 this morning you examined the body of 
 Sir Charles Stafford on Hengistbury Head?" 
 
 "That is correct, sir." 
 
 "In consequence of what you saw you held a post- 
 mortem examination later?" 
 
 "I did, sir assisted by Dr. Robinson." 
 
 "And did you ascertain the cause of death?" 
 
 "We did, sir." 
 
 "And you found?" 
 
 "In simple language a bullet wound in the 
 brain!"
 
 V 
 
 THEORIES 
 
 HAD a bomb exploded in the little room it could 
 hardly have produced a bigger sensation than did 
 these few words of the doctor's. 
 
 For a moment it seemed to Hunt that he could 
 have heard a pin drop. Then a hysterical sob broke 
 the silence; a woman at the back fainted, and the 
 onlookers began excitedly talking to one another. 
 
 The Coroner, Superintendent, and doctor, who 
 had known, of course, what was coming, alone re- 
 mained unmoved. Even Hunt, hardened by years of 
 police work to shocks and surprises, could hardly 
 believe his ears. Now it was plain why Walker had 
 wished him to be present. It looked like another 
 murder. 
 
 The Coroner rapped for silence. It was obvious 
 that he had more questions to ask the doctor. Every- 
 one became all attention again. Every eye was fas- 
 tened on the medical man but he remained oblivious 
 to their stares ; not a muscle of his face moved. 
 
 "And could," went on the Coroner, "the wound 
 have been self-inflicted?" 
 
 "It could but it seems highly improbable that it 
 was. The bullet entered the base of the skull behind 
 the ears, traversed the brain, and was removed from 
 behind the forehead." 
 
 Here the doctor produced the bullet ; it was handed 
 
 57
 
 58 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 to the jury, who examined it carefully, though what 
 they expected to learn from it was a puzzle to Hunt. 
 It was then passed up to the Superintendent, who in 
 turn handed it to the C.I.D. man. 
 
 This bullet, also, was badly flattened, but Hunt, 
 after comparing it with the other one, which he still 
 had on him, was convinced that this too was a .22. 
 
 This was a coincidence that required the most care- 
 ful looking into. He decided to send them both up 
 to the experts at the Yard, who would, he knew, not 
 only tell him the calibre quite definitely, but also 
 whether or no they were both discharged from the 
 same barrel. 
 
 The doctor was continuing his evidence. "For the 
 wound to have been self -inflicted," he said, "it would 
 have been necessary for the deceased to have held the 
 weapon in the left hand behind the back of the head." 
 
 This concluded the medical evidence, Dr. Robin- 
 son not being called. 
 
 After a short conversation with the Superintend- 
 ent, the Coroner recalled the mechanic, Bailey. 
 "Was Sir Charles left-handed?" he asked. 
 
 "No," was the reply. "Right-handed always." 
 
 At this stage the Coroner adjourned the inquest 
 indefinitely to give the police time to make their in- 
 quiries. 
 
 Hunt and the Superintendent followed the Chief 
 Constable, who had arrived during the taking of 
 Bailey's evidence, into a private sitting-room, where 
 he motioned them to seat themselves. 
 
 "Now," he began, "we've got a mystery this time 
 if you like a case without parallel, to the best of 
 my knowledge and, if the good name of the British
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 59 
 
 police force is to be upheld, we've got to solve it." 
 
 "Hear, hear !" put in Walker. "And, if we don't 
 want the Press to ridicule us, we've got to act 
 quickly." 
 
 "We have indeed," agreed Hunt. "And, so far as 
 I'm concerned, even if it means working all night 
 I'm game." 
 
 "And I too," announced Walker, "although I've 
 already had some sixteen hours on the go without 
 a break." 
 
 "Well what's the next move to be ?" asked Hunt. 
 
 They sat in silence for a while. The Chief Con- 
 stable passed round his cigarettes. "Yes," he said 
 presently, "it's a puzzle to know just where to begin. 
 I think perhaps we'd better run over the evidence 
 again. There must be a clue somewhere that we 
 have missed. 
 
 "To start with, I take it that you agree that Sir 
 Charles met his death between 3 and 3.17 this morn- 
 ing." [3.17 was the exact time of the crash on the 
 headland, according to Pope, who supplied the in- 
 formation to the Superintendent soon after he ar- 
 rived on the scene. It will be remembered that the 
 Superintendent afterwards checked Pope's clock by 
 his watch and found it correct.] 
 
 The others nodded. 
 
 "In that case, he could have been murdered only 
 at Lymington, in the air, or after the crash on the 
 Head." 
 
 Again the others had to agree. 
 
 "We know from what the doctor told Superin- 
 tendent Walker that he could not possibly have sur- 
 vived the crash. We know from Bailey's evidence that
 
 60 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 he was not murdered at Lymington. That leaves us 
 only the possibility that he was murdered in the air. 
 Do you agree to that ?" 
 
 "Yes," replied the Superintendent. "Partly. 
 But, don't forget, we have only the word of one man 
 that he was not murdered at Lymington." 
 
 "Yes," replied the Chief Constable. "I had over- 
 looked that point. But for the moment I accept 
 Bailey's evidence." 
 
 "Again," put in Walker, "though you know he was 
 dead the moment he hit the ground on the Head, you 
 don't know that someone, either urged by some in- 
 sane impulse or realising that it was impossible to 
 save him from the fury of the flames, didn't put a 
 bullet through his brain." 
 
 "We do," objected the Chief Constable. "We 
 know from Pope's evidence that owing to the heat no 
 one could get near to the wreckage." 
 
 "But," retorted Walker, "again you only have the 
 evidence of one man." 
 
 "No," put in Hunt. "I accept Pope's evidence as 
 correct. Besides, the odds against anyone being on 
 the head, just by the spot and in possession of a re- 
 volver at 3.17 a.m. are enormous." 
 
 "I think so too," went on the Chief Constable. 
 "Then that leaves us with the possibility that he was 
 murdered in the air. 
 
 "Now, to get murder in the air suggests another 
 aeroplane. Remember the unusual hour 3.17 a.m. 
 Not much chance of another aeroplane passing in the 
 ordinary way. But we know there was one, piloted 
 by his friend Dennis Evans. . . . And, when that 
 friend disappears, you must admit that the case
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 61 
 
 against him begins to look suspicious, to say the least 
 of it." 
 
 "Yes," answered Walker, "but when you add the 
 fact that the woman he loves was also in the 'plane, 
 suspicion is instantly removed." 
 
 "But do we know he loved her?" asked Hunt. "A 
 good many people keep up the deception in public, 
 remember." 
 
 "That may be so," replied Walker. "Probably is. 
 But I know, I am positive, that young Evans thought 
 the world of his wife. I don't know that she re- 
 turned his love, mind you I think so, though." 
 
 "I haven't finished yet," continued the Chief Con- 
 stable. "Another way to commit murder in the air 
 would be to stow away on the aeroplane, or go openly 
 as passenger, commit the murder, and escape by 
 parachute." 
 
 "Yes," said Hunt thoughtfully, "that's an alterna- 
 tive. Now, in a 'Moth' there could be no room to 
 stow away. That leaves the murderer only the 
 chance to go as passenger. In this case there was 
 a passenger Mrs. Evans. 
 
 "We know Mrs. Evans had no parachute. The 
 question is, had Mrs. Evans the means by which she 
 could murder Sir Charles in this case a revolver 
 or an automatic and also, had she the motive ? Re- 
 member, the motive in her case would have had to 
 have been exceptionally strong for she herself would 
 also have had to have been prepared to perish." 
 
 "Yes, we must look into the question of motive very 
 carefully, Inspector, but it need not be as strong as 
 you think. To start with, once again we have only 
 one man's evidence again Bailey's that she had no
 
 62 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 parachute. Now let's suppose Mrs. Evans had a 
 parachute and committed the crime say over 
 Christchurch Harbour. Parachutes don't always 
 open. If hers didn't, where would she have gone had 
 she fallen on a mud-flat?" 
 
 "Why, out of sight held down by the mud. I 
 never thought of that," answered the Superintend- 
 ent. "That's about what happened. . . . Probably 
 we shall never know the truth." 
 
 "Yes, exactly," said the Chief Constable. "Out of 
 sight in the mud. But that's only one of the possi- 
 bilities. Suppose, again, this time accepting Bailey's 
 evidence that she had no parachute, that she shot Sir 
 Charles when over the same place those soft, seldom 
 visited mud-flats. The 'plane, Bailey tells me, was 
 fitted with dual control. All she need have done after 
 committing the murder would have been to turn the 
 machine upside down. The body would have 
 dropped, and, as Walker pointed out, it would re- 
 main buried deep in the mud for all time. 
 
 "Now we know that she didn't carry out this plan 
 successfully, but we don't know that it wasn't at- 
 tempted. In all probability, if this was the method 
 she used, after the shooting of Sir Charles she turned 
 the 'Moth' upside down, but, for some reason that we 
 may never discover, his body failed to drop. Lots of 
 things may have happened it's not hard to imagine 
 it getting caught up in some way. Then, before she 
 righted the 'plane again, it may have caught fire 
 in which case she may have lost her nerve and 
 jumped, meeting the end she had planned for Sir 
 Charles." 
 
 "That all sounds very cut and dried, sir," the
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 63 
 
 Superintendent remarked, "but assuming 1 , as you 
 are, that Mrs. Evans intended to save her own life, 
 you come up against a snag. What would Mrs. 
 Evans tell the authorities had happened to Sir 
 Charles?" 
 
 'The question I expected, Walker. The answer is 
 obvious. She would say they hit a bump or air- 
 pocket that turned the machine over, throwing Sir 
 Charles out. Simple, isn't it?" 
 
 "I'm sorry," put in Hunt again, "but I see an- 
 other snag. Don't you think that the odds against 
 Mrs. Evans' being able to turn the 'plane over ex- 
 actly at the right moment for the body to fall on a 
 mud-flat are very great? And if the body didn't fall 
 on a mud-flat it would fall in the harbour itself and 
 that would mean that sooner or later it would come to 
 light. And then the doctors would have found the 
 bullet wound, and things would have begun to look 
 black against Mrs. Evans. No, I can't agree with 
 3 T our theory I'm afraid it's too far fetched." 
 
 "Possibly, Inspector. Perhaps the risk would be 
 too big for her to take. But I've still one more pos- 
 sibility. Supposing Mr. and Mrs. Evans were work- 
 ing in collusion . . . would it have been possible for 
 Mrs. Evans to have shot Sir Charles, set the 'plane 
 on fire, and jumped to her husband's 'plane beneath 
 v/ithout a parachute, mind you I remember read- 
 ing an account of a stunt flyer doing this in Amer- 
 ica for the films, I believe." 
 
 "It could have been done in daylight, I suppose 
 but remember, this murder was committed in the 
 dark," replied Hunt. 
 
 "Yes I didn't take that factor into considera-
 
 64 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 tion," assented the Chief Constable. "I think we can 
 safely leave that theory out." 
 
 "Well," started the Superintendent, "we don't 
 seem to have made much progress, for all our theories 
 have met with objections, but I think I can see 
 what our next move must be. Pull me up if you 
 find my reasoning at fault. 
 
 "It seems to me that, in spite of the various objec- 
 tions, Mrs. Evans is still the strongest suspect. If 
 we accept Bailey's evidence, she had no parachute, 
 and it follows that she perished. To make a case 
 out against her it is necessary to find the motive 
 and, as Inspector Hunt says, it's got to be a very 
 strong one. This means an examination of her 
 household a trip to Moorlands appears to me to be 
 indicated. 
 
 "Again, taking the other theory improbable as it 
 appears to me that young Evans murdered both 
 Sir Charles and his wife. Again we need a motive, 
 and again the best place to look for evidence that 
 that motive exists is Moorlands." 
 
 "Yes, I think you're right," agreed the Chief Con- 
 stable. Then, "What do you suggest, Inspector 
 you seem to be thinking deeply ?" he asked. 
 
 "I am," answered Hunt with a smile. "I'm think- 
 ing of one of the extraordinary features of the case 
 that both you and Superintendent Walker appear to 
 have overlooked." 
 
 "And that is ?" asked the Chief Constable eagerly. 
 
 "Why did it take Sir Charles seventeen minutes to 
 fly a distance of only twelve miles?" 
 
 "A point we've missed, Inspector, as you say. I 
 wonder? Even if my theory of Mrs. Evans' tipping,
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 65 
 
 or, rather, attempting to tip, the body out is correct, 
 it doesn't explain the loss of time satisfactorily. 
 
 "The speed of Sir Charles' 'plane would be at least 
 a hundred miles an hour. Twelve miles at a hun- 
 dred miles per hour. That would take him, roughly, 
 just over seven minutes. A margin of ten unac- 
 counted for." 
 
 "No, hardly that, sir. He wouldn't do that speed 
 whilst climbing. We know it was a 'hotted up' ma- 
 chine, and would climb on a calm day at a good 
 eighty miles per hour, but, to be on the safe side, 
 we'll say he only did seventy. The wind was negli- 
 gible we'll say ten miles per hour. That brings his 
 speed over the land down to sixty miles per hour. 
 At that rate it should have taken him just twelve 
 minutes he should have been over the Head at 3.12. 
 There's still a deficit of five minutes, even with my 
 generous figures. The time taken to tip a body out 
 would hardly run into seconds, of course." 
 
 "Well, what is your theory, Inspector? You've 
 formed one, I wager," said the Chief Constable. 
 
 "Not yet, sir. I'm trying to decide if he could 
 have landed. I know it would be terribly risky to 
 attempt to do so in the dark, if not impossible, es- 
 pecially as we know he took off again. But, even if 
 he did, I fail to see where it all fits in," replied Hunt. 
 
 "I believe you said one of the points we had over- 
 looked?" queried the Superintendent. "Don't tell 
 us we have missed another." 
 
 "I'm afraid you have, Superintendent, and in my 
 opinion it's the most important and obvious factor 
 in the whole case." 
 
 "And what is it?"
 
 66 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 "Simply that whoever killed Sir Charles murdered 
 the policeman also. But I agree," the Yard man 
 added, "that the only thing for us to do now is to 
 go along to young Evans' place and try to pick up 
 some helpful information."
 
 VI 
 HUNT VISITS MOORLANDS 
 
 THE little discussion had taken the three only half an 
 hour, so by seven o'clock Hunt found himself once 
 more in Walker's car. This time, though, he was 
 occupying the rear seat, the Chief Constable being 
 seated in the Inspector's original place. 
 
 As he left the "Bull" to enter the car the Yard 
 man bought a paper from a newsboy standing near, 
 and as soon as they were on the move he turned up 
 the accounts of the tragedies. 
 
 He found his photograph in a prominent position 
 on the front page, and a very flattering reference to 
 himself in the column beneath. 
 
 "Inspector Hunt, of the C.I.D.," he read, "is in 
 charge of the case [this was, of course, the case of the 
 murdered Constable James, the result of the inquest 
 on Sir Charles not yet having reached the papers], 
 and if he shows his usual brilliance the murderer will, 
 no doubt, soon be brought to justice. 
 
 "Inspector Hunt," it continued, "it will be remem- 
 bered, was responsible for the arrest and conviction 
 of Ernest Collier, the Guildford poisoner. His 
 handling of the case, when his superiors had all failed 
 dismally, won him well-deserved praise and promo- 
 tion from the authorities, and he is still the youngest 
 detective-inspector at the Yard. Indeed, it -seemed 
 hard to believe that the almost boyish figure seated 
 
 67
 
 , 
 
 68 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 next to the Chief Constable at the inquest this after- 
 noon was Inspector Hunt, the possessor of one of 
 the ablest brains in the force to-day." 
 
 Hunt smiled as he read the compliment. True, he 
 was young, and felt young. At thirty-two it needed 
 still more than a couple of murders to damp his out- 
 look on life. 
 
 Glancing over the account of the murder of Con- 
 stable James, who was described as one of the most 
 promising young officers in the local constabulary, 
 and an invaluable member of the "Rovers" football 
 team, he passed on to the account of the disaster on 
 the Head. 
 
 "Sir Charles Stafford," he read, "will be remem- 
 bered chiefly for his pioneer work in aviation. His 
 
 lone double crossing of the Atlantic in a will 
 
 stand for all time as an epic example to the world of 
 what British courage and British machinery can 
 accomplish. 
 
 "Born in 1899 in Bermuda, he was brought to 
 England at an early age. After a few years at a 
 
 preparatory school he entered [here the name 
 
 of a famous Public School was mentioned], his edu- 
 cation being interrupted by the war. He saw service 
 in France with the Air Force from July 1917 until 
 the cessation of hostilities. 
 
 "He then went up to Oxford, where he distin- 
 guished himself in all branches of sport. He was a 
 member of O.U.D.S. After completing his studies, 
 he devoted his attention to aeronautical affairs, 
 mostly on the Continent, and in 19 began to blaze 
 the trail with long-distance flights to all quarters of 
 the globe. He was unmarried."
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 69 
 
 As he read, Hunt recalled the tumultuous welcome 
 Sir Charles had received in Town after his Atlantic 
 flights, and saw again the graceful, well-set-up figure 
 and smiling, handsome features of the baronet ac- 
 knowledging the cheers of the populace; and as the 
 fleeting vision passed he swore to himself that he 
 would do all he could to bring the murderer to 
 justice. 
 
 Looking down the column, he found a short refer- 
 ence to Dennis Evans. "Mr. Evans," he read, "has 
 resided on the outskirts of Bournemouth for the past 
 three years. Both he and his wife, the passenger re- 
 ferred to above, are very popular locally. They have 
 both taken a keen interest in one of the leading ama- 
 teur theatrical companies in the district, and at the 
 present moment are making a film in which they both 
 have parts. 
 
 "It is still believed possible that Mrs. Evans has 
 escaped the disaster, and it is hoped that by the time 
 this appears in print news of both Mr. and Mrs. 
 Evans will be to hand." 
 
 It was obvious to Hunt that the editor had sensed 
 a mystery and hardly knew the best way to word the 
 paragraph. 
 
 A few minutes later they turned in the drive and 
 drew up at the house, a large modern residence sit- 
 uated just over the boundary of the town. 
 
 Although it stood in its own grounds, Hunt saw 
 at once that Evans could not have kept his 'plane 
 there, for the well-kept lawns, though spacious, were 
 not half large enough to allow a safe landing, let 
 alone a take-off. 
 
 The door was opened by Evans' butler-valet, a
 
 70 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 man named Davis, who knew the Superintendent, 
 and had seen his car approaching up the drive. 
 
 He had learned of the suspected murder of Sir 
 Charles from the chauffeur who had attended the in- 
 quest, so, guessing some awkward questions would be 
 asked, he immediately showed them into a small, well- 
 furnished room overlooking the gardens, which was 
 more secluded than the rest of the house. 
 
 This was the room that Evans used as his office. 
 The walls were covered with many sporting prints 
 and photographs. A typewriter and a telephone 
 stood on a desk by the window, while down two sides 
 of the room ran shelves of books, mostly dealing with 
 sporting subjects. A couple of gun cases hung on 
 the wall by the door, and near by, on the floor, was 
 stretched the fine skin of a tiger that Evans had 
 himself bagged. 
 
 A real man's room, thought Hunt, as he seated 
 himself by the table in the centre. 
 
 The Superintendent opened the inquiry. "You 
 may not have heard," he began, addressing Davis in 
 a kindly tone, "but we have discovered that Sir 
 Charles Stafford's death was not due to his accident, 
 as we at first believed, but to a bullet wound in the 
 head. In plain English, unless we are very much 
 mistaken, we are investigating a case of murder. 
 
 "It is quite possible, Davis, that you will be able 
 to help us considerably with our investigations, and 
 I hope you will do your best to answer any questions 
 that Inspector Hunt or the Chief Constable may put 
 to you." 
 
 "Certainly, sir. I will do my best to help," an- 
 swered Davis politely.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 71 
 
 "Well, then, Inspector, perhaps you'd be good 
 enough to carry on?" said the Superintendent, ex- 
 changing his seat on the corner of the table for one 
 of the well-padded chairs. 
 
 "Take a seat, Davis, and make yourself com- 
 fortable," began Hunt, knowing the best way to get 
 information of the kind he was after was by show- 
 ing civility and tact. 
 
 "Now, to start with," he continued, "I don't know 
 exactly what kind of life Mr. Evans leads. Has he 
 an income, do you know, or is he in business ?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Davis. "He has an income and he 
 is also in business." 
 
 "Oh, both ! I see. And where is his business sit- 
 uated? Is it local?" 
 
 "No, it's not local. It's in Town. The Stock Ex- 
 change, I believe though I'm not sure about that," 
 answered the valet. 
 
 "Does he go to Town every day?" 
 
 "No, not every day never more than twice a 
 week. Lately he hasn't been as much as that." 
 
 "No. How often has he been going lately, then ?" 
 
 The valet thought for a moment. "Not more than 
 a couple of times in the last month or six weeks." 
 
 "I see. Now how long have you been with Mr. 
 Evans?" 
 
 "Two years and a half, sir." 
 
 "He has only lived at Moorlands for about three 
 years, I understand. Have you any idea where he 
 lived before that?" 
 
 "No, I'm afraid I haven't, sir. I believe he used 
 to travel a lot mostly on the Continent." 
 
 "That doesn't help us much, I'm afraid. You
 
 72 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 haven't noticed any change in Mr. Evans' manner 
 lately, have you? For instance, has he seemed wor- 
 ried or upset in any way?" 
 
 The valet hesitated. "Now you mention it, sir, 
 I have. Nothing very much, but he has seemed to be 
 a little preoccupied doesn't take any notice of a 
 question one might ask him, and he is very nervous 
 at times." 
 
 "How long ago was it when you first noticed this 
 change ?" 
 
 "About the time he stopped going to his office 
 a month or six weeks." 
 
 "Some business worry, probably. Now, about 
 Mrs. Evans. I understand she was a qualified pilot?" 
 
 "Yes," the valet replied. "She has been flying now 
 for some eighteen months." 
 
 "This is rather a personal question. I want you to 
 think carefully before you answer. Has anything 
 occurred to make you think Mr. and Mrs. Evans 
 are not getting on so well together as they might?" 
 
 "No, nothing. Mr. Evans is devoted to her." 
 
 Hunt put a few more somewhat similar questions 
 to him, but was unable to get the answer he desired. 
 Then he brought Sir Charles Stafford's name into the 
 conversation, but with still the same result. Both 
 Mr. and Mrs. Evans were exceptionally friendly with 
 him. No, there had never been any quarrel between 
 them, he was sure. 
 
 Seeing that he would be unlikely to get any fur- 
 ther information from the valet, he turned the con- 
 versation on to more general lines. He soon learned 
 that the Evans household was made up of the valet,
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 73 
 
 housekeeper, cook, three maids, a gardener, and the 
 chauffeur. 
 
 The aeroplane was kept on a farm some couple of 
 miles away, the chauffeur, an ex-R.A.F. man, keep- 
 ing it in order. 
 
 "I think I should like to see the housekeeper now. 
 Will you go and ask her if she can spare us a few 
 minutes?" asked Hunt, dismissing the valet. 
 
 Davis left the room, and the housekeeper, a rather 
 stern-looking woman of about forty, was soon in the 
 chair he had vacated. 
 
 Similar questions were asked again with the same 
 replies. She had, she told him, noticed a change 
 come over Mr. Evans lately. He seemed to be lost in 
 thought for hours on end. He w r ould start too if 
 the doorbell rang, or if any stranger came up the 
 drive. She was sure he had something on his mind, 
 and went about expecting something to happen. 
 
 No, she had no idea what his business was. Like 
 the valet, she thought he was in some way connected 
 with the Stock Exchange. He was devoted to his 
 wife, she was sure. 
 
 The chauffeur was sent for next. He had no idea 
 where Mr. Evans' office was situated. He would drop 
 him at his club and pick him up there again later, 
 generally the next afternoon. 
 
 Mrs. Evans never accompanied him to Town when 
 he went on business. When they went on a shopping 
 expedition, or for pleasure, they usually travelled by 
 air. 
 
 Mrs. Evans was crazy on flying caught the craze 
 from Sir Charles Stafford, he thought. 
 
 Two of the maids who followed the chauffeur
 
 74 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 could add little the trio did not already know. It 
 seemed to Hunt that in suspecting either Mr. or 
 Mrs. Evans he was definitely on the wrong track. 
 From what he had heard, he gathered that they were 
 an unusually happy young couple, blessed with an 
 abundance of the world's riches. Mr. Evans' recent 
 unnaturalness was, he thought, no doubt due to some 
 business worry. 
 
 Then Dorothy Mills, Mrs. Evans' young maid, en- 
 tered, and soon shattered Hunt's newly formed illu- 
 sions, plunging him again into a maze of suspicion. 
 
 She was a pretty brunette, with laughing eyes, 
 well-spoken, and completely at her ease. It seemed 
 certain to Hunt she had seen better days. 
 
 Her room, she said, was directly over that of Mrs. 
 Evans. Several times lately she had been disturbed 
 by the sound of Mrs. Evans sobbing bitterly in the 
 night. 
 
 "Oh !" said Hunt. "I'm sorry to hear that. Have 
 you any idea what the trouble was ?" 
 
 The girl looked at him for a moment. "I have an 
 idea but I don't think I ought to tell you! . . . 
 Will you promise to keep it secret if I do?" 
 
 "Of course!" replied Hunt. "Anything you tell 
 me unless it has a bearing on the case and is used 
 in evidence will remain a secret." 
 
 The girl still looked a trifle dubious. "I don't see 
 how it can come out in evidence, and, if you promise 
 to keep it to yourself, I think I can tell you what is 
 worrying both Mr. and Mrs. Evans," she said at 
 length. 
 
 "I promise," said Hunt, with barely concealed
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 75 
 
 eagerness. "Now just what is worrying Mr. and 
 Mrs. Evans?" 
 
 "Well," the maid began, "the first time I heard 
 Mrs. Evans crying would be about a month ago. I 
 had not been feeling well, so I went to bed early. 
 The sound woke me up about midnight. Mr. 
 Evans w r as in the room with her. He was talking 
 softly at first. Mrs. Evans' sobs continued. I 
 couldn't hear what he was saying. Then all at once 
 he raised his voice. 
 
 " 'If we are ruined,' he said, 'you've only your ex- 
 travagance to blame for it.' He spoke softly again 
 for a while; then, later, I caught a bit more of the 
 conversation. 'If I knew who' then a name I 
 couldn't catch *was, I'd get him, even if I swung 
 for it.' That was all I heard that night. 
 
 "About a week later he was talking again. It was 
 a sultry night we had a thunderstorm about 3 A.M. 
 and my bedroom window was wide open. I 
 couldn't sleep and I was sitting in my dressing-gown 
 looking out over the golf-course. The lightning was 
 quite vivid, and I was wondering whether we should 
 get the storm we don't often here, you know. I'm 
 frightened to death of thunder, and I was just think- 
 ing of going into cook's room next door when Mr. 
 Evans crossed the floor below and opened the window. 
 
 "He only spoke a few words, but I caught them 
 all. 'That's the only w r ay, Peggy, I'm afraid,' he 
 said. 'We'll go over to the States and from there 
 to somewhere where the law can't touch us. I may 
 not be able to save much from the wreck, but what 
 little I have by me will keep us going if we live 
 quietly anyhow, it's that or nothing.' As you
 
 76 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 know, they were sailing to-day. That's all I can 
 tell you, I'm afraid." 
 
 "Extraordinary. I can hardly believe it," put in 
 Walker, when the maid had excused herself. "Young 
 Evans bolting. It just shows you one half of the 
 world never guesses how the other half lives." 
 
 It was plain the Superintendent was shaken. His 
 faith in the innocence of young Evans had known no 
 bounds. "This alters the case considerably," he was 
 bound to admit. 
 
 "Yes," replied the Chief Constable, "it does and 
 for the moment I must confess I fail to see what's to 
 be done next." 
 
 "So do I. We're up against a deadlock," said 
 Walker. "What do you suggest, Inspector?" 
 
 "I must agree that we seem to have come to a 
 dead-end, but remember, we have made good prog- 
 ress. If we could only ascertain the nature of his 
 business, I think we should also find the key to the 
 mystery. It seems obvious to me that some rival has 
 been ruining him. You'll remember he said, 'If I 
 knew who somebody or other is, I'd get him, even 
 if I swung for it." 
 
 "If he himself didn't know who his competitor was, 
 we don't stand much chance of finding out, until, at 
 least, we know his business." 
 
 "Quite," remarked the Chief Constable. "The 
 next thing to do is to get on the track of this mys- 
 terious business. I say mysterious deliberately, be- 
 cause if no one in his house, not even his chauffeur, 
 knew what or where his business was, it must be 
 something that he doesn't want talked about." 
 
 "And add to that," suggested Walker, "the fact
 
 77 
 
 that he talks about killing a rival, then it becomes 
 easy to make more than a wild guess." 
 
 "Yes," answered the Chief Constable. "Mem- 
 bers of the Stock Exchange certainly don't go about 
 threatening to kill one another. It sounds more like 
 dope trafficking or rum-running to me. What do 
 you say, Inspector?" 
 
 "I certainly agree, sir, that your suspicions may 
 prove to be well founded. But we are sure of noth- 
 ing yet, and I think it's unwise to work out theories 
 until we're certain they are being built on solid 
 ground. To my mind, here we have a case of a man 
 saying he is going to commit a murder. This same 
 man is last seen flying off with a man who is after- 
 wards found murdered in his aeroplane. We know of 
 no cause of ill-feeling between the two men. But 
 don't you agree that the best place to search for evi- 
 dence of this ill-feeling is at the home of the mur- 
 dered man?" 
 
 "He's right again, Superintendent. I shouldn't 
 like to commit a murder and have him on my trail," 
 said the Chief Constable, with unconcealed admira- 
 tion. 
 
 They rose and passed out through the study door. 
 In the hall a smartly-dressed, vivacious, but rather 
 over-painted lady stood talking to the valet. 
 
 As soon as she saw the Superintendent she made 
 over to him. "Isn't it terrible !" she began excitedly. 
 "Poor Peggy, so young, so beautiful, to have come 
 to such an end. 
 
 "And poor Sir Charles too. A blessing perhaps, 
 though, in some ways. She would have died of 
 grief in any case. So terribly in love with him,
 
 78 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 you know. I never could understand it myself. 
 Poor Dennis gave her everything she asked for to 
 make her happy. Never a bit jealous or angry. 
 Such a gentleman. I do hope nothing has happened 
 to him. Where do you think he is, Superintendent?" 
 
 "I'm afraid I can't say, Mrs. Birch ; it's a mystery 
 to me. Allow me to introduce Major Williams, the 
 Chief Constable; and Detective-Inspector Hunt of 
 Scotland Yard." 
 
 "So delighted to meet you," she said to Hunt. 
 "I'm really quite thrilled. It's the first time I've 
 met a real detective. I was beginning to think they 
 existed only in novels." 
 
 As she spoke, Hunt felt the Superintendent dig 
 him in the back. "We must hurry, Inspector," he 
 said. "We've a lot to do before dark." 
 
 Hunt took the hint, and, apologising to Mrs. 
 Birch, who was preparing a long string of questions 
 to fire at him, for his hurried departure, followed the 
 Superintendent and Major Williams to the car. 
 
 Once up the drive and out of hearing, the Super- 
 intendent let fty. "Of all the insufferable bores and 
 evil-tongued scandalmongers I've ever met, that wo- 
 man takes the biscuit. 
 
 "My poor Peggy this, and my poor Peggy that, 
 when all the time she hates her like poison. Why, 
 Mrs. Evans even forbade her the house a short time 
 ago. She'd turn in her grave, I'm certain, were she 
 to know that Davis had let that woman in. 
 
 "I forget exactly how the climax came, but I know 
 what the trouble was over. Young Evans told me 
 himself. It appears she was making a dead set at 
 him, and, when she failed to capture his affections,
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 79 
 
 did all she could to make trouble between him and his 
 wife. Definitely an undesirable sort of woman. Her 
 husband left her long ago I don't blame him, poor 
 devil." 
 
 "I've met the type myself, Superintendent," com- 
 mented the Chief Constable, "though luckily they're 
 few and far between." 
 
 "And I too," added Hunt, "but, as much as I 
 despise them, I never allow myself to overlook the 
 fact that even they sometimes speak the truth."
 
 VII 
 THE CUT TIRE MYSTERY 
 
 THE long spring evening was drawing to a close when 
 the Superintendent's car drew up outside Sir Charles 
 Stafford's lovely residence on the edge of the New 
 Forest. 
 
 Hunt, who had never before visited Lymington, en- 
 joyed every moment of the drive, and was almost 
 sorry when at last he had to drag his tired body from 
 the luxurious, well-sprung upholstery of Walker's 
 car. But, tired as he was, he roused himself quickly 
 at the sight of another car, a Rolls-Royce, standing 
 outside the front door. 
 
 "Mr. Day, for a fiver," he said aloud. "I wonder 
 if he'll have anything to tell us?" 
 
 His surmise was quite correct. Mr. Day was in the 
 hall talking to the butler. 
 
 Directly he saw the Superintendent he hurried 
 over to him. Hunt could see he was flushed and ex- 
 cited, and, he thought, looked not altogether sober. 
 
 "Oh, Superintendent !" he began, in a rather loud, 
 excited manner. "I'm so glad you've come. You'll 
 never guess what's happened. 
 
 "You know I was supposed to be staying here last 
 night? I didn't though, of course, but that doesn't 
 matter at least, not a lot, only if I had I should 
 have found out sooner. 
 
 "I must have changed suit-cases with Mrs. Evans 
 
 80
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 81 
 
 when it happened I can't say. Anyhow, it did 
 happen. Imagine my surprise, Superintendent, 
 when I opened my bag or should I say what I took 
 to be my bag this morning? What do you think it 
 contained?" 
 
 The Superintendent seemed a bit dazed by this 
 torrent of words, and repeated the question aloud. 
 "What should I expect to find if I opened a lady's 
 suit-case? Why some of her clothes, I expect. 
 Maybe even some underclothes," he added gravely. 
 
 "Just so, Superintendent, so should I, and if I 
 had I should have said nothing, but returned it 
 quietly to her house. But I didn't that's the funny 
 part. 
 
 "There were no clothes. None at all. Nothing 
 not even a toothbrush! No nothing nothing but 
 money ! 
 
 "Stacks of money all notes hundreds of 'em 
 no, thousands and all five-pound notes." 
 
 "Where are they?" asked Hunt quickly. "Have 
 you them with you?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Day. "Of course I have. I've 
 brought them back here where I found them. Stur- 
 man has helped me to put them in the safe. They'll 
 be safe there, whose ever they are." 
 
 "Well, if this isn't the limit," remarked the Chief 
 Constable to Walker, in an undertone. "But for this 
 drunken fool all this money would have been lost for 
 ever. It seems to me that young Evans has man- 
 aged to save a considerable amount from the wreck 
 after all." 
 
 They followed Hunt and Day to a massive safe 
 let into the wall of Sir Charles' study. Sturman
 
 82 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 knew the combination ; he kept the silver there, he ex- 
 plained. 
 
 He dialled the letters C.H.A.L.Y.M., turned the 
 key, and the heavy door swung open. The Inspector 
 reached for the suit-case, a neat blue expanding one, 
 with the initials P.E., painted in black letters on the 
 front. Carrying it orver to the table, he unlocked it 
 with Day's key. 
 
 It was filled, as Day had said, with five-pound 
 notes, pile upon pile, bound with elastic and all ap- 
 parently genuine. 
 
 He set to work to count them roughly. The piles 
 all seemed to contain an equal number. He counted 
 one quickly. A thousand notes 5,000. 
 
 Quickly he counted the bundles. There were fifty. 
 "Strewth!" he exclaimed. . . . "Fifty times five 
 thousand a fortune. Two hundred and fifty thou- 
 sand. A quarter of a million." 
 
 He glanced at some of the numbers. To his sur- 
 prise, few of them were consecutive. A quarter of 
 a million of untraceable money ! 
 
 " 'And we shall have to live very quietly.' Good 
 Lord ! How could he have called himself ruined with 
 this lot? 
 
 "I say, Superintendent, we can't leave all this here. 
 You must take it to the station and lock it away 
 until to-morrow and then bank it. My Goodness! 
 I've never handled a case with so many staggering 
 surprises." 
 
 The others were equally astounded. 
 
 The Chief Constable grasped the table for sup- 
 port, while Sturman seemed totally unable to keep 

 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 83 
 
 his bulging eyes away from the table, however hard 
 he tried to preserve his usual dignified manner. 
 
 Day, who had had all this wealth in his hands, 
 seemed equally shaken by the disclosures. He had 
 hurriedly returned it to the house without thought, 
 too drunk, or too startled, to trouble to count it. 
 What a chance he had missed ! The money untrace- 
 able, and the owner of it, in all probability, dead. 
 Rich though he already was, the desire to accumu- 
 late more was still strong within him. 
 
 Hunt could guess from his downfallen countenance 
 what was passing through the man's mind. Little 
 wonder too, for the temptation to any man to say 
 nothing, had he known just how much the case con- 
 tained, would have been almost overwhelmingly 
 strong, and the chance of detection practically nil. 
 Even if Evans had afterwards turned up and claimed 
 the money, Day could have pretended he had not yet 
 unpacked the suit-case and discovered his mistake. 
 
 The unhappy-looking man soon left the room, pre- 
 sumably to seek solace in liquid refreshment. 
 
 "Well, this certainly does confirm the maid's story, 
 Inspector," commenced the Chief' Constable, "but 
 otherwise it doesn't get us any nearer our goal." 
 
 "No, sir, it doesn't," Hunt replied. "We'd better 
 put this back in the safe for a time and continue our 
 inquiries. I suggest we see what Sturman can tell 
 us first." 
 
 "As you like, Inspector," assented Major Wil- 
 liams. 
 
 To begin with, Hunt let the butler tell of how he 
 obtained his post and of what little he knew of Sir 
 Charles' earlier life in his own way. But Sturman
 
 84 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 was unable to divulge anything Hunt did not already 
 know. 
 
 Seeing that this method was a waste of time, and 
 looked like serving no useful purpose, Hunt began 
 to question him directly. 
 
 "Yes, Sturman," he said pleasantly, "that's all 
 very clear, but unfortunately we know it all already. 
 Now let me ask you a few questions. Firstly, what 
 becomes of the title and estates now Sir Charles is 
 dead?" 
 
 "Oh!" replied the butler, "Sir Charles has a cou- 
 sin a gentleman named Henry Sandleson. I believe 
 he is Sir Charles' next of kin. He has been here once 
 or twice, but, to tell the truth, Sir Charles did not 
 get on with him at all well. In fact, the last time he 
 was here Sir Charles ordered me to show him out. 
 That was six months ago. He hasn't been here since. 
 I rather fancy, from what Sir Charles said at the 
 time, he is a ne'er-do-well." 
 
 "Have you any idea what they quarrelled about ?" 
 
 "Yes as a matter of fact, Sir Charles told me 
 afterwards. He was demanding money. I had strict 
 orders that I was not to allow him to enter should 
 he ever turn up again." 
 
 "Well, it will be different now. I suppose he has 
 succeeded to the title and estates," commented Hunt. 
 "He'll put in an appearance pretty soon, I expect, 
 unless he's out of the country. Now, you say Sir 
 Charles had a large income. Was he not also in 
 business?" 
 
 "No. He was on the board of several aviation com- 
 panies, that was all. He seldom went to Town."
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 85 
 
 "More of a figurehead, you mean, than an active 
 director?" 
 
 "Yes, that's right. It was an asset to any firm 
 to get his name on their letter-heads." 
 
 "I see." Then "Did Mr. and Mrs. Evans often 
 visit him?" 
 
 "Oh, yes ! They were great friends. They came 
 over several times a week. Mrs. Evans especially. 
 She used to golf a good deal with Sir Charles." 
 
 "Oh . . . now ... do you happen to know 
 where Sir Charles lived before he came to Forest 
 Court?" 
 
 "Yes. He used to live at Harrow. I believe Mrs. 
 Evans came from somewhere near that district. I 
 understand that was where she first met Sir Charles. 
 She was unmarried then, of course." 
 
 "Was she How long has she been married?" 
 
 "Just over three years, I believe. Sir Charles was 
 best man at the wedding. I can show you a photo- 
 graph of the couple leaving the church of course, 
 this was all before my time, but Mrs. Allen, Sir 
 Charles' old nurse, told me this before she died. She 
 was with him all his life or, I should say, with the 
 family. Sir Charles lived with an uncle, who has 
 since died, when he first came to England. This Mrs. 
 Allen stayed on as housekeeper when Sir Charles 
 went to school. After his uncle died, Sir Charles had 
 old Mrs. Allen here pensioned her off, as it were, till 
 she died." 
 
 Hunt thought for a moment. "Have you any 
 idea if Sir Charles and Mrs. Evans quarrelled re- 
 cently?" he asked.
 
 86 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 "Quarrelled ? No, I should think not. They were 
 the best of friends." 
 
 "You must have seen a lot of Mr. and Mrs. Evans 
 together. Did they always strike you as being a 
 happy couple?" 
 
 "Yes, always. I feel sure they were." 
 
 Hunt tried several more questions, but was unable 
 to extract any further information. That he had ob- 
 tained had been given freely, and he had no reason 
 to suspect the man of withholding anything im- 
 portant. 
 
 Next he intimated that he wanted to go from the 
 study to the hangar where Sturman had last seen 
 Sir Charles alive. 
 
 It was quite a short walk down a passage and 
 through a door set in the wall at the end. 
 
 The hangar was a spacious building, large enough 
 to hold three or four 'planes at the same time. A 
 fast single-seater of the fighting type was its sole 
 occupant. 
 
 "A design of Sir Charles'," remarked the butler, 
 noticing the Chief Constable seemed interested in it. 
 "It has a very low landing speed coupled with a re- 
 markable performance. Sir Charles intended to 
 place it on the market shortly." 
 
 There was obviously nothing there that would help 
 in the solving of the crimes, so Hunt passed on 
 through an open door into the garage. Two cars 
 stood there the Rover and a sports Bugatti. 
 
 "Are these the only cars Sir Charles possessed?" 
 asked Hunt. 
 
 "Oh, no," replied the butler. "There's a Bentley 
 too."
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 87 
 
 "A Bentley too. Where's that kept?" 
 
 "In here usually but just now it's up in the re- 
 pair shop." 
 
 "And where's the repair shop?" 
 
 "Over by Bailey's house across the park by the 
 lake." 
 
 "We're just going over there, so I can satisfy my 
 curiosity then. Which is our quickest way round 
 this path or back through the hangar?" 
 
 "There's not much in it. They're both about the 
 same. Ah! Here comes young Jim, the under- 
 chauffeur he'll show you across." 
 
 A pleasant-looking youth of some eighteen sum- 
 mers came up to them. He had overheard Sturman's 
 remarks, and was, in fact, on his way over to the 
 workshop himself. 
 
 The three set out, and during the three-quarters of 
 a mile walk across the park Hunt was engaged in an- 
 imated conversation with Jim Hucklesby. He 
 learned that Jim was an enthusiastic motorcyclist, 
 who was busy at the moment putting the finishing 
 touches to a machine Sir Charles had entered for 
 him to ride in the Tourist Trophy race in the Isle 
 of Man next month. 
 
 He was full of praise for Sir Charles, who, he said, 
 was a thorough sportsman, and seemed deeply 
 shocked by the tragedy. He could not, however, add 
 any information to that the Inspector had already 
 gathered. 
 
 He had only been with Sir Charles a few months. 
 The story of how he obtained his post was quite 
 interesting. 
 
 Sir Charles was president of a local motor-cycle
 
 88 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 club, and had presented the prizes at one of the 
 monthly grass track meetings, when Jim had carried 
 off the majority of events. Recognising Jim as a 
 resident of Lymington, he had afterwards stopped 
 and chatted whenever they met. 
 
 Then, when the garage Jim was employed at had 
 closed down, he had taken him on as under-chauffeur. 
 Sir Charles soon discovered that in Jim he had an 
 exceptionally fine driver, and did all he could to help 
 him realise his ambition to win the Senior Tourist 
 Trophy. 
 
 And Jim assured Hunt that he meant to make the 
 most of his chance and ride as never before. 
 
 By this time they had come up to the landing- 
 light that had given trouble early that morning. 
 Jim explained that, although he had spent some time 
 in examining it, he had been unable to find any de- 
 fect. It seemed to function perfectly. 
 
 He said that the current for this lamp was gen- 
 erated over by the repair shop, a hundred yards or 
 so away. Sir Charles had decided it would be more 
 satisfactory to generate the current for this part of 
 the estate separately than to run a cable across from 
 the house plant. 
 
 Hunt found the switch and pulled it down. In- 
 stantly a powerful shaft of light shot across the dark- 
 ened park. He left it on for some little time, but 
 was not rewarded with a flicker. Evidently all was 
 in order now. 
 
 The little group continued towards the block of 
 buildings. The hitherto broad, level park gave way 
 here to a little plantation of fir-trees on either side 
 of the now narrow strip of rather tufty grass.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 89 
 
 It seemed probable to Hunt that this was where 
 the 'planes had started their rush across the park. 
 He was right again in his surmise, as he afterwards 
 learned. 
 
 A few more paces, then Jim announced that the 
 first building was the repair shop. He produced his 
 keys, and, after unlocking the door, switched on the 
 light. 
 
 The place, large enough to hold three cars, was in 
 spotless condition. A well-equipped bench ran down 
 one side, while across the bottom stood the lathes and 
 drills, driven, Hunt could see, by a small electric 
 motor. Just inside the door stood a couple of motor- 
 cycles one, a specially-built, stripped grass-track 
 racing machine, and the other one of the newest of 
 road-racers. 
 
 But Hunt was not, at the moment, interested in 
 these. His eyes were all for the Bentley. 
 
 It stood in the centre of the shed, facing the door, 
 over an open pit, and he saw at once that it was fitted 
 with Firestone tires. 
 
 Moving over to the car, he quickly examined the 
 near-side front one. The V-shaped cut he was look- 
 ing for did not appear to be there. 
 
 Releasing the brake, he pushed the car forward a 
 pace. This time his examination yielded the result 
 he hoped for. Whoever had left the car there had, 
 either by accident or design, stopped the wheel with 
 the cut hidden by the ground. 
 
 He nodded to the others, warning them with his 
 finger to his lips to say nothing in front of Jim. 
 
 But Jim had not noticed the inspection of the tire, 
 being busily engaged in fitting some little gadget he
 
 90 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 had brought from the house to his stripped machine. 
 So absorbed was he in his task that he, although 
 nearer to the door than the others, did not, in com- 
 mon with them, notice the face of the mechanic Bailey 
 peering at them from the darkness without. 
 
 "I think the next move is to have a little chat with 
 Bailey, don't you, sir?" remarked Hunt to the Chief 
 Constable. 
 
 His mind was going back to that afternoon at the 
 inquest when the mechanic had shown so much un- 
 easiness. At the time he had put it down as being 
 due to the strangeness of the surroundings, but he 
 began to think differently. 
 
 As he spoke he did not know that Bailey himself 
 had heard the words, and was now doubling back to 
 his house to regain, if possible, a little of his com- 
 posure before the ordeal began. 
 
 "Yes," the Chief Constable replied. "I think so 
 too. I noticed a light in what I took to be his house 
 as we were coming over, so I think we shall catch 
 him in." 
 
 Jim followed them to the door. "You can't miss 
 his place," he said, "so there's no need for me to come. 
 It's the next building but one." 
 
 Bailey himself answered Hunt's knock, and, show- 
 ing surprise as though seeing them for the first time 
 that night, asked them in. 
 
 The little room was cosy, well furnished, and 
 scrupulously clean. Hunt put his hat on the table 
 and curtly refused the proffered seat. Bailey did 
 not seem as nervous now as he did at the inquest. 
 Now that the crisis had come, fear had lent him 
 courage enough to make an attempt to bluff the sit- 
 uation.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 91 
 
 To Hunt's mind this little man did not seem to 
 look the part of a murderer. But he knew from ex- 
 perience that it was impossible to tell by looks alone. 
 Many a little man had paid the supreme penalty. 
 
 He decided to come straight to the point. "Now, 
 Bailey," he said in a voice that rang with authority, 
 "I want the true account of your movements between 
 three o'clock this morning and the time when Stur- 
 man called you to the 'phone with the news of the 
 disaster." 
 
 "The true account?" echoed Bailey with well- 
 feigned surprise. "Why, I gave it at the inquest. 
 After I put out the landing-light I came straight in 
 here and went to bed." 
 
 "Look here, my man, I tell you candidly that tale 
 no longer holds water. You were seen to leave here 
 in the Bentley just after the 'planes had left," 
 bluffed Hunt. 
 
 Bailey seemed relieved. A ghost of a smile played 
 across his lips. "If that's all you have against me, 
 sir," he said, "I can soon prove to you that your 
 information is incorrect." 
 
 He spoke with conviction and, they thought, spoke 
 the truth. 
 
 "And how," queried Hunt in a little less com- 
 manding manner, "can you prove that my informa- 
 tion is incorrect?" 
 
 "Easily. The Bentley was taken away yesterday 
 afternoon and not brought back until this morning !" 
 
 "Oh !" exclaimed Hunt, astounded. "Who took it 
 away, and to where was it taken?" 
 
 "Jim Hucklesby took it away to Hendon to the 
 makers to get a new camshaft. You see, it's a spe- 
 cial job, and standard spares won't fit."
 
 VIII 
 THE ARREST 
 
 "JiM HUCKLESBY?" echoed Hunt. "And he was 
 away with it, you say, all night ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; at least, he didn't bring it back here 
 until this morning. I understand from what he told 
 me, though, that he got back to Lymington just be- 
 fore midnight, and left it in his father's garage. His 
 father, of course, keeps a public house on the other 
 side of the town." 
 
 "This complicates matters a lot," said Hunt to 
 the Chief Constable. "We must see Hucklesby again 
 at once. I feel certain, though, that he's not mixed 
 up in this business himself, but it may have been pos- 
 sible for someone to have borrowed the car without 
 his knowledge." 
 
 Picking up his hat, he made for the door. "You're 
 not going to bed for a few minutes, Bailey, are you ?" 
 he asked. "I may want your help again." 
 
 "No, sir," replied the mechanic. "I shall be up 
 for an hour or more yet. I usually keep the wireless 
 on until late." 
 
 Hunt, followed by the Superintendent and Major 
 Williams, hurried from the house. To his surprise, 
 the light in the garage had been turned off. Going 
 up to the door, he found that it was locked. It was 
 obvious that Jim had gone. 
 
 "Curse it!" said Hunt, half to himself. "We 
 
 92
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 93 
 
 ought to have asked him to wait. It'll probably take 
 us half the night to find him again." 
 
 Just then the strains of the "Indian Love Call," 
 from Rose Marie, came floating across the park. 
 
 "That's probably him whistling," observed the Su- 
 perintendent, "and, if so, he's a good half way across 
 to the house." 
 
 "Wait," shouted Hunt. "I know how I can at- 
 tract his attention." 
 
 He sprinted off in the direction of the landing- 
 light. The others followed at a more leisurely pace. 
 
 Reaching the light, Hunt switched it on. It was 
 fitted with a swivel, and almost immediately the beam 
 picked Hucklesby up. A few signals and the lad, 
 guessing he was wanted, began to retrace his foot- 
 steps. 
 
 The trio went part of the way to meet him, leav- 
 ing the light on and walking down its ray. 
 
 "I didn't realise you were going so soon," began 
 Hunt, "and I've one or two important questions to 
 ask you. To start off with, I'll tell you I'm trying 
 to trace the movements of the Bentley, and I want 
 you to tell me whether you think anyone could have 
 borrowed it after you put it away in your father's 
 garage last night?" 
 
 "My father's garage ?" repeated the lad, as though 
 unable to grasp the Yard man's meaning. "Who 
 told you I put it in my father's garage?" 
 
 "Never mind that. Do you think anyone could 
 have borrowed it without your knowledge?" 
 
 But Hucklesby cut him short. "You're on the 
 wrong track, Inspector, I'm afraid. I haven't got
 
 94 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 a father at all much less a father with a garage. 
 Did Bailey tell you that yarn?" 
 
 "Haven't got a father?" cried the Chief Constable, 
 momentarily forgetful of his grammar. "Bailey's 
 called your bluff all right, Inspector, and sent us all 
 on a wild goose chase. If we don't get back instantly, 
 he'll get away if he's not already done so." 
 
 They started back towards the mechanic's house. 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied Hunt, "he bluffed me badly, 
 and by now, no doubt, he's miles away." 
 
 Hardly had he uttered the words when a car en- 
 gine woke to life with a roar. From the darkness of 
 the distant sheds shot the glare of powerful head- 
 lights. Across the park towards them came the Bent- 
 ley, accelerating rapidly. A moment more and it 
 had passed them, a good hundred yards to their left, 
 travelling at quite seventy miles an hour. 
 
 "Well, that's that!" said Hunt angrily. "He's 
 tricked us properly. The next thing to do is to go 
 back to the house and 'phone, but by the time the 
 police are warned he'll be miles away. And to think 
 I could have sworn that he was not a murderer !" 
 
 "Why don't you 'phone from Bailey's house?" ad- 
 vised Jim, thoroughly thrilled by his experience. 
 "It'll save you quite ten minutes." 
 
 "That's a good idea, Jim. I will. Let's sprint." 
 
 The Chief Constable and Superintendent did not 
 see how any sprinting on their part would help mat- 
 ters, so followed in a more dignified manner. 
 
 In a short time Hunt and young Jim arrived at 
 the mechanic's house. The door, they found to their 
 surprise, was locked. However, under their com- 
 bined weight it soon flew open.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 95 
 
 "The 'phone's in his bedroom," announced Huck- 
 lesby, rushing up the stairs. 
 
 Hunt picked up the instrument hurriedly. He 
 could tell at once the line was dead. Glancing down, 
 he saw the trouble. The line was cut in two places. 
 
 Jim came to the rescue again. "I'll run you down 
 to the house on my motor-cycle. It'll bump a bit 
 there's no carrier but I've a little air-cushion on 
 the back mudguard, and a pair of pillion rests." 
 
 "Fine," answered Hunt. "I'll endure the bump- 
 ing." 
 
 A few moments later they were again in the re- 
 pair shop. The machine was, luckily, not quite ready 
 for the races, and so was still equipped with electric 
 lights. 
 
 A short push and the well-tuned engine jumped 
 to life. Hunt clambered into position behind the 
 under-chauffeur, and they were off. 
 
 Their speed increased rapidly, sixty seventy 
 nearly eighty, then in an incredibly short space of 
 time they were braking for the house. Almost before 
 they came to a standstill, Hunt was off, flying up the 
 steps to the front door. He tried it it opened and 
 in he rushed without knocking. 
 
 The 'phone was in the hall. Taking off the re- 
 ceiver, he impatiently awaited the exchange to an- 
 swer. But no answer came the line seemed dead. 
 He examined the instrument quickly. It had not 
 been tampered with. "Cut outside, no doubt," he 
 * thought, replacing the receiver on its hook. 
 
 Jim was still waiting outside. One of the garden- 
 ers stood with him. This man had seen the hurried
 
 96 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 departure of the mechanic, and had noticed he took 
 the Bournemouth road. 
 
 "Where can we 'phone from?" asked Hunt as he 
 came up. "He's cut this wire too." 
 
 "There's a 'phone-box in Lymington, sir," volun- 
 teered Jim. "Jump on we'll soon be there." 
 
 Hunt helped to start the machine again, leaping 
 on to his seat as the engine fired. 
 
 The speed at which Jim covered the few miles to 
 Lymington convinced Hunt that the lad was a mar- 
 vellous driver. Trusting that the road ahead was 
 clear, he had approached, and sometimes taken, 
 many of the really nasty corners at a speed of well 
 *over a mile a minute. Luckily no traffic was on the 
 road or disaster must have overtaken them. 
 
 Hunt had not ridden a motor-cycle for years, and 
 as the powerful machine raced along, banking and 
 braking for corners, and getting away again with 
 flashing acceleration, he realised that the possession 
 of one provided the lucky owner who defied the law 
 and opened wide the throttle with more thrills than 
 any racing car or aeroplane. 
 
 Again, in an almost unbelievable space of time, 
 they reached their destination ; pulling up at a tele- 
 phone-box in a long, controlled skid. 
 
 This time Hunt had better luck, getting through 
 immediately to the police station, where the sergeant 
 in charge took down the C.I.D. man's brief descrip- 
 tion of Bailey and the car which, before many min- 
 utes had elapsed, was circulating to all stations in 
 the southern part of the country. 
 
 Going back to the machine again, he noticed that 
 their hectic arrival had attracted the attention of a
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER ^ 97 
 
 patrolling constable, who stood questioning Jim at 
 some length. 
 
 Hunt produced his card and the policeman, who 
 had seemed a little sceptical of Jim's story, became 
 all politeness. 
 
 Yes, a Bentley had passed some five minutes be- 
 fore travelling at a furious pace. Yes, it was still 
 on the Bournemouth road. 
 
 "Let's try to catch him," suggested Jim, now 
 really worked up by the thrill of the hunt. "We can, 
 you know, sir. We'll beat him on the corners." 
 
 Hunt, too, felt the fever of the chase. "Let's try," 
 he answered rashly. 
 
 The constable gave them a push, and a ride that 
 Detective-Inspector Hunt was to remember all his 
 life began. 
 
 The winding road to Highcliff e was covered at an 
 even faster rate than that they had been travelling 
 at previously. They thundered through the little 
 village, bringing people wrathfully to their windows 
 from their beds. 
 
 A constable sprang from out of a doorway at the 
 Bournemouth end of the narrow street, waving his 
 light and shouting. But for all the good he did he 
 might just as well have saved himself the trouble, 
 for Jim paid him no attention, but tore on the faster. 
 His speed, as he braked hard for the turn a little dis- 
 tance beyond the village, was over ninety miles per 
 hour. 
 
 Just before reaching Totland Corner, the scene of 
 the murder of Constable James, a rabbit, dazed by 
 the headlight, dodged across in front of them. They 
 hit it fair and square with the front wheel, but,
 
 98 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 luckily for them, its body was flung clear, and they 
 were not thrown off. 
 
 Not in the least perturbed by this narrow escape, 
 Jim kept the throttle open. Soon they came to the 
 junction of the Lymington and London-Bourne- 
 mouth roads. A policeman was standing on the strip 
 of grass on the corner nearest Bournemouth. Pull- 
 ing up for a moment, they learned that the Bentley 
 had turned, not three minutes before, towards Lon- 
 don. The policeman had tried to stop it, but in vain. 
 He had received a 'phone call from Lymington just 
 as the car approached. 
 
 Off again ; this time on the long straights through 
 the Forest towards Lyndhurst. They would not gain 
 much here. The Bentley would do an easy one hun- 
 dred and twenty miles per hour, and, even if they 
 whacked up one hundred and ten miles per hour, Jim 
 doubted whether the Inspector would be able to stand 
 the terrific bumping. 
 
 But, to Hunt's own surprise, he was able to keep 
 his seat; and consequently the maximum speed of 
 the motor-cycle was reached on many of the straights. 
 
 Lyndhurst at last. Another policeman in the 
 street. They pulled up hurriedly. Yes, the Bentley 
 had just passed. Not so much ahead either less 
 than two minutes now. He had not taken the South- 
 ampton road, but turned left for Romsey. 
 
 "Making for Town," yelled Jim. "Suppose he 
 thought the level crossing gates on the Lyndhurst- 
 Southampton road might be shut. We'll catch him 
 now he'll find this road too twisty." 
 
 Jim's optimism proved not unfounded. Three 
 minutes later the lights of the Bentley could be seen
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 99 
 
 a mile or so ahead. His quarry in sight, Jim took 
 more risks than ever. There was traffic on the road 
 now heavy lorries bringing produce from London 
 to the coastal towns. They flashed by them, flat out, 
 gone long before the drivers' curses could reach their 
 ears. 
 
 Bailey was going a little slower now. He had no 
 idea that he was being pursued. Five minutes later 
 the motor-cycle was close enough for its light to re- 
 flect on the Bentley's windscreen. It was then the 
 mechanic realised the chase was on. 
 
 With a frightened oath he banged down the accel- 
 erator, and the big car, responding, leaped forward. 
 
 He had left it too late, though ; the twisty road did 
 not permit him to use his superior speed to advan- 
 tage, and, foot by foot, the motor-cycle drew closer. 
 
 The man was desperate now. He was cornering 
 almost as fast as Jim. But it was obvious that he 
 could not keep it up. Again and again he only es- 
 caped disaster by a miracle. Less than a hundred 
 yards now separated pursuer and pursued. They 
 were entering the narrow, twisty streets of Romsey. 
 The police here had received the news, and had 
 started to erect a flimsy barrier. The Bentley, how- 
 ever, took it in its stride, scattering the policemen 
 in all directions. But the incident caused Bailey to 
 miss his turn. Now he was on a loose-surfaced, un- 
 familiar road with the roaring motor-cycle but fifty 
 yards behind. 
 
 Two miles farther on stood the little village of 
 Houghton. It was approached from Romsey by a 
 straight and level half-mile stretch of road, followed 
 by an S bend.
 
 100 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 The Bentley had careered madly down the straight 
 at over a hundred miles per hour; while the motor- 
 cycle, owing to the bumpy state of the road, had 
 fallen some hundred yards behind. 
 
 Elated by the discovery that he was shaking off his 
 pursuers, Bailey left his braking for the bend a 
 fraction of a second too late. 
 
 In a hectic skid the Bentley struck the bank at the 
 apex of the first bend of the S, wrenching the off- 
 side rear tire clean from the wheel. By a super- 
 human effort Bailey righted the car for a moment, 
 only to lose control again almost instantly as he 
 skidded madly on the second bend of the S. 
 
 This time luck did not favour the mechanic. Still 
 moving at well over a mile a minute, the Bentley 
 charged a low brick wall. The wall held, but the 
 car doubled up like a concertina. 
 
 This abrupt termination of his forward motion 
 caused Bailey to be flung from his seat and cata- 
 pulted high into the air. 
 
 Either nature or an earlier generation of villagers 
 had luckily decided that the spot he was heading for 
 was ideal for a really deep pond. This decision alone 
 undoubtedly allowed the delivery of a live man to 
 justice. 
 
 Skilfully avoiding the wrecked car, which almost 
 blocked the narrow road, Jim brought his machine 
 to a standstill only a few paces beyond it. 
 
 Hunt hurriedly scaled the wall, over which he had 
 seen the wanted man disappearing, and saw him, 
 partly stunned and half-drowned, struggling in the 
 water. 
 
 With Jim's help he dragged him ashore. After a
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 101 
 
 few minutes the fugitive had recovered sufficiently to 
 realise what had happened to him. He did not seem 
 surprised to find the handcuffs on his wrists. 
 
 "I shall detain you on suspicion of being concerned 
 in the murder of Constable James some time between 
 the hours of three and six-thirty this morning in Red- 
 stock Lane, and it is my duty to caution you that 
 anything you say will be taken down and may be used 
 in evidence against you," warned Hunt, addressing 
 the terror-stricken man. 
 
 "I don't mind how much you caution me," whim- 
 pered the mechanic. "You can't prove I used the 
 car." 
 
 Hunt would not have answered the prisoner, for 
 he knew he spoke the truth, but Jim overheard the 
 remark and supplied the evidence the Yard man 
 needed. 
 
 "Oh, yes, you can, sir," he started. "I saw him 
 myself. At four o'clock this morning I went across 
 to get my motor-bike out of the repair shop. You 
 see, as I told you, I'm practising hard for the races, 
 and I go out almost every morning at daybreak and 
 try to cover a hundred miles or so in as many min- 
 utes. 
 
 "Just as I got to the shed I heard a car coming 
 up the lane by the side of the landing-ground. It 
 had no lights on, though it was hardly daylight. I 
 wondered who it could be at that time of morning, 
 so I hid myself round the corner of the shed to find 
 out what was going on. The car it was the Bent- 
 ley came up to the front of the repair shop and 
 stopped. I saw Bailey get out and swing back the
 
 102 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 double doors. Then, getting in the car again, he ran 
 it into the shop. 
 
 "I didn't want him to think I had been spying on 
 him, so I waited some little time before going in and 
 getting my bike. I felt the radiator of the Bentley 
 as I passed and found it was quite hot. I could tell 
 the car had been driven some distance, and, I 
 thought, driven hard. I noticed later in the day 
 that the car had been turned round and placed over 
 the pit." 
 
 "Thank you, Jim," Hunt said with a smile. "I 
 must take that statement down in writing and get 
 you to sign it. I think that completes the case." 
 Then, sternly : "Now, Bailey, unless you can explain 
 your movements with the car to my satisfaction, I 
 have no option but to charge you with the murder." 
 
 "I can explain, Inspector, but I won't. You must 
 do your worst," he added defiantly.
 
 IX 
 ANOTHER BODY 
 
 THE noise of the smash had aroused the village con- 
 stable, whose house was not far from the scene of the 
 accident. He had hurriedly dressed and proceeded 
 in the direction from which the sound had come, ar- 
 riving just as Hunt was deciding to knock someone 
 up and borrow his car to convey his prisoner to 
 the police station. 
 
 It turned out, however, that the constable had re- 
 cently come into a little money and possessed an old 
 Morris Cowley, which was in good going order de- 
 spite its rather battered appearance. He was also 
 on the 'phone. 
 
 The party set off to his house with the mechanic, 
 who seemed now to be resigned to his fate. 
 
 Once at the house, Hunt 'phoned the news of the 
 dramatic arrest through to Lymington, asking the 
 sergeant, who answered the 'phone again; to send a 
 constable to tell the Chief Constable and Superin- 
 tendent Walker that they were taking their man to 
 Bournemouth by road. 
 
 Jim arranged to leave his motor-cycle at the po- 
 liceman's house and call for it when he returned the 
 car on the morrow. 
 
 The old Morris had quite a turn of speed, so the 
 return journey did not take them much above twice 
 the time the outward trip had done. 
 
 103
 
 104 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 The Chief Constable and Walker were already at 
 the police station, and both seemed extremely thank- 
 ful that such an early arrest in what seemed at first 
 so difficult a case had been effected. 
 
 The prisoner was immediately charged; he made 
 no reply, and was escorted to the cells. 
 
 After arranging to meet the Chief Constable in 
 the morning, Hunt set off to Southbourne with Jim, 
 who had offered to drop him at his sister's house be- 
 fore continuing his journey back to Lymington. 
 
 And so, after a hearty supper, the Inspector, 
 fagged in body and mind, went to bed. 
 
 He had arranged to have breakfast at 7.30 the 
 next morning, and, although he had not had very 
 long in bed, he was down before the clock struck the 
 half -hour, looking and feeling as fresh as ever. 
 
 He was not diie at the station to help the Chief 
 Constable prepare the case against Bailey until ten 
 o'clock, so he decided to run out to Totland Corner 
 in his car to examine a little more closely the meadow 
 in which the detective had found the mysterious foot- 
 prints. 
 
 He was still not satisfied that these prints were un- 
 connected with the crime although just what part 
 they played he was quite unable to decide. 
 
 Neither had he yet dismissed the still missing 
 Evans from the case. It seemed highly probable to 
 him that Bailey had an accomplice ; the words, "I can 
 explain, but I won't," rather suggested that he was 
 shielding someone. Even now, though he had him- 
 self arrested th% man, he felt that Bailey had not 
 fired the fatal shots, although he undoubtedly had 
 been there and knew exactly what had happened. **" 

 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 105 
 
 The fact that the mechanic was deeply involved 
 rendered his account of the start to the fatal flight 
 as highly improbable, and evidence to be regarded 
 with suspicion. Until it was possible to make him 
 give the true account, Hunt felt that the key to the 
 mystery would be unobtainable. That Bailey would 
 turn King's evidence eventually he had no doubts. 
 His type invariably did; but it was possible that he 
 would withhold his information until the actual mur- 
 derer got clear away. 
 
 His little car was very powerful, capable of a 
 good seventy-five miles an hour, so he was able to 
 make short work of the trip. Sad to relate, he was 
 seldom able to keep to the speed the law demands 
 must not be exceeded. 
 
 Reaching the Corner, he turned his car into Red- 
 stock Lane, parking it near the scene of the crime. 
 
 He thought it very probable that the murder of 
 Sir Charles had taken place here too. In spite of the 
 dangers of a night landing, he felt certain one had 
 been carried out. He felt equally sure that both 
 murders had been committed by the same person 
 using the same weapon. 
 
 Leaving the car, he climbed the hedge into Angels. 
 It was a beautiful morning, little wind, with a clear 
 blue sky that gave promise of hours of warm sun- 
 shine. 
 
 Deep in thought, he walked down by the low 
 hedge until he came to the gate by the main road. 
 
 Leaning with his back up against it, he looked up 
 the meadow towards the marshy jDatch. The cows 
 had been in the meadow again overnight, he noticed. 
 "ftatiier a pity," he thought ; "there's little hope now
 
 106 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 of finding marks where the 'planes may have landed, 
 even if they had been there previously." 
 
 The meadow, he reflected, was ideal for landing 
 purposes. If only he could see a way to get over the 
 snag of a landing by night on strange ground, and 
 without landing-lights, he felt convinced he would 
 be able to solve the crimes in their entireties. 
 
 Then suddenly, as he looked up the field, he saw 
 how it could have been done. The mistake he had 
 made had been in thinking Bailey had been at Lmy- 
 ington when the 'planes took off. 
 
 Supposing Bailey hacfr switched on the landing- 
 light at a quarter to three or even earlier; then, 
 instead of waiting to see the 'planes start, had hur- 
 ried here with the Bentley. 
 
 With a quarter of an hour or so's start, he would 
 have been at Totland Corner well before the 'planes. 
 
 There would have been little fear of traffic at that 
 time of the morning, and he could safely have ma- 
 noeuvred his car across the road until his lights, which 
 were extremely powerful, were shining through the 
 gateway and lighting up the meadow as effectively 
 as any landing-light of the type Sir Charles used. 
 
 The Inspector decided to attempt to reconstruct 
 the crime. He fetched his car from the lane, and, 
 after propping the gate wide open, he drove it into 
 a position similar to that in which he believed Bailey 
 had placed the Bentley. 
 
 He carried a small pocket compass with him when- 
 ever he did any motoring. Producing this from the 
 pocket of his car and placing it on the running- 
 board the most convenient level surface he dis-
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 107 
 
 covered that the nose of the car was pointing in a 
 north-easterly direction. 
 
 This was what he had expected to find. His 
 knowledge of flying, though little less scanty than 
 that of the average man in the street, was sufficient to 
 tell him a 'plane normally landed against the wind. 
 
 The wind that fateful night, or, to be exact, that 
 early morning, was, he remembered, blowing from 
 a south-westerly direction. 
 
 As the 'planes would also, almost certainly, land 
 against the light, to avoid shadows, he felt that his 
 theory that this gateway was the one used was con- 
 siderably strengthened by his discovery with the com- 
 pass. 
 
 The tracks of the car in the gateway would have 
 been wiped out completely by the cows when they 
 passed through in the morning. That fact alone 
 convinced Hunt that the crime had been planned 
 with the utmost caution. 
 
 One thing was clear now that had been a mystery 
 before the unidentified tracks that started so sud- 
 denly in the middle of the meadow were -made by a 
 man getting out of an aeroplane. 
 
 He decided to walk over to the spot where these 
 began to see if he could gain further knowledge 
 there. But, after having progressed so far with the 
 reconstruction, Hunt found himself nonplussed al- 
 most at once by a simple fact that he had overlooked. 
 
 There was only one set of tracks. 
 
 Try as he could, the Inspector was unable to fit 
 this single set into his theories. Even assuming that 
 Evans had, by some pretext, arranged for them to 
 land in this meadow, and, after landing, had climbed
 
 108 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 out of his 'plane, walked over to Sir Charles, and 
 fired the fatal shot, there was the insurmountable 
 snag of there being no return footprints to the start- 
 ing-point. 
 
 Obviously he had gone back, as the monoplane 
 had passed over the Head later. 
 
 But, in spite of this disappointment, Hunt felt 
 sure he was on the right track. He knew it would 
 be possible to send up the "Moth" without a pilot 
 with the controls in a central position and the engine 
 running on full throttle it would float gently sky- 
 wards as soon as it reached a high enough speed to 
 leave the ground. 
 
 He decided to go back to Bournemouth to see if 
 the Chief Constable could suggest any way out of 
 the difficulty. He had hardly turned, though, to 
 begin to retrace his footsteps to the car when some- 
 one hailed him from behind. 
 
 Turning again, he saw Mr. Abbot, of the Home 
 Farm, waving and shouting for him to stop. Won- 
 dering what the excitement could be about, he went 
 part of the way to meet him. 
 
 Although the farmer was clearly excited, he did 
 not impart his news until he had shaken hands with 
 the Inspector and bid him a hearty good morning. 
 Then he came quickly to the point. 
 
 "I'm sorry to trouble you, Inspector," he said, 
 "but I've just found another dead man on my farm." 
 
 "Another dead man !" echoed Hunt. "This place 
 will soon have quite an unsavoury reputation, I'm 
 afraid." 
 
 "Yes," answered the farmer. "It certainly will 
 but I don't think this will be a case for Scotland
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 109 
 
 Yard. It's a man of the tramp class, and I should 
 say a case of natural death but whilst you're here, 
 Inspector, I thought you'd like to take a look round." 
 
 He led the way up into the far corner of the 
 meadow to the gate where Hunt had expected, during 
 his search on the day before, to find traces of the 
 unidentified footprints. 
 
 After climbing the gate, Abbot led him through 
 some gorse and furze-bushes to a little tin shelter, 
 where the cattle were wont to lie in bad weather. 
 The Inspector had noticed the building the morning 
 before, but had not troubled to examine it. 
 
 In the far corner of this shed Hunt saw the body 
 of a rough-looking, unshaven man. He bent down 
 and touched the still form ; it was cold and stiff . No 
 doubt death had taken place hours, or even days, 
 previously. 
 
 The man's head was on a bundle, of the type 
 tramps carry, and the body was fully clothed, ex- 
 cept for the badly cracked boots, which stood side 
 by side near at hand. 
 
 As Hunt gazed at the face, set quite calm and 
 peaceful in death, he had a feeling that he had seen 
 the man before. He tried hard to place him for some 
 minutes but in vain. 
 
 Abbot noticed the Inspector was closely scrutin- 
 ising the dead body, and volunteered the informa- 
 tion at his disposal. "He's been about the place 
 some days, Inspector, I believe," he commenced, 
 "though he's a total stranger to me. 
 
 "My wife told me she had a tramp call a day or 
 two ago to beg a stamp and an envelope. Her de- 
 scription of him fits this man exactly. She was very 
 
 RETURN W.TH.N TWO WEEKS 
 
 AWT.
 
 110 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 puzzled to get such an unusual request as this, but, 
 as he seemed a well-spoken man who had undoubt- 
 edly seen better days, she gave him what he asked. 
 She said he had a hunted, furtive look about him, 
 and she wondered if he was in trouble with the 
 police." 
 
 As the farmer concluded, the scene of his previous 
 meeting with the dead man came vividly into Hunt's 
 mind. 
 
 He remembered now that he was at the Old Bailey, 
 waiting to give evidence in a forgery case. He had 
 arrived a little early, and the case previous to the 
 one he was connected with had not quite finished. 
 
 The prisoner, Alfred Newton, stood charged with 
 the crimes of blackmail and robbery with violence. 
 
 The jury filed back to their box. The foreman 
 returned a verdict of guilty. In vain the accused 
 protested his innocence. The judge, addressing him 
 in scathing tones, passed sentence of seven years' 
 penal servitude. 
 
 The case had interested Hunt at the time, and he 
 remembered reading it up when he got home that 
 evening. He had no doubts whatever the accused 
 had been justly convicted. 
 
 He remembered, too, the escape of Alfred New- 
 ton from Parkhurst Prison, Isle of Wight how he 
 had eluded his warders in a fog and got clear off the 
 island. It had been a nine days' wonder, and, truth 
 to tell, the authorities had quite given him up for 
 lost. . . . And all this time he had apparently been 
 wandering about quite openly. Just another in- 
 stance of a wanted man mixing unconcernedly with
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 111 
 
 his fellow-creatures without unduly raising their sus- 
 picions. 
 
 "Your wife was right then, Mr. Abbot. He was 
 in trouble with the police. I remember now. This 
 is Alfred Newton, the convict who escaped from 
 Parkhurst Prison last March," announced Hunt at 
 length. 
 
 "I suppose we'd better 'phone up the police station 
 for the doctor and I expect we shall have to attend 
 still another inquest." 
 
 As they turned to leave the hut, Hunt remembered 
 the mysterious footprint. Crossing again to the 
 body, he picked up the well-worn boots. 
 
 He saw at a glance that they were not the pair 
 he was longing to set eyes on. No these were quite 
 two sizes too small !
 
 SIR HENRY DISAPPEARS 
 
 THE Chief Constable had most conscientiously been 
 through all the papers dealing with the murders, 
 and had decided to ask the magistrates for a week's 
 remand when Bailey appeared before them. 
 
 To tell the truth, he had not the slightest hopes 
 of getting any jury to convict on the little evidence 
 before him, and he did not know exactly where to 
 look for any more. 
 
 But, being a born optimist, he counted on Hunt 
 being able to procure it for him. Consequently, he 
 was considerably relieved when at last the very much 
 overdue Inspector put in an appearance. 
 
 Hunt apologised for his lateness, and explained 
 the reason for it. 
 
 Major Williams was very annoyed to think the 
 escaped prisoner had been on his territory and had 
 evaded arrest for so long. However, as the mischief 
 was done, and Hunt had already acquainted Super- 
 intendent Walker with the facts, and Sergeant Kirk 
 had the case in hand, he rapidly dismissed the mat- 
 ter from his mind as of no great importance, turning 
 the conversation again to the murders of Constable 
 James and Sir Charles. 
 
 He confessed to Hunt quite frankly that he was 
 in a quandary, and explained to the Yard man that 
 
 he looked to him to show him the way out. 
 
 112
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 113 
 
 "I'm sorry, sir," answered the Inspector, "but I 
 myself am also in a hole. In fact, I was hoping that 
 you would be able to help me, instead of me helping 
 you." 
 
 He then explained his theory of how the murders 
 were committed by Evans, who, he felt certain, in- 
 duced Sir Charles to land in Angels, pointing out 
 how, although his compass supported his ideas, the 
 clue of the single track of prints was inexplicable. 
 
 The Chief Constable listened without comment 
 until Hunt had finished. Then, after a few mo- 
 ments' consideration, he agreed that Hunt's theory 
 seemed the only possible one that would allow both 
 murders to be committed by the same person using 
 the same weapon. How Evans got to the lane and 
 back to his 'plane, leaving only a single track of 
 footprints, was a puzzle too involved for him to solve. 
 
 "I think," began Hunt, as he selected a fresh ciga- 
 rette from his case, "if we forget Bailey's account 
 of the start of the flight, and try to reconstruct the 
 case from the beginning, we might, between us, man- 
 age to discover where we are making our mistake." 
 
 "Quite," agreed the Chief Constable, "we might. 
 Let's try again. I take it that we are going to accept 
 the butler's statement that Mrs. Evans was in the 
 'plane when it left the hangar to be true? I forgot 
 to tell you we took a statement from Mr. Day last 
 evening, after you had left on your little joy-ride, 
 and he corroborates the butler's story." 
 
 "Yes," replied Hunt, "I think we can accept that. 
 Let's start from there. Now, first, we must discover 
 what happened to Mrs. Evans. Is she lying dead in 
 Christchurch Harbour or has she joined her miss-
 
 114 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 ing husband? Secondly, we must discover Mr. 
 Evans' whereabouts and the hiding-place of his 
 'plane. And, lastly, what part has Bailey played 
 in these tragedies?" 
 
 The Chief Constable nodded in assent. "Yes 
 that puts the matter in a nutshell. When we know 
 the answers to those questions our case will be com- 
 plete but, before we go any further, I can partly 
 answer the last one already. At least, I can tell you 
 one vitally important part that Bailey did not play 
 and when we find who did play it we shall be a 
 long way on towards our solution." 
 
 "And what is that part, sir? I have certainly 
 missed it," put in Hunt eagerly. 
 
 "Just that he could not have turned off the land- 
 ing-light, and yet (according to Hucklesby) when 
 he arrived back at the repair shop with the Bentley 
 the light was out." 
 
 "That's an important point to be sure," said Hunt 
 thoughtfuUy. "Fancy me overlooking such an ob- 
 vious fact." Then "Don't you think everything 
 points to another person being in the plot an ac- 
 complice whose job it was to turn off the light at the 
 proper time?" 
 
 "I do," agreed the Chief Constable, "and to my 
 mind, after taking every known fact of this amaz- 
 ing tangle into consideration, everything points to 
 that accomplice being Evans' good lady. I'm in- 
 clined to believe the whole of Bailey's evidence was 
 perjured evidence and I doubt if Mrs. Evans trav- 
 elled by air at all. But we'll have to thresh this 
 matter out later. It's time we were in court."
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 115 
 
 The proceedings that morning were very brief, 
 only Hunt's evidence of arrest being given. The 
 Chief Constable asked for a week's remand, which 
 was immediately granted. 
 
 The prisoner was not represented. He caused 
 some surprise by requesting that all editions of the 
 local papers be supplied to him. 
 
 He went on to explain that they were very neces- 
 sary to him to help him prepare his defence. He 
 had a complete answer to the charge, but until a 
 certain piece of news reached him his lips were sealed. 
 
 After a whispered conversation with the Chief 
 Constable the magistrates granted this extraordinary 
 request, and the mechanic was immediately taken 
 back to the cells. 
 
 Neither Hunt nor Major Williams was very sur- 
 prised to hear the accused's application for the 
 papers; it certainly strengthened their theory that 
 Bailey had an accomplice. 
 
 "No doubt he expects to get a message from some- 
 one probably Evans," observed Hunt. "We must 
 study all the advertisements carefully, no matter how 
 innocent they may appear at first sight." 
 
 "Yes," agreed the Chief Constable. "I intend to 
 give them my closest attention, but I don't think it 
 will help us a lot, as Bailey's bound to speak the mo- 
 ment he receives his message." 
 
 They were back in the Chief Constable's little office 
 by this time, and were preparing to settle for a 
 lengthy conference. Hardly had they taken their 
 places, when the telephone bell rang. 
 
 The Chief Constable leaned forward and picked 
 up the receiver. The call was from Forest Court, it
 
 116 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 transpired Sir Charles' butler had news for them. 
 
 Sir Henry Sandleson, the new baronet, had ar- 
 rived the previous evening, not long after the two 
 police officials had departed. 
 
 Sturman had, he said, accepted him as the lawful 
 occupier of the house, and had escorted him to Sir 
 Charles' own room, where he had left him after re- 
 ceiving orders not to disturb him before 10 A.M. 
 
 To Sturman's surprise, however, Sir Henry was 
 not in his room when he entered at 10.30 A.M. after 
 repeatedly rapping on the door. 
 
 The bed did not appear to have been slept in, and 
 no trace of the baronet was to be found. The front 
 door, moreover, had been found unlocked. 
 
 This new development considerably upset the 
 morning's plans, making an immediate journey to 
 Lymington imperative. Hunt had to make a 'phone 
 call to the Yard, so, whilst he was getting through, 
 the Superintendent, who had just come into the office, 
 and heard the news, sent for his car. 
 
 As soon as Hunt had finished his conversation they 
 started their journey, and within a short while they 
 were again travelling the now familiar road towards 
 Lymington. 
 
 In spite of a thorough search of the house and 
 grounds, Sturman and his helpers had been unable 
 to find any trace of the missing Sir Henry Sandle- 
 son by the time the trio put in an appearance. 
 
 The butler stood waiting by the porch, his usually 
 dignified face bearing a baffled, vacant expression. 
 It was clear that the strain of the past few hours 
 was beginning to tell on him. 
 
 He led the way through the spacious hall, down
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 117 
 
 the broad passage, and into Sir Charles' little study. 
 After motioning them to seat themselves, he handed 
 round a box of the dead airman's cigarettes, then 
 prepared himself for the inevitable questioning. 
 
 As usual, Hunt took the inquiry in hand. It was 
 about 2 A.M., he learned, when the new baronet rang 
 the front door bell. He arrived on foot, but ex- 
 plained that he had paid off his taxi outside, pre- 
 ferring to walk up the short drive from the main 
 road. 
 
 He had already dined and supped, he said, and, 
 after a short chat during which he deplored the 
 tragic event that had brought him there from his 
 business in the North, he moved off to bed. 
 
 Of course, Sturman continued, he was not sur- 
 prised to get orders not to call Sir Henry too early, 
 as he had travelled far and certainly looked all in. 
 
 He was able to give a full description of the miss- 
 ing man. Hunt jotted down the particulars. Age 
 about thirty-five; dark curly hair; swarthy com- 
 plexion; well built, and about six feet in height. 
 Wearing horn-rimmed spectacles and dressed in 
 Harris tweeds. Carrying a light, fawn overcoat. 
 "He bears a slight resemblance to my late master," 
 the butler added, "but, if I may be permitted to say 
 so, lacks his air of breeding." 
 
 This was all the information Sturman was able to 
 give. 
 
 Hunt sat in silence for a moment, his hand clasped 
 to his forehead, covering his eyes. 
 
 The Superintendent was framing his lips for a 
 question when the Chief Constable forestalled him, 
 taking the words from out of his mouth.
 
 118 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 "Have you made certain," he asked, "that nothing 
 is missing from the bedroom or any other room, for 
 that matter ? No papers or any articles of value ?" 
 
 "Why, no!" exclaimed Sturman. "I haven't 
 looked. But why should I?" he inquired. "A gen- 
 tleman doesn't usually rob his own property." 
 
 "Oh, no," replied the Chief Constable, "of course 
 not I didn't mean that. I was wondering are you 
 positive would you be prepared to swear that the 
 man you admitted was Sir Henry Sandleson?" 
 
 "Why, yes, sir. I would have no hesitation in 
 swearing to it. I've met him, and spoken to him, 
 before, and I never forget a face. There can be no 
 doubt whatever about it. The gentleman I admitted 
 was Sir Henry Sandleson." 
 
 "Well, in that case all we can do is to trace the 
 taxi-driver who brought him here. He's probably 
 either a Bournemouth or Southampton man," put 
 in Walker. 
 
 "Yes," agreed the Chief Constable. "That's the 
 next step, I think. What do you say, Inspector?" 
 
 Hunt drew his hand slowly down his face, raised 
 his head and looked up. "Yes, that seems all we can 
 do as regards tracing the movements of Sir Henry ; 
 but before we do anything else I should like to take 
 a thorough look over this house. Would you care 
 to conduct us?" he asked the butler. 
 
 "The servants' quarters included?" the latter 
 asked. 
 
 "Yes," replied Hunt. "With your permission, I'd 
 like to visit the whole house. We may just as well 
 do the job properly whilst we are about it. And, 
 Sturman," he added, "please keep your weather-eye
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 119 
 
 open you'll probably find something has been dis- 
 turbed." 
 
 The butler moved over to the wall and pressed a 
 bell-button. "Lay lunch for three in here," he or- 
 dered the neatly dressed maid who answered his sum- 
 mons. 
 
 "A fine idea," commented the Superintendent. 
 "You're a marvel, Sturman," he added. 
 
 "Where do we begin, Inspector?" asked the Chief 
 Constable. 
 
 Hunt considered for a moment. "Let's start from 
 the top and work downwards," he replied at length. 
 
 "Well, then, if you are ready, gentlemen, follow 
 me," invited Sturman. Suiting his actions to his 
 words, he led the way back along the passage, 
 through the hall, then up the massive main stair- 
 case. 
 
 Passing the first floor landing, they eventually 
 reached the attics. These, Sturman explained, had 
 been turned into workshops by Sir Charles, and 
 up here the dead airman had spent a considerable 
 amount of his time. 
 
 Opening the door at the top of the stairs (in- 
 cidentally this was always kept locked), their guide 
 led them along a broad, well-lit landing that ap- 
 peared to run the whole length of the house. 
 
 "There are half a dozen rooms up here," explained 
 the butler. "The two at the far end are used only 
 for storing odds and ends, but the other four are all 
 in daily use." 
 
 Proceeding down the passage, Sturman threw open 
 the bottom door. The room contained a jumble of 
 old trunks; old aeroplane fittings; and any amount
 
 120 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 of old papers, the whole being covered with a thick 
 layer of dust, while cobwebs hung from the ceiling, 
 swaying gently in the draught. 
 
 Hunt and his colleagues took a quick look round. 
 To go through the accumulated rubbish systemati- 
 cally would take them hours, perhaps even days. It 
 seemed no useful purpose would be served by such 
 a course, so Hunt presently motioned the others on. 
 
 The next room presented a more orderly appear- 
 ance, being the storage-place of engine and other 
 spare motor and aircraft fittings. A brief survey 
 sufficed, and the three officials soon passed on from 
 this to the next room, the first of those in daily use 
 by Sir Charles up to the time of his demise. 
 
 This, Sturman explained, was the room in which 
 Sir Charles had done most of his designing. It was 
 fitted up with every convenience. A telephone stood 
 by the rather disorderly mass of papers on the desk 
 in the corner against the nearer wall, and an ash-tray 
 by it showed its user to be a heavy smoker. An ex- 
 pensive electric fire was in position by the chimney, 
 and in front of it, on the floor, there lay a splendid 
 tiger-skin (bagged on the same expedition as the one 
 in Evans' study at Moorlands, Hunt afterwards 
 learned) . 
 
 A smaller desk held a typewriter, a high-class dic- 
 taphone and several reference-books. 
 
 In the centre of the room was a large, strongly 
 built, level oak bench, scrupulously clean. On this 
 were several set-squares; rulers; callipers; drawing- 
 boards and a varied collection of blue-prints. A 
 glass-fronted cabinet containing the more delicate 
 instruments lay face upwards near at hand.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 121 
 
 Hunt cast a casual glance at the plans, wondering 
 as he did so what would happen to the half-com- 
 pleted designs lying on the bench before his eyes. 
 
 Did they contain the germ of some new idea which 
 would be snapped up eagerly by other designers 
 when and if they came into the market, or were they 
 too insufficiently advanced for any but the dead in- 
 ventor to complete? 
 
 This room connected with the next by an inner 
 door, as did the remaining three, so, after Sturman 
 had assured them that, to the best of his knowledge, 
 everything here was still in order, Hunt passed 
 through the inner door into what appeared to be an 
 extremely well-equipped workshop. 
 
 Everything the practical mechanic needed to help 
 him ply his trade was here, and everything was left 
 tidily in its appointed place. 
 
 There did not seem much chance of picking up a 
 clue here, so, as Sturman was satisfied nothing had 
 been taken, they continued on their tour of inspec- 
 tion. 
 
 The next room and its contents provided some- 
 thing in the nature of a surprise to the three police 
 officials. It seemed as though they had passed into 
 the natural history room of some private museum. 
 
 Confronting them, as they opened the door, was 
 a stuffed panther, crouched as if to spring. Near 
 by, more towards the centre of the room, two lion 
 cubs gambolled, whilst their mother stood rigid, as 
 if on guard over her offspring. 
 
 "Sir Charles bagged everything in this room him- 
 self, sir," remarked Sturman to the Chief Constable, 
 his utterance given in the tone of one who has cause
 
 122 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 to be proud of his handicraft almost as though he 
 himself had done the bagging. As a matter of fact, 
 he had not been in Sir Charles' service when the 
 majority of the exhibits were taken, but he had heard 
 so often the well-deserved admiration of visitors that 
 he had come to accept their praise as a matter of 
 course. 
 
 Even Hunt, a worker at all times, but now the 
 hard-pressed investigator of two callous murders, 
 was unable to tear himself away from the room for 
 some minutes. After inspecting a few smaller fauna 
 in the vicinity of the lioness, he turned his attention 
 to the walls, around which ran tier upon tier of glass- 
 fronted cases, all numbered and labelled. 
 
 Those down the two longer walls contained birds, 
 brightly plumaged representatives of every conti- 
 nent, ranging from the diminutive humming-bird of 
 South America to the more common bullfinch of the 
 British Isles. Each exhibit was set as nearly as pos- 
 sible in its natural surroundings, in many cases the 
 nest and eggs being shown also. 
 
 The two shorter sides of the museum contained: 
 on the north side, fish, and on the south side, reptiles. 
 Reptiles of all sizes and nations from the little 
 adder, so plentiful on the headland where Sir Charles 
 had crashed, to the black mamba of Darkest Africa. 
 
 Many of the birds, particularly the English ones, 
 had been stuffed by Sir Charles himself, explained 
 Sturman. His dead master was, he said, a man who 
 could turn his hand to anything, as they would see 
 by the examination of the next room, where every 
 exhibit was of his own fashioning. 
 
 And, indeed, before many minutes had elapsed,
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 123 
 
 they all confirmed the butler's statement. For this 
 room was a veritable abode of art art in all its 
 forms. 
 
 On the walls hung drawings and paintings of 
 every conceivable kind : black and white prints ; land- 
 scapes and portraits in oil and water-colour; a few 
 hand-coloured photographs; all exquisite examples, 
 seemingly flawless. 
 
 Little tables and niches in various parts of the 
 room contained statues, wrought in metal in some 
 instances, carved in marble in others, while yet more 
 were of the purest alabaster. 
 
 Hunt recognised an effigy of Sir Charles himself 
 among the latter examples, an excellent life-size rep- 
 lica of the head and shoulders. Truly the dead bar 
 onet had been a great craftsman. 
 
 A few minutes sufficed for Sturman to ascertain 
 that the contents of the room were as they should 
 be, then the party went out on to the landing again. 
 After the butler had relocked the doors, they all de- 
 scended to the bedrooms. 
 
 Sir Charles' room was the first to be visited. A 
 spacious room, giving a grand view of the park and 
 lake, it contained very little furniture, though what 
 there was was good, and well chosen. 
 
 Among the pictures on the walls was a photograph 
 of the Evanses standing by their little white mono- 
 plane, taken but a fortnight since. 
 
 There was little to detain them here, for the room 
 bore no trace of the brief tenancy of Sir Henry. 
 Sturman paid particular attention to the room, even 
 rapidly going through the dressing-table drawers,
 
 124, THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 but once again, he assured them, everything was in- 
 tact. 
 
 The examination of the other bedrooms was brief 
 yet thorough, but it yielded no clue to the lynx-eyed 
 Inspector from the Yard. Neither, for that mat- 
 ter, did it enlighten the Chief Constable or Super- 
 intendent Walker. The downstairs rooms were next 
 gone over just as efficiently, but with still the same 
 result nothing disturbed and no clue. The mys- 
 tery surrounding Sir Henry's disappearance seemed 
 inexplicable !
 
 XI 
 THE DEAD MAN'S BOOTS 
 
 THE officials having invited Sturman to join them 
 at their meal, an extra place was laid, and the four 
 sat down to table. 
 
 For some time everyone tried to keep the conversa- 
 tion off the crimes and to talk of less sordid things. 
 But, no matter what subject cropped up, it sooner 
 or later led directly back to one or other of the chief 
 characters in this tragic drama. 
 
 For instance, an intended attack by an American 
 on the water speed record as a topic brought Sir 
 Charles' name to the fore. He was, Sturman de- 
 clared, an extremely capable, though daring, driver, 
 and his little outboard motor-boat, which he kept in 
 the boathouse on the lakeside, was one of the fastest 
 of its class in the country. 
 
 Similarly, a discussion on the danger of the motor- 
 cycle as a means of transport turned the conversa- 
 tion on to Jim Hucklesby and his hopes and chances 
 in the race for the Tourist Trophy. The next stage 
 was for Hunt to recall his exciting pillion ride, which 
 led directly to the subject of Bailey. 
 
 As the officials naturally were loath to expatiate 
 their theories before an outsider, especially one who 
 must himself be regarded (like all the others at For- 
 est Court) with a certain amount of suspicion, the 
 conversation was inclined to lapse for a time. 
 
 125
 
 126 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 Then, after one of the latest "talkies" had been 
 the subject of a spirited argument for some minutes, 
 and the talk tended to drift towards the film which 
 Sir Charles and the Evanses were engaged in pro- 
 ducing, the telephone bell began to ring. 
 
 Sturman answered the call, then immediately 
 handed the instrument to the Superintendent. 
 
 The disturber of their talk was Sergeant Kirk, 
 who had startling news. He had, he said, had the 
 body of the convict Newton removed to a room at 
 the Crown Inn at Redstock. The Coroner had de- 
 cided to open the inquest at 5 P.M. Dr. Grier, the 
 police surgeon, had decided that death was in all 
 probability due to natural causes, but he would, of 
 course, hold a post-mortem examination. 
 
 The matter that Kirk wanted to draw the Super- 
 intendent's attention to, was, he thought, peculiar, 
 to say the least of it. 
 
 He had been examining the dead man's boots with 
 a view to connecting him with the maker of the single 
 set of tracks in the adjoining meadow. He had dis- 
 covered, however (from notes in his pocket-book and 
 a photograph of the prints), that the boots were 
 much too small to fit the tracks, and was replacing 
 them by the body when something drew his eyes to 
 the dead man's feet. 
 
 It struck him at once as curious that the wearer 
 of such weather-beaten footgear as the old boots were 
 should have feet so well formed and free from corns 
 and blisters. 
 
 Bending lower, he had suddenly noticed that the 
 feet appeared to be too large for the boots by the 
 body to fit them.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 127 
 
 Losing no time, he had proceeded to put his theory 
 to the test. Unlacing one of the boots, he had at- 
 tempted to fit it to the foot. 
 
 As he expected, he was unable to do so. It was 
 obvious that the dead man never had, and never 
 would have, been able to wear so small a size as a six. 
 
 His next step had been to call the doctor's atten- 
 tion to the matter. Dr. Grier had not only been 
 able to confirm his opinion regarding the impossi- 
 bility of Newton wearing the boots, but had also been 
 able to assure him that the dead man's correct size 
 was an eight, and, judging by the well-preserved 
 state of the feet, he was confident the convict had 
 been wearing his normal size up to the time of death. 
 
 This new development was likely to put an en- 
 tirely different complexion on the case, and as Stur- 
 man had, on hearing the message was for the police, 
 excused himself and left the room, the three were 
 free to decide in privacy the next step to be taken. 
 
 Major Williams possessed a quick brain, and vol- 
 unteered his opinion immediately. "I think," he 
 began in a strong manner, "it is obvious that we 
 must now regard Newton with the gravest suspicion. 
 
 "Here we have an escaped convict, a desperate 
 man, as his record shows, hiding from justice, and 
 considering the police as his most dangerous enemies. 
 Now the murdered man, James, was a police officer. 
 That fact alone gives us a motive. 
 
 "The very fact of the convict's body being dis- 
 covered not more than ten minutes' walk from the 
 place where Ball found the body of the constable 
 shows us that in all probability Newton had the op- 
 portunity. Indeed, the news that he was up in Red-
 
 128 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 stock begging writing materials from Mrs. Abbot 
 strengthens and confirms my view that he had the 
 opportunity. 
 
 "Now as regards the means. We don't know yet 
 that he had the means, but / think it is highly prob- 
 able that he had. You will remember the ending of 
 the description broadcast concerning him when he 
 made his escape from Parkhurst last March? 'He 
 is a dangerous man, and may be carrying firearms.' ' 
 
 Here the Chief Constable paused for a few mo- 
 ments, pondering how best to continue. The others 
 watched him intently. It had been clear to them 
 all along that he had taken the murder of one of his 
 most promising men very much to heart. 
 
 Presently he continued, "Of course, the murder 
 was not premeditated. Picture yourself in Newton's 
 place. He had walked across the meadow, through 
 the marshy patch, where he must have realised he 
 was leaving footprints, and across to the hedge where 
 James stood in Redstock Lane. 
 
 "Here he was challenged by the constable. Un- 
 less he could silence him quickly and silence him 
 for good he must be prepared to go back to prison, 
 to be shut away inside those grey, unrelenting walls, 
 to lose touch with his fellow creatures, and to say 
 good-bye to freedom for the next five years. And 
 this time there would be no chance of escape a 
 prison-breaker does not get a second chance. 
 
 "Then, of course, he used his gun. Once the con- 
 stable fell dead he must have realised that he had 
 burned his boats. The thought of thf footprints 
 must have crossed his mind. How was he to make 
 good his escape? A difficult enough proposition for
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 129 
 
 any man; what must it have been like for Newton, 
 a man already being hounded from pillar to post? 
 The matter called for the greatest caution one false 
 step and then the gallows. 
 
 "Well, gentlemen we know he had been in the 
 neighbourhood at least a couple of days. He must 
 have seen the cows come up from the Valley Meadow, 
 cross the road into Angels, and then go up by the 
 spot where he must have been standing, to the gate 
 at the farther end of the pasture. 
 
 "Here, perhaps, was a chance of escape. If he 
 picked his way carefully to the road, avoiding the 
 softer patches en route, he could hope for the pass- 
 ing cattle to remove all traces in the morning. 
 
 "Then, as an extra precaution, he may have re- 
 moved his boots before going out on to the highway. 
 No, on second thoughts I'll wash that idea out. A 
 man parading the highway carrying his boots would 
 be an object of suspicion and that was what he had 
 to avoid being now at all costs. 
 
 "At any rate, I'm pretty certain that before carry- 
 ing out the next part of his scheme he walked back- 
 wards and forwards across that portion of the road- 
 way that lay between the gates, over which the cows 
 would pass, until all traces of the wet mud had been 
 removed from his boots. 
 
 "Then, when he was satisfied that all was gone, I 
 feel sure that he carried on down the main road to- 
 wards Highcliffe. Now, about three hundred yards 
 down the road from Totland Corner there's a little 
 coppice, or, rather, a little dell, the banks of which 
 are covered with bushes. The place is a favourite 
 camping-ground for gipsies. In this hollow lies an
 
 130 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 amazing collection of kettles, pots and pans, old hats 
 and other articles of apparel, and the usual quota 
 of old boots, the cast-away junk of the campers. 
 
 "At the meadow end of the gully is a deep pond, 
 through which a stream is always running you 
 know the place, Walker, I'm sure." 
 
 "Yes," replied the Superintendent. "I know it 
 well; we're always being called there to move the 
 campers on. It's private property, but the gipsies 
 seem to regard it as theirs by hereditary right." 
 
 Hunt did not know the actual spot to which the 
 local men were referring, but was able to visualise 
 it quite easily. There were many such dumps in 
 country districts, he knew from experience. 
 
 The Chief Constable started on the final lap of 
 his theory. 
 
 "Here I consider Newton to have made his 
 great mistake. Probably, due to his nervousness, 
 he wanted to get rid of his betraying boots at the 
 earliest possible moment. Seeing all the old boots 
 around, or knowing from what he had seen during a 
 previous foraging expedition that the dump con- 
 tained boots, he immediately threw his own boots and 
 the revolver into the pond, weighting the former 
 more likely than not. 
 
 "Then, to his horror and disappointment, he dis- 
 covered that all the boots in the dell were too small. 
 His plan for escape frustrated, what was he to do? 
 Far better to lie low than to run the risk of being 
 seen walking bootless on the night of the murder. 
 From where he was he had no trouble to get back 
 to his shelter it was just across the meadow and 
 the damp grass would not have marked his feet," the
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 131 
 
 Chief Constable concluded, a look of justifiable pride 
 growing on his face. 
 
 "A wonderful theory, sir," said the Superintend- 
 ent approvingly. "And right, too, I should say. 
 Every fact in its place and not a flaw that I can 
 see. I suppose you expect to recover the boots and 
 gun by dragging?" 
 
 "Yes. I'd better get some men on the job right 
 away. What do you say, Inspector?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Hunt. "Dragging seems the best 
 way of testing the soundness of your theory. I sup- 
 pose you assume that Newton carried the small pair 
 of boots for appearance' sake just in case anyone 
 looked in the hut?" 
 
 "Exactly," assented the Chief Constable. "That 
 would be the only reason." He looked at Hunt 
 keenly. "I fancy that you don't altogether find my 
 theory to your liking, Inspector?" he queried. 
 
 Hunt's thoughtful expression gave way to a smile. 
 "I find your theory extremely interesting, and it's 
 possibly correct," he replied evasively, "but, if you'll 
 pardon my differing, sir, I think you've left out one 
 important point, which has, I feel certain, a direct 
 bearing on the case." 
 
 "And that?" 
 
 "The car that stopped in Redstock Lane." 
 
 The Chief Constable was silent for a moment. 
 Truth to tell, the presence of the car had been in 
 the back of his mind throughout. "Of course, the 
 car may have had nothing to do with the crime, after 
 all," he suggested. "All we know is that it passed 
 up Redstock Lane after the constable had begun to
 
 132 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 retrace his steps from the junction of the lane and 
 main road. 
 
 "Possibly the constable already lay dead, and the 
 driver stopped the car to render assistance. Then, 
 seeing the policeman was beyond human aid, may 
 he not have driven off again?" 
 
 "He may," agreed Hunt. "Quite possibly. But 
 don't you think as he did not report the tragedy that 
 he must have had guilty knowledge?" 
 
 This question was something in the nature of a 
 stumbling-block to the Chief Constable, who mum- 
 bled something about "being in a panic," but his 
 tone no longer carried conviction. 
 
 "And again," continued Hunt. "It's my theory 
 that both this murder and that of Sir Charles Staf- 
 ford were carried out by the same person using the 
 same weapon. I can't see how we can fit Newton in 
 as the murderer of Sir Charles." 
 
 "No. I agree with you there. Newton could 
 hardly have done both murders unless there's a lot 
 more in this case that has still to come out. But 
 you'll agree with me when I say that the same weapon 
 was not necessarily used?" 
 
 "Oh, quite, sir. I grant you I may be wrong. 
 Anyhow, we shall soon know ; I'm expecting a report 
 from Inspector Carliss of the Armoury Department 
 at the Yard. It should be down any time now, and 
 I have the strongest premonition still that my opin- 
 ion will be proved to be correct." 
 
 "Perhaps so," granted the Chief Constable. "Per- 
 haps so." Then "Have you formed any theory 
 yourself, Inspector?" 
 
 "Hardly a theory, sir. Just an idea. . . . When
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 133 
 
 you 'phone up the station to get your men on the 
 job of dragging the pond, perhaps you will be good 
 enough to get this message circulated," replied Hunt, 
 producing a pencil and paper. 
 
 He wrote for a couple of minutes, his pencil glid- 
 ing easily over the sheet. "Perhaps it would pay 
 to get some bills printed too. Could that be ar- 
 ranged, Superintendent?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Walker. "No trouble at all. 
 What do you want done?" 
 
 "Just this. I'll read it through. This for the 
 police : 
 
 " 'WANTED. Information as to the whereabouts 
 of a man of the tramp class, probably of small 
 physique. Wearing boots size eight, two sizes too 
 large for him. Was in the vicinity of Redstock 
 between dates May 20th and 24th last.' 
 
 "And for the bills: 
 
 " 'Will the man who changed boots with a dead 
 man in a hut near village of Redstock between 
 May 20th and May 24th please communicate at 
 once with the nearest police station. No action 
 will be taken against him, and reward will be given 
 him for information he possesses.' "
 
 XII 
 A LOOK ROUND THE GROUNDS 
 
 THE others saw at once the trend of Hunt's idea. 
 "A good alternative theory," commented the Super- 
 intendent. "It's just as well to have two strings to 
 our bow." Then "I'll get on the 'phone at once," 
 he continued, reaching for the instrument, "and get 
 your messages out." 
 
 The Chief Constable had risen to his feet and 
 stood gazing thoughtfully out of the window. "Shall 
 we take a look round the outbuildings," he asked, 
 "whilst Walker is 'phoning our instructions through ? 
 There's no especial hurry for us to get out to the 
 pond ; it'll take the men an hour or so to get on the 
 job." 
 
 "Yes," replied Hunt. "I was going to suggest 
 the same thing myself." 
 
 The hangars and the garage being nearest to the 
 house, joined by a passage, it will be remembered, 
 it was to them that Hunt led the way. 
 
 Nothing had been disturbed here. The little sin- 
 gle-seater 'plane alone occupied the hangar, and the 
 Rover and Bugatti were still in their places in the 
 garage. 
 
 The search of the few odd outbuildings revealed 
 nothing of interest, and they were just about to re- 
 turn to Walker in the study when Hunt remembered 
 that Bailey's cottage and the outbuildings near by 
 had only had the most casual inspection. 
 
 134
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 135 
 
 At that moment a gardener came in sight. Hunt 
 called him over to ascertain if the buildings by the 
 lakeside were kept locked up during the daytime. 
 
 He thought not, he said, but would slip indoors 
 and fetch the keys in case they were, and accompany 
 them if they wished. Hunt intimated his acceptance 
 of this offer, and, after a couple of minutes' absence, 
 the man rejoined them with the necessary keys. 
 
 They were comparatively silent during the jour- 
 ney across the park, the gardener especially so, being 
 awed, no doubt, at the thought of the company he 
 was in. 
 
 Arrived at this part of the estate, Bailey's cot- 
 tage was the first place to receive attention. The 
 search here, though brief, was thorough, but no clues 
 were discovered hidden away amongst the arrested 
 mechanic's belongings. 
 
 The electric power station was next visited. Quite 
 a small building, its space was almost entirely utilised 
 by the necessary machinery. A small petrol engine 
 was fixed to the floor, just inside the door; a few 
 feet farther on stood the belt-driven dynamo; while 
 the far end of the shed held the bubbling cells. A 
 small switch-board connected to the batteries com- 
 pleted the equipment. 
 
 From here a brief visit to the repair shop revealed 
 the fact that Jim had fetched his motor-cycle from 
 the constable's house at Houghton, and had, pre- 
 sumably, returned the trusty Morris. 
 
 Hucklesby nodded pleasantly to the two officials, 
 blushing like a schoolgirl when the Chief Constable 
 complimented him again on his daring driving of 
 the night before.
 
 136 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 This concluded the search, with the exception of 
 the boathouse on the lakeside, which Hunt wanted 
 to see, more out of curiosity than with hopes of pick- 
 ing up a clue. 
 
 The wooden structure was some twenty feet long 
 by fifteen wide. It contained a couple of outboard 
 motor-boats and a flat-bottomed punt. The shed 
 had been built over a little natural harbour, which 
 allowed the boats to float in a good six feet of water. 
 
 Noticing a sodden handkerchief lying in the bot- 
 tom of the punt, Hunt stepped into the craft and 
 picked it up. Inspecting it, he found that it bore 
 the initials D. E. 
 
 "One of young Evans', by the look of things," he 
 said to the Chief Constable. 
 
 The remark seemed to awaken memories in the 
 gardener's brain. "Oh, yes," he started. Luckily 
 he spoke slowly, for the officials were hard put to 
 follow his atrocious English. "I can tell yer 'ow 
 that comes ter be there. . . . The late marster, tho' 
 I sez it mesself what 'as no right ter, used ter drive 
 these 'ere boats abaht like 'ell. Didn't use ter use 
 no gumptun at all 'e 'ad ter swim forrit on two 
 occasions that I knowed of larst week. 
 
 "Yer see that little buoy out yonder?" he queried, 
 pointing a gnarled forefinger out beyond the open 
 end of the boathouse to where a small black object 
 could be seen floating in the centre of the lake. 
 
 The two police officers replied in the affirmative. 
 
 "Well," he continued, "Sir Charles 'ad a 'abit uf 
 drivin' roune there as close in h'as 'e cud git. Some- 
 times 'e got roune sometimes 'e didn't. . . . When 
 'e was a practisin' like this 'ere 'e kept the punt
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 137 
 
 moored close by so as 'e 'adn't fur ter swim an' 
 then when 'e got ter it 'e got in an' pushed over ter 
 'is motor-boat, what didn't use ter sink but floated 
 upzide downe. . . . Then 'e'd fix a towrope an' 'aul 
 it back ashore. 
 
 "That's what I alwus sed 'ud be the endin' of 'im 
 drownin', not flyin' 'e were safe enuf up there. . . . 
 H'as I told my missis larst Wensdy, or let me see, 
 were it Tewsdy I carn't call it ter mind exactly, 
 but I know she 'ad just got back from ole Widder 
 Corrigan's an " 
 
 Hunt cut his reminiscences short. "Yes," he said, 
 "but you haven't told us yet how the handkerchief 
 came to be left in the punt." 
 
 "Lor' bless yer, no! I was furgettin' abaht that 
 thro' thinkin' uf ole Widder Corrigan, as naggin' 
 an' gossipin' ole 'ag as ever walked on two feet," he 
 replied, his dislike of the Widow Corrigan showing 
 plainly on his weather-beaten face. 
 
 " 'Twus like this 'ere," he went on. "Abaht 'arf 
 arter ten t'other night, the night they 'ad a bit uf 
 a do up at the 'ouse, I wus out 
 
 The Chief Constable pulled him up. "You mean 
 the night before last?" he inquired. 
 
 "Yes, that's right, the night afore larst. As I 
 wus sayin' I went out abaht 'arf arter ten to 'ave 
 a larst look roune at my snares 
 
 Here he stopped short and looked at the Chief 
 Constable. 
 
 "Sir Charles used ter let me do a bit of rabbitin'," 
 he ventured to explain. 
 
 "Of course. Why not?" said the Chief Constable
 
 138 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 soothingly. "I believe Sir Charles mentioned the 
 fact to me," he added untruthfully. 
 
 Reassured, the gardener resumed his narrative. 
 
 "Well, when I got downe ter a spot oppisit the 
 boat'ouse on t'other side uf the lake I 'eard wun uf 
 the moter-boats startin' up. Uf course it wus a luvly 
 moonlight night, as bright as day at the time, tho' 
 it come on ter rain 'ard later. Well arter a mo- 
 ment out come the boat at a 'ell of a lick, an' it went 
 racin' roune the lake a time or two. 
 
 "There wus two people in it ; wun wus Sir Charles 
 'isself an' t'other yung Mr. Evans, whose 'anker- 
 chief you're 'oldin' in your 'and. 
 
 "Then I set eyes on the punt comin' across the 
 water. When it got ter jus' by the buoy it stopped 
 an' I cud see who wus in it. 
 
 "It were yung Mr. Evans, a lookin' as graceful 
 as a " 
 
 He scratched his head thoughtfully, as if hoping 
 to produce a suitable word, but, receiving no in- 
 spiration, left the sentence unfinished. 
 
 "Then Sir Charles," he went on, "started ter open 
 'er out. Lor', didn't 'e muve. Seemed so much 
 farster in the moonlight some'ow. Roune an' roune 
 'e shot, gittin' closer an' closer to the buoy each time 
 'e tried. Then 'e did it once tew often, an' over went 
 the 'ole bag uf tricks an' shot 'em in the water. Of 
 course they swum ter the punt an' as soon as I see'd 
 they wus all right I pusht on ter 'ave a dec' at the 
 rest uf me wires." 
 
 "I see," said Hunt. "You think Mr. Evans must 
 have used the handkerchief to help dry himself, and 
 then left it in the punt?"
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 139 
 
 "Yessir," agreed the gardener. "That's 'ow I 
 figur's it out." 
 
 "Well, there's not much to interest us here, In- 
 spector, is there?" asked the Chief Constable. "Are 
 you ready to go back to the house?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Hunt, "we've seen all there is to 
 see on this part of the estate. Let's go and drag 
 your pond." 
 
 They were soon back at the house, and as they 
 left the gardener Hunt tipped him the price of a 
 drink. True, he had not been of much assistance 
 to them, but he might still prove of value if looked 
 after. 
 
 Walker was trying one of Sir Charles' cigars, 
 sitting well back in an easy chair, a pencil in his 
 hand and his notebook on his knee, when they re- 
 entered the study. 
 
 He closed the book when he saw them enter, rising 
 to join them. "Best cigar I've had for a twelve- 
 month," he declared. "Try one, gentlemen?" he in- 
 vited, generously pushing the box across. 
 
 "No, not for me," said Hunt. "I'll have a ciga- 
 rette." 
 
 "Try one of these," said the Chief Constable, 
 opening his case and passing it over at the same 
 time helping himself to a Corona with his other hand. 
 
 But, before either of them could light up, the tele- 
 phone bell rang. Hunt, being nearest, took off the 
 receiver. 
 
 "From the station," he announced, after a mo- 
 ment or so, then, putting his hand over the mouth- 
 piece, added : "It's about Bailey. He says he wants 
 to make a statement!"
 
 AT THE POND 
 
 THE effect of Hunt's statement on the other two 
 was almost magical. The look of intense seriousness 
 on Major Williams' face gave way to an expression 
 of eager hopefulness, whilst the Superintendent 
 grinned expansively. 
 
 "Coming to his senses, is he?" remarked Walker. 
 "Now perhaps we shall be able to see a glimmer of 
 daylight." 
 
 "Yes," said Hunt thoughtfully, "now we shall 
 know exactly what part the Bentley played in the 
 crime." 
 
 "You think he will tell the truth?" queried the 
 Chief Constable. 
 
 "I do," answered Hunt. "He's too scared now to 
 attempt any bluff. It'll be the truth, and, I think, 
 the whole truth. Don't forget the time is getting 
 on, and he has had the first edition of the paper." 
 
 "You think Evans has communicated with him, 
 then?" asked the Superintendent. Then "If he 
 has," he added, thinking deeply, and not waiting for 
 a reply, "it means, of course, that he has got well 
 away but still, he cannot have left the country, or 
 he could not have inserted the advertisement." 
 
 "And in that case his handicap should soon play 
 him into our hands," commented Hunt. 
 
 "Handicap what handicap ?" 
 
 140
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 141 
 
 "The handicap of losing all his money. We can 
 assume from what we've already gathered that the 
 whole of his worldly goods were in that bag of 
 Evans'. And, as we have the bag, it follows that 
 his movements are limited. Sooner or later he'll have 
 to show himself, and then " 
 
 "Yes," agreed Walker, "I had certainly over- 
 looked the money question. Perhaps our case is not 
 going to be so very difficult after all. Well, as we're 
 ready, gentlemen, let's get to the car. . . ." 
 
 Soon after passing through Highcliffe, they 
 stopped at the little wooded dell where the dragging 
 operations were about to take place. 
 
 A couple of motor-cycles were already drawn up 
 by the roadside, and as the trio descended from their 
 car a police tender drew in sight. 
 
 The sergeant in charge, stepping out, saluted the 
 Chief Constable, who explained to him the reason for 
 the dragging order being given. 
 
 Then, seeing the men were ready, he led the way, 
 over some low iron railings, through the thick bushes 
 behind them, into the meadow, and so round to the 
 pond. 
 
 The Chief Constable and Superintendent brought 
 up the rear of the procession with Hunt, but the In- 
 spector, after climbing the rails, chose the lower 
 route through the dell, past the pots and pans and 
 old clothes that were a conspicuous feature of the 
 dump. He halted here a few minutes before rejoin- 
 ing the others, giving his whole attention to the cast- 
 away articles of apparel. Then, satisfied, he pro- 
 ceeded through to the little party, feeling that his
 
 142 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 foresight promised to save them some considerable 
 time. 
 
 The Chief Constable stood apart from the others, 
 waiting for the men to begin. He could guess from 
 Hunt's face as the Inspector approached him that 
 the Yard man had discovered something. He began 
 to feel too that the "something" was a snag in his 
 theory. 
 
 He was not far wrong, as the Inspector's first 
 words showed him. 
 
 "I'm sorry, sir," Hunt began as he came up to 
 him, "but I'm afraid our dragging's not going to 
 be the success we had hoped." 
 
 "Oh! Why not? Out with it, Inspector. You've 
 already had a find, I know." 
 
 "Yes," replied Hunt. "I believe I have. If you 
 can spare a minute, just come with me and see for 
 yourself. It'll be a bit of a disappointment, though, 
 I'm afraid." 
 
 The Chief Constable followed without a word. 
 What clue had he missed this time, he wondered. 
 
 Walker, perceiving the other two move off, fol- 
 lowed in their wake. Opposite to the heap of rub- 
 bish, Hunt pulled up. "You'll see there's over a 
 dozen old boots in this little pile," he said. "I picked 
 them all up in less than a couple of minutes. . . . 
 You'll find every one is an eight or even larger. 
 There's not a six among them!" 
 
 The Chief Constable realised immediately that the 
 Inspector's find exploded his theory of Newton being 
 the murderer most effectively. It was hardly feas- 
 ible that the convict snatched up the first two boots 
 he came across and bolted barefoot, without even
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 143 
 
 trying them on. No, his case against the dead man 
 seemed damaged irretrievably. 
 
 But he bore no malice against the Yard man. A 
 man with the Inspector's varied experience and bril- 
 liant deductive powers was, he realised, too valuable 
 a helpmate to upset by showing signs of jealousy. 
 Indeed, he openly considered himself extremely lucky 
 to be able to enjoy the younger man's friendship, 
 and wondered whether, if he had been without the 
 Inspector's valuable assistance, Bailey would have 
 been safe under lock and key. 
 
 Although he had almost lost faith in his theory, 
 on Hunt's advice he gave the men instructions to 
 carry on with the dragging, on the off-chance of 
 something coming to light, before rejoining the In- 
 spector and Walker, who were walking to the car. 
 
 A few minutes later they were again on the road. 
 Apart from their breaking their journey at Christ- 
 church where they partook of a hurried cup of tea, 
 and a chance meeting with old Pope, the coastguard, 
 as they left the cafe, the trip was quite uneventful. 
 
 Within a few minutes of their arrival the mechanic 
 was shown into the little room where the three officials 
 sat. At a nod from the Superintendent, the two con- 
 stables who had escorted the prisoner withdrew. 
 
 Hunt proceeded to take charge of the situation. 
 He began in a kindly manner, asking Bailey to take 
 a chair, and offering him a cigarette. This the un- 
 happy man accepted, lighting it with visibly trem- 
 bling hands. 
 
 "So you're going to help us clear this mystery 
 up ?" he asked pleasantly, studying his man intently 
 the while.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 "I'm going to tell you what I was doing at Tot- 
 land Corner with the Bentley," replied the little man. 
 "You may not believe it, but all you are going to 
 hear is the truth, the absolute truth. I can do no 
 harm to anyone by speaking now. 
 
 "If you had not agreed to let me see this paper" 
 he touched his coat pocket, in which Hunt could see 
 something bulging "I should not have sent for you. 
 I should probably never have spoken and I know 
 you'll never be able to hang me on the little evidence 
 you've got." 
 
 He spoke the truth, and the others knew it. The 
 evidence was purely circumstantial, and no jury 
 would be likely to convict. 
 
 "It's going to be a fairly long story, I'm afraid, 
 but I'd better start at the very beginning. I've 
 learnt from this paper that you have found the dead 
 body of an escaped convict, Alfred Newton. I sup- 
 pose this report is quite correct?" 
 
 Hunt nodded, puzzled. "Quite correct." 
 
 "Well, then, before I go any further I might as 
 well tell you that Alfred Newton was my brother 
 . . . his real name, of course, was Alfred Bailey!" 
 
 This announcement came as something of a shock 
 to the Inspector. A totally unexpected development. 
 He made no comment, however, but produced a note- 
 book and pencil, intending to take the statement 
 down in shorthand. 
 
 Bailey had paused for a moment, but, seeing the 
 Yard man was waiting for him, he continued: "I 
 was born in a little country town near Oxford. My 
 father was a labourer and, I'm afraid, he liked his 
 drop of booze. My brother Alfred was three years
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 145 
 
 older than me we had a sister between us, but she 
 died quite young. We were always about together, 
 my brother and I, and always up to pranks. Very 
 often we used to get into quite serious trouble, my 
 brother especially so. 
 
 "One day I went with another boy named Dick 
 Brown to raid an orchard not far from the town. 
 We'd been in trouble there before that only added 
 to the fun. The farmer had carried on like a mad- 
 man the last time he caught us there. He said that 
 the next time he caught us he would hand us straight 
 over to the police. 
 
 "Well, as luck would have it, we got caught again. 
 My brother had apparently watched us creep into 
 the orchard and had seen us captured by the farmer, 
 who took us to an outhouse and locked us in before 
 going off to find a policeman. 
 
 "Alfred waited his chance and tried to help us. 
 The farmer had taken the key away with him, so 
 he couldn't open the door. The only other way of 
 getting out was by the window, but this was set up 
 some ten feet from the ground and we had no way 
 of reaching it. We were only little fellows, mind 
 you. I'm not very big now, and I was only eleven 
 then. The window business seemed too hard a nut 
 to crack, so all we could do was to sit down and wait 
 for the policeman. 
 
 "Then Alfred had a brain-wave. He hunted in 
 the other buildings until he found a rope. Looking 
 round further, he found a long rake. Coming back 
 to the shed we were locked up in, he called out that 
 he had a plan. We were to get as far away from 
 the window as we could, bend down, and cover our
 
 146 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 faces. He was going to smash the window and throw 
 the rope in to us. We did as he told us, and the 
 glass fell in with a crash. . . . But the rope never 
 came. Just as Alf was a gettin' ready to chuck it 
 up he was collared by the blinkin' farmer, who had 
 got back quicker than we expected he would with 
 the copper. This smashing of the window just about 
 put the tin lid on things. We were all three given 
 in charge. 
 
 "Of course, in those days the magistrates were 
 often too severe. We came up before a fairly lenient 
 one. He took the ages of Dick and me into consid- 
 eration and let us off with a good dressing down. 
 But he regarded Alfred, who was quite innocent 
 really, as the ringleader. In spite of our pleadings, 
 he sent him to Borstal. . . . 
 
 "Borstal wasn't the place then it is in these days. 
 When he came back to us three years later he was 
 completely ruined. He had 'got in' with the worst 
 of the inmates, and soon left us again to join his 
 new-found companions in Town. In a very short 
 time he had become a hardened little criminal. Time 
 after time he went to prison, and every time I tried 
 to get him to mend his ways. I felt, you'll under- 
 stand, that I was responsible for this terrible state 
 of affairs. I was, you'll agree, at the bottom of all 
 his troubles. . . . And it was up to me to help him 
 all I could. 
 
 "Now, long years in prison had ruined his consti- 
 tution, and when he was sentenced last time, and sent 
 down for seven years, I guessed he would never live 
 to serve his time. His heart, especially, was always 
 giving him trouble.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 147 
 
 "And then to get to recent events after his 
 escape he found his way to me at Forest Court. I 
 hid him in my cottage for weeks, waiting a chance 
 to get him abroad. Wouldn't you have done the 
 same? I had only a little money saved up, and that 
 of course was his for the asking or, without it, for 
 that matter. 
 
 "All was going well until one night he met a police- 
 man when he was walking alone in the park. He 
 did a bolt, and the constable, thinking he was a 
 poacher, told Sir Charles, who asked him to keep 
 an eye on the place. For nights on end this cop 
 kept watch in the park, coming across to my cottage 
 for a chat more often than not. I believe, myself, 
 that he had an idea something funny was going 
 
 on. 
 
 (4 
 
 Then one night, thinking the game was pretty 
 nearly up, and that I should get into serious trouble 
 over the part I was playing in it, he took his hook. 
 
 "I had no idea where he had gone, until, a week 
 later, I had a letter from him. I've torn it up I'm 
 afraid you'll have to take my word for it. In this 
 letter he asked if all was clear at Forest Court. If 
 so, he wrote, could I pick him up at 3.30 A.M. on 
 Tuesday, the 23rd of May, at Totland Corner. He 
 was in difficulties, he said; practically starving; and 
 he couldn't hope to hang out much longer. . . . 
 
 "As I told you at the inquest, Sir Charles took 
 off at 3 A.M. exactly. I waited a minute or so, in 
 case he wanted to land again, before switching off 
 the light. Then, running to the repair shop, I got 
 out the Bentley. 
 
 "I ran it down the Green Lane and out on to the
 
 148 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 main Lymington road. I drove fairly fast, and I got 
 to Totland Corner at 3.25 A.M. I'm sure of that 
 time 3.25 to the minute. 
 
 "My brother was not on the Corner, so, after wait- 
 ing three or four minutes, I drove up Redstock Lane 
 a little way so as to be able to put the lights out 
 for a few minutes, as the last thing I wanted to do 
 was attract attention. I went up about fifty yards 
 or so before stopping and switching off the lights. 
 
 "As my eyes got used to the semi-darkness I no- 
 ticed something lying by the roadside. 
 
 "Thinking perhaps my brother had hurt himself 
 whilst climbing over the hedge, or, more probably, 
 had had another heart-attack, I jumped out of the 
 car and stepped across the lane. 
 
 "I had a flashlight in my pocket. Finding it, I 
 turned it on. . . . 
 
 "Imagine my horror and surprise when I found 
 myself gazing into the face of a dead policeman. 
 
 "And what a face!" He shuddered at the mem- 
 ory. "All screwed up with pain and the hot, red 
 blood still gushing out of a gaping wound in the 
 forehead." 
 
 He stopped for a moment to wipe off the beads 
 of perspiration that had gathered on his face. He 
 was living again the dreadful minutes of his dis- 
 covery. 
 
 His very earnest manner convinced his listeners 
 that they had so far heard the truth. And his evi- 
 dence was of vital importance to the police. 
 
 "Of course," he continued shortly, "I jumped back 
 into the car, and started up. This was a nice mess 
 to be in. What was I to do?
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 149 
 
 "I guessed at once that my brother had somehow 
 got hold of a revolver, and had been stopped by the 
 policeman as he was on his way to meet me on the 
 Corner. I knew that he was desperate; that if he 
 thought he could get away with it he would have no 
 hesitation in shooting an enemy down in cold blood. 
 
 "It stood to reason that I couldn't take him to the 
 cottage after this. I had no wish to become an ac- 
 cessory after the fact by hiding a murderer from 
 justice, though, of course, I was still prepared to 
 help him in any other way I could. 
 
 "To avoid turning the car by the body, I carried 
 on up the lane through Redstock, returning that 
 way home. 
 
 "Of course, you know the rest, Inspector."
 
 XIV 
 
 THE CHIEF CONSTABLE SOLVES A 
 MYSTERY 
 
 So this cleared up the mystery of the car-tracks. 
 But, instead of throwing light on the whereabouts 
 of the murderer, it left the police more in the dark 
 than ever. 
 
 Reaching over, Hunt pressed a bell-button in the 
 wall. A constable answered the summons. 
 
 "Take the prisoner out," the Inspector ordered, 
 "but keep him near at hand. We may want him 
 again in a few minutes." 
 
 Left to themselves, none of the three spoke for 
 some considerable time. Each was deep in thought 
 attempting to reconstruct the case now so much 
 of it had seemingly collapsed. 
 
 It was Major Williams who first broke the silence. 
 "Everything points to the man Newton being the 
 murderer of my constable after all," he said. "Even 
 his brother admits that he was due at Totland Cor- 
 ner at 3.30 A.M., the scene and approximate time of 
 the crime." 
 
 He paused, then, more slowly and thoughtfully, 
 selecting a cigarette from his case the while: 
 
 "I'm now rather inclined to think that he didn't 
 throw his boots away, but I feel certain that we shall 
 find the weapon sooner or later. I'm glad I left the 
 
 men to drag the pond, in spite of the upsetting of 
 
 150
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 151 
 
 my theory by the finding of all those boots in the 
 dell." 
 
 "Yes," agreed Hunt, "Newton appears the ob- 
 vious suspect at a first glance. But is he? Let's 
 think it out. . . . 
 
 "The fact that he has been hiding on Sir Charles' 
 estate in some ways helps, and in other ways com- 
 plicates, matters. Even if we can prove that Sir 
 Charles did land in Angels Meadow, and so give 
 Newton the opportunity to commit the double mur- 
 der, it doesn't explain how Sir Charles' 'plane came 
 to crash on the Head. 
 
 "Now, with Evans doing both the murders, and 
 both at Totland Corner," he ruminated, "this last 
 difficulty disappears for Evans, with his knowledge 
 of flying, would be able to start off Sir Charles' 
 'plane with the dead body in the cockpit. 
 
 "I doubt if Newton had this knowledge I'll in- 
 quire presently but even if he had, we have the 
 presence of Mrs. Evans to account for. . . . It's 
 hardly likely that she would stand by and see her 
 best friend shot. 
 
 "No! Bringing Newton into it involves, I think, 
 a triple murder. To make any sense at all he would 
 have had to shoot Mrs. Evans also. What the mo- 
 tive for this supposed wholesale slaying could have 
 been, I can't for the life of me imagine. 
 
 "Of course, if he did kill all three, I grant you 
 Mrs. Evans' body might quite conceivably have 
 fallen from the 'plane, as has been suggested, into 
 Christchurch Harbour. . . . But to add to these 
 rather far-fetched suggestions, to make our case 
 against Newton complete, we must believe Dennis
 
 152 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 Evans also has met with disaster in some way or 
 other. He has not been heard of for over thirty- 
 six hours, and, if he is still alive and innocent of 
 conspiracy, why is he in hiding?" 
 
 "This certainly is a staggering case, an amazing 
 tangle of probable and improbable theories," re- 
 marked the Superintendent. "We build up theory 
 after theory and the Inspector picks holes in them 
 all almost before the words have had time to cool 
 out of our mouths." Then, seeing the others were 
 deep in thought, he lapsed into silence. 
 
 But the Chief Constable still stuck to his guns. 
 
 "All right," he said. "I'll grant you the case 
 against Newton alone has broken down but for 
 one thing. I still do not agree that both murders 
 were committed with the same weapon. So in one 
 theory I still say Newton alone. 
 
 "Now, in my other, I'll fall in with your theory 
 that both crimes were committed with the one 
 weapon. What's wrong with this for a working 
 hypothesis? . . . 
 
 "For some reason at present unknown to us, the 
 Evanses plotted to murder Sir Charles, but decided 
 to call in outside help as it happens, the choice fell 
 on Newton. Why it fell on Newton, we may find 
 out later, but it's not impossible to imagine that they 
 had good reasons for their choice or even that they 
 had Newton in their power." 
 
 "No," replied Hunt, "we'll agree that's not un- 
 reasonable. Carry on." 
 
 "Good. Now to continue. Young Evans has 
 made arrangements to retire to some predetermined 
 place, where Mrs. Evans will join him after the crime
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 153 
 
 has been committed. As his 'plane has disappeared, 
 it's probable that it's a yacht at sea. . . . He could 
 alight on the water by it and his 'plane would soon 
 be lost beneath the waves. Mrs. Evans, by some 
 pretext, persuades Sir Charles to make a landing in 
 Angels. 
 
 "As soon as they are down, or perhaps after they 
 have turned the 'plane round ready to take off again, 
 the convict Newton appears, and shoots Sir Charles 
 through the back of the head. . . . 
 
 "Now we can get over the difficulty of Newton 
 restarting the 'plane. He doesn't! Mrs. Evans 
 does it herself. You'll agree now, Inspector, that 
 this shows a way of getting over the mystery of the 
 disappearance of Mrs. Evans' body?" 
 
 "Yes, most effectively, sir. And then what?" 
 queried the really interested Hunt. 
 
 The Chief Constable resumed. "Waiting on the 
 main road at Totland Corner is a car. . . . After 
 seeing the 'Moth' off on its strange journey, they 
 cross the meadow to it. Just by the hedge the two 
 are challenged by Constable James. You know the 
 rest. Newton draws his gun, and a second cruel 
 murder is committed in that peaceful country lane. 
 
 "And then, down to the road. The accomplice 
 drives off with Mrs. Evans. The murderer, for some 
 reason, is prepared to remain behind and, I think, 
 the mystery is complete." 
 
 Walker, who had for the moment forgotten a vital 
 piece of evidence that was contradictory to the 
 theory, was inclined to be impressed. 
 
 "And this other accomplice have you formed any 
 opinion as to who he might be?" he asked eagerly,
 
 154 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 a suspicion beginning to take form in his mind. 
 
 And the Chief Constable's reply, "I have a shrewd 
 idea it was our intoxicated Mr. Day but not so in- 
 capable as the others imagined," was what he had 
 half expected to hear. 
 
 The Superintendent sat deep in thought for fully 
 a minute. Then he put his second question. "But, 
 according to Sturman's evidence, Day did not leave 
 the house until after the 'planes had taken off. If 
 you are relying on the lights of his car being used 
 to aid Sir Charles, how do you make the Rolls arrive 
 at the Corner in time? It could never keep up with, 
 let alone beat, the 'Moth' on a cross-country trip 
 like this." 
 
 "Oh, that's simple, Superintendent. He didn't 
 use the car lights to land by. He dropped a mag- 
 nesium flare." 
 
 It was left for Hunt to fall into the trap the Chief 
 Constable had so cunningly laid. 
 
 "Can you find a flaw this time, Inspector?" Major 
 Williams inquired. 
 
 Hunt smiled good-naturedly. "I must apologise 
 again, sir, for my contrariness," he said, "but I'm 
 afraid I can." 
 
 "And this time?" 
 
 "Quite a glaring mistake. You say that Newton 
 and Mrs. Evans walked over to the hedge by which 
 the constable's body lay from the spot where the 
 'planes had turned to take off. 
 
 "Now, as the wind was blowing from a southwest- 
 erly direction, the 'Moth,' in order to take off against 
 it, would commence its run in the northeast corner 
 of the meadow. That is, of course, from the corner
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 155 
 
 nearest to where the dead convict's body was found 
 in the hut. 
 
 "To walk from there to the hedge they would have 
 to walk diagonally almost the whole length of the 
 pasture 
 
 He paused, and looked at the Chief Constable, as 
 though to give him a chance to see for himself the 
 error into which he had fallen. 
 
 But the latter did not avail himself of the op- 
 portunity. 
 
 "What difference does that make?" he innocently 
 asked. "That's just the way I thought they came." 
 
 "All the difference in the world," replied Hunt 
 quickly. "They couldn't have walked there was 
 only one set of footprints" 
 
 "No," said the Chief Constable quietly. "That's 
 just it. They didn't walk! I never said they did. 
 She famted, and he carried her all the way." 
 
 "Carried her?" echoed Hunt. "Of course. That's 
 the explanation I've been looking for. Well," he 
 added laughingly, "you've certainly shown me up 
 this time, sir." 
 
 "And so you find no fault, Inspector ?" 
 
 "No! I can't see any harm in us working on 
 those lines. It's the best bit of reasoning we've had 
 so far. . . . There's only one feature I dislike about 
 it there seem too many in the plot! Just count 
 them up. Young Evans, his wife, Newton, Day, and 
 the crew of the yacht then possibly an intermediary 
 between Newton and the Evanses." 
 
 Before the Chief Constable could comment on this, 
 a constable knocked at the door.
 
 156 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 "Come in!" rapped out Walker in a businesslike 
 manner. 
 
 As the man walked across the room they could see 
 that he held an envelope in his hand. 
 
 "With Sergeant Smith's compliments," he said, 
 passing the missive over to Hunt. "It has just come 
 in over the 'phone." 
 
 He withdrew quietly as Hunt ran his finger under 
 the still moist flap. 
 
 Inside was a single sheet of paper, addressed to 
 him, marked, "Received by 'phone, Armoury De- 
 partment, New Scotland Yard." 
 
 The message was brief but emphatic. 
 
 "Both bullets submitted .22 calibre. Both un- 
 doubtedly fired same barrel." 
 
 With a grin of satisfaction the Inspector passed 
 the sheet over to Major Williams. 
 
 "We shall have to work on my second theory in 
 any case after this," the Chief Constable remarked. 
 "It entirely disproves my first." 
 
 He passed the message on to Walker and turned 
 back to Hunt. "What's to happen to Bailey are 
 we justified in keeping him in custody a little 
 longer?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. I should say we are justified but I 
 doubt if it is necessary. I think we've got the truth, 
 and he's not likely to bolt now, so we shall be able 
 to get in touch with him easily should we want him. 
 . . . He'll have to appear in court again. I sup- 
 pose you can fix the question of bail quite easily?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. That can no doubt be arranged."
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 157 
 
 "In that case, let's have him in. A few more ques- 
 tions won't hurt him, and if the replies are satisfac- 
 tory he'll soon be free to go." 
 
 It was a much brighter man who came to them 
 now. He guessed that the end of this interview would 
 see him virtually a free man. 
 
 Hunt again took up the questioning. "Now about 
 your brother," he began. "Had he by any chance 
 any knowledge of aircraft?" 
 
 The answer was what he had expected. "No! 
 No knowledge of flying at all; he was a compositor 
 when he was in a job." 
 
 "And now one other important question did your 
 brother ever meet either Mr. or Mrs. Evans?" 
 
 "No, not to my knowledge. In fact, I think I can 
 say, definitely, no." 
 
 A few more questions of similar reckoning failed 
 to shake the man's denials, so Hunt turned again to 
 the evidence given by the mechanic at the inquest. 
 
 Again the prisoner was adamant. His answers to 
 questions dealing with the start of the flight never 
 varied from the original ones in the slightest degree. 
 
 At last, seeing that he was only wasting time by 
 persisting, Hunt told the man he would be free to 
 go as soon as the necessary formalities had been com- 
 plied with. Whether the Chief Constable intended 
 to prosecute him later on another charge he was not 
 in a position to state, he added, as the constable who 
 had been summoned escorted him out. 
 
 "Going back to the subject under discussion be- 
 fore my constable disturbed us with your message," 
 started the Chief Constable. "If you think there 
 were too many in the plot for my theory to be cor-
 
 158 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 rect, and yet still think my line of reasoning to be 
 the right one, how do you reconcile your two state- 
 ments ?" 
 
 Hunt was toying with a pen on the desk before 
 him. After a moment he replied: 
 
 "I think Evans was undoubtedly the murderer! 
 Until just now I was puzzled as to how he could have 
 been, but I'm beginning to see daylight. . . . This, 
 broadly speaking, is my theory : 
 
 "The 'planes started from Forest Court as Bailey 
 said Sir Charles and Mrs. Evans in the 'Moth' and 
 Dennis Evans alone in his little white monoplane. 
 
 "Dennis Evans took off first, you'll remember. I 
 suggest he kept the lead until he was over Angels, 
 where he feigned engine trouble. Dropping a flare, 
 he glided to earth. 
 
 "Sir Charles, seeing his friend in trouble, landed 
 to help him. . . . Once on the ground, I think, 
 Evans ran his 'plane back up the field, turning again 
 for the take-off in the north-east corner. Sir Charles 
 probably did the same with the 'Moth' ! 
 
 "Then, before Sir Charles could get out of his 
 'plane, Evans came over and fired the fatal shot. 
 
 "Next, he would have started his own 'plane off 
 empty, and a little later the 'Moth' would have been 
 made to follow suit carrying, of course, the body 
 of Sir Charles. 
 
 "I've made inquiries and ascertained that both the 
 'Moth' and Evans' little monoplane are so easy to 
 handle that, given suitable conditions, they would 
 take off unpiloted when their lowest flying speed was 
 reached. 
 
 "As you realise, they had more than enough room
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 159 
 
 to reach their flying-speed in Angels, and I think 
 we can say quite safely that the conditions were suit- 
 able. 
 
 "The unforeseen misadventure of the 'Moth' 
 catching fire was, of course, a serious matter for 
 the Evanses. Had all gone well, the 'planes would 
 have both gone down in the sea, probably hundreds 
 of miles from land, and sunk without leaving a trace. 
 
 "Everyone would have thought that the three of 
 them had met with disaster through their folly in 
 flying over the sea in the darkness of the early morn- 
 ing. 
 
 "Xo suspicion of what had really taken place 
 would have been in anybody's mind excepting, of 
 course, the accomplice waiting at Totland Corner. 
 
 "The difficulty of there being only one set of foot- 
 prints is explained satisfactorily now. Evans car- 
 ried his wife. 
 
 "The only snag that I can see is this can we con- 
 nect Day definitely with the case? If not, we've got 
 to find the unknown who was waiting with the car. 
 And if it wasn't Day, who was it? 
 
 "The constable," he added, "was killed because 
 he had seen too much. In all probability Evans knew 
 the policeman by sight, and guessed that he himself 
 was known to the constable by name. 
 
 "This shooting did not complicate matters though, 
 as they had left no clue, and, were it not for the dis- 
 covery of the bullet in Sir Charles' remains, no one 
 would have connected the two tragedies. 
 
 "Then to add more mystery to an already mys- 
 terious affair, I'm afraid the cows churned up the 
 corner of the meadow where Evans walked backwards
 
 160 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 and forwards in sending off the unpiloted 'planes, 
 and so destroyed all traces." 
 
 "That's more like it, Inspector," agreed the Chief 
 Constable enthusiastically. "You don't need half 
 the number of people in your theory, and, after hear- 
 ing it, I'm afraid mine must have sounded a bit thin. 
 
 "It's obvious that the most important thing to do 
 now is trace this car they used. It would be the one 
 I crossed off my list as out of the case, as its tracks 
 were overrun by those of the Bentley. . . . The 
 other few tracks, you'll remember, were all accounted 
 for." 
 
 Hunt looked across at the Chief Constable rather 
 shamefacedly. "After all my experience of police 
 work, I feel I ought to be kicked," he admitted. "I 
 didn't trouble myself over those tracks at all and 
 I have only the haziest recollection of them. I be- 
 lieve I observed they were made by a fairly large car, 
 but I'm not even sure of that." 
 
 "Never mind," said the Chief Constable cheer- 
 fully. "We're companions in crime. I didn't worry 
 about them either. . . . We shall have to get on 
 without them." 
 
 Just then a car drew up outside the station. Rec- 
 ognising the driver, a Poole police inspector, the Su- 
 perintendent excused himself and left the room. 
 
 In less than a minute he was back again. Pop- 
 ping his head just round the door, he exclaimed ex- 
 citedly, "Sensation follows sensation, it's news of 
 Evans! I'll show the skipper in."
 
 XV 
 PRO PATRIA 
 
 ABOUT the time that "the skipper" was being ushered 
 into the little room at Bournemouth, where the Chief 
 Constable and Hunt were seated, the telephone bell 
 on the desk of Detective Inspector Whitfield of the 
 C.I.D. began to ring violently. 
 
 Putting down the pen with which he was prepar- 
 ing a report with meticulous care, the Inspector 
 picked up the receiver. 
 
 The call was from Sir James Spreadbury, the 
 Chief Commissioner. 
 
 Whitfield's presence was, he learned, required im- 
 mediately. 
 
 Blotting his report carefully, he folded it up and 
 locked it away in his desk. This interesting docu- 
 ment showed the result of three months' labour ex- 
 pended in the search for the ringleaders of the Tot- 
 tenham Court Road dope gang. And this record, as 
 Whitfield himself would have been the first to admit, 
 did not show the amount of progress the police de- 
 sired. 
 
 Sir James, a prematurely grey but otherwise 
 youngish-looking man of splendid physique, was 
 wearing an extremely puzzled expression when the 
 Inspector knocked at his door, before many minutes 
 
 had elapsed. 
 
 161
 
 162 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 "Take a seat, Inspector," he began, in his cultured 
 manner. "I want a little talk with you. How much 
 more progress have you made with this dope case?" 
 
 Whitfield considered for a moment before reply- 
 ing. "Candidly, sir, I can't say that we've got any 
 farther at all," he said at length. "In fact, I'm 
 afraid we're rather worse off than we were when last 
 I reported. From confidential reports that we've re- 
 ceived, it appears that the Tottenham Court Road 
 gang are doing more business than ever. 
 
 "Of course that's only to be expected. With the 
 Chelsea gang practically wiped out of existence, the 
 trade is bound to pass to Gascoigne's crush." 
 
 "So you still think that Gascoigne is one of the 
 ringleaders?" inquired the Chief Commissioner, with 
 something of a smile playing about his lips. 
 
 "I'm sure of it, sir. Everywhere we go we run 
 up against the man. He's been seen in the company 
 of Schwartz a couple of times lately, and, as you 
 know, we have enough evidence to put Schwartz away 
 for some years any tune we want to use it. But, as 
 you agree, it suits our purpose to let Schwartz go 
 free. He is more likely to lead us eventually to 'the 
 boss' than any other man we know. 
 
 "Then take Barnes. Any time we want to pull 
 him in I'll guarantee we should find the stuff on him. 
 What does Gascoigne want with a man of Barnes' 
 reputation ? 
 
 "Before he got in with the Court Road gang, what 
 was he? A little sneak-thief down by the docks. 
 And look at him now, dining at the Frivolity more 
 evenings than not and running a Rolls with a liveried 
 chauffeur.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 163 
 
 "But that's not all. I could name a dozen more, 
 both known and suspected members of the gang 
 and Gascoigne knows them every one." 
 
 "Yes," commented the Chief. "He certainly mixes 
 with a deuced funny crowd but that in itself 's not 
 a sin. What do you know of him otherwise?" 
 
 "Not a lot," admitted the Inspector. "In spite 
 of the most exhaustive inquiries, his past remains 
 wrapped in mystery. . . . He seems to have plenty 
 of money, and is a member of two otherwise respect- 
 able clubs. 
 
 "His latest flame is Marianne Barlow, the leading 
 lady of Rags and Tatters, Merryweather's new show, 
 but there my information ends. 
 
 "If only we had the help of 'Pro Patria,'" la- 
 mented the Inspector, "this gang would soon go the 
 way of the Chelsea lot. Why ever he concentrates 
 on the one gang I cannot imagine. 
 
 "A score of letters we must have had from him, 
 and in every case his information has been proved 
 correct. A man with his knowledge of the under- 
 world must have got a line on the Court Road crowd. 
 I'm half inclined to think he must be working for 
 them himself. The demand for dope will still go on, 
 and unless he helps us stamp out everybody in the 
 game he's not really doing half the good he imagines 
 he is." 
 
 "Have you never stopped to consider who 'Pro 
 Patria' might be?" asked Sir James quietly. 
 
 "No," said the surprised Inspector. "I can't say 
 I've given the matter much thought. To my mind, 
 it seems better to act on his advice without question ;
 
 164 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 he's never let us down yet. If we start a hunt for 
 him, we'll only defeat our own ends by putting him 
 on his guard." 
 
 The Chief Commissioner was fumbling in a 
 drawer. Presently he withdrew an envelope, the 
 familiar colour and size of which told Whitfield at 
 a glance the sender. 
 
 "Well, if we had decided to search for 'Pro Patria,' 
 this letter would have saved us the trouble," the Chief 
 declared, passing the missive over to the Inspector. 
 
 Whitfield studied the envelope carefully before 
 withdrawing the contents. 
 
 It bore all the usual characteristics of a "Pro 
 Patria" letter. The typewritten address was to the 
 Chief Commissioner himself, and the envelope was 
 marked "Personal." 
 
 The blurred I's showed the same faulty typewriter 
 had been used as on all other occasions, while the 
 postmark showed the letter to have been posted in 
 the Hammersmith area that morning. 
 
 His scrutiny finished, the Inspector withdrew the 
 enclosed sheet. He saw at once that the message was 
 longer than usual. 
 
 "DEAR SIR JAMES," he read, "You will agree 
 that with the help of my information you have 
 successfully cleaned up the Chelsea gang of dope 
 traffickers. 
 
 "There is, however, as I have no doubt you are 
 well aware, an even more powerful gang operating 
 in the neighbourhood of Tottenham Court Road. 
 
 "My investigations against this gang have been 
 of a somewhat different nature, and I am glad to
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 165 
 
 be able to say that I have information of the great- 
 est value. 
 
 "If, therefore, you would make it convenient for 
 you personally to see me, I propose calling at the 
 Yard to-morrow morning at 11, when I will place 
 such information as I have in your hands. This 
 will include the name of 'the boss' and several lesser 
 members of the gang. 
 
 "Assuring you there can be no possibility of a 
 mistake " 
 
 And here the good man's eyes nearly popped out 
 of his head, for underneath the typewritten "Pro 
 PATRIA" was scrawled a signature and the signa- 
 ture was that of Claude Gascoigne.
 
 XVI 
 DEVELOPMENTS 
 
 "THE skipper" proved to be an elderly-looking man 
 wearing a ragged blue jersey and rubber thigh- 
 boots. He carried an old, greasy yachting cap, 
 which he twirled nervously in his hands, and as he 
 bid the Chief Constable (whom he evidently recog- 
 nised) good evening, Hunt could see his teeth were 
 uneven and tobacco-stained. 
 
 "Captain Matthews has news of the utmost im- 
 portance for us," the Superintendent declared. "He 
 happened to be fishing out beyond his usual limits 
 or he would not have seen what he did. . . . But 
 he'd best tell you the story with his own lips. Take 
 a seat, captain and help yourself to a cigarette," 
 he added, pushing the box over to him. 
 
 The old mariner accepted the offer of a smoke, 
 and, after lighting the cigarette, sat back in his 
 chair, his uneasiness fast disappearing. 
 
 "This is Inspector Hunt of Scotland Yard," 
 said the Chief Constable, introducing the detective. 
 "You can tell your story without letting his pres- 
 ence upset you. As a matter of fact, he is in charge 
 of the case." 
 
 "That's all right," replied the fisherman. "What 
 I've got to say can be said afore anywun; it can't 
 harm nobody ! 
 
 "My name, as Inspector 'Aydon from Poole, 'im 
 
 166
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 167 
 
 what brought me 'ere, will tell you, is Joe Matthews. 
 I'm skipper of the Kathleen Norris. She's a little 
 thirty-foot fishin'-smack, as nice a tub as ever sailed 
 out uf Poole 'Arbour. 
 
 "My crew is y'ung Jim Brown an' 'Arry Bow- 
 man, but they 'ad ter stop an' 'ang the nets out. I 
 ought ter be there 'elpin' 'em by all rights, but when 
 I 'appens ter tell P.C. Coggins what we'd see'd 'e 
 'urries me off ter the police stashun ter see Inspec- 
 tor 'Ay don, 'oo sez, 'Yer must cum with me ter 
 Bournemouth an' let 'em know about it up there !' ' 
 
 After a slight pause, he began the story proper: 
 
 "It 'appens as we wuz tryin' fur new fishin'- 
 grounds well out uf the bay. We left Poole about 
 three o'clock on Monday arternoon. 
 
 "We kept the sails up an' used our little motur 
 as well, as we wanted ter get as fur out as possible 
 by dark. 
 
 "We finally fetched up at a spot about fifty mile 
 out in the Channel; a few mile west uf Swanage as 
 near as I can say. 
 
 "We 'adn't bin this fur out afore, but we 'ad 
 'eard it sed that there wus a 'ole in the sea-bed there, 
 if anywun cud strike it, which wus full uf fish. 
 
 "We didn't 'ave no luck at furst. Time an agen 
 we dropped our nets, but we didn't ketch no fish 
 until, just as day wus breakin', we got among 'em. 
 
 "We wus busy 'aulin' in about four o'clock when 
 we 'card the 'um of an airyplane. 
 
 "Thinkin* it wur funny ter 'ear wun so fur out 
 at sea an' at sich an early 'our, we all on us looked 
 roune ter see where the noise wur comin' from.
 
 168 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 "We saw the machin' at wunce it wur a good 
 way orf, coming out from the land. 
 
 "Then, as we watched, all uf a sudden 'is engine 
 spluttered an' stopped. But the airyplane still kept 
 cumin' on. A little white single-winged un, it wur. 
 
 "Straight at us it come, gittin' lower an' lower, 
 till we made sure it 'ud be on top of us. So it wud 
 'ave bin tew, only it dropped short. . . . About fifty 
 yards away frum us it 'it the water an' started goin' 
 downe slowly straight away. 
 
 "We 'ad ter finish pullin' in the nets, but that 
 didn't take long, an' in a very short time we turned 
 the Kathleen N orris about an' ran alon'side. 
 
 "We knew the airmun couldn't 'ave bin 'urt as it 
 only dropped gently into the sea. To our 'orror, 
 tho', there weren't nobody in it! . . . 
 
 "The part where 'e sat 'adn't sunk yet, but it wur 
 empty, we could see. 
 
 "Anyhow, ter make sure I stood up in the boat 
 an' looked right down ter the bottom uf ther 
 ther " He searched for a word. 
 
 "Cockpit," suggested Hunt. 
 
 "Yes, cockpit, I believe that's what you calls it. 
 Anyway, it weren't no good. There weren't nobody 
 in it. 
 
 "We waited by a good 'our ter see if 'is body wud 
 cum floating up, but no. He weren't never in it 
 when it 'it the sea." 
 
 He felt in his pocket and produced a grimy piece 
 of paper. "Jim Brown, he writ this downe fur yer 
 it's the readin' un the wings. I b'aint no scholar, 
 so I doant know what it means." 
 
 Hunt took the paper from him. He saw at
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 169 
 
 once that it was the registration number of the 
 'plane. In a bold, copperplate hand were pencilled 
 the mystic letters GE EXXGF, and the number 
 870/0076591. 
 
 With a sense of elation, Hunt realised that these 
 signs would prove beyond doubt whether the 'plane 
 was Evans' or not. If, as he himself felt certain, 
 it was, the fact that it had come down empty seemed 
 to prove his latest theory to be correct. The police 
 would be justified in applying for a warrant for 
 Evans' arrest without waiting for further evidence. 
 
 "I'll keep this, if I may," he said, pocketing the 
 document. "It's a most valuable piece of evidence. 
 And now, gentlemen, don't you think that we have 
 earned a drink? Let's all take a walk across to the 
 'Crown.' " 
 
 The others agreed that this was a jolly good idea, 
 and the entire party proceeded to the hotel, where 
 they found the Inspector from Poole already in- 
 stalled. 
 
 Then, after a couple of drinks apiece, the gather- 
 ing dispersed, Hunt to drive back to his sister's at 
 Southbourne, and the Chief Constable and Superin- 
 tendent to complete the formalities that would en- 
 able Bailey to secure his release. 
 
 The next morning again saw the indefatigable 
 Hunt up betimes. After a brisk walk along the 
 sands by a sea as calm as a mill-pond, he returned 
 to eat a hearty breakfast before going on to Bourne- 
 mouth to begin the serious work of the day. 
 
 The Superintendent, he found, was already at
 
 170 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 work in his office, but the Chief Constable had not 
 yet put in an appearance. 
 
 Walker greeted him warmly. "Still no news of 
 importance, no trace of Evans or his wife and, as 
 I've heard nothing from Forest Court, I presume 
 the vanished Sir Henry Sandleson has not done a 
 spectacular reappearing trick." 
 
 "Too bad," murmured Hunt, "but we can't expect 
 jam on it every time and, I think, we really did do 
 a good day's work yesterday." 
 
 "Yes, I suppose we did; we certainly werQ busy 
 enough," admitted the Superintendent. "But still," 
 he added, "we've got to do better or we shall soon 
 have the newspapers on our track. They're full of 
 the case this morning. 'The "Moth" Murder Mys- 
 tery,' they call it, and a good name too but I think, 
 if we have our fair share of luck, they'll soon be able 
 to cut the mystery part out of it." 
 
 "I hope so," echoed Hunt, "and 7 think so too. 
 Did you arrange to get the warrant this morning?" 
 
 "Yes. I hope to get it signed straight away. A 
 doctor J.P. is calling in on his way by. Now, there's 
 one minor matter to which my attention has been 
 drawn. It may have something to do with our case, 
 and it may not. I don't know quite what to think, 
 but I thought I'd bring it to your notice. 
 
 "A Mrs. Thornton, of Park View, a large house 
 just past Forest Court, going out on the main road, 
 has reported that her Singer six saloon, number RU 
 9081, has been stolen from her garage at the side 
 of the house. 
 
 "It appears she left the house on Thursday last 
 for a long week-end in Town. On returning yes-
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 171 
 
 tcrday, she found the garage had been entered and 
 her car taken. 
 
 "There were no servants in the house from Friday 
 evening to yesterday morning, Mrs. Thornton hav- 
 ing given them a few days' holiday. 
 
 "A peculiar feature of the theft is that the garage 
 lock shows no signs of having been tampered with. 
 Mrs. Thornton is certain that she locked the door, 
 and the servants verify this, as they tried all the 
 doors including the garage one before leaving on 
 Fridajfc It seems the thief, or thieves, must either 
 have possessed a key, or have been unusually careful 
 in picking the lock. 
 
 "This is what comes of people building houses in 
 such out-of-the-way places," he complained, "and to 
 go away and leave valuable property unprotected is 
 inviting trouble of this sort," he grumbled. 
 
 "Are there no other houses in the vicinity?" Hunt 
 inquired. "I haven't been any farther along the 
 road than Forest Court, so I'm not familiar with 
 the district." 
 
 "No the next house is a good mile down the 
 road." 
 
 "I suppose the full description has been circular- 
 ized to all stations?" 
 
 "Oh, yes Lymington saw to that last night. I 
 have it here somewhere." He went through some 
 papers on the desk and produced a typewritten copy. 
 "I'll read it out: 
 
 " 'Stolen from Park View, near Lymington, 
 Hants, some time between Friday the 19th and
 
 172 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 Wednesday the 24th of May last: Grey Singer, 
 six cylinder, four-door saloon. Registration No. 
 RU 9081. Engine No. L 2254/905281. Chassis 
 No. BJ/4085/71132.' " 
 
 "We can't do any more," remarked Hunt. "I 
 suppose it'll turn up again. It's surprising how 
 few cars disappear entirely." Then inquiringly: 
 
 "What's the programme to-day, Superintendent ?" 
 
 "Oh, that's for you to decide. I have nothing 
 special on to-day. I shall be able to lend you a hand 
 until tea-time, at least." 
 
 "Well, I've been thinking we ought to find out 
 just where our Mr. Day spent the early hours of 
 Tuesday morning. As he has probably returned 
 home, this will mean a trip to Town, I'm afraid. I 
 have his address in my pocket-book, so I think I 
 ought to 'phone him for an appointment," answered 
 Hunt at length. 
 
 "Yes that does seem the next step, Inspector. 
 Although it'll take up more than half the day, it 
 can't be helped. Even if he has a perfectly satis- 
 factory answer, it'll mean crossing yet another name 
 off our list of suspects, and so narrow down the chan- 
 nels of our inquiry. And that'll be better than re- 
 maining at a standstill." 
 
 Hunt was reaching for the 'phone when Walker 
 interrupted. 
 
 "Wait a minute," he said, "here's the Chief Con- 
 stable. He's got another fisherman with him. I 
 wonder what's turned up now?" 
 
 Hunt turned, and looked out of the window. 
 
 The Chief Constable, followed by the fisherman
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 173 
 
 Walker had indicated, was walking across the road 
 from his car. 
 
 He seemed in good spirits, for his face was 
 clothed in smiles and his attitude was that of a 
 man who has received good news. 
 
 He passed out of sight beneath the window, then, 
 a few seconds later, flung open the office door. 
 
 He was plainly excited; even his military train- 
 ing did not enable him to conceal the fact. 
 
 "Good morning, gentlemen," he began. "Al- 
 though it seems I'm not the early bird, I think it's 
 me who's caught the worm. 
 
 "This gentleman" he indicated the fisherman 
 "came to my house early this morning before I was 
 up, in fact and he has brought us news of the ut- 
 most importance. 
 
 "It's news of Evans and his wife both alive and 
 kicking!"
 
 XVII 
 AT THE BUNGALOW 
 
 HUNT looked across at the Superintendent. "News 
 of the Evanses, eh! My word, Major Williams cer- 
 tainly has caught the first worm, and a mighty fat 
 worm too, while we poor early birds haven't even 
 had a peck at one." 
 
 The newcomer had already taken the chair in- 
 dicated by the Chief Constable, and Hunt studied 
 him intently as he lit the cigarette that Walker, 
 showing his usual generosity towards witnesses, had 
 thrust upon him. 
 
 He was quite a young man, handsome in a coarse 
 kind of way, and showed, the Yard man noticed, a 
 stubble of at least three days' growth on his chin. 
 
 He wore similar garb to the visitor of the previous 
 evening, but his high, rubber thigh-boots showed 
 more signs of wear. 
 
 The colour of his nose suggested a liking of alco- 
 hol, and, truth to tell, his breath was tainted with 
 the odour of stale beer. But it was his eyes that 
 completed Hunt's unfavourable opinion of him; an 
 opinion that had its beginnings as soon as he crossed 
 the threshold. For his eyes were narrow, ferrety, 
 and shifty-looking. 
 
 The Chief Constable briefly explained how Birch 
 
 for that, it transpired, was the man's name came 
 
 to his house that morning and told him he had a 
 
 174
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 175 
 
 story to tell, but for his own safety could only tell 
 it in confidence, and if promised full forgiveness for 
 his misdeeds. 
 
 After being assured that these misdeeds were not 
 so very serious, the Chief Constable had, he said, 
 given Birch a definite promise that any evidence he 
 had to give that incriminated him would not be used 
 against him. 
 
 "I find myself entirely justified by this somewhat 
 irregular undertaking," he concluded, "for Birch's 
 story may prove to be of incalculable value." Then : 
 
 "Now, Birch, tell the Inspector what you saw at 
 daybreak Tuesday morning." 
 
 The fisherman looked across at Hunt. 
 
 "If I tell you the whole story, I suppose the Chief 
 Constable's promise holds good? I don't altogether 
 trust you plain-clothes blokes," he started, with 
 something approaching a smile. The question was 
 evidently meant without the malice which could easily 
 be read into the words. 
 
 "Certainly! If the Chief Constable is prepared 
 to overlook your sins, whatever they may be, it's not 
 for me to interfere," replied Hunt readily. 
 
 "Well, as long as I know, that's all right. Here 
 goes. 
 
 "On Monday night I went out to do a bit of river- 
 fishing up the Avon, towards Ringwood. I'd better 
 tell you first, I suppose, where I live that's Christ- 
 church alongside the river, upstream of the main 
 road. 
 
 "I keep a little sailin'-boat moored at the bottom 
 of my garden, and as the river is pretty wide I use 
 it quite a lot. On Monday night there was hardly
 
 176 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 any wind, though we 'ad 'ad a bit of a storm earlier, 
 but I found just enough to carry me slowly up the 
 river. 
 
 "As soon as I got clear of the town I dropped a 
 spinner over in the hopes h'of pickin' up a stray 
 salmon. As you gentlemen know, there's folks that 
 see harm in that an' call it poachin'," he added un- 
 necessarily. 
 
 "Well, as it happens, I 'ad a bit of luck and got 
 a couple of nice ones about seven or eight miles up- 
 stream. The time, when I hooked my second, was 
 about three o'clock. . . . 
 
 "As this seemed a good spot, I sailed backwards 
 and forwards for more'n an hour, but I didn't get 
 another. As it was starting to get light, I decided 
 to pull in my line an' turn for home. 
 
 "I 'adn't gone more'n a mile 'fore I came to a 
 stretch where there are half a dozen summer bunga- 
 lows on the bank. 
 
 "There was, I saw to my surprise, a car drawn 
 up outside the nearest one. They all 'ave their own 
 drive down from the road, which is only fifty yards 
 away," he explained. 
 
 " 'That's funny,' I said to myself ; 'I wonder who 
 that can be?' It was moonlight when I passed on 
 my way upstream, an' I knew that the car wasn't 
 there then. 
 
 "I used to come up this way a lot the summer 
 before, an' I knew the end bungalow belonged to Mr. 
 Evans 'Myns Abass' I remember the name. It 
 struck me as bein' comic. 
 
 "It wasn't no business of mine, though, an' I 
 shouldn't 'ave thought no more about it, but just
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 177 
 
 as I drew level a lady an' gentleman came out. 
 
 "I couldn't see the lady properly, as she turned 
 her back on me to lock the door. But I did see the 
 gentleman. I saw him plainly. I was Mr. Evans. 
 An' the lady, judgin' by her figur', I took to be Mrs. 
 Evans. 
 
 "Neither of them 'appened ter notice me, an' I 
 should have soon forgotten all about it, only I 'card 
 later what 'ad 'appened on the 'Ead. 
 
 "Then, when I 'card about that chauffeur bloke 
 bein' pulled in for murder, I said to the missus, 
 ' 'Ere's a nice mess to be in, to be sure. There's 
 something fishy goin' on here, I'm certain. What 
 am I to do? If I don't go to the police, an innocent 
 bloke'll most likely get 'ung, an' if I do go, I shall 
 get put back in jug.' 
 
 " 'Owever my missus said, 'You go and see the 
 Chief Constable 'isself, an' if you put it to 'im that 
 he'll get nothing by juggin' you he may let you orf.' 
 
 "I put orf comin' all day yesterday, then I 
 couldn't bear waitin' no longer. 
 
 " 'Righto, Katie,' I said. 'I'll get up early an' 
 do as you say!' That's 'ow I come to be 'ere." 
 
 The importance of this statement could not, as 
 the Chief Constable had said, be estimated. It would 
 be one of the main weapons in the hands of the pros- 
 ecution. 
 
 "Thank goodness you came," remarked the In- 
 spector. "And now for a few questions. . . . 
 
 "Did you notice the size and colour of the car?" 
 
 "Yes. I noticed it was one I 'adn't seen there 
 before. It was greyish in colour and quite a decent 
 size."
 
 178 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 "A saloon, of course?" 
 
 "Yes. It was a closed-in one." 
 
 "Did you notice whether there was anyone wait- 
 ing in it?" 
 
 "No. I couldn't see. It was turned back to me 
 ready to go out again; if there was anybody in it, 
 I shouldn't have been able to see them." 
 
 This answer was not at all satisfactory, but Hunt 
 realised that the car must have been seen later on 
 the road. Given luck, he would be able to find some- 
 one who remembered how many occupants it had. 
 
 "Well, then, if you didn't notice that, perhaps 
 you will be able to help me here. Was either Mr. 
 Evans or the lady we take to be his wife carrying 
 any luggage?" 
 
 Birch thought for a moment. "Yes," he replied. 
 "Now I come to think of it, Mr. Evans was. He 
 was carrying a little portmanteau." 
 
 "A blue one?" put in Hunt quickly. 
 
 "No, not blue. I remember distinctly now. It 
 was brown." 
 
 "Brown, eh !" Hunt thought for a moment. This 
 was not the answer he had expected. Presently he 
 continued : 
 
 "Have you ever seen the car anywhere before?" 
 
 Birch considered for quite a minute. "No. I 
 can't say definitely that I 'ave ; there's so many aboul 
 like it." 
 
 "You've never seen it coming from Lymington by 
 any chance? a woman drives it." 
 
 The Chief Constable was listening wonderingly. 
 What game was the Yard man playing? He began 
 to feel that he hadn't been the only one to catch a
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 179 
 
 worm after all. Birch's answer settled his doubts. 
 It was plain that Hunt had scored again. 
 
 "Blimey, Sergeant," he said, reducing Hunt in 
 rank unwittingly, "you're right. I remember now. 
 Wait a bit. I'll tell you 'er name." He scratched 
 his head vigorously, as if to help refresh his mem- 
 ory. 
 
 "Damme, I've 'card it somewhere. Mrs. Thornley 
 no, not Thornley I've got it Thornton! 
 That's it Mrs. Thornton." 
 
 "Quite correct," smiled Hunt. "Mrs. Thornton 
 of Park View." Then, seeing the look of astonish- 
 ment growing on the Chief Constable's face, he could 
 not refrain from adding, "It's a Singer six, registra- 
 tion number RU 9081." 
 
 Pen in hand, he picked up the official description 
 of the car that the Lymington police had circulated. 
 
 "Get this out again at once, with this addition," 
 he commanded the Superintendent. 
 
 The words he wrote were but few. Just "Hold 
 the occupants on a charge of murder." "And, whilst 
 you're out there," he added, indicating the outer of- 
 fice, "send out a full description of both the Evanses, 
 and ask for a close watch to be kept on all ports." 
 
 The Chief Constable looked up at Hunt. "Don't 
 you think a trip to the bungalow will be worth 
 while?" he inquired. 
 
 "Yes, certainly and after that I'm going to 
 search Moorlands from top to bottom, even if I have 
 to get a warrant." 
 
 "There'll be no need for that. I've always found 
 Davis most obliging." 
 
 "He's got to be," said Hunt grimly. "It's a mat-
 
 180 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 ter of time being everything now; the longer start 
 they get the harder they'll be to trace. I'm afraid 
 we shall find that they've dumped the Singer long 
 ago. 
 
 "If only you'd come before," he added reproach- 
 fully to Birch; then more brightly, seeing the man 
 looked a little hurt, "Never mind, better late than 
 never, I suppose." 
 
 They moved out from the office to where the Su- 
 perintendent stood talking to an elderly, profes- 
 sional-looking gentleman. 
 
 "This is Dr. Burroughs," Walker began, on see- 
 ing Hunt approaching. "Allow me to introduce 
 you. He has come to sign the warrants we shall 
 want two now, I'm afraid." 
 
 A few minutes later, the formalities completed, 
 warrants signed, and descriptions being flashed 
 throughout the land, the officials were free to start 
 their journey. 
 
 A quarter of an hour's drive brought them to the 
 bungalow. 
 
 They had no key, but Hunt produced a couple 
 of oddly bent pieces of wire from his pocket, and 
 after a couple of minutes' work on the lock the door 
 swung open. 
 
 It seemed the journey had been in vain. Few 
 traces of the brief visit of the owners were to be 
 seen. 
 
 The scanty furniture that had been left there for 
 the winter was thickly covered with dust, and the 
 atmosphere of the damp rooms was cold and unin- 
 viting. It was obvious that the place had been un- 
 occupied for some considerable time.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 181 
 
 It was only in the dining-room that definite proof 
 of the supposed visit was to be found. Here, in the 
 grate, a heap of ashes showed some papers to have 
 recently been burned. 
 
 Hunt bent down and gently lifted a few of the 
 larger fragments with a pair of small tweezers. All 
 he could say, though, after a most careful examina- 
 tion, was that they were the remains of a newspaper, 
 probably the Daily Mail. 
 
 "We'll take these along with us," he said, "but 
 I don't think we shall learn much from them." 
 
 After noting that one corner of the table had 
 been used as a chair, and that the mirror over the 
 fireplace had been wiped, they agreed that the place 
 had shown them all the clues it had to offer, and, 
 after relocking the door, turned their attention to 
 the gravel drive. 
 
 Here the tracks of a car were plainly visible. Fol- 
 lowing them, Hunt found that they turned right 
 for Christchurch when they reached the main road. 
 "Gone to Town, for a fiver," he said. 
 
 "And now Moorlands?" queried the Chief Con- 
 stable, climbing into his car. 
 
 "Yes, sir. And as fast as we can get there." 
 
 Davis was as obliging as possible. When Hunt 
 explained the reason of the visit, he offered to show 
 them round himself. 
 
 As at Forest Court, they started their search in 
 the attic. 
 
 But here they found no well-equipped workshops 
 and highly interesting museums. 
 
 Instead, just the usual ill-lit storage-place of years 
 of accumulated rubbish.
 
 182 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 "Nothing worth worrying about up here," re- 
 marked Hunt after a moment. "Come on let's pro- 
 ceed." 
 
 The servants' quarters on the next floor they left 
 unlocked at. Passing them quickly, they came to 
 the bedrooms. 
 
 Mrs. Evans' was the first to be visited. A little 
 bureau holding her private correspondence was ruth- 
 lessly forced. A hurried look through some of her 
 letters gave Hunt the impression that they were 
 valueless. But he was leaving nothing to chance. 
 How often he had found the most innocent-looking 
 documents to contain a vital clue. 
 
 Borrowing an attache-case, he slipped them in- 
 side, after having first sealed them in a large en- 
 velope on which he wrote: "Mrs. Evans' Bureau." 
 
 Then on to Mr. Evans' room. Nothing here, it 
 seemed. Just a bed, a couple of chairs, dressing- 
 table, washstand, and chest of drawers. 
 
 He ran quickly through the drawers. "Hardly 
 any clothes here," he observed. 
 
 Davis explained. All Mr. Evans' suits had gone 
 to Plymouth. In fact, the only one that had not 
 was the one the wanted man was wearing. The valet 
 described it. "Single-breasted, of reddish-brown ma- 
 terial, with a slight pin-stripe." 
 
 The dressing table next claimed Hunt's attention. 
 
 In the second drawer he opened there lay a type- 
 written envelope. He snatched it up eagerly. To 
 his disappointment it did not contain a letter. In- 
 stead, only an assortment of various sized suction 
 pads for an upper dental-plate. 
 
 He flung it back, exasperated, and continued.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 183 
 
 A few bills in one of the small side-drawers went 
 the way of the letters in Mrs. Evans' bureau. 
 
 Then to the other bedrooms. Each was unoc- 
 cupied, so the inspection was but brief. None of 
 them offered a clue. 
 
 Evans' study was the first ground-floor room to 
 be examined. The desk here would not yield to 
 Hunt's wire and had to be forced. There was sin- 
 gularly little correspondence in it. What there was 
 he hurriedly docketed and slipped into the bag. 
 
 The other rooms were soon disposed of. Quick 
 as the search was, it was thorough. Even the house- 
 keeping bills and account-books were carried off. 
 
 "Where to now?" asked the Chief Constable as 
 they finished the task. "Back to the station?" 
 
 "Yes. We must try to sort out these" indicating 
 the contents of the bag "but I'm afraid we shall 
 be interrupted by news of the finding of the car."
 
 XVIII 
 THE HUNT BEGINS IN EARNEST 
 
 BACK at the station, the officials set about the al- 
 ways unpleasant business of prying into other peo- 
 ple's correspondence. Even though he was certain 
 that she was a murderess, Hunt felt a slight feeling 
 of revulsion as he began to read carefully the letters 
 he had taken from Mrs. Evans' bureau. 
 
 Most of them were of comparatively recent re- 
 ceipt, some of them being business letters from her 
 dressmakers and hairdressers, others invitations to 
 various social events and dances, while several were 
 from an unknown Biddy, who, it seemed, had been en- 
 joying a most profitable run of luck at Monte Carlo. 
 All of them, however, made most uninteresting 
 reading to an outsider, and Hunt was not sorry when 
 he put down the last of the loose ones. 
 
 Only a small bundle now remained. These were 
 tied neatly with blue ribbon. As he began to untie 
 them, he thought of the words of the still popular 
 waltz : V 
 
 Some letters tied with blue, 
 
 A photograph or two, 
 
 I see a rose from you, 
 
 Among my souvenirs. 
 
 Were these, he wondered, souvenirs the passionate 
 love-letters of some still remembered swain? 
 
 The bundle untied, he picked up the first one. It 
 
 184
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 185 
 
 was over three years old, but the writing, he thought, 
 seemed familiar. 
 
 "My Own Darling Peggy," it began, and ap- 
 peared to continue in the same romantic strain. 
 
 After reading a few lines, he turned to the back 
 page. He saw at once what he had half expected 
 to see. The writer had been the late Sir Charles 
 Stafford. 
 
 Putting it down, he picked up the next. The 
 handwriting was similar. A hurried inspection 
 showed him that all the others originated from the 
 same source, and all, he saw, were couched in the 
 same terms of endearment "Sweetheart of all my 
 Dreams"; "Wonderful One"; "My Own Glorious 
 Little Girl" to quote but few as examples. 
 
 "Perhaps there's a clue here, after all," he said 
 aloud. 
 
 "What have you found?" asked the Superintend- 
 ent, looking up. "Love-letters?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Hunt. "Love-lettersbut the 
 most recent is over three years old." 
 
 He settled down again to read through the sen- 
 timental "nothings" a man will always write to the 
 woman he fancies himself in love with. 
 
 But what he read had little bearing on the case. 
 There was no hint of a quarrel, nothing to show 
 what had occurred to upset the plans of an early 
 marriage that the dead man spoke so enthusiasti- 
 cally of. 
 
 Baffled, Hunt retied the letters with their ribbon, 
 and set to work on a batch he picked from the others 
 still in the bag.
 
 186 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 Promptly as Big Ben chimed the hour of eleven 
 Claude Gascoigne came to Scotland Yard. A police 
 constable immediately ushered him into the presence 
 of the Chief Commissioner. 
 
 Sir James Spreadbury greeted him warmly; al- 
 most with brotherly affection. 
 
 "So you're the gentleman to whom we owe so 
 much " he began. 
 
 But Gascoigne waved him down. "It was noth- 
 ing, Sir James," he said, "nothing at all. . . . Any 
 other decent-minded Britisher, given the opportu- 
 nity, would have done the same. I had that oppor- 
 tunity that was all." 
 
 "Well, I'm glad you dlcC get the opportunity, Mr. 
 Gascoigne. How you got it I do not intend to in- 
 quire, but I will say, in passing, that for a long time 
 past your comings and goings have been regarded 
 with curiosity, not to say suspicion, by my men." 
 
 "I am well aware of it, Sir James, well aware of 
 it. In fact, on one or two occasions their presence 
 has, metaphorically speaking, almost resulted in the 
 killing of the goose that lays the golden egg. But 
 I came here to give you valuable information, and 
 so, as I'm a busy man, I propose to waste no time. 
 No one can hear us in here?" he inquired question- 
 ingly. 
 
 "No, no one, Mr. Gascoigne; the walls are abso- 
 lutely sound-proof, and, as you can see, there's no 
 one here but us," replied the Chief Commissioner. 
 He did not think it necessary to explain that all that 
 was taking place was being recorded by a dicta- 
 phone. 
 
 "Very well then. As I have your assurance that
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 187 
 
 we cannot be overheard, I'll give you the names I 
 promised. . . . You realise," he went on, taking a 
 slip of paper from his notebook the while, "if it 
 should ever leak out that Claude Gascoigne supplied 
 this information, to-day will prove a very disastrous 
 day for me. I never forget the ancient saying, 
 'Walls have ears,' and even Scotland Yard may have 
 traitors within its gates, you know." 
 
 Then, reading from the list, he began: "These 
 are the names of several prominent members of the 
 gang. A man named Schwartz I don't know his 
 Christian name, but he is known as 'Issy' to his 
 friends, and is, I believe, well known to the police. 
 
 "Wilfred Barnes he drives about in his Rolls 
 and runs an expensive flat in Knightsbridge. 
 
 "Jerry Scott and Lennox Hugonin they're two 
 ex-confidence men and a couple of others of whom 
 I know little save that their names are Brewer and 
 McKenzie." 
 
 Sir James smiled grimly. Every one of the men 
 whose names had been read out was a suspected traf- 
 ficker. 
 
 "They are meeting to-night at eight o'clock at 
 a house in Devonshire Avenue No. 121, to be pre- 
 cise. A consignment of cocaine and heroin will be 
 distributed on the premises. 
 
 "To get this information, I need hardly add, I 
 have had to run the greatest risks. However, I am 
 certain it is correct, so I hope you will use it to the 
 best advantage and take them all red-handed." 
 
 "We shall certainly. You can be assured of 
 that," replied Sir James with enthusiasm. "I sup-
 
 188 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 pose," he added, "we shall take the 'boss' there too?" 
 "I'm afraid not," corrected the other man. 
 "Not? Why not? Isn't he going to be there?" 
 No he won't be there." Then softly and 
 
 slowly: "You see he's dead." 
 
 "Dead," echoed Sir James. "You don't mean it !" 
 "Yes, dead. Murdered, in fact. He was Sir 
 
 Charles Stafford" 
 
 
 
 Hardly had Hunt had time to scan the first of the 
 letters taken from Evans' desk when the telephone 
 bell rang. The Superintendent picked up the in- 
 strument. 
 
 "It's for you, Inspector," he said; "they've put 
 it through from the outer office." 
 
 Sir James Spreadbury was on the other end of 
 the wire. 
 
 In a very few moments he had told Hunt of 
 Claude Gascoigne's amazing disclosures. "Appar- 
 ently," he explained, "Sir Charles had been doing 
 the smuggling himself, bringing the dope from the 
 Continent by air." 
 
 He had taken little part in the actual distribution, 
 but the method of this distribution had been devised 
 by the dead man, who was the brains of the gang. 
 
 Only one or two of the heads knew who "the boss" 
 was; although he was occasionally present at the 
 meetings, he was always masked, and allowed no one 
 to question his authority. 
 
 "He had us completely in the dark, you know," 
 the Chief concluded, "and I'm wondering if his mur- 
 der was due to his connection with the gang."
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 189 
 
 "Yes," replied Hunt, "I have every reason to 
 think that it was. We know the murderer, Evans, 
 for whose arrest we hold a warrant, is himself mixed 
 up in some shady business. Do you think you can 
 see Gascoigne again, and get him to do his utmost 
 to find out whether Evans was in any way connected 
 with the Chelsea crowd? We know for certain that 
 Evans was being pushed out of business, and if we 
 knew that he was in the dope game we should have 
 our motive straight away. Not that we haven't a 
 prima facie case against him already we have 
 but we want to leave nothing to chance." 
 
 "I'll do the best I can," answered Sir James, "and 
 in the meantime Gascoigne will have a 'shadow' fol- 
 lowing who will not leave him day or night. 
 
 "Neither Whitfield nor myself entirely trusts the 
 man, in spite of his open-handed actions, and we 
 both have a feeling that there's a lot more than 
 meets the eye in his denunciations." 
 
 "A good idea," commented Hunt. "He may easily 
 be paving the way for a gang of his own. Keep an 
 eye on him by all means." 
 
 A brief review of the murder case by Hunt con- 
 cluded the conversation, and he returned once more 
 to the letters. 
 
 He was not allowed to work at them for long. 
 The 'phone bell rang again, and this time Walker 
 announced that a Swanage Inspector had arrived 
 with Hunt's tramp. "They are showing him in at 
 once," he added. 
 
 Almost immediately there was a knock at the door. 
 The two new arrivals provided a striking contrast; 
 the Inspector tall and generously proportioned, the
 
 190 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 tramp a miserable-looking specimen of humanity, 
 standing no more than four foot ten. 
 
 As soon as they were seated, the Inspector began : 
 "We received your message warning us to look out 
 for a man of the tramp class wearing an exception- 
 ally large pair of boots for his size," he said, "and, 
 acting on this information, P.C. Burgin stopped this 
 fellow as he was coming into the town. 
 
 "It was soon obvious that he was the man you 
 wanted to interview. . . . As I had to come this way, 
 I brought him over with me." 
 
 The tramp, who said his name was Jack Jones, 
 was able to tell his story in a fairly coherent manner. 
 
 On the previous Sunday, he related, he had set out 
 from Southampton to walk to Plymouth, where he 
 hoped he might find work. On Monday evening he 
 came to the cattle-shelter near Redstock just as dusk 
 began to fall. 
 
 To his surprise, he found the hut already had an 
 occupant, and this other man, he discovered, was 
 seriously ill. 
 
 It was his heart, he explained t(? the tramp, but 
 he would not allow him to go for help, saying that 
 he had been like it many times before and he knew 
 from experience that the spasm would soon pass. 
 
 After an hour it did pass, but later another attack 
 came on, and he died almost immediately. This 
 would be just after midnight. 
 
 Seeing that he could do no more, he did not relish 
 the idea of spending the night with the dead body, 
 and decided to find another spot farther on. 
 
 Before leaving, however, he noticed that his dead 
 companion's boots were considerably more service-
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 191 
 
 able than his own, so he decided to appropriate them. 
 
 He found, however, that they were much too large, 
 and he had to stuff them with grass. This measure 
 had the desired effect, and he set off again on his 
 journey. 
 
 "The time then," he replied to Hunt's questioning, 
 "was not quite 1 A.M." 
 
 He had immediately set off for Bournemouth, 
 where he spent most of Tuesday asleep under a 
 hedge, and then by easy stages tramped to Swanage, 
 where he had been stopped by the police. 
 
 "Well, this clears Newton," the Superintendent 
 remarked. "If he was dead at one o'clock he could 
 not have had a hand in the affair." 
 
 "No," agreed the Chief Constable, "he couldn't. 
 That's obvious." 
 
 Hunt, after inspecting the boots and satisfying 
 himself that they could not have made the once mys- 
 terious single set of tracks, told the tramp to wait 
 outside for a moment. 
 
 "What shall we give him?" he queried. "His evi- 
 dence was not of much value, as we had already prac- 
 tically dismissed Newton from the case. Do you 
 think a pound too much?" 
 
 "No," replied the Chief Constable. "That won't 
 break us. I'll go and see what I can do about it." 
 
 He rose and passed out to another room. 
 
 He had hardly left when the 'phone bell rang 
 again. This time what the Inspector heard told 
 him the hu/it was on in earnest. 
 
 The Singer had been traced to an all-night garage 
 just outside Winchester. It had been left there by 
 a lady and gentleman who had driven up early on
 
 192 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 Tuesday morning and complained of engine trouble. 
 
 They had afterwards proceeded on their journey 
 to Bath in a Morris Cowley two-seater they had bor- 
 rowed for a day or two whilst the Singer was being 
 put in order. The number of the Morris was, he 
 learned, RU 9188. 
 
 The Chief Constable re-entered as Hunt was put- 
 ting down the instrument. 
 
 On hearing the news, he was all for the three of 
 them driving out to Winchester straight away. 
 
 This course was agreeable to the others, so, after 
 giving orders for the Morris's number and descrip- 
 tion to be circulated, the three officials hurried to 
 the Chief Constable's high-powered car. 
 
 "How far is it?" queried Hunt. "Forty miles?" 
 
 "Just over," answered the Chief Constable. 
 
 "Bet you five shillings you don't do it in an hour !" 
 
 The Chief Constable looked at Hunt. "Really you 
 are a reckless devil, Inspector," he began. Then, 
 slipping in his gears, "Righto! It's a bet."
 
 XIX 
 THE SECRET CODE 
 
 ONE hour, four minutes, fifteen seconds later, the 
 Chief Constable brought his car to a standstill out- 
 side McAndrew's All-Night Garage. 
 
 "You win, Inspector," he said, "but you wouldn't 
 have done if it hadn't been for that confounded 
 brewer's dray holding us up in Southampton." 
 
 The Inspector smiled. "Better luck next time," 
 he said. "It was certainly a close shave for me." 
 
 Mr. McAndrew himself was in attendance at the 
 garage, having been warned of the officials' impend- 
 ing arrival. 
 
 He invited them into his private office, where he 
 produced a bottle of whisky and a syphon of soda- 
 water. 
 
 He repeated the story of the fugitives' arrival 
 over the drinks, and added that no trace of engine 
 trouble in the Singer was to be found. 
 
 It was unfortunate that he had himself been at 
 the garage at the time, he said, for had the petrol- 
 pump attendant alone been in charge he would not 
 have dared sanction the exchange of cars. 
 
 "I don't think it's made much difference," replied 
 Hunt. "If they hadn't been able to leave the Singer 
 here they would have dumped it somewhere else. 
 They won't keep the Morris either," he added. "It'll 
 turn up some time to-day. 
 
 193
 
 194 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 "Now about the lady and gentleman. Do you 
 recognise them from these photographs?" He 
 handed the proprietor a couple of snaps he had 
 found in Evans' desk. 
 
 The man looked at them intently for a minute or 
 so. "It certainly is the man," he declared at length, 
 "but I'm not at all sure about the woman. The lady 
 in this photograph is a blonde; the lady in the car, 
 I'm almost positive, was a brunette!" 
 
 "Dye," suggested the Superintendent. 
 
 "Yes possibly," put in Hunt, "or, perhaps, a 
 wig." 
 
 The telephone bell started to ring, cutting short 
 any chance of further conversation. 
 
 The call was for the trio, from Bournemouth 
 police station. 
 
 The Morris had been reported found abandoned 
 near Surbiton railway station. 
 
 "Then they've got to Town," exclaimed Hunt. 
 "We shall have the dickens of a job to find them 
 now." 
 
 "Shall we follow them up?" asked the Chief Con- 
 stable. 
 
 "We might as well," replied Hunt; "the stage 
 seems set now for a scene in London." 
 
 Two hours later found them in Surbiton police 
 station. The story that the sergeant in charge had 
 to tell was not at all helpful. 
 
 A patrolling constable had first noticed the car 
 parked in Stourfield Drive at 9 A.M. on Tuesday 
 morning. He had observed at frequent intervals
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 195 
 
 throughout the day that the car was still in the 
 same place. 
 
 The drive is a cul-de-sac, the sergeant explained, 
 and cars are frequently left there for hours at a 
 time. 
 
 It was not until he was passing at midnight, off 
 duty and in plain clothes, that the constable became 
 suspicious, as the car lights were not switched on. 
 
 He reported the matter to the police station, and 
 another constable was detailed to keep an eye on it 
 for an hour or two, and then, if no one turned up 
 to claim it, he was to drive it to the police station. 
 
 No one had turned up, so the car had come into 
 the possession of the police. Neither had anyone 
 reported its loss, and they were in the act of tracing 
 it when Hunt's message had come to hand. 
 
 As this was all the help the local police were able to 
 give, Hunt suggested that it might pay them to make 
 inquiries at the railway station in the hopes that 
 someone may have remembered seeing the Evanses 
 there. 
 
 But although they interviewed every official who 
 had been on duty that Tuesday morning, including 
 a couple of porters who were away from work and 
 had to be called from their beds, no one could def- 
 initely remember the couple. 
 
 The only slender clue they obtained was that a 
 man who appeared somewhat agitated had taken a 
 couple of tickets for Kingston at approximately 8.45 
 A.M. on Tuesday. He had a lady companion, the 
 booking-clerk noticed, and, as far as he could recol- 
 lect, they were carrying two or three suit-cases. 
 
 The Chief Constable and Walker thought it might
 
 196 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 pay them to go along to Kingston to see if any fur- 
 ther trace of the couple could be picked up there, 
 but Hunt decided to go straight to the Yard and 
 get as many men as he could out on the search. So, 
 after arranging to meet at ten o'clock that evening 
 at a hotel Hunt mentioned (situated close to the 
 Yard), the party split up; Hunt leaving by train, 
 and the others going on in the car. 
 
 ....... 
 
 Back at the Yard, Hunt went along to see the 
 Chief Commissioner immediately. 
 
 When Sir James heard that the wanted couple 
 had reached Town, he gave orders that every man 
 who could be spared was to concentrate on a search 
 of the hotels. Meanwhile Hunt's two snaps were 
 to be enlarged, and the photos, with as detailed a 
 description as it was possible to furnish, were to be 
 sent out post haste to all stations. 
 
 By the time this had been done, and he had eaten 
 a good square meal, Hunt realised that it was well 
 past seven o'clock. He suddenly thought of the raid 
 that was shortly to be made on the house in Devon- 
 shire Avenue, and decided that it might be worth 
 his while to be present. 
 
 He hurried along to Detective-Inspector Whit- 
 field's office and volunteered his services. Whitfield, 
 who was glad to receive this unexpected offer, rapidly 
 disclosed his plans. 
 
 The area containing the avenue was, he said, al- 
 ready surrounded, and the detectives were all armed. 
 Whitfield obviously expected trouble. 
 
 A few minutes before eight o'clock three innocent-
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 197 
 
 looking vans drove leisurely out of Scotland Yard. 
 
 The first, containing Hunt and Whitfield, in addi- 
 tion to half a dozen beefy detectives, was to all ap- 
 pearances a greengrocer's delivery van. It bore bore 
 on its green canvas covering, the words, "R. Simms : 
 Fruiterer," and an address in Camden Town. From 
 the outwardly decrepit state of the vehicle, passers- 
 by were apt to infer that "R. Simms: Fruiterer," 
 was not doing so well in business as he might. But 
 had any of these speculating idlers seen the speed 
 of the car when given full throttle, they would soon 
 have changed their opinion. 
 
 The next car, in charge of Sergeant Grice, was 
 to all intents and purposes the removal van of one 
 "G. Wardle: Carrier." But the half-dozen occu- 
 pants often found it their duty to remove more than 
 mere furniture. 
 
 The third and last car, bearing the lettering and 
 arms of one of the best-known firms in the grocery 
 business, was both new and speedy. Its interior was 
 divided into two compartments, the inner of which 
 was wont to receive unwilling and unrepentant gen- 
 tlemen who often tried to resort to violence. But 
 its unyielding sides were, as many optimistic crim- 
 inals had discovered, built of far tougher metal than 
 the tin they appeared to be at first sight. 
 
 Before reaching their destination the three cars 
 separated; Sergeant Grice's car going on down the 
 main road past the avenue; drawing up, after fol- 
 lowing one or two short and twisty roads, almost 
 immediately opposite the kitchen garden at the rear 
 of No. 121. 
 
 Hunt's car followed more slowly, turning into the
 
 198 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 avenue itself, and continuing down it at the same 
 leisurely gait. 
 
 As it turned from the main road, Hunt noticed 
 a match-seller, who was standing in the gutter, put 
 his thumb up. 
 
 "O.K.," observed Whitfield, in the best talkie style. 
 "They're there." 
 
 It was more than a coincidence that, as they 
 reached a point just opposite No. 83, the supposed 
 grocery van came into sight at the other end of the 
 road. It was a distance of some fifty yards from 
 No. 83 to No. 121, and from the latter to the end 
 of the avenue another fifty. 
 
 The timing so far was perfect, and Hunt was 
 comforted to know that by the time they reached 
 the doorway, a party, some eight to ten strong, 
 would be climbing quickly into the back garden. 
 
 In less time than it takes to tell, the cars drew 
 up outside the house, a dozen or more men appear- 
 ing in the roadway as if by magic. 
 
 Whitfield immediately took charge. After inef- 
 fectively trying the bell, he knocked authoritatively 
 on the wooden panel of the door. 
 
 Still no answer the house was as silent as the 
 night. 
 
 After a moment he rapped again. "Open in the 
 name of the law!" he demanded. 
 
 His voice brought the neighbours to their doors. 
 "Get back in, and stay in," he advised. "There's 
 going to be trouble here." 
 
 Seeing that no amount of knocking was going to 
 procure the opening of the door, he beckoned three 
 of his men forward.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 199 
 
 "Down with it," he said, drawing his revolver to 
 cover his men from possible attack. 
 
 A couple of hefty barges and the door swung open 
 with a splintering crash. 
 
 The hall appeared deserted, so Whitfield beckoned 
 all but four of his men forward. 
 
 A search of the downstairs rooms was of no avail ; 
 a betraying cigarette was still smouldering in an 
 ash-tray, but the birds had flown. 
 
 Running up the stairs with half a dozen followers, 
 Whitfield flung open the bedroom doors. But the 
 first floor too was deserted. 
 
 There only remained the cellar now. It was there 
 that they found them, every one of the men Gas- 
 coigne had named. But there was little fight in the 
 gang; a tame ending to what had promised to be a 
 hair-raising affair. 
 
 In a very short time the prisoners were hand- 
 cuffed and brought into the light of the dining-room. 
 They refused to admit that they had met to dis- 
 tribute dope, strenuously denying Whitfield's sug- 
 gestion that any "snow" was concealed in the house. 
 
 This left the police no choice but to search the 
 premises. It was some little time before the pro- 
 hibited drugs came to light stuffed well down be- 
 hind the back and sides of a divan. 
 
 Without the finding of the dope the police had 
 no case against the men, but the discovery of it 
 sealed their fate. 
 
 And the men knew it. "That swine Gascoigne 
 betraying his mates again," McKenzie swore under 
 his breath.
 
 200 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 But Hunt, who had remarkable hearing, caught 
 the sentence. 
 
 "What do you know of Gascoigne ?" he demanded 
 of the man. 
 
 McKenzie remained dumb. 
 
 "Do you hear?" Hunt stormed, losing his temper 
 at the sight of the other's insolent stare. "What 
 do you mean by ogam?" 
 
 But still no answer. McKenzie apparently was 
 determined not to speak. 
 
 Just then the detective who had been disguised 
 as a match-seller entered. With him, hand-cuffed 
 to him in fact, was an old lag, one Wallace Hayley. 
 
 This man, Hunt recalled, had long been a sus- 
 pected member of the Chelsea gang. The police had 
 "pulled him in" on more than one occasion lately, 
 but had been unable to prove anything against him. 
 If he was actually still in the game, it seemed he 
 was being unusually cautious, for he had managed 
 to keep out of serious trouble for at least four years. 
 
 "Saw this bird trying to slink by the top of the 
 avenue," said the detective laconically, "and, as you 
 told me to keep an eye open for suspicious charac- 
 ters, I went across to have a little chat with him. I 
 didn't altogether like his manner, so I suggested a 
 stroll down to see you, Inspector. He didn't like 
 the idea, and tried to get funny, so I've had to bring 
 him against his will." 
 
 Whitfield crossed over to the man. It was obvious 
 that the latter was perturbed. 
 
 "What's the matter, Wally ?" the Inspector began 
 pleasantly. "You don't usually resent my presence 
 as much as this. Perhaps you've something in your
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 201 
 
 pocket you wouldn't like me to see; eh? Ix>ve-let- 
 ters, perhaps? You ought to be ashamed of your- 
 self, Wally, at your age and with a dear trusting 
 wife at home too." Hayley's domestic troubles were 
 well known to the Inspector. 
 
 The prisoner turned purple with rage at the In- 
 spector's bantering. "I'll stop all this," he threat- 
 ened. "Pulling a law-abiding citizen in every time 
 he happens to be on the streets. I'll get you fired 
 for this, Whitfield. This is the fourth time it's hap- 
 pened in as many months. I'll see the Home Secre- 
 tary himself you mark my words." 
 
 "Quit likely you will, Wally. Quite likely," re- 
 plied Whitfield calmly. "He's visiting Wormwood 
 Scrubs over the week-end. I can make arrange- 
 ments for you to be housed there, maybe," he added 
 thoughtfully. "One prison's as good as another 
 these days, I'm told." 
 
 Hayley was more livid than ever. He wrestled 
 with the bracelets in a futile effort to get free. If 
 looks alone could kill, Whitfield was as good as dead. 
 
 Then, seeing he was trapped, he abandoned the 
 struggle. Flinging himself into a near-by chair (the 
 detective had slipped the other handcuff on to him 
 long since), he lay huddled, almost exhausted by the 
 intensity of his own emotions. "Now do your worst, 
 Whitfield," he challenged defiantly. 
 
 "Look him over, one of you," was the Inspector's 
 answer. 
 
 He offered no further resistance, and his pockets 
 were gone through in a trice. 
 
 This time, though, he was caught with the stuff.
 
 202 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 His pockets contained more dope than the detectives 
 had found in the settee. 
 
 The only other interesting discovery was, 
 strangely enough, a letter; but it was not a love- 
 letter. 
 
 Hunt picked it up. 
 
 It appeared to be in code, for the typewritten 
 address on the envelope was unreadable: 
 
 Tr Fyx Pitx, 
 
 XV. Gyenm Pinhj, 
 Oljdhek. 
 
 was the inscription it bore. 
 
 The single sheet inside was also typewritten and 
 equally mysterious. It was impossible to understand 
 a word of what was written, for the message though 
 short, ran as follows: 
 
 "F rq jq xxoi runu. Zfr tx ec xw jxhh. Z 
 wz wrg jzxqz. Vo iru pxt ijy xzt? Nmu jwbx 
 hwi fxu qqi itu qci. Qqo ygxz tqx pjq bip jpz 
 c goz txk xtz. Tnjz fzqz voir j ujxk znzgu. 
 Twxp xgu exhmz ggwi. Hxtx muh hp x qq?" 
 
 As soon as he realised that he was merely wasting 
 time in attempting to solve the code himself, he de- 
 cided to send it to the expert at the Yard. As there 
 seemed quite a variety of letters, he had no doubts 
 but that Sergeant Headly would find it quite a sim- 
 ple matter to decipher the message. 
 
 Putting the letter in his pocket, he crossed over 
 to Whitfield. "What's the programme now, Dick?" 
 he asked.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 203 
 
 Whitfield was looking thoughtfully at a key he 
 had picked up from amongst the contents of Hay- 
 ley's pockets. "Wally hangs out in the next road, 
 I believe. What about a look over his premises?" 
 
 "Yes, by all means. I'd no idea he lived so close." 
 
 Five minutes later found them in No. 29 Westby 
 Gardens. 
 
 The house was very similar in build to the one 
 they had just left, but it was furnished in a more 
 lavish style. Evidently Wally studied his personal 
 comfort to a remarkable degree. 
 
 The search here for dope took longer. But it was 
 well worth the extra trouble, for secreted in out-of- 
 the-way corners of the villa were small packets of 
 cocaine, heroin, and other prohibited drugs. 
 
 The total value of the dope discovered Whitfield 
 estimated at well over 5,000. 
 
 Thinking that on his arrival back at the Yard he 
 would find Sergeant Headly had taken his depar- 
 ture, he crossed the dining-room to a little table on 
 which there stood a typewriter. An accompanying 
 note would ensure the speedy decoding on the mor- 
 row, he thought. 
 
 Inserting a sheet of paper, he began: "Inspector 
 Hunt's compliments. He would be " And there 
 he stopped, for, chancing to look up, the following 
 caught his eye: Ztqcxwjip Brtj'q wifcgzfxtjq. Bx 
 mirgh yx." 
 
 In a flash the solution came to him. The arms 
 bearing the type had been removed and others sub- 
 stituted. The result of this change-over was that 
 the letters pressed on the keyboard did not print the
 
 204 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 corresponding letters on the paper. For instance, 
 he saw at once that I on the keyboard, when pressed, 
 printed Z. Likewise, H printed B. 
 
 A moment more and he had grasped the full sig- 
 nificance of this. With the aid of the machine it 
 should be possible to decode the mysterious message 
 himself. The thought was father to the deed. In 
 a very short time he had pressed the keys in the order 
 given in the coded letter. 
 
 Hardly waiting to finish, he withdrew the sheet. 
 To his disappointment, instead of a sensible sentence, 
 the first line was another unreadable jumble: 
 
 "M us ts eeyo uaga. Inu ne xp ec tedd. I ffi cul 
 tiesi," he read. 
 
 "The wrong typewriter," he said aloud, "but the 
 right system." 
 
 Just as he was putting it aside, the letters "I ffi" 
 caught his eye. Something seemed familiar, though 
 unusual, about them. 
 
 A moment more and their meaning stood revealed. 
 This was the message, but the words were purposely 
 run one into the other to mislead. 
 
 With this knowledge, the rest, was easy: 
 
 "Must see you again. Unexpected difficulties. 
 If you are not being watched, come as soon as 
 possible. Insert short reply in Evening Times. 
 If you state vigilance relaxed, will code new ad- 
 dress," 
 
 he read. 
 
 "Look at this, Dick," he called. 
 Whitfield obeyed, looking over his shoulder.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 205 
 
 "Great Scot!" he ejaculated. "There's life in 
 the old gang yet." 
 
 "There is indeed," replied Hunt ; "a man who loses 
 a quarter of a million in one night isn't going to give 
 up his business, even although it's a dying business, 
 without a struggle."
 
 XX 
 THE RED HOUSE 
 
 SHORTLY before ten o'clock Hunt arrived at the 
 rendezvous close to the Yard, where the Chief Con- 
 stable and Walker awaited him. 
 
 He was obviously excited, and carried, the others 
 noticed, a small case, which they thought contained 
 a gramophone. 
 
 "Going to give us an entertainment, Inspector?" 
 asked Walker. 
 
 "Yes," replied Hunt, putting down the case. 
 "Hardly the kind of entertainment you're expect- 
 ing, Superintendent, though but an entertainment 
 all the same." 
 
 In as few words as possible he told them of the 
 events of the evening, the raid on the house in the 
 avenue, the arrest of the traffickers, the detaining 
 of the man Hayley, and the subsequent discovery of 
 the coded letter. 
 
 Then he sprung his surprise. He had, he said, 
 discovered the decoding machine at Hayley's house 
 and had brought it along with him. 
 
 Here he paused, and produced the decoded mes- 
 sage. "Take a look at this, sir," he said to the 
 Chief Constable, "and tell me who you think the 
 sender is." 
 
 It was Walker who was the first to answer. He 
 had risen, and stood looking over the Chief Con- 
 stable's shoulder. 
 
 206
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 207 
 
 "Evans," he said excitedly. "Evans, without a 
 doubt." 
 
 "Yes," agreed Major Williams. "It certainly 
 looks as though it might be our man. Whoever it 
 is, we ought to be able to trap him fairly easily now 
 we know the code." 
 
 "Yes," replied Hunt. "We ought. That's why 
 I brought the typewriter here. I want you two to 
 help me to compose an advertisement for insertion 
 in the Evening Times." 
 
 He started to unpack the machine. "How do you 
 think this will do?" he asked. "'Police vigilance 
 relaxed. Will endeavour to keep any appointment.' 
 Better make it as brief as possible, don't you think?" 
 
 "Yes. That'll do fine," agreed the Chief Con- 
 stable. 
 
 Inserting a piece of paper in the machine, Hunt 
 set to work. He tapped out the mystic letters 
 
 "Ci gzw xkzn zgut wxpx. G oexhmz ggx thxuk 
 ir pj. I dx xcu toucc iztj fx tj" 
 
 all jumbled together, as seemed to be the gangs' 
 practise. 
 
 "I'll take this down to the Evening Times my- 
 self," he remarked, "and make sure it gets put in. 
 The person this is meant for will never know that 
 his plans have miscarried and his message has been 
 intercepted, as I have given orders that Hayley's 
 arrest is to be kept a close secret at any rate until 
 we've got our reply." 
 
 "I suppose we've nothing more to do until then?" 
 commented Walker.
 
 208 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 "I hardly agree with you there, Superintendent," 
 answered Hunt. "I don't intend to rely too much 
 on my assumption that any reply we get will come 
 from Evans. At any rate, I intend to keep up the 
 search. By the way, how did you two get on at 
 Kingston this afternoon?" 
 
 It transpired that they had had no luck at all. 
 No one appeared to remember anyone answering the 
 description of either Evans or his wife. 
 
 "Well, as there doesn't seem anything else we can 
 do to-night, I'm off to bed to get as much sleep as 
 possible there's no telling if we shall get the chance 
 for any to-morrow night." 
 
 So saying, the Inspector took his departure, after 
 wishing them both a very good night. 
 
 The next morning found Hunt early at the Eve- 
 ning Times office. By presenting his official card, 
 he speedily obtained an interview with the advertise- 
 ment manager. Less than ten minutes later he left 
 the building, assured that the advertisement would 
 be inserted in the first edition. 
 
 The remainder of that day was spent in a fruit- 
 less search of the hotels, and he was not sorry when 
 bed-time came round once more. He could look for- 
 ward with hopefulness to the morrow, for he felt 
 confident that the Evening Times would contain the 
 hoped-for answer to his advertisement. 
 
 Another good night's rest, and he awoke in the 
 best of spirits. 
 
 He had left instructions that the Evening Times 
 were to 'phone him immediately the expected mes-
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 209 
 
 sage was sent in. But when ten o'clock, the time 
 after which no further advertisements could be guar- 
 anteed insertion in the same day's issue, had come 
 and gone without the hoped-for result, his mood 
 changed for one of angry desperation. 
 
 But it did not alter the facts; his trap had seem- 
 ingly failed. 
 
 All through that day the longest day that he 
 had ever endured, it seem to Hunt he fumed and 
 fretted, though working like a Trojan on his in- 
 quiries at the hotels the while. 
 
 Then to bed, and a restless, disturbed night, as 
 he turned the case over again and again, in his mind. 
 Once more, for what must have been the hundredth 
 time, he lived through his discoveries. He visualised 
 again that scene in which he had seen the body of 
 the murdered air-ace taken from the burned-out 
 wreckage of his "Moth." Then followed visions of 
 the search for clues by the body of the shot police 
 constable in Redstock Lane ; the resultant inquests ; 
 the inquiries he had made in the company of the 
 Chief Constable and Superintendent, first at Moor- 
 lands, and later, at Forest Court; the unexpected 
 discovery that the Bentley's front tire had been cut 
 in a manner similar to that of the tire of the car 
 that had stopped by the body in Redstock Lane ; the 
 hue and cry for, and subsequent breath-taking chase 
 and arrest of, the mechanic, Bailey; the midnight 
 appearance of the new baronet, Sir Henry Sandle- 
 son, at Forest Court, and the still-unsolved mystery 
 of his astounding and almost immediate disappear- 
 ance from his bedroom; the astonishing plea for all 
 editions of the local papers that the suspected me- 
 
 ii Li \ 1 t 
 
 WITOHN Two WEBKS
 
 210 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 chanic had made from the dock, to be followed later 
 by his statement that the dead prison-breaker, New- 
 ton, was his ne'er-do-well brother. 
 
 Next he recalled to mind the Chief Constable's 
 acceptable theory that the single set of prints in 
 Angels' meadow, that had provided food for so much 
 serious thought, had been made by Evans carrying 
 his wife ; the arrival at the police station of Captain 
 Matthews, the skipper of the Poole fishing smack, 
 with his news of the sinking of Evans' empty 'plane ; 
 the story of the Evanses being seen at their riverside 
 bungalow by the salmon-poacher, Birch; the revela- 
 tion that Sir Charles Stafford had been the "Boss" 
 of the Tottenham Court Road gang of dope traf- 
 fickers ; the arrest of the remaining members of that 
 infamous company that followed as a result of Claude 
 Gascoigne's visit to the Yard; and finally, his own 
 share in the discovery and decoding of the letter 
 found in the breast-pocket of the notorious drug- 
 trafficker, Hayley. 
 
 At last came morning, and with it the first of a 
 chain of events that were to lead to a finale Hunt 
 was destined to carry in his memory to the grave. 
 
 At eight o'clock he received a 'phone call from the 
 Evening Times. A coded advertisement had been 
 handed in. It had obviously been delivered by hand, 
 as the envelope was unstamped. 
 
 The clerk read out the letters: "J itz nbju jxg. 
 Xkx tpxhb ir qxb utg xoqjug y utq." 
 
 Hunt immediately ran them out on the machine. 
 The result was most satisfactory: "To-night at 
 eleven. Red House, Hanley, St. Albans," was what 
 was written on the sheet.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 211 
 
 The thoroughly happy Inspector lost no time in 
 getting over to the hotel where the Chief Constable 
 and Walker were staying, and letting them know 
 of this latest development. 
 
 Walker seemed anxious to get the matter over, 
 and was keen on going to St. Albans straight away ; 
 the Chief Constable, however, agreed with Hunt that 
 it would be better to wait till evening, keep the ap- 
 pointment, and take them unawares. 
 
 This course was eventually decided upon, so Hunt 
 suggested a visit to the Yard to have a look at an 
 ordnance survey map of the St. Albans district. 
 
 Not long afterwards the trio were in Hunt's little 
 office at the Yard. 
 
 The Red House was clearly shown an isolated 
 residence a good half-mile from the viUage of Han- 
 ley. 
 
 "What's the order of attack, Inspector?" asked 
 the Chief Constable. "Do we tackle the job our- 
 selves, or call in the help of a squad of your men?" 
 
 Hunt thought for a moment. "If you're game, 
 sir, I propose we tackle the job alone." 
 
 Just after eight o'clock they set off in the Chief 
 Constable's car to St. Albans, where they intended 
 to wait until nightfall before continuing out to re- 
 connoitre in the vicinity of the Red House. 
 
 The journey down took less than an hour, and 
 they adjourned to a hotel until closing time. 
 
 At 10.30 they reached the village, where they 
 looked up the police constable. 
 
 He was able to tell them that a lady and gentle-
 
 212 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 man, whom he had not seen before, were staying at 
 the house. 
 
 The house belonged to a gentleman from Town, 
 who only came down at week-ends. He was not there 
 now, but he had left his car for his guests to use. 
 
 The only other occupant of the house was the 
 elderly housekeeper, a stupid, slovenly old woman. 
 
 The constable could not understand why Mr. Wat- 
 kins put up with such an unsatisfactory menial, as 
 he seemed such a smart gentleman himself. 
 
 After a short discussion it was decided that, as 
 Evans would most probably open the door in person, 
 the best plan would be for the three to spring upon 
 him without giving him a second's warning. 
 
 At two minutes to eleven their car stood on the 
 brow of a slight dip, facing the Red House, which 
 was some three hundred yards distant. 
 
 "Are we ready?" inquired the Chief Constable. 
 
 "O.K.," replied Hunt and Walker of one accord. 
 
 The lights of the car had long since been extin- 
 guished. The Chief Constable released the brake, 
 and the car slowly began the long, silent glide down 
 to the house. 
 
 Two minutes later they drew up noiselessly outside 
 their destination. 
 
 They stepped out and began the short walk up 
 the dark, shrubbery-bordered drive to the front door. 
 The front of the house, they noticed, was in dark- 
 ness. 
 
 Going into the porch, Hunt saw that there was no 
 bell only a heavy brass knocker. 
 
 This he raised, and the sound of its falling rever- 
 berated throughout the whole house.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 213 
 
 Almost immediately shuffling footsteps could be 
 heard coming along the passage to the door. Evi- 
 dently visitors were expected. 
 
 But, to the officials' disappointment, it was neither 
 Evans nor his wife who opened it. It was the half- 
 witted housekeeper. 
 
 "You the genleman what's come to see Mr. Wat- 
 kins' friend?" she began; then, seeing the others, 
 she realised that something was wrong, and made a 
 desperate effort to shut the door in their faces. 
 
 But she was too late. Hunt was already half in- 
 side the hall, the Chief Constable at his heels, whilst 
 Walker was left to deal with the indignant house- 
 keeper, who suddenly became vicious as well as an- 
 noyed. 
 
 Walker, however, realising that this was no time 
 to stand on ceremony, clapped a massive hand over 
 her none too comely mouth. 
 
 These evolutions took place so quickly and noise- 
 lessly that any occupants of the house could have 
 had no warning to be on their guard. 
 
 Seeing that Walker was more than capable of 
 managing the struggling female, Hunt and the Chief 
 Constable passed rapidly down the hall to a door, 
 from under which a faint glimmer of > light was vis- 
 ible. 
 
 The Inspector threw open this door, entering the 
 room unconcernedly but in his hand was a small 
 black automatic, and his finger was in readiness on 
 the trigger. 
 
 The room had only one occupant, an elderly-look- 
 ing lady, her grey hair fast turning white. On her 
 nose reposed a pair of tinted horn-rimmed spectacles,
 
 214 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 and her dress, Hunt noticed, was many years behind 
 the fashion. 
 
 She had risen to her feet as he opened the door, 
 but her smile of welcome turned to an expression 
 of utter dismay when she saw who her unannounced 
 visitors were. 
 
 Hunt started to pocket the weapon as soon as he 
 saw that Evans was not in the room, advancing to- 
 wards the terror-stricken woman the while. 
 
 "Mrs. Evans, I believe," he said sternly. "I hold 
 a warrant for your arrest on a charge of being con- 
 cerned in the murder of Sir Charles Stafford at Red- 
 stock on the " 
 
 But he got no further. 
 
 With a crash, the unconscious form of the Chief 
 Constable hit the floor alongside him, sending the 
 revolver flying from his hand. 
 
 That he saw, but no more, for at that instant the 
 light went out, and, before his eyes could accustom 
 themselves to the inky darkness, something struck 
 him violently in the back, sending him headlong 
 under the table.
 
 XXI 
 
 WHICH OUGHT TO HAVE BEEN 
 CONCLUSION 
 
 AFTER what seemed an age, the half-winded Inspec- 
 tor managed to get his bearings, and started to crawl 
 slowly towards the door. 
 
 But, before he had covered half the distance, some- 
 one stumbled over him. Throwing out his arms, 
 more by instinct than with expectations of making a 
 capture, they came in contact with the body of the 
 woman he took to be Mrs. Evans. She struggled 
 violently, and managed to break free for an instant. 
 
 The Inspector made another blind grab and, more 
 by luck than judgment, caught her again, this time 
 by the hair. 
 
 A blood-curdling shriek rent the uncanny silence 
 of the house as, realising that she was trapped, she 
 let out a piercing scream. 
 
 Then, in spite of the intense pain it must have 
 cost her, she redoubled her efforts to escape. 
 
 Hunt started to rise to his feet, seeking to get a 
 firm grip of her body with his free hand. 
 
 Just then, though, her efforts proved successful, 
 for the wig she was wearing came off in the Inspec- 
 tor's hand, and a moment later, before Hunt had a 
 chance to stop her, she fled through the door to 
 safety. 
 
 "Look out!" he bawled to the Superintendent, 
 
 215
 
 216 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 who, he supposed, was still somewhere in the gloom 
 of the hall. "Stop her, for the love of Mike." 
 
 But no answer came, and he heard her pass out 
 unchallenged on to the gravel drive. 
 
 He realised at once that the Evanses had been too 
 clever for him, and had somehow got wind of their 
 arrival. He guessed that Evans himself had been 
 watching from the shelter of one of the upstairs win- 
 dows, timing his attack with commendable exactness. 
 
 And he saw, too, that he was in a desperate posi- 
 tion himself, for Evans apparently had not yet left 
 the house. He could hardly suppress a shudder at 
 the thought that he might at that moment be cov- 
 ered by the murderer's revolver, and shot in cold 
 blood before help could reach him. 
 
 Feeling in his pocket for his flashlamp, he with- 
 drew it, meaning to search for his revolver. Find- 
 ing it at last, he switched it on but no beam of light 
 answered the action. It was obvious that the bulb 
 had been broken in his fall. 
 
 With a muffled curse he slipped it back into his 
 pocket, and started to grope for his gun on the floor. 
 But it was of no avail ; he was unable to discover its 
 whereabouts. 
 
 Abandoning his search, and cursing his folly in 
 suggesting coming to the house without a proper 
 escort, he crept slowly over to where the injured 
 Chief Constable lay. 
 
 He was completely knocked out, Hunt found, but 
 was breathing strongly. It would only be a matter 
 of minutes before he regained consciousness. 
 
 He decided to risk striking a match to make a 
 quick examination of his injuries.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 217 
 
 He saw by its feeble light that the room was 
 empty. He was in no immediate danger, it seemed. 
 
 Then with a hurried glance he took in the Chief 
 Constable's injuries. He had evidently been dealt 
 a savage blow with a stick, or more probably, the 
 butt end of a revolver, for there were no signs of 
 blood only a fast-swelling bruise. 
 
 As the last flicker of the match died out, Hunt 
 heard the front door slam, and at the same time the 
 sound of a car engine being started up in the road. 
 And he recognised the car by its exhaust note; it 
 was the Chief Constable's, beyond doubt. 
 
 Instantly, regardless of the danger, he jumped 
 to his feet, and, without further thought for his gun, 
 ran out through the hall to the door. 
 
 In front of him, some little distance down the 
 drive, he heard, rather than saw, a running figure. 
 
 Without the loss of a moment, he realised that if 
 he was to catch his man he would have to resort to 
 strategy. 
 
 The fugitive was too far ahead for him to over- 
 take him before he reached the car; his only hope 
 was to reach a point a few yards down the road be- 
 fore the car passed, and attempt to leap on to the 
 running-board. 
 
 Turning aside from the drive, he forced his way 
 through the shrubbery, raced across a small lawn 
 and, after scrambling over a low hedge, landed in 
 a meadow on the other side. 
 
 A sprint of a hundred yards brought him, as he 
 had hoped, to a point in the road where he would 
 still have time to attempt to intercept the car. 
 
 As he dragged himself clear of some barbed wire
 
 218 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 by the simple, but expensive, method of leaving part 
 of his clothing behind him, Major Williams' bus 
 roared by, its engine shrieking its heart out in the 
 lower gears. 
 
 Luckily, in the excitement of the moment, Mrs. 
 Evans had forgotten to switch the lights on, so both 
 she and her husband failed to notice the Inspector 
 crouched by the hedge. 
 
 By the time that she had rectified this omission, 
 Hunt had managed to gauge his spring, and had 
 landed safely, though uncomfortably, on the lug- 
 gage carrier at the rear. 
 
 He clung to his precarious perch until the car 
 was running smoothly in top gear, then started to 
 climb as carefully and silently as possible towards 
 the back seat. 
 
 After one breathless moment, when Evans looked 
 round, apparently to see if they were being pursued, 
 his task was easy. 
 
 Once safely over the back of the car he dropped 
 to the floor where, shielded from view by the back 
 of the front seat, he had time to wonder what his 
 next move was to be. So far he had not given the 
 matter much thought, and he now began to doubt 
 his wisdom in embarking on this uninvited ride. 
 
 He decided that if he did not act until the car 
 came to a standstill he would run less risk, as Mrs. 
 Evans, if startled while driving, would be quite likely 
 to lose her head and turn the car over. 
 
 The next question was, what weapon did he in- 
 tend to use? For all he knew, Mrs. Evans might 
 be in possession of a gun and, whilst he was taking 
 Evans, she might easily hold him up.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 219 
 
 All things considered, it would be best for him 
 to see if he could find a tire-lever, or something 
 equally heavy, with which to lay out his man tem- 
 porarily before re-arresting Mrs. Evans. 
 
 Thinking there might be a suitable weapon in the 
 tool-kit under the rear seat, he began to turn the 
 cushion up. Inch by inch it gently rose, until, at 
 last, he was able to see that there was indeed a tire- 
 lever there. 
 
 Slowly he extended his arm to reach it. But at 
 that moment Evans turned again and this time he 
 discovered his unwelcome passenger. 
 
 With an oath he left his seat beside the driver, 
 flinging himself heavily on top of the unsuspecting 
 Inspector. 
 
 His weight knocked Hunt flat on the floor and, 
 before the startled polide officer could rise to defend 
 himself, the murderer's strong, sinuous hands were 
 about his throat. 
 
 The car was going much faster now than pre- 
 viously ; Mrs. Evans' nerves were finding the sudden 
 shocks too much for them. 
 
 Had she not accelerated from a steady thirty-five 
 to somewhere in the neighbourhood of fifty-five, the 
 story might have had an entirely different ending, 
 as Hunt was decidedly getting much the worst of 
 the argument when the car took a small, hump- 
 backed bridge in its stride. 
 
 This threw the back of the car, and the struggling 
 combatants, high into the air, and when they hit the 
 bottom again Hunt's throat was free and he was on 
 top. 
 
 But his opponent was not done yet. He fought
 
 220 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 with redoubled fury, seemingly possessed of maniacal 
 strength. 
 
 Inch by inch he forced Hunt back, till at length 
 they were fighting on the seat itself. 
 
 Still the car shot on madly through the night, 
 Mrs. Evans glancing back from time to time, noting 
 with satisfaction that her man was slowly, but surely 
 winning. And there was none to see the fight to 
 the death that was taking place at her rear, for the 
 road they traversed led through open country to- 
 wards Harpenden, and was entirely deserted. 
 
 The Inspector fought valiantly, but in vain he 
 had been hurt more than he realised by his fall at 
 the house. Little by little the relentless arms of his 
 adversary pushed him back till soon he was in im- 
 minent danger of being forced over the folded hood 
 at the rear of the car and into the roadway to almost 
 certain death. 
 
 Another minute and the tired Inspector would 
 have been clay in the other's hands; his strength 
 was all but exhausted. Evans could have killed him 
 almost without resistance. 
 
 But in that minute came salvation. Suddenly the 
 even running of the car changed. 
 
 Whilst rounding a bend in the road, Mrs. Evans 
 had seen the red lights and closed gates of a railway 
 level crossing and she had realised that it Was going 
 to be as much as she could do to pull up, for the 
 speedometer registered a speed of a mile a minute. 
 
 With a squeal of its brakes the car shot sideways 
 in a terrific skid, ramming and almost mounting the 
 bank at the side of the road. 
 
 But it did not overturn, though the shock of the
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 221 
 
 impact burst two tires, and sent Evans and the In- 
 spector hurtling into the road. 
 
 The last thing Hunt remembered before losing 
 consciousness was seeing the car, with Mrs. Evans 
 helpless at the wheel, crash through the gates before 
 coming to a standstill, right in the track of the ap- 
 proaching London-bound express. 
 
 But he did not hear, as did the crossing-keeper, 
 the blood-curdling shriek of the express's whistle, 
 nor the agonised death-screams of Mrs. Evans, as 
 the engine caught the car, carrying it some distance 
 up the line before flinging it aside, a mass of twisted 
 metal. 
 
 
 
 Hunt recovered consciousness about an hour after 
 the accident. Everything was hazy at first, and in 
 his dazed state he could not understand why he was 
 in hospital, with an anxious-looking Chief Constable 
 standing by his bedside. 
 
 His head was aching too; almost unbearably. 
 This puzzled him for a time, as he had no recollec- 
 tion of being wounded. Then suddenly it all came 
 back. 
 
 "Where's Evans?" was the first question he asked. 
 "Did you get him?" 
 
 The Chief Constable shook his head. "No," he 
 said sadly. "We didn't get him. I'm afraid we've 
 made a sorry mess of the whole affair. Evans must 
 have seen us coming up the drive." 
 
 "You all right?" Hunt inquired. 
 
 "Yes," replied the Chief Constable. "I only got 
 a slight tap on the head. Evans must have slipped
 
 222 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 out of the back door when he saw us coming, at- 
 tacking Walker first as he was silencing the house- 
 keeper. He's only got a slight tap, though. He'll 
 soon be all right again. Next he coshed me that's 
 the last thing I remember. 
 
 "Later, when I'd recovered sufficiently to get my 
 bearings, I discovered that they had taken my car. 
 I went back to the house, and found Walker was 
 well enough to set out with me in search of you. We 
 guessed you'd managed somehow to get mixed up in 
 the disappearance of the car. 
 
 "Well, we hadn't gone far down the road we saw 
 by the car-tracks that was the way you had gone 
 when we saw the lights of a fast overtaking car. 
 
 "We stood in the middle of the road, waving our 
 hats, forcing the car to a standstill, despite its pro- 
 longed horn-blowing. 
 
 "We soon discovered, to our surprise, that it was 
 an ambulance on its way to a level-crossing a little 
 farther on, where a car had crashed through the 
 gates, killing the lady driver and badly injuring her 
 companion. 
 
 "When we told the doctor who had given us this 
 information who we were, he immediately offered to 
 drive us to the scene of the disaster. 
 
 "We accepted, of course, and that is how we came 
 to find you unconscious in the signalman's cabin. 
 
 "The doctor was soon able to assure us that you 
 were only stunned and shaken, so we left you there 
 to go with him to inspect the wreckage of my car 
 and the body of Mrs. Evans. 
 
 "The express had luckily not been derailed by the 
 severe impact, but my Sunbeam was reduced to scrap
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 223 
 
 iron. As the train had been travelling at a good 
 seventy miles an hour, and had caught the car broad- 
 side on, this was not surprising. 
 
 "Mrs. Evans' body had been taken from the debris 
 before we arrived. Death had been practically in- 
 stantaneous." He did not attempt to describe the 
 terrible injuries he had seen on her mangled body. 
 Hunt had sufficient imagination to visualise them. 
 
 "Walker and I are both agreed that it was the 
 body of Mrs. Evans beyond doubt. But there was 
 no sign of Evans. How he managed to escape is a 
 mystery to me." 
 
 Hunt was able to supply the missing reason. 
 "When we fell, I bore the brunt of the impact," he 
 explained. "My body must have saved him; prob- 
 ably he was not even stunned." 
 
 "We had a thorough look round for him, any- 
 way," continued the Chief Constable, "but, as I said, 
 we were unable to find any traces of him." 
 
 "Well, if it's any consolation to us, we know for 
 certain now that we're on the right track. That's 
 about the only good that has come of the night's 
 work." 
 
 A doctor came up just then; the nurse had told 
 him that his patient had regained consciousness. 
 
 "Feeling better, old man?" he queried. 
 
 Hunt assured him that he was feeling O.K., which 
 was very far from the truth. "I suppose I can get 
 up now?" he asked. 
 
 "What do you propose doing if you get up?" the 
 doctor replied. 
 
 Hunt considered for a moment. "I must get back 
 to the Yard," he said. "I shall get in enough trouble
 
 224 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 as it is. Every hour's start that Evans gets will 
 make our task the harder." 
 
 The doctor considered for a moment. "Righto, 
 Inspector," he said at length. "Have it your own 
 way but if I have given in, you must promise me 
 you'll take things easy for a day or two."
 
 XXII 
 HUNT SEES DAYLIGHT 
 
 A WEEK later Evans was still at large; the police 
 had no clue as to his whereabouts, and the Press had 
 almost forgotten the murder of Sir Charles. 
 
 Hunt was in the office of the Chief Commissioner, 
 a considerably rattled man. 
 
 He was reminding Sir James Spreadbury for the 
 twentieth time that he had only himself to blame 
 that the case had not been cleared up long ago. 
 
 But Sir James was not blaming the Inspector for 
 the unsatisfactory ending of it; he quite understood 
 that it was only human nature that had made the 
 trio feel they ought to be allowed to effect the arrests 
 without the calling in of the Flying Squad. 
 
 "You're taking it to heart too much, my boy," he 
 said, in a kindly manner. He could be very under- 
 standing and human at times. "You surely haven't 
 given up hope so soon, have you?" 
 
 Hunt smiled grimly. "No. I'm going to bring 
 this case to a satisfactory conclusion, even if it takes 
 me all my life." 
 
 "That's the spirit, Inspector. Let's pray that it 
 doesn't take all that long, though," the Chief re- 
 plied. "Now, what was that other little matter you 
 wanted me to look into?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, I'd almost forgotten. Are those two 
 men still trailing Gascoigne?" 
 
 225
 
 226 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 "Why, yes," the Chief replied, "but nothing fresh 
 has come to light. I think you're putting a wrong 
 construction on McKenzie's words. I'm pretty cer- 
 tain he meant 'his friends again' to apply to Gas- 
 coigne getting friendly with him just before his 
 arrest. Possibly it flashed across his mind at that 
 moment who his betrayer was. I don't think you 
 will find Gascoigne is a member of the gang what 
 sense would there be in his giving his own men 
 away ?" 
 
 "I must admit, sir," answered Hunt, "that that 
 is one of the many things that are still puzzling me. 
 The case is full of loose ends; in fact, although we 
 know our man without a doubt, we are a long way 
 off discovering the motive for Sir Charles' murder. 
 
 "It couldn't have been due to the fact that Sir 
 Charles was ruining him; even if Sir Charles had 
 effectively stopped his income, we know it could not 
 have seriously inconvenienced him. The discovery 
 of the quarter of a million proves that. 
 
 "It could not have been love. Evans was mar- 
 ried, apparently happily. Besides, the participation 
 of Mrs. Evans proves that she would hardly have 
 been likely to help her husband kill her lover. And 
 we know that she did help her behaviour on the 
 night she met her death was that of a guilty woman. 
 
 "Then, too, there's the mystery of the appearance 
 and disappearance of Sir Henry Sandleson. Where 
 do we fit that in the puzzle?" 
 
 "I admit it's a teaser still," replied Sir James, 
 "but I think the solution, when it comes, will prove 
 to be quite a simple one." 
 
 By the Chief's manner Hunt could tell that the
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 227 
 
 interview was at an end. He rose to go. "You'll 
 let me know if Gascoigne gets up to any funny 
 tricks? I can't help thinking that letter was meant 
 for him." 
 
 "Certainly," the Chief answered, "I'll let you know 
 immediately." 
 
 
 
 Hunt arrived back at Bournemouth just after 
 midday; his journey down was his record one. He 
 had not been to "The City of the Pines" since the 
 day of his hurried departure for Winchester, having 
 spent his time in a thorough, though ineffectual 
 search of London. The Chief Constable and Walker, 
 however, had returned the day following their ill- 
 fated visit to the Red House. 
 
 The Chief Constable was away in another part of 
 the county, but the Superintendent was at the sta- 
 tion. 
 
 He welcomed Hunt warmly, and when they were 
 seated he began, at the Inspector's inviting, to tell 
 of the little they had discovered at the Bournemouth 
 end of the trail. 
 
 It was chiefly of the Evanses; of the many in- 
 quiries he had made of their friends, with a view to 
 throwing more light on the motive of the murder. 
 
 But nothing fresh had come to light. Sir Charles 
 and Mrs. Evans were looked upon as the best of 
 friends; it seemed inconceivable to their acquaint- 
 ances that she should have helped to bring about his 
 death. 
 
 As to the accomplice who had taken Mrs. Thorn- 
 ton's car to Totland Corner of him, or her, there 
 was no trace!
 
 228 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 Neither had the new baronet reappeared. The 
 motive and identity of the accomplice, to say noth- 
 ing of the mysterious movements of Sir Henry, were 
 as far off solution as ever. 
 
 The only other item of news that interested Hunt 
 to any degree concerned Jim Hucklesby and Bailey. 
 
 They had, Walker said, left that morning for 
 Liverpool, en route to catch the night boat to the 
 Isle of Man, where Jim hoped to succeed in his at- 
 tempt to win the race for the Tourist Trophy. 
 Bailey was going over to act as mechanic, the Chief 
 Constable offering no objection. 
 
 Hunt had not by any means forgotten the ex- 
 citing ride he had had on the Star Special that Jim 
 hoped to ride to victory. "I wish him luck," he said. 
 Then "When does practising start?" 
 
 "To-morrow," the Superintendent replied. "He 
 left his departure as late as possible in case we needed 
 his help. A nice lad, Jim," he added reflectively. 
 "He ought to have started a week ago; most of the 
 riders have had some days on the island ; but he put 
 what he considered was his duty first, and stayed, 
 as I said, to see if he could help me in any way." 
 
 "Yes," agreed Hunt, "a really nice lad, as you 
 say. Now, what about a spot of lunch?" 
 
 The Superintendent thought this a good idea, 
 proposing that Hunt should accompany him to his 
 house, where he felt confident his wife would be glad 
 to welcome him. 
 
 Just as they were preparing to leave, the 'phone 
 bell rang. 
 
 Walker took off the receiver. "For you, Inspec- 
 tor," he said.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 229 
 
 Hunt took the instrument from him. The call was 
 from the Yard. 
 
 Gascoigne had, he learnt, been folowed to Euston 
 Station, where lie had taken a ticket, and entrained, 
 to Liverpool. 
 
 He put down the instrument, feeling considerably 
 puzzled. What did this mean, he asked himself? 
 But he was unable to supply the answer to his own 
 question. Liverpool suggested ships, and ships a 
 means of fleeing the country. The Yard had "noth- 
 ing on him," though; as a matter of fact, they were 
 under an obligation to him, and he was perfectly 
 free to leave the country if he chose to do so. Still, 
 Hunt had the feeling that there was something 
 "fishy" about this latest move of his. 
 
 Once more they were about to leave, and once 
 more they were delayed. 
 
 This time a constable knocked at the door, and 
 when he announced, "Sir Henry Sandleson to see 
 you, sir," the two surprised officials almost collapsed. 
 
 "Now for the denouement" whispered Walker, 
 after telling the man to show him in. 
 
 A moment later Sir Henry entered, a tall, well- 
 built man, his rather handsome face disfigured some- 
 what by a scar, received in the war. 
 
 Walker received him coldly. "Take a chair," he 
 ordered, rather than asked. 
 
 By his manner Hunt could see the Superintendent 
 intended him to conduct the interview. 
 
 Turning, to face the baronet more squarely, he 
 began, "I am Detective-Inspector Hunt from the 
 Yard. I am in charge of the investigations into the
 
 230 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 murder of Sir Charles Stafford . . . your cousin, 
 I believe?" 
 
 "Yes," the visitor assented. "That's right he 
 was my cousin. It's about that I've called, of 
 course." 
 
 "I imagined so," answered Hunt rather sternly. 
 He was no respecter of the aristocracy when they 
 interfered with his duties to the extent Sir Henry 
 had done. "I suppose you realise," he continued, 
 "that we have been hunting high and low for you 
 since the night you vanished so completely from 
 Forest Court?" 
 
 Sir Henry looked mystified. "I don't quite fol- 
 low you," he said. 
 
 Hunt began to get a trifle annoyed. "I thought 
 I had made my meaning quite clear. I said, quite 
 distinctly, I believe, that we had been searching high 
 and low for you since the night of May 23rd, when 
 you chose to vanish so mysteriously from the house 
 of your late cousin, Sir Charles Stafford!" 
 
 Sir Henry smiled. "I'm sorry, Inspector," he ex- 
 plained, "but you're barking up the wrong tree! I 
 haven't been near Forest Court for months ! Some- 
 one has been pulling your leg if they stuffed you 
 up with that yarn." 
 
 It was Hunt's turn to look mystified. "I'm sorry," 
 he said simply ; "there's been a mistake somewhere." 
 Then "Perhaps you'll be good enough to tell us 
 why you haven't called to see us before?" 
 
 His answer came immediately. "I couldn't, old 
 man. I've been out of the country." 
 
 "Out of the country?" echoed Hunt. "That com- 
 plicates matters more than ever."
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 231 
 
 "Yes, I've been out to [He mentioned some 
 
 out-of-the-way European State.] There's been a 
 Royal christening there, as you probably know." 
 
 Hunt did know. The first pictures of the cere- 
 mony had arrived in England only a day or two 
 previously. 
 
 Sir Henry continued. "I work for the Sound 
 
 Film Co. We went out to film the show." He spoke 
 expressive slang, Hunt noticed. 
 
 "I heard of the murder whilst we were out there. 
 Of course, I knew the title came to me; that didn't 
 interest me a lot. What's the use of a title without 
 money to go with it? American heiresses are scarce 
 now!" 
 
 "I suppose so," answered Hunt. "But doesn't the 
 estate come to you?" 
 
 "Oh, no !" corrected the baronet. "It was bought 
 by Sir Charles with his own money. Not a penny 
 comes to me. He was free to will it where he wished." 
 
 Hunt had not considered the money question be- 
 fore. He had taken it for granted that Sir Henry 
 succeeded to the estate as well as the title. But, so 
 far as he could see, this new development made little 
 difference to the case. 
 
 "When did you leave England?" he asked. 
 
 "Let's see ... May the . . ." he thought hard 
 "the 23rd, I believe. Yes. That's right . . . 
 May the 23rd." 
 
 "The day of the murder," Hunt observed. "From 
 Dover, I suppose?" 
 
 "No. Southampton on the Regal. It was so 
 much easier to carry our traps that way. No chang- 
 ing from train to train. Once on board the boat
 
 232 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 and everything left undisturbed until we docked 
 at" 
 
 Hunt considered. "What time did the boat sail?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "Twelve midday," was the answer. 
 
 Hunt thought for a moment. There was ample 
 time for anyone to participate in the murder and 
 still have any amount of time in which to catch the 
 boat. He did not feel disposed to dismiss Sir Henry 
 so easily from the case. Evans must have had an 
 accomplice other than his wife; the police had no 
 idea who that accomplice was. Therefore, anyone 
 who had any connection with any of the parties con- 
 cerned must be regarded with the gravest suspicion. 
 
 "Did you know Evans?" he asked. 
 
 "Oh, yes! Quite well," Sir Henry replied. "A 
 very nice fellow too, I always thought." 
 
 "Yes that seems the general opinion. But I 
 usually find the murderer is given a better name than 
 the victim. Now, one more question. A very per- 
 sonal one, I'm afraid but it can't be helped. 
 
 "What sort of terms were you on with Sir 
 Charles?" 
 
 The baronet considered for a moment. "Why do 
 you ask me that, I wonder?" he said aloud. Then 
 
 "You surely don't think I'm mixed up in the 
 affair, do you?" he asked suspiciously. 
 
 "Hardly that," answered Hunt, "but, as you 
 know, the Evanses had an accomplice. We haven't 
 traced him yet, and until we do we've got to ask un- 
 pleasant questions." 
 
 "Well, as I've a perfectly clear conscience, I'll 
 answer your question," said the baronet graciously,
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 233 
 
 "although I'm not at all sure you're not exceeding 
 your powers in asking it. Sir Charles hated the 
 sight of me, and the feeling was reciprocated." 
 
 "So I understand," Hunt replied. "Now your 
 answer leads to another question. When did you 
 last see Sir Charles?" 
 
 "In London, two months ago in the lounge of the 
 Savoy, to be exact !" 
 
 "Did you speak?" 
 
 "No. We merely nodded to one another." 
 
 A further quarter of an hour's chat failed to help 
 the police in their inquiries. Seeing that he could 
 not enlighten the officials, Sir Henry rose to go. 
 
 "Let's have your address, Sir Henry, in case we 
 want to look you up at any time," asked Hunt. 
 
 The baronet acquiesced, handing over a card. 
 "You won't find me at home for a week or two," he 
 remarked. "We're going over to the island to take 
 some shots of the T.T. races." 
 
 Hunt mentioned that Jim was riding. 
 
 "Oh, yes. So I've been told. Is he any good?" 
 the baronet inquired. 
 
 "Quite good," replied Hunt enthusiastically, 
 "and, if the will to win counts for anything, he'll be 
 well placed at the finish." 
 
 "Sir Charles paid his entry fee, I believe," Sir 
 Henry remarked. "A great sport, Charles ; I grant 
 him that. He was always fond of risky pastimes. 
 He rode himself, you know, a couple of times just 
 after the war. Didn't do any good, though the 
 machine let him down on both occasions."
 
 234 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 Walker was quite correct. His good lady was 
 glad to see the Inspector, and served up a delightful 
 lunch. 
 
 Over the meal the two discussed the next step to 
 be taken. Hunt explained that he had interviewed 
 Day, but the man had stuck to his original story, 
 not deviating from it in the slightest. 
 
 Neither of them knew quite what to make of Sir 
 Henry's denial of a visit to Forest Court, nor, in 
 fact, could they quite fathom Sir Henry himself. 
 
 The obvious thing to do, they eventually agreed, 
 was to make another journey out to Lymington, and 
 try to make Sturman change his story. 
 
 They started the short walk to the police station. 
 Walker had one or two small matters to attend to 
 before they could depart. 
 
 Not far from the house he discovered that he had 
 nearly run out of tobacco. 
 
 "Shan't be a moment," he said, entering a near-by 
 shop. 
 
 Hunt stood on the pavement, gazing across the 
 road towards the window of a ladies' hairdressing 
 establishment. 
 
 All of a sudden he started startled at what he 
 saw there. It was a perfectly normal hairdresser's 
 window so far as one could see the same kind of 
 wares displayed there as in practically every hair- 
 dresser's in the country and displayed in just the 
 same attractive manner. 
 
 And in that moment he solved "THE 'MOTH' 
 MURDER MYSTERY" the most baffling crime of the 
 century. Solved it in its entirety saw how he had
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 235 
 
 been blinded and led "right up the garden" to the 
 last. 
 
 Walker came out of the tobacconist's at that mo- 
 ment. 
 
 Hunt stood on the pavement, oblivious to the 
 passing traffic, not noticing the waiting Superin- 
 tendent a man lost to the world. 
 
 "You look as though you've seen a ghost, In- 
 spector," Walker began. 
 
 Hunt came back to earth with a start. "I have," 
 he said, "or, perhaps I should say, something mighty 
 like one." 
 
 The Superintendent was gazing in the same direc- 
 tion as Hunt. "I don't see anything to stare at," 
 he confessed, although he too, at that moment, was 
 studying the shop window. 
 
 "If you're ready," he suggested, seeing Hunt still 
 wore a dazed expression. 
 
 "Yes, I'm ready," replied Hunt, "but I'm afraid 
 Lymington's off for me, at any rate." He was 
 thinking rapidly; a staggering possibility had just 
 flashed through his mind a million to one chance 
 that he decided to gamble on. 
 
 Just as the huntsman knows instinctively the best 
 covert to draw for a fox ; the keeper the best stands 
 at which to place his wealthiest guns; so Hunt, the 
 avenger of a terrible double crime, in a moment of 
 inspiration, guessed where he would be the most 
 likely to find his man. 
 
 "Lymington off?" repeated the Superintendent. 
 
 "Then where are you going, Inspector ?" he asked. 
 
 Hunt did not answer immediately; he was hur- 
 riedly turning times and distances over in his mind.
 
 236 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 "I think I can just about make it," he murmured 
 half aloud. Then, in reply to the Superintendent's 
 query, "I'm going to the Isle of Man. If I hurry to 
 Croydon and charter a 'plane, I think I shall just 
 manage to catch the night boat." 
 
 "Croydon the Isle of Man," echoed the Superin- 
 tendent stupidly. Then "What the devil is he up 
 to?" as he saw the excited Inspector hurry off down 
 the road as though he had but a moment to live. 
 
 Before following him, however, Walker crossed the 
 road and spent several minutes gazing fixedly at the 
 window of "Farmer & Gainsborough, Ladies' Hair- 
 dressers" ; then, still as puzzled, he followed slowly in 
 Hunt's wake.
 
 XXIII 
 IN THE ISLAND 
 
 So certain was Hunt that his deductions were correct 
 that before leaving the town he paid a hurried visit 
 to Dr. Burroughs to obtain the latter's signature to 
 yet another warrant. 
 
 The doctor seemed surprised to see him, but in- 
 vited him into his study, where he poured him out a 
 stiff drink. 
 
 The Yard man began by binding his host to se- 
 crecy, after which he expounded his newest theory. 
 
 At first the doctor was openly sceptical. Hunt 
 suspected that he was wondering whether the acci- 
 dent at the crossing had left his brain a trifle dis- 
 torted. 
 
 But as the Inspector continued, fitting each fact 
 neatly and quickly into its appointed place, the 
 worthy J. P. became more and more impressed. 
 
 "By Jove, Inspector, I believe you're right," he 
 said with unconcealed admiration as Hunt concluded. 
 "I'll sign the warrant immediately I can see you're 
 itching to be gone." 
 
 "Thanks," replied the Yard man, "I guessed you 
 would. When one comes to think of it, it's the only 
 theory that can possibly be made to fit the facts. In 
 all our others we left various features of the case 
 unexplained." 
 
 On his return he looked in on Walker at the sta- 
 tion. 
 
 237
 
 238 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 "Are you going to keep your discovery all to your- 
 self?" the Superintendent asked. 
 
 "Yes," replied Hunt, "I'm afraid I must. If I 
 were to tell you just what I thought, I know you'd 
 laugh at me. . . . However, to be as fair as possi- 
 ble, I shall write to you to-night, enclosing in the 
 envelope a sealed letter. 
 
 "If I die, or disappear suddenly, you'll learn who 
 my murderer was by reading it. If, on the other 
 hand, I live, and everything goes according to plan, 
 I'll telegraph you permission to open it. 
 
 "As I say, the chances are heavily against me be- 
 ing correct in all my reasoning and if I'm proved 
 wrong, after dragging you all over to the island, 
 what an idiot I shall appear. 
 
 "Besides that, there's still a lot of work to be done 
 here. You must see Sturman again, and endeavour 
 to shake his evidence. Also, according to our origi- 
 nal theory, there is the accomplice to be tracked 
 down yet. 
 
 "I promise you this," he added. "By continuing 
 your present search you are doing everything possi- 
 ble to clear up the case. You're not so much on the 
 wrong track as my actions may suggest." 
 
 "Very well," said the Superintendent with a smile. 
 "I'll do as you say. I don't really relish the idea of 
 going over to the island I'm a rotten sailor. Inci- 
 dentally, I'm getting all behind with my other work. 
 Now as regards your letter I'll promise not to open 
 that until I get your wire." 
 
 "Or hear I have departed this world," reminded 
 Hunt. "Though I hardly think I shall allow that
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 239 
 
 to happen. One near go in a case is more than 
 enough for me." 
 
 He walked out to his car, the Superintendent fol- 
 lowing. "You'll be sure and book me that 'plane, 
 won't you?" he said. "If I don't get it I shall miss 
 the boat and I have special reasons for wanting to 
 catch it." 
 
 A moment later he had started the engine and 
 slipped the gears into mesh. He drove recklessly all 
 the way to London, and, to his knowledge, had his 
 number taken by country policemen on no less than 
 three occasions. But he had no time to stop and ex- 
 plain ; explanation could come later if necessary. 
 
 Once in Town, he drove straight to Scotland Yard. 
 He was granted an immediate audience by the Chief 
 Commissioner. 
 
 When he had explained his theory, the Chief sat 
 back thoughtfully in his chair. 
 
 "It's possible, Inspector," he admitted. "Possible, 
 but hardly probable. Anyhow, you have my permis- 
 sion to go over but if anything does come of your 
 trip, for goodness' sake be careful. You're too valu- 
 able a man to take unnecessary risks." 
 
 Hunt lived in a suburb through which he had to 
 drive on his way out to Croydon. He stopped at his 
 lodgings for a few minutes to pack his bags. 
 
 The contents of one in particular might have ex- 
 cited comment among the habitues of the island had 
 they been able to glance inside it. For it contained, 
 among other things, a dictaphone of new and pe- 
 culiar pattern, a pair of headphones of the type tele- 
 phone operators use, a strong hack saw, a bunch of 
 skeleton keys, and a well-oiled automatic. He
 
 240 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 climbed into his 'plane just after six o'clock. The 
 mechanic swung the propeller, and the engine re- 
 sponded straight away. A few moments later they 
 started their short somewhat bumpy run over the 
 drome, then the pilot pulled back his stick, and the 
 machine, in answer to his movements, rose steadily 
 into the air. 
 
 As they passed rapidly over London and the home 
 counties, Hunt busied himself in writing his prom- 
 ised letter to the Superintendent. 
 
 He began at the very beginning, giving his views 
 on the case in full. As Walker discovered, when 
 later he opened the missive, these views were correct 
 down to the smallest detail. 
 
 Just after eight they landed in Liverpool, where 
 Hunt found he had still plenty of time in which to 
 catch the boat. 
 
 Instead of proceeding leisurely to the dock, 
 though, he tipped his taxi-driver ten shillings to 
 make the journey at his best speed. 
 
 This the man did, and by 8.30 Hunt found himself 
 on board the Mona, where he immediately took up a 
 position from which he was able to scrutinise every 
 oncoming passenger. 
 
 But his man did not put in an appearance. He 
 was fated to take the trip to the island that he had 
 thought up till now might easily prove to be un- 
 necessary. 
 
 Once at Douglas, he decided that he had done 
 enough for one day, so, after alighting from a taxi 
 outside his hotel, he passed straight up to bed. 
 
 Early the next morning, as soon as it was light, 
 he was awakened by the staccato roar of a racing
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 241 
 
 motor-cycle. He jumped out of bed and dressed 
 hurriedly. This was, of course, the first morning of 
 practising. He might as well see the fun. 
 
 Five minutes later he was in the roadway, walking 
 towards the start. It was a trifle misty here; con- 
 ditions were terrible on the mountain, they said, and 
 it did not appear likely that any fast times would be 
 returned. 
 
 He watched Jim start; saw him disappear into 
 the mist with the speed of a veteran. Then after 
 watching a few more men off, he decided to walk to 
 Governor's Bridge to see Jim come round on the 
 completion of his first lap. 
 
 Passing along the road behind the grand stand, 
 he came to the famous bridge in under ten minutes. 
 
 Soon after he arrived the early starters began to 
 appear. To his surprise, Jim arrived surprisingly 
 early. With a squeal of brakes he half skidded the 
 corner, accelerating violently immediately, in an 
 endeavour to catch the man ahead. 
 
 Retracing his steps to the grand stand, he found 
 Jim's lap speed chalked up 35 minutes 45 seconds. 
 He ran his finger up his lap table 35 m. 45s. = 63.3 
 m.p.h. 
 
 "A wonderful speed," he said aloud. "If he can 
 do this on his first morning and in dreadful cli- 
 matic conditions what will be be doing by race 
 day?" 
 
 Not waiting to see the finish of the practising, he 
 returned to his hotel, shaved, and otherwise tidied 
 himself for breakfast. 
 
 There was a boat due in at nine o'clock. He was 
 waiting on the quay to meet it. Again he scrutinised
 
 242 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 every passenger, and again he was disappointed 
 an occurrence that was to be repeated many times in 
 the next fortnight. 
 
 Once sure that his man had not arrived on the 
 early boat, he began a tour of the hotels and, at 
 each hotel he visited, he endeavoured to come into 
 contact with all the male guests; a difficult under- 
 taking, as Douglas was filling rapidly. And in every 
 case, before leaving, he carefully inspected the re- 
 gister ; but in no case did he find the desired entry. 
 
 This was his programme daily now ; first to watch 
 the practising, then to see the boats in, and finally 
 to spend the remainder of the day in a tour of the 
 hotels and various racing camps, keeping his eyes 
 and ears well open but his tongue he kept well 
 guarded. 
 
 He found time too, each morning, to visit the 
 headquarters of the Sound Film Co. and in- 
 quire of their manager if Sir Henry Sandleson had 
 yet put in an appearance. 
 
 The answer was always the same No it was 
 doubtful whether he would be over ; he was detained 
 in London on private business, they believed. 
 
 But it was significant that there was one person 
 already on the island whom he seldom let out of sight 
 for any length of time, in spite of his other activi- 
 ties, and that person was Jim Hucklesby. 
 
 Jim was staying at the Ceramo, the same hotel as 
 himself. He met him at all hours of the day, con- 
 gratulating him regularly on his fast improving 
 speeds. 
 
 By the end of the first week's practising the lad 
 had clocked a lap at over seventy, although on no
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 243 
 
 occasion had the conditions been realy favourable 
 for high speeds. 
 
 Another of Hunt's peculiarities that the "lads" 
 would have commented on had they known of it was 
 his extravagance in rooms. 
 
 Instead of being content to share one with an- 
 other holiday-maker for prices were high he had 
 actually gone so far as to take two rooms, one on 
 each floor, and, as it happened, one over the other. 
 
 A question of wishing to be free from noise, they 
 would have said, but they would have been wrong, 
 for the Inspector could sleep like a log through the 
 severest thunderstorm, and also, as a matter of fact, 
 was occupying the one upstairs. 
 
 But the reason could have been partly supplied 
 by Mr. Casson, the jovial manager, had he the per- 
 mission and inclination to give it.
 
 XXIV 
 
 THE RACE FOR THE SENIOR TOURIST 
 TROPHY 
 
 BY the last morning of practising Jim was the talk 
 of the island. His fastest lap was only fractionally 
 slower than that of Brown, an old hand with a life 
 knowledge of the tricky Manxland course, whose 
 engine had been tuned by Hocking, the works expert, 
 acknowledged by most people to be finest tuner 
 extant. 
 
 As a result, Jim found himself besieged with offers 
 of employment at salaries the mention of which 
 caused his head to swim. However, being of a stable 
 disposition, he refused them one and all, deciding 
 to wait until after the race before making his final 
 choice. 
 
 But whilst Jim moved in an ecstasy of seventh 
 heaven, Hunt daily became more despondent, till, 
 on the day of the race for the Junior Trophy, it was 
 hardly safe to approach him for fear of having one's 
 head snapped off. 
 
 Jim saw the race from the stands, realising for 
 the first time at what a terrific speed the faster men 
 were travelling. But Hunt, who sat near at hand, 
 seemed to take but little interest in the proceedings. 
 
 On the Wednesday came the light-weight race. 
 This time, though, Jim was not in his place, having 
 ridden out to Craig-ny-Baa on a friend's machine 
 
 244
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 245 
 
 to watch the riders' spectacular leaps down the 
 mountain. 
 
 Hunt, however, did not move from the stands, 
 though his eye seemed more on the crowds of specta- 
 tors than the competitors. 
 
 In this race Brown had the misfortune to crash 
 badly when leading, leaving Jim the hope of the 
 Star camp for the big race on the Friday. 
 
 The Thursday found Hunt up unusually early. 
 Any chance passer-by in the corridor outside would 
 have been more than surprised to have found that 
 he was spending the time he had gained by his early 
 rising in an examination of the lock of his spare 
 room No. 44. 
 
 The remainder of that day he spent in keeping 
 the closest possible watch upon Jim's movements; a 
 watch he only relaxed when he had to visit the quay 
 to see a boat in. 
 
 But when the last of Thursday's trippers to the 
 Senior had been landed he began to feel again that 
 his hopes had proved false, and that his early rising 
 had been but so much wasted effort. 
 
 
 
 Not a hundred miles from Liverpool is situated 
 the club-house of the Light Aeroplane Club. 
 
 On the night in question it was unusually crowded 
 the Round Scotland Air Race had concluded there 
 a few hours previously, and the weary competitors 
 were loath to leave the comfort of the lounge. In- 
 deed, many of them, including the winner, Pat Lloyd, 
 intended staying there the night. 
 
 Two men were seated at a table in the far corner
 
 246 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 of the room. The elder was a millowner, Jeff Gor- 
 don by name, and a prominent aeroplane enthusiast. 
 A clever pilot, he had taken third place in the afore- 
 mentioned race. 
 
 The younger man, Dickenson, was speaking. 
 "Here comes Lloyd," he said, "looking as fresh as a 
 daisy. His vitality seems amazing; no matter how 
 gruelling the race, he always comes up smiling." 
 
 "Yes," Gordon replied. "He's got the stamina 
 of a racehorse. I know I feel dead beat, and I don't 
 mind admitting it. But Lloyd no, nothing could 
 tire the man." 
 
 The winner, a tall, bespectacled, rather fat-faced 
 man, went up to the bar and ordered a drink. 
 
 "Hasn't raced for ages, has he?" asked Dicken- 
 son. 
 
 "No quite three years," replied Gordon. "A 
 funny thing do you know I was third to him in this 
 race last time he competed?" 
 
 "Remarkable. The old order changeth not," 
 laughingly quoth Dickenson. "He used to race a 
 lot in those days, I understand." 
 
 "Yes, he flew at every big meeting it would be a 
 little before you were old enough to take an active 
 interest in the sport." 
 
 **Yes, I was hardly able to take an active interest, 
 as you say, but I did take an interest all the same. 
 He was one of my idols in those days a sort of ideal 
 I hoped some day to grow up and emulate." 
 
 "Well, you're well on the road to your goal. In 
 another year or two you'll be a force to be reckoned 
 with, at the rate you're coming along." 
 
 "Flatterer," replied Dickenson. "You know I'm
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 247 
 
 only mediocre and that's what I always shall be. 
 Just a plodder a man who might win if all the good 
 men dropped out." 
 
 "Nonsense," said Gordon. "You'll come on a lot 
 when you've had a little more experience. Won't 
 he, Mr. Lloyd?" 
 
 Lloyd, who was passing, stopped. "Yes, he's 
 going to be 'hot stuff' some day and that day isn't 
 so far off either." 
 
 "Tired?" asked Gordon. 
 
 "Tired? No. I never allow myself to feel tired. 
 But I'm off to bed soon, all the same I'm getting 
 off early. I'm going to have a look at the T. T. over 
 in the island." 
 
 "Yes, it'll be a good race this year, I'm told. I'm 
 only too sorry I can't spare the time to pop over 
 myself." 
 
 Dickenson sat deep in a brown study. "Penny 
 for your thoughts," said Gordon, when Lloyd had 
 departed. 
 
 The younger man smiled. "They're not worth 
 even that I was merely wondering where I had seen 
 a photo of Lloyd recently," he said. 
 
 Dawn, dry roads, a warm June morning, and no 
 mist. 
 
 These were the conditions Hunt found when he 
 looked out of his bedroom window at about 4.30 the 
 following morning. Everything pointed to the race 
 being easily the fastest of the series. 
 
 He dressed leisurely and strolled down to the har- 
 bour. Two boats were due in early, and he hoped
 
 248 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 that this time he would find his man among the 
 passengers. 
 
 But when both loads of unshaven, laughing men 
 and dishevelled, excited girls were ashore he found 
 his optimism had been premature. 
 
 Unless his man had used the most effectual dis- 
 guise, he was not on the island. 
 
 For a moment Hunt thought of returning to the 
 mainland on the first departing boat; but, on re- 
 considering the question, he decided he might as well 
 see the day's sport. 
 
 Half an hour later found him seated in the stands, 
 bent on enjoying the race in spite of his disappoint- 
 ment. 
 
 The riders were lined up on one side of the road- 
 way, their machines on the other (it was one of the 
 early races after the massed start had been intro- 
 duced), and the starter was shouting final instruc- 
 tions through his megaphone. 
 
 The hand of his watch crept slowly but surely 
 towards the magic hour of ten. 
 
 Then suddenly the maroon boomed, and forty odd 
 leather-clad figures sprinted across the broad sec- 
 tion of road to their machines. A brief push before 
 the engines started, then they were off. 
 
 As a spectacle it was magnificent; men and ma- 
 chines seemed as one being. 
 
 A minute later, and the ear-splitting noise they 
 made, had faded, leaving the spectators approxi- 
 mately half an hour in which to decide among them- 
 selves who would be first man round. 
 
 Twenty-five minutes later the staccato roar of an 
 open exhaust could be heard approaching.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 249 
 
 But it was not a motor-cycle. Such a speed for 
 the thirty-seven and a half mile lap was, of course, 
 impossible. It was a little red monoplane, screech- 
 ing its way just over the tree-tops. 
 
 It circled the grand stand twice before descending 
 in a near-by field. 
 
 At that moment the faster of the riders could be 
 heard approaching, and of all that vast crowd in the 
 vicinity only one man appeared to take any further 
 interest in the aeroplane and that man was In- 
 spector Hunt. 
 
 Pushing his way through the knots of people, he 
 gained a piece of high ground, from which he was 
 able to focus his glasses on the field in which the 
 'plane had landed. 
 
 The machine, he saw, had come down safely, and 
 was taxi-ing back towards the road. 
 
 A minute later the pilot had climbed out of the 
 cockpit and, after a look at some part of the engine, 
 started to walk towards the road. 
 
 In less than five minutes he passed close by Hunt 
 (who kept well out of sight) on his way to the pits. 
 
 The Yard man followed him at a discreet dis- 
 tance, studying his every action. 
 
 Once at the pits, he stopped, and wrote a note, 
 which he handed to a Boy Scout who was standing 
 near by. After a little monetary persuasion, the boy 
 departed with it, heading for the direction in which 
 Hunt was standing. 
 
 What ought he to do? the latter wondered. Fol- 
 low the Scout or keep to his man? 
 
 He decided to compromise by attempting to stop 
 the boy and persuade him to hand over the message.
 
 250 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 This proved easier than he expected it would, as the 
 boy did not even doubt his word that he was a police 
 officer. 
 
 A glance at the note sufficed. It was to the man- 
 ager of the Ceramo, booking a room for the night. 
 
 Producing a pencil from his pocket, Hunt 
 scrawled "Room 44," and, underneath, his signature. 
 Then, together with a tip, he handed the paper back 
 to the boy. 
 
 He felt considerably relieved now. The hand- 
 writing, he felt sure, was that of the man for whose 
 arrest he held a warrant. His choice of the Ceramo 
 as his headquarters had been a lucky one. 
 
 The intercepting of the Scout had taken very 
 little time, and he had not lost sight of his man the 
 while. The man was walking on, passing slowly 
 down the pits, his eye taking in all that was going 
 on around. 
 
 Opposite the Star camp he halted. After watch- 
 ing the mechanics, particularly Bailey, for a mo- 
 ment, he spoke to the pit manager, who nodded, evi- 
 dently replying in the affirmative. 
 
 Then, turning, he retraced his steps back to the 
 grand stand. 
 
 Hunt waited until he had seated himself before 
 taking up a position immediately behind him, from 
 which he could keep him in view, and at the same time 
 be as well out of sight himself as possible. 
 
 Indeed, to be on the safe side he bought a news- 
 paper, behind which he would be able, should the 
 necessity arise, to hide his features. 
 
 After a time his glance happened to fall idly on 
 the picture page.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 251 
 
 Almost the first thing that caught his eye was a 
 photograph the photograph of Pat Lloyd, the 
 Round Scotland Air Race winner. 
 
 At first he could hardly believe his senses, so 
 startling was his discovery. For the man seated so 
 calmly only a few feet in front of him was the origi- 
 nal of the photograph beyond doubt. 
 
 
 
 Hardly had the last echoes of the maroon died 
 away before Jim had started his heavy machine. 
 He realised that with a massed start of nearly fifty 
 riders a good get-away was essential if he was to 
 have clear roads ahead of him. 
 
 Although he had drawn No. 35, and was placed a 
 good sixty yards behind the first man, he managed, 
 by superb riding, to force his way up to seventh 
 place by the time he reached Quarter Bridge (1 
 mile) . 
 
 Then he slowed somewhat, taking things com- 
 paratively easy for the rest of the thirty-seven and a 
 half mile lap, knowing that the surest way to "nurse" 
 a "hot-stuff" engine for its heart-breaking task is 
 not to rev. it too unmercifully until it gets thor- 
 oughly warmed up. 
 
 Nevertheless, he picked up two more places before 
 the grand stand came in view again, clocking a lap 
 time of 29.45 s., which is a lap speed of 76.1 m.p.h. 
 
 Then on his second lap he began really to open 
 out. Riding like a man possessed, he had crept up 
 to fourth place by the end of it, this time clocking 
 29 minutes exactly, which equals a speed of 78.1 
 m.p.h.
 
 252 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 The next lap he covered at precisely the same 
 speed, and was rewarded by capturing third place. 
 
 But the men in front of him were veterans; 
 mounted on two of the fastest machines in the island, 
 mounts which give every promise of standing their 
 riders' drastic handling. And the lead they held 
 was one of over a minute. 
 
 On the completion of his fourth lap he stopped 
 to refuel. The leaders, he learned, had done like- 
 wise. In thirty-five seconds he was away again. 
 
 Three laps to go; and nearly eighty seconds to 
 make up. Could he do it? That was the question 
 he asked himself a hundred times in the next few 
 miles and the answer every time was "Yes." 
 
 Another fast lap 29 minutes exactly. Consist- 
 ency seemed to be his keynote. But the signal held 
 out to him from his pit, a white F on a blackboard, 
 meant faster still. 
 
 He was beginning to tire slightly. Surely he 
 could stick it? Only two more laps. 
 
 His cornering was automatic now; he had sub- 
 consciously become part and parcel of his machine. 
 
 Once more the stands once more he saw the little 
 white F held out to him from his pit. 
 
 How could they expect any more? Surely his 
 last lap was fast enough? He must be catching the 
 leaders. Even in his tired state he knew it had been 
 his fastest. 
 
 Still, he had to obey orders. Riding like an auto- 
 maton, he unleashed a tigerish lap. 
 
 Those who saw it will carry the memory to their 
 graves. His leap at Ballig Bridge was reported the 
 most daring ever seen there; his fiendish bounds
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 253 
 
 down the mountain to Craig-ny-Baa were awe-in- 
 spiring ; and according to the experts he must count 
 himself extremely lucky in safely rounding Brandish 
 Corner at the speed he took it. 
 
 But it was left to the finish to provide the biggest 
 thrill of all. 
 
 He passed Cook, the second man, at Rectory Cor- 
 ner. Only a mile to go and the leader, Robertson, 
 in sight.. 
 
 Victory was within his grasp. Tired, aching 
 joints and blistered hands were temporarily forgot- 
 ten. All that mattered now was the will to make a 
 final effort. 
 
 At the Nook he left his braking for the approach 
 to Governor's Bridge so late that all who saw him 
 could but think disaster imminent. But, no he had 
 the machine well under control, and had judged his 
 speed to the nih degree. 
 
 Then Governor's Bridge. A violent skid, which 
 he held then full bore again. He had his man now 
 not ten yards separated them and the remaining 
 three-quarters of a mile of his route was straight 
 and tree-lined. 
 
 But his rival's machine was still capable of amaz- 
 ing speed. Only by squeezing himself into the small- 
 est possible space was he able to lessen the wind 
 resistance, and make an impression on his leader. 
 
 Two hundred yards to the line ; and Jim had crept 
 up level to Robertson's back wheel. What a finish 
 for the spectators! 
 
 One hundred yards to go, and they were riding 
 bar to bar. 
 
 Then over the line. The crowd rose to them as
 
 254 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 one man. The most exciting finish ever seen to a 
 long-distance road race either here or elsewhere. 
 
 And few but the judge could say who was the 
 winner. But it was Jim the victor by a wheel's 
 breadth after a last lap in 28 minutes, or, for the 
 benefit of the uninitiated, 80.9 m.p.h.
 
 XXV 
 ZERO HOUR 
 
 THE race over, Hunt lost sight of his man in the 
 rush from the stands, very few remaining seated to 
 see the third man, Cook, finish. 
 
 But the Inspector was not unduly worried; he 
 guessed that he would find him amongst the crowd 
 of admirers gathered around the Star pit. 
 
 He was correct in this, as he found when he ar- 
 rived there. Pat Lloyd was in the front of the crush, 
 talking to the excited manager. 
 
 As he watched, Hunt saw him take a card from 
 his case, scribble a few words on it, then hand it to 
 the man, who pocketed it with a nod. 
 
 Then, fearful of being seen, the Yard man hurried 
 back through the crowds of aimlessly wandering 
 spectators to the town and the Ceramo hotel. 
 
 Once safely within the precincts of the hostelry, 
 he hurried to his room, where he took up a position 
 by the window from which he could see plainly all 
 who entered or left by the front door. 
 
 He had not long to wait, for within five minutes 
 Lloyd arrived; alone. 
 
 Only a short time elapsed before the slamming of 
 a door told him that Lloyd had been shown into No. 
 44, immediately below him, as he had requested on 
 the card he had taken from the Boy Scout. 
 
 Passing to his dressing-table, Hunt picked up his 
 
 255
 
 256 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 automatic, carefully inspecting the mechanism be- 
 fore slipping half a dozen bullets into the clip in 
 the butt. 
 
 Then from his bag he took up his handcuffs, drop- 
 ping them into a handy pocket. His preparations 
 completed, he moved back to the window. 
 
 Again he had not long to wait. A flushed and 
 dirty-looking Jim Hucklesby rode up on a borrowed 
 motor-cycle (his own was being dismantled by the 
 A.C.U. officials in accordance with the rules), which 
 he leaned against the hotel wall. 
 
 A moment later, and he, also, had entered by the 
 front door. 
 
 Going back to his dressing-table, Hunt dropped 
 into a chair, after clipping on his headphones, which 
 were connected to the special dictaphone already 
 mentioned, and pulled down a little switch. 
 
 The microphone was, of course, cleverly hidden in 
 the room below. He could hear Lloyd quite plainly 
 he was pacing restlessly about the room. 
 
 Then came the sound of a knock on the door. 
 "Come in," called Lloyd. 
 
 Jim entered, closing the door softly behind him. 
 
 Lloyd started the conversation. "Did I see In- 
 spector Hunt here?" he asked. 
 
 "Probably," replied Jim. "He's here. If you 
 value your life, you'd better leave at once." 
 
 "I shall leave to-morrow," Lloyd answered calmly, 
 almost haughtily, it seemed. "I have arranged to 
 see the prize-giving. It'll take more than an ad- 
 dle-brained Inspector of Police to deter me, I can 
 assure you. I'm Pat Lloyd, the celebrated airman 
 everyone knows that."
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 257 
 
 "Yes," agreed Jim. "You certainly look the 
 part." 
 
 "Look the part? I like that." His voice rose. 
 "/ am Lloyd. For years I've kept up my dual iden- 
 tity I guessed it would prove useful one day. I 
 am well known as Lloyd ; in fact, I can call hundreds 
 of witnesses to prove that I am that worthy airman. 
 I am in no danger whatsoever." Then, more softly 
 "Now I suppose I must tell you why I sent for 
 you. To congratulate you on the splendid race you 
 rode to-day." 
 
 
 
 The conversation was at an end; Jim was taking 
 his leave. 
 
 Hunt slipped off his 'phones and tiptoed to the 
 window. 
 
 The Senior winner came out through the door, 
 looking somewhat dazed, started up his machine, and 
 rode rapidly away. 
 
 Zero hour for Hunt had arrived. 
 
 Going softly back to the dictaphone, Hunt started 
 it up. He did not expect to find it a valuable help 
 to him, but he was not taking any chances; if his 
 plans did go wrong, Scotland Yard would have a 
 complete record of all that took place. 
 
 Then, passing to the door, he stole out, tiptoeing 
 along the corridor and down the stairs, then, even 
 more stealthily, along the passage to room No. 44. 
 
 His hand on the weapon in his pocket, he stooped, 
 gluing his eye to the keyhole. 
 
 What he saw satisfied him. Lloyd was sitting in 
 the far corner of the room, back to the door, read- 
 ing a newspaper.
 
 258 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 His arrest would be a matter of the utmost ease. 
 
 Rising to his full height, Hunt withdrew his au- 
 tomatic (not for nothing had he already tested his 
 adversary's mettle), slipped back the safety catch, 
 and laid his hand on the door-knob. 
 
 Then, bracing himself to meet any emergency, he 
 flung open the door, at the same time advancing into 
 the room. 
 
 "Sir Charles Stafford," he started, "I" But he 
 did not finish the sentence, for, with a thud, some- 
 thing struck him violently on the back of the head, 
 sending him sprawling, an inert mass, on to the 
 floor.
 
 XXVI 
 CONFESSION 
 
 AFTER what seemed an eternity, Hunt started to 
 recover consciousness. Something cold and clammy 
 was wrapped around his forehead, and, as his senses 
 returned, he felt the trickle of water running down 
 his face. 
 
 Dazedly he attempted to lift his arm to brush the 
 bandage aside. To his surprise, he found he could 
 not move it. This discovery, no doubt, hastened his 
 return to full consciousness. 
 
 Dropping his head forward, he saw that he was 
 bound hand t,nd foot to the chair in which he was 
 seated. Then, lifting his eyes, he sought his captor. 
 
 Sir Charles Stafford, alias Pat Lloyd, was stand- 
 ing by the fireplace, watching him closely, an amused 
 expression in his eyes. 
 
 Presently, seeing his victim had recovered, he 
 spoke, slowly and deliberately, weighing each word 
 before giving it utterance. 
 
 "Yes you're quite right. I am Sir Charles Staf- 
 ford the murderer of my deadliest enemy, Dennis 
 Evans the stealer of his wife and the slayer of 
 Constable James." 
 
 He paused a moment before continuing. "It 
 \vould have been far better for you though, Inspec- 
 tor, had you not made your discovery it will only 
 mean my adding to my growing list of crimes for 
 
 259
 
 260 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 now I must also become the killer of Inspector 
 Hunt." 
 
 Hunt started to reply. But no words were forth- 
 coming; he was tightly gagged. 
 
 Sir Charles, observing his efforts, moved towards 
 him. 
 
 "I'm sorry to inconvenience you," he said, "but 
 I'm afraid that for my own safety you must remain 
 gagged. For all I know, you may have some more 
 of your sleuth-hounds within call." 
 
 He thought for a moment. "Have you ?" he asked. 
 "Answer me truthfully, and I'll see what I can do 
 about it." 
 
 Hunt shook his head. 
 
 "No, eh? Righto. If I take off the gag, will 
 you give me your word of honour that you will not 
 attempt to call for help?" 
 
 Hunt nodded again; this time in the affirmative. 
 
 Sir Charles moved nearer to him. "Understand 
 this. If you fail me, I'll shoot you like a dog, bound 
 hand and foot as you are." 
 
 He drew his revolver, covering the defenceless man. 
 "Remember, you're on your honour," he warned 
 again. "If you shout, you'll be a corpse before the 
 sound has had time to leave the room." 
 
 Hunt nodded. The situation was desperate. Like 
 a fool, he had blundered again, and fallen unsus- 
 pectingly into another trap. 
 
 Sir Charles was removing the gag. "You're prob- 
 ably wondering how you came to be caught so easily," 
 he said. "Well, I'll tell you." 
 
 His eyes took on an expression of savage delight. 
 "You see that weight on the floor by the door?"
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 261 
 
 Hunt nodded again. 
 
 "That's what hit you. You see, I expected your 
 visit, so I took the precaution of arranging a suit- 
 able reception for you. Rather crude, I admit. A 
 mere schoolboy's trick but effective nevertheless." 
 
 Hunt could but agree with the truth of this state- 
 ment. A 28 Ib. weight dropped from the height of 
 some feet on to a person's head as he passes through 
 a door can be relied on to cause a knockout. 
 
 "And, in case you entertain any hopes of being 
 rescued, I'll tell you now that I took the liberty of 
 locking the door once I had you safely inside." Then 
 as an afterthought he added, "If by any chance 
 anyone does try to break in, I shall have no option 
 but to terminate your life immediately. 
 
 "As you may also be wondering why I've kept 
 you alive to tell you all this, it's only because I feel 
 I owe you a grudge. If it hadn't been for your in- 
 terference, my poor Peggy would have been alive 
 to-day. So this afternoon, when I saw my chance 
 to delay your agony, I took it." 
 
 He paused for a space. "I suppose you have dis- 
 covered just how I carried out the murder of Dennis 
 Evans?" he queried. 
 
 Hunt realised he was fighting for time anything 
 he could say to delay the fateful moment increased 
 his chance of escape. 
 
 "No," he replied, "to be candid, I'm puzzled still. 
 I have only an inkling of the truth." 
 
 "Then," Sir Charles began boastingly, "as I've a 
 certain amount of admiration for your work, I'll 
 condescend to tell you how I did it. 
 
 "The whole thing was pre-arranged, as, I expect
 
 262 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 you know. I've been scheming how best I could rid 
 the world of Evans for several years past. But I'd 
 better start at the very beginning I suppose. 
 
 "As you have undoubtedly heard, I was studying 
 aeronautics on the Continent after I came down from 
 Oxford. 
 
 "I was young and irresponsible in those days 
 and, worst of all, practically penniless. Unfortu- 
 nately, though, my tastes were expensive too expen- 
 sive, I'm afraid. 
 
 "I was rather heavily in debt. Something had to 
 be done, and done quickly. I had to get money some- 
 how either honestly or dishonestly. It didn't mat- 
 ter which as long as I got it. 
 
 "I had spent some hours in the Montmartre dis- 
 trict of Paris one evening, and had got into con- 
 versation with a stranger rather a peculiar type 
 of man; he seemed in deadly fear of something all 
 the evening. But he had money to burn that was 
 the great thing. 
 
 "About mdinight we left the place together. We 
 neither of us had far to go, as he lived in the Rue 
 St. Lazare and I in the Rue de Lorette. So our 
 ways were the same for part of the walk. 
 
 "After a few minutes we came to the Rue de 
 Chateaudun, where he had to branch off to the left. 
 
 "Then, after bidding him good night and arrang- 
 ing to meet him on the morrow, I set off on the re- 
 maining hundred yards or so of my journey. 
 
 "Hardly had I started, though, when I heard a 
 shout for help from my friend of the cafe. 
 
 "Turning hurriedly, I ran as fast as I could in 
 the direction in which he had departed.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 263 
 
 "I had not far to go. I found him, back to a 
 doorway, stoutly defending himself with his walk- 
 ing-stick against three men whom I took to be 
 Apaches. 
 
 "I was always ready for a scrap in those days 
 nothing pleased me more than a good rough-and- 
 tumble. 
 
 "Well, to cut a long story short, my arrival turned 
 the tide of the battle (which had begun to run badly 
 for my friend with the walking-stick), his attackers 
 turning tail and bolting. 
 
 "Then my friend, who, I afterwards learned, was 
 known as Monsieur Dupree, insisting that I had 
 saved his life from an attempt he had feared for 
 some weeks, made me accompany him to his house 
 for a 'nightcap.' 
 
 "On the way there he repeated again and again 
 how indebted he was to me, for without my help, he 
 said, he would have long since been a corpse. Then 
 he made a startling statement. He would, as part 
 of my reward, show me the way to make a fortune 
 a fortune beyond my wildest dreams. 
 
 "A little later we arrived at the house. It was a 
 wonderful place, furnished regardless of cost, with 
 a host of well-trained servants everywhere. 
 
 "He caught my admiring glance. 'You're young,' 
 he said to me, 'and you, also, could do with great 
 wealth such as I have?' 
 
 "I assured him again that I could indeed that I 
 was at the moment in deadly need of even 500 francs. 
 'If you can show me the way to get even that,' I 
 said, 'you will more than repay me for my help in 
 the little affair we had in the Rue St. Lazare.'
 
 264 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 " 'Wait a minute, my boy,' he replied. 'I have 
 promised to do something for you and I will keep 
 my word. But I must know more of you first. You 
 may not like my scheme, so it would not do for me 
 to tell it to you yet. Tell me now about yourself 
 all there is to tell both good and bad.' 
 
 "I told him everything of my love of adventure ; 
 my ambition to become famous as an airman; my 
 insuppressible love of luxury; my title, which had 
 so far proved but a millstone round my neck. 
 
 "When I had finished, he was more than delighted. 
 'You're my man all right,' he said. 'Meet me here 
 to-morrow evening at eight o'clock. I must have 
 time to check your statements.' 
 
 "With that he bid me au revoir and escorted me 
 to the door. 
 
 "I was at his place the next evening at the ap- 
 pointed hour. He had checked my statements and 
 appeared perfectly satisfied. 
 
 "He came straight to business. He was, he said, 
 the head of one of the big international dope gangs. 
 The men from whom I had helped him to escape 
 were not Apaches, but members of a rival gang. 
 
 "The proposition he had to offer me was briefly 
 this. He was finding it increasingly difficult to hold 
 his connection in England. The customs officers 
 w r ere becoming more and more astute, and the quan- 
 tity of dope he could safely run out into the country 
 was decreasing monthly. 
 
 "With the aid of my title and education I could 
 help him to rebuild the business. He would furnish 
 me with enough capital to take a house near Lon- 
 don, and also buy me a couple of aeroplanes.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 265 
 
 "I was to spend a year in getting well known as 
 a pilot before my job began in earnest. 
 
 "I would then have to take charge of a celebrated 
 London dope gang which haunted the Tottenham 
 Court Road area. I was to be responsible for the 
 actual smuggling of the dope, bringing it by air 
 from various places on the Continent. As I should 
 have my own private landing-ground, I should be 
 able to keep my movements secret, and so avoid trou- 
 ble with the customs. 
 
 "Well, to cut a long story short, I accepted his 
 offer immediately, leaving Paris within the week to 
 take a place at Harrow. 
 
 "The remainder of that year I spent in undertak- 
 ing spectacular flights and competing in various air 
 races, which considerably added to my prestige 
 and also, to a certain extent, to my income. 
 
 "Then I turned my attention to the dope-running 
 proper. In a couple of years I had made a con- 
 siderable pile this in spite of my heavy expenses, 
 for I still kept up my flying. 
 
 "Then came the news that Dupree was dead had 
 been murdered, would be more correct. 
 
 "This meant the splitting up of the international 
 gang as we knew it but it was a red-letter day for 
 me. It meant that I became the 'boss' of, instead of 
 manager of, the English branch the Tottenham 
 Court Road traffickers. 
 
 "It was about this time that I first met Peggy 
 Mrs. Evans as you know her. She was living in 
 Wealdstone quite close to me. We got very keen 
 on one another right from the start. If ever there 
 was a case of 'love at first sight,' this was it.
 
 266 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 "All was going well until, one day when I called 
 for Peggy, she refused to see me. Later the same 
 day I saw an announcement of her engagement to a 
 certain Dennis Evans. I knew she had been friendly 
 with the man before I came on the scene, but I 
 thought all was over between them long since. 
 
 "The announcement simply flabbergasted me ; but 
 worse was to follow. 
 
 "In the course of my inquiries I found that Den- 
 nis was the head of the notorious Chelsea dope gang. 
 And the moment I heard that I began to plan my 
 revenge. 
 
 "Then, to cap everything, Peggy brought him 
 round to my place, suggesting that I should golf 
 with them. 
 
 "Why I eventually consented I can't say to this 
 day. It must have been solely because her proposal 
 offered me a few more hours in her company. 
 
 "I disliked Dennis intensely from the very first 
 moment I set eyes on him. It was only natural, I 
 suppose. I had already prepared myself to hate him. 
 
 "But I did not show it ; it suited my plans to play 
 up to him. I sensed a mystery, and determined to 
 get to the bottom of it. 
 
 "And so it went on. One invitation led to an- 
 other. I gradually began to get on more and more 
 intimate terms with him, with either golf, or bridge, 
 or dances, practically every day; while he, in his 
 turn, became very interested in flying. 
 
 "Then came the day of the wedding. By this 
 time I was inwardly a seething volcano the slight- 
 est excuse and I should have broken out into violent 
 eruption.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 267 
 
 "I had Peggy to myself for a few minutes just 
 before the ceremony (for the first time since the an- 
 nouncement of her engagement), and begged her not 
 to go through with the affair, for I could see she was 
 on the verge of a breakdown. But my appeal was 
 in vain she resolutely refused to change her plans. 
 
 "Then, the wedding over, I turned to my old love, 
 the air, in an endeavour to forget the past. But it 
 was no good of course I could not forget. 
 
 "So I decided to end it all hence my Australian 
 and Atlantic flights. Again it was not to be I was 
 fated to win through. 
 
 "I had completely lost touch with Peggy now 
 fifteen months' absence can help to cure the severest 
 heart-ache. But I decided not to return to Harrow ; 
 it would bring back too many painful memories. 
 
 "About this time Forest Court came into the mar- 
 ket. I liked the place the moment I saw it, and, as 
 money was no object, 1 decided to purchase it. 
 Within a fortnight I had moved in. 
 
 "A few afternoons later I set off for a round of 
 golf at Highcliffe. Who should I meet there but 
 Peggy Evans alone. 
 
 "She was feeling rather down, it seemed, and, to 
 my surprise, started to unburden her troubles to 
 me. Once she had started she said more than she 
 intended. In a few minutes it all came out the 
 reason of her sudden engagement. She had con- 
 sented to it to save me! 
 
 "It appeared that Dennis had discovered my con- 
 nection with the Tottenham Court Road dope gang 
 and had gone to her with irrevocable proof of my 
 doings. He had then threatened to hand this proof
 
 268 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 over to the authorities unless and it was a very big 
 unless unless she agreed to marry him. 
 
 "And, as you know, her choice was marriage 
 sacrificing herself to a man she did not love a man 
 she probably even loathed all to save me from years 
 of imprisonment. 
 
 "In that moment I saw everything saw how 
 Evans had become friendly with me merely to keep 
 an eye on my movements to blackmail me perhaps, 
 if the opportunity arose, and to scare me out of 
 business. 
 
 "And there and then I swore to kill him, kill him 
 slowly but surely ruin his business as he had ruined 
 my life, and finally, under the cloak of friendship, 
 send him to the most terrible death I could conceive."
 
 XXVII 
 CONFESSION (continued) 
 
 As things turned out, it was fated to be simple. The 
 Evanses were living within easy reach, so now I was 
 able to keep my eye on him. 
 
 "I had completely reorganised my gang, and I 
 am certain no living man could have connected me 
 with it ; indeed, I am sure that even Dennis believed 
 my story that I had made a fortune from my flights 
 a true statement, I must remark in passing and 
 had retired from active business. 
 
 "Without undue trouble, I managed to get one of 
 the Chelsea men on my side. He did not, at first, 
 like to give his own companions away, but the reward 
 I offered was too tempting for him to refuse. 
 
 "So, from time to time, he sent me names names 
 of men the police would catch red-handed. 
 
 "These I gave to my old friend and companion in 
 crime, Claude Gascoigne, who, posing as 'Pro Patria,' 
 forwarded them to Scotland Yard. 
 
 "Evans stuck to his guns to the last, I must admit ; 
 even although he had long been fighting with his 
 back to the wall. 
 
 "Then, after a two years' battle, came ruin. 
 
 "Until now Peggy had not relished the idea of 
 murder it was only her fears for my safety that 
 had prevented her from eloping with me long before. 
 
 "But her husband's loss of his money proved the 
 
 269
 
 270 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 last straw. Like me, she could not live except in 
 luxury. And, to make her fight the easier, I had 
 been spending money like water each time she was 
 in my company. So she fell at last, agreeing to play 
 her part, whatever the consequences. 
 
 "The scheme I proposed was briefly this. We 
 would let the world think I was dead the result 
 of an air accident. She too, and Dennis, would also 
 have been presumed to have perished at the same 
 time. 
 
 "Then, with all three of us officially dead and me 
 buried, with civic honours, maybe, into the bargain 
 we should be free to set up, under a new name, as 
 man and wife, wherever we pleased. As I pointed 
 out, if we were careful we should run no risk what- 
 ever. 
 
 "This simple little plot took any amount of evolv- 
 ing but the reward was too great to risk making 
 the slightest mistake. 
 
 "For a whole week, I worked night and day but 
 at last I had it perfect. For every move we had to 
 make I thought out three alternatives, so, if things 
 went wrong at any stage, we should still be able to 
 make our get-away in comfort. 
 
 "I arranged for Peggy and Dennis to accompany 
 me on a tour to the U.S.A. By a certain amount of 
 scheming I also arranged for us to catch the Tro- 
 ganic at Plymouth at six o'clock on the morning of 
 May the 23rd. 
 
 "After planning that we should fly there, leaving 
 Lymington at 3 A.M. or thereabouts, and getting 
 Dennis and Peggy to agree to come to a party at 
 my place overnight, the rest was comparatively easy.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 271 
 
 "Dennis and I were both about the same build; 
 we both wore identical ftying suits I had seen to 
 that by changing my old one and, most important 
 of all, we both had false teeth. 
 
 "All I had to do was to get him into a complete 
 change of my clothing, and the trick was as good 
 as done. 
 
 "I will not trouble you by going into details as 
 to how this was accomplished, but, briefly, I tipped 
 him out of a motor-boat into the lake myself as 
 well, for that matter." 
 
 "What time was this?" asked Hunt, hoping to 
 lengthen the story which, he felt, was rapidly draw- 
 ing to a close. If he could only keep him talking, 
 all might yet turn out well. 
 
 He could not help recalling a slogan he had seen 
 stuck up in Whitfield's office at the Yard: "When 
 you're feeling down in the mouth, think of Jonah 
 he came out all right." 
 
 "Oh about 10.30," answered his adversary, "but 
 that doesn't really matter. The great point was, 
 Dennis had to dress in my clothes; his had all gone 
 on ahead to Plymouth Peggy saw to that. 
 
 "I had sent all my servants to bed; there was no 
 chance of this changing of clothing being discovered. 
 
 "Then, on a pretext of taking his w r et things down 
 to the kitchen to dry, I hurried along to the furnace 
 (central heating furnace) and threw them into it. 
 
 "By 2.30, the time that the servants were about 
 again, he had donned his flying kit, so his borrowed 
 suit was completely hidden. 
 
 "Then, I'm sorry to say, came our first mistake. I 
 refer to the exchanging of suit-cases by that drunken
 
 272 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 fool Day. In a way I was hoist with my own petard 
 there, for I drugged his drinks to get him out of the 
 way for a few hours. 
 
 "Now comes a little move that I should have men- 
 tioned earlier. After the burning of Dennis' clothes 
 I went up to my research rooms in the attic to the 
 room I call my art room I suppose you've inspected 
 it? bringing down a wax model of Peggy's head 
 and shoulders that I had made. Although it was of 
 my own fashioning, I think I can justly claim that 
 it was perfect, even to the leather flying coat-collar 
 with which I finished it off. This I concealed in the 
 locker of my 'Moth.' 
 
 "Then I hurried up the road to Mrs. Thornton's 
 house to borrow her car. I was very friendly with 
 her, and I had taken the liberty of providing my- 
 self with a duplicate key of her garage lock. 
 
 "I ran no risk, as the road is always deserted at 
 this hour and I knew Mrs. Thornton was away. 
 In case you think differently, I can assure you that 
 I had a reserve move up my sleeve had I been un- 
 able to obtain her car, I should have changed my 
 plans accordingly. 
 
 "However, I had no trouble, and obtained the 
 Singer, which I drove up the Green Lane, where I 
 turned it, leaving it in readiness. 
 
 "Next, I turned out the contents of Peggy's at- 
 tache-case, filling it instead with banknotes. 
 
 "At this stage I'd better explain that, whenever 
 we were all flying together, Peggy insisted on trav- 
 elling in my 'plane. Dennis had never objected to 
 this he thought the world of her, I must admit, 
 and always let her have her own way.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 273 
 
 "This fact, as you will see later, helped me with 
 my plans considerably; incidentally, it also helped 
 to confuse the police when they set to work to solve 
 the mystery." 
 
 He looked at Hunt amusedly. "I should like to 
 know what Walker had to say on the subject, but I 
 must forgo the pleasure time presses." 
 
 The Inspector winced involuntarily. Confound 
 the man ! Why must he keep reminding him of the 
 fact? 
 
 "Now, to come to our actual departure. Day, 
 who had recovered somewhat, as I said, changed bags 
 with Peggy exchanged a toothbrush and pyjamas 
 for a quarter of a million in hard cash. 
 
 "The loss alone, though serious, would not have 
 hindered us much it only meant us going to the 
 trouble of getting more. I'm sure, though, that if 
 Peggy had not been so excited and nervous she would 
 have noticed the lightness of her bag and remedied 
 matters. 
 
 "After we had taxied out of the hangar, I man- 
 aged to pass Dennis and get to the turning-point on 
 the other side of the park some time before him. Not 
 that it mattered much ; it was quite dark behind the 
 landing-light. Bailey could not see what was going 
 on there. 
 
 "As I said, I arrived first. Peggy immediately 
 climbed out, ran to the power-shed where we gen- 
 erate the electric current for this part of the estate 
 I had instructed her what to do beforehand and 
 pulled up the main switch, plunging the park into 
 darkness.
 
 274 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 "By this time Dennis had also taxied up. Every- 
 thing was ready for me to stage my fade-out. 
 
 "Walking quickly over to him, I hit him on the 
 head with a short, iron bar. If you were free to go 
 and search," he added tauntingly, "you'd probably 
 discover it lying in some furze-bushes not far from 
 the power-house, for that's where I threw it after it 
 had served its purpose. But as you're not and not 
 likely to be I'm only wasting time by mentioning 
 the fact. 
 
 "Of course, my blow only stunned him I did not 
 intend to let him die without experiencing the agony 
 I had planned for him. 
 
 "So then I dragged him unceremoniously from his 
 'plane, immediately starting to turn out the con- 
 tents of his pockets. 
 
 "As soon as I had finished, a few things I always 
 carried went in the place of the things I had re- 
 moved my watch, wallet, keys, handkerchief, and 
 one or two other odds and ends that, I see, you did 
 not even trouble to produce at the inquest, so sure 
 were you that the body was mine. 
 
 "Then, quickly, I pulled out his false teeth. Ex- 
 tracting my own unusual set I had another plain 
 set close at hand to replace them I pushed them 
 into his mouth. Next, I strapped an old, spare para- 
 chute round his body and the unconscious man was 
 ready for the end. All that remained for me to do 
 was to drag him to the 'Moth,' and drop him in the 
 front seat. 
 
 "Then, going back to the monoplane, I carefully 
 set the controls. And, after making sure that every- 
 thing was all right, I opened the throttle, sending
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 275 
 
 it off on its own in the manner of a schoolboy's model. 
 
 "I had flown the 'plane many times myself, and 
 I felt sure that it would take off safely but I must 
 confess it was rather a nerve-racking moment for 
 me; if it should crash, it would be sealing Bailey's 
 death-warrant." 
 
 He looked at Hunt queerly. "You see, from the 
 beginning I determined to stop at nothing. I had 
 so much to gain and so little to lose. If, as I have 
 said, the 'plane had crashed before leaving the pre- 
 cincts of the park, Bailey would, almost certainly, 
 have run over to the wreckage. 
 
 "When he had discovered, as he was bound to dis- 
 cover, that Dennis was not in the cockpit, it would 
 have meant either silencing him, or years of black- 
 mail, or even imprisonment. As you'll probably 
 agree, silencing him would have been by far the best 
 of the alternatives." 
 
 He ruminated for a moment on the method of the 
 silencing. "I could easily have stunned him, as I 
 had Dennis, and placed them both amongst the debris 
 before putting a match to it. It would have been all 
 over in a few seconds. 
 
 " 'Bailey,' the papers would have said, 'died a 
 hero, sacrificing his life in a vain endeavour to save 
 Mr. Evans.' I might even have dedicated a bed to 
 his memory in the local hospital." He laughed at 
 the thought. 
 
 "But I'm wandering. The necessity did not arise. 
 The 'plane took off perfectly, Peggy, of course, 
 switching off the light at the main so that Bailey 
 was unable to see that the 'plane was empty. I 
 omitted to mention that she could time her actions
 
 276 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 perfectly, as there is a little window on the park side 
 of the shed, through which she could see me more 
 or less clearly, as I was between her and the bril- 
 liant beam of the landing-light. 
 
 "Then came my turn. Just before I got to the 
 illuminated portion of the park, Peggy played her 
 part once more. This gave me the opportunity to 
 turn back, and go over and curse Bailey the noise 
 of my exhaust, coupled with the violence of my lan- 
 guage, distracting his attention from the sound of 
 Peggy starting the Singer in the Green Lane. 
 
 "Of course, Bailey swore at the inquest that Peggy 
 was then in the 'plane. He was completely deceived 
 by my wax effigy of her, which I had pushed over 
 the head of her unconscious husband. He even 
 swore he saw me speak to her what he didn't notice, 
 poor boob, was that she didn't reply. 
 
 "Next time, of course, I took off in fine style ; the 
 light remaining on to let Bailey see the flowing hair 
 of my model, and assume Peggy was still in her place. 
 
 "I flew inland for a few minutes after getting clear 
 of Lymington, to give Peggy time to get to Totland 
 Corner. Then, when I saw by her headlights that 
 she had reached Highcliffe, I manoeuvred the 'plane 
 until I was over the meadow the papers refer to as 
 Angels. 
 
 "It was my plan now to set the 'plane on fire, 
 escape myself by parachute I always carry one, 
 except when I'm flying over the sea and leave my 
 half -unconscious victim to perish in the flames. 
 
 "I had hoped that the torture of the blazing petrol 
 would arouse him somewhat before the end giving
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 277 
 
 him time to enjoy his roasting but not time to allow 
 him to attempt to jump. 
 
 "Unfortunately, again my plans miscarried. He 
 must have long since recovered consciousness, 
 and, recognising the seriousness of his position, was 
 quietly awaiting his chance to make a fight for life. 
 
 "My idea was to take the effigy of Peggy from 
 his head and place it in my cockpit. This would 
 prevent it melting over Dennis' face, where it would 
 perhaps have left traces. Also, guarded by the pro- 
 tecting film of wax, his features would undoubtedly 
 have been saved from much of the certain disfigure- 
 ment in the inevitable crash. 
 
 "But, as I say, he had already recovered full con- 
 sciousness. 
 
 "As I pulled the effigy off and dropped it at my 
 feet, he rose from his seat, attacking me savagely. 
 
 "It was all over quite quickly. He was weak from 
 the effects of his blow, and I had time to draw my 
 revolver. One shot settled the affair. 
 
 "As my petrol tanks were filled to their full capac- 
 ity, I didn't worry much, as I knew that in all prob- 
 ability his remains would be so charred that the 
 bullet-wound would pass undetected. 
 
 "Then I fired the 'plane and jumped, leaving the 
 blazing machine to crash when and where it liked 
 between Angels and the sea. 
 
 "My leap was a success the parachute opened 
 without trouble. I landed in the far corner of 
 Angels, the cows stampeding like wildfire in their 
 fright. 
 
 "Here I folded my parachute. There was little 
 wind, so the task was easy.
 
 278 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 "Then I walked across the meadow towards Tot- 
 land Corner hence the single set of footprints." 
 
 It was evident to Hunt that Sir Charles had been 
 keeping in close touch with the case through the 
 papers. 
 
 "Then, I'm sorry to say, I was challenged by Con- 
 stable James. He knew me, of course, so it was im- 
 perative to the success of my scheme that he be 
 silenced. 
 
 "After making sure that he was dead, I continued, 
 down by the hedge, to Totland Corner. A moment 
 later Peggy arrived with the car. Our plans by now 
 were practically assured of a successful conclusion 
 all that remained to be done was fix our make-up. 
 
 "We drove to Peggy's summer bungalow on the 
 banks of the Avon, and there, after helping her to 
 become a pretty brunette, I was transformed tem- 
 porarily into Dennis Evans, in case of accidents. 
 
 "As it happened, it was a wise move, for the 
 garage man, I understand, identified me as Evans. 
 
 "Then, following a carefully planned route, we 
 reached the village of Hanley. 
 
 "Almost immediately after our arrival we discov- 
 ered the loss of our money. Although not terribly 
 serious, it was a most regrettable occurrence. I de- 
 cided to make an attempt to retrieve it. 
 
 "Hence my appearance at my own inquest where 
 I hoped to learn what had become of our missing 
 suit-case besides ascertaining whether any suspicions 
 had arisen with regard to the identity of the body 
 found in the 'plane. 
 
 "Then, hearing no reference to the finding of the 
 money, I thought there was just a chance that Day
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 279 
 
 had discovered his mistake before leaving my place, 
 and that the bag had been left at Forest Court, un- 
 opened. That evening I returned to Lymington, 
 disguised as my cousin, Henry Sandleson, who is, I 
 hear, under the impression that he is a baronet. 
 
 "I took Sturman in well, my little experience of 
 this kind of thing standing me in good stead. But 
 the money, I found, was not on the premises. Dis- 
 appointed, I returned to Hanley, as I had come, in 
 Mr. Watkin's car. 
 
 "Later, of course, came the second tragedy of my 
 life the loss of my poor Peggy a loss for which, 
 Inspector, I, rightly or wrongly, hold you responsible 
 a loss for which I have condemned you to death. 
 
 "After this terrible catastrophe I decided to fall 
 back on my last line of defence to appear again 
 openly as Pat Lloyd, the racing airman, the role I 
 had created as a bolt-hole in my early days with the 
 dope gang. 
 
 "I thought in this I was secure how you found 
 me out I can't for the life of me imagine." 
 
 "Quite by accident," replied Hunt. "I happened 
 to gaze into the window of a ladies' hairdressers." 
 
 "A ladies' hairdressers. I don't see the connec- 
 tion." 
 
 Despite the thin thread by which his life was hang- 
 ing, Hunt laughed. "In this particular window 
 there happened to be a lifesize wax model of the 
 head and shoulders of a woman. That immediately 
 suggested that Mrs. Evans wasn't in your 'plane at 
 all." 
 
 "But then why did you come to the Island?" 
 
 "Well it's rather a difficult question to answer
 
 280 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 but I fully expected you'd be here to see Jim ride. 
 And I knew that if he won you wouldn't be able to 
 resist congratulating him in person. That's all there 
 is to it. He won, and you sent for him. My deduc- 
 tions were correct." 
 
 "Clever. Damned clever," conceded Sir Charles. 
 "But now, I repeat, time presses. I'm afraid I must 
 bring this farce to an end." 
 
 He looked at his revolver. "I've never used a 
 silencer in so small a room before I suppose it will 
 be effective?" 
 
 "Quite," replied Hunt quietly. "It will make less 
 noise than the drawing of a champagne cork." As 
 he spoke he was looking beyond Sir Charles to the 
 door. Was he mistaken, or did the knob move 
 slightly ? No, it was no mistake the knob was mov- 
 ing. 
 
 "Just a moment," he continued. "Don't think 
 I'm afraid to die I'm not but, before I do, I'd 
 like to know what made Gascoigne give his own men 
 away to Scotland Yard. Your name was included, 
 you know." 
 
 Sir Charles smiled. "That was purely for our own 
 convenience. Gascoigne had taken over the gang 
 I had no further use for it I was quitting the game 
 for good. He imagined that these men were being 
 too closely watched by the police, and, fearing that 
 they might be arrested any minute, to prevent any 
 danger to himself he decided to dispose of them all 
 at one foul swoop. 
 
 "You see, he thought it would place him above 
 suspicion, and at the same time give confirmation
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 281 
 
 should any be needed of my demise. In plain Eng- 
 lish, it was a put-up job. 
 
 "I can hardly credit it myself, but Gascoigne tells 
 me that the reverse has actually been the result. 
 Since the arrests, he has had more police attention 
 than ever." 
 
 "Then you mean Gascoigne knew of your mur- 
 derous plans?" Hunt queried boldly, his eyes once 
 more straying to the door. 
 
 It had started to open now. Sir Charles was still 
 standing back to it, totally unaware of his impend- 
 ing danger. 
 
 "Yes. He knew. He was what you call in your 
 police jargon 'an accessory after the fact.' But 
 what difference does that make, pray may I ask?" 
 
 "All the difference in the world. He'll have to 
 stand with you on the scaffold. You don't really 
 think you're going to get away with this, do you?" 
 asked Hunt, still in the same quiet tone. "Granted, 
 you will kill me but don't you think the Yard knows 
 now whose body was actually in the blazing 'Moth'? 
 Don't you think too that the police of the world are 
 on the look-out for Sir Charles Stafford, alias Pat 
 Lloyd, the racing airman a double murderer?" 
 
 "Possibly," granted the baronet, with a laugh 
 still unaware that the door was more than half open, 
 and that, framed in the aperture, stood Jim Huck- 
 lesby, a heavy stick in his hand. "But don't you 
 think I shall counteract these plans?" 
 
 "In a few hours' time I shall bear no more re- 
 semblance to either Sir Charles Stafford or Pat Lloyd 
 than you do."
 
 282 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 His voice changed. "I'm sorry, Inspector. Now 
 you've told me so much it will perhaps be wisest for 
 me to hurry." Then, more gently "Don't you 
 think it would be best for you to close your eyes?" 
 
 "No," replied Hunt. "I prefer to die with them 
 open, like a man." 
 
 "As you will, Inspector," his torturer said, start- 
 ing to raise the weapon. "I too should prefer it that 
 way. Now," he added callously, "just think what 
 my poor Peggy must have thought as she crashed 
 through those level-crossing gates : 'A moment more 
 and I shall have crossed the Vale.' " 
 
 But even as he spoke two things happened, both 
 of which coupled together helped to change the con- 
 ventional ending to a murder case. 
 
 One was that Inspector Hunt fainted whether 
 from relief, or the after-effects of his blow, it is hard 
 to say; and the other simply that Jim sprang.
 
 XXVIII 
 EXPIATION 
 
 THIS time Hunt recovered consciousness more 
 quickly. He could almost have cried for joy when 
 he saw Sir Charles lying unconscious on the floor. 
 
 Jim, he noticed, was stooping down, bathing the 
 bleeding wound. Apparently Sir Charles had turned 
 at the last moment, catching the blow on his unpro- 
 tected forehead. 
 
 "Bravo," shouted the Inspector, or, rather, the 
 Inspector attempted to shout, for again no sound 
 passed his lips. The gag had been slipped into his 
 mouth once more. 
 
 This time it was obvious that Jim was to blame. 
 Seeing the Yard man had recovered, he looked up. 
 
 "Sorry, Inspector," he began. "I must apologise 
 for my ungentlemanly conduct, but I can't have you 
 interfering. This is my affair now. I've pulled you 
 out of a tight corner, and that's as much as you can 
 expect." 
 
 Without another glance at the irate Inspector, he 
 turned his attention again to the unconscious man. 
 
 For some moment he worked in silence, applying 
 bandage after bandage. At last his efforts were re- 
 warded ; Sir Charles began to stir. 
 
 His amazing vitality soon pulled him round. 
 "What has happened?" he gasped, staring in aston- 
 ishment at the still bound and gagged Inspector- 
 
 283
 
 284 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 Then, glancing aside, he saw Jim a white-faced, 
 stern-looking Jim, armed with his own revolver, the 
 business end of which was pointing menacingly in 
 his direction. "Don't move stay where you are if 
 you value your life," the lad ordered. 
 
 Sir Charles, who had been on the point of rising, 
 obeyed. 
 
 Jim spoke again. "I shall give you ten minutes 
 to get over the effects of your knock-out you'd bet- 
 ter make good use of it. Remember, you are not to 
 move or speak." 
 
 Going back to a chair, where he could wait in com- 
 fort and at the same time cover his man, Jim pulled 
 out his watch. 
 
 Slowly the hand crept forward. The ticking of 
 the timepiece was the only sound that broke the 
 silence of the room. 
 
 Presently Jim stood up, replaced his watch, and 
 spoke again. 
 
 "Mr. Lloyd," he said deliberately, "are you feel- 
 ing better now?" 
 
 "Yes, thanks," Sir Charles replied. "I'm feel- 
 ing O.K." 
 
 "How did you get here?" asked Jim. 
 
 "By 'plane," answered Sir Charles. 
 
 "Where is your 'plane?" 
 
 "Not far from here by the back of the grand 
 stand." 
 
 "Right. Now, Mr. Lloyd, I want you to under- 
 stand that unless I was heavily indebted to you I 
 shouldn't be doing this. 
 
 "My motor-cycle is outside. It's less than five 
 minutes' ride to your 'plane. To cover accidents,
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 285 
 
 I'll allow you seven. I'm giving you a sporting 
 chance. In seven minutes exactly I shall release In- 
 spector Hunt. You know what that'll mean five 
 minutes later the police of the world will be warned. 
 Now go take my motorcycle don't thank me gro, 
 while the going's good." 
 
 Sir Charles had risen to his feet, facing Jim. 
 "Thanks," he said. "You're a sport. Now listen. 
 One good turn deserves another. Before I came 
 over here I took the precaution of drawing up a 
 will. As you know, I have no relatives that is, 
 relatives I care for. You are the sole beneficiary 
 under this will. It is lodged with Barclays Bank, 
 Liverpool in the name of Lloyd. Once again I 
 thank you. Good-bye." 
 
 A moment later he had gone, leaving the Inspec- 
 tor more livid with rage than ever. But as he passed 
 through the door Hunt noticed him glance hard at 
 the useless lock. What a slip he had made! The 
 most casual inspection would have revealed the fact 
 that the steel bolt had been sawn off flush with the 
 door edge. 
 
 Again Jim glanced at his watch. 
 
 In vain the angry Inspector squirmed in his chair, 
 squirmed till the cord cut deep into his flesh. 
 
 But Jim neither moved nor spoke until the full 
 seven minutes had elapsed. Then, moving over to 
 Hunt, he began, "I suppose I must place myself 
 under arrest, Inspector? But before I do so I'm 
 going to ask you not to get too excited for a few min- 
 utes. Mr. Lloyd will take a good half-hour to reach 
 land. By that time, even if you take things calmly, 
 all stations will have been warned. That's all."
 
 286 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 As he removed the gag, Hunt gave vent to his 
 passion. "You damned little fool," he started wildly, 
 "you've done something clever this time, to be sure !" 
 
 Jim remained calm. "So saving your life was 
 'something clever,' was it?" 
 
 Hunt's anger cooled somewhat. "I'm sorry," he 
 said, "but nevertheless I'm afraid you must consider 
 yourself under arrest on a charge of obstructing the 
 police in the execution of their duties." 
 
 "As you wish," replied Jim quietly. 
 
 The bonds were nearly off when the sound of an 
 aeroplane engine could be heard in the distance. 
 
 "Shall we go outside a minute?" suggested Jim. 
 "He's coming over." 
 
 "Yes," assented Hunt bitterly. "We might as 
 well see the last of him." 
 
 
 
 Sir Charles Stafford, after leaving the room in 
 which he had so narrowly missed committing an- 
 other murder, found Jim's motor-cycle propped up 
 outside the hotel. 
 
 In less time than it takes to tell he had started it, 
 and was off on his short run to the field in which 
 he had left the 'plane. 
 
 Although he knew that he had only seven minutes 
 to spare before the hue and cry for him began, it 
 was characteristic of the man that he did not hurry. 
 He could not be really frightened by anything on 
 earth. 
 
 Six minutes had passed before he reached the field 
 and climbed into his 'plane. 
 
 The machine was fitted with a self-starter. The
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 287 
 
 engine woke to life immediately. As his nose was 
 already pointing into the wind, he was able to take 
 off straight away. 
 
 Giving his engine plenty of throttle, he taxied 
 rapidly up the field, the mad rush of the wind past 
 his cheeks clearing his aching head. 
 
 A few moments later he had left the ground and 
 was racing towards Douglas and the sea. 
 
 After his initial rise of a hundred feet or so he 
 kept the controls in a central position, seemingly 
 missing the housetops by a hair's-breadth a chal- 
 lenge to Hunt, and, did he but know it, a challenge 
 to fate. 
 
 Over the harbour he started to rise 200, 300, 
 400, 500, and soon 2,000 feet. Then, when the 
 watching crowds thought he had taken his spec- 
 tacular leave of the island, he turned turned to 
 give a last salute to Jim. 
 
 Once again the harbour was far below him; the 
 departing Mona, which had just left the quay, ap- 
 peared but the smallest model. 
 
 Then, pushing his stick right forward, he started 
 the steep dive with which he always preceded a loop. 
 
 And in the moment he attempted to pull his nose 
 up he knew his fate was sealed. For the stick re- 
 fused to move ; it was stuck stuck in a position that 
 forced his machine seawards with ever-increasing 
 speed. 
 
 Desperately he tried to shut off the engine. But 
 the throttle was immovable; someone had tampered 
 with the controls someone had deliberately planned 
 to send him to his doom, as he himself had planned 
 to send Evans.
 
 288 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 And in that fraction of a second the malignity of 
 his crimes came home to him his actions of the past 
 few years passed rapidly in unwholesome review be- 
 fore him. 
 
 How he regretted the absence of a parachute 
 remembered how he had boasted that he never car- 
 ried one when flying over water, as in a accident it 
 would prove only a hindrance. 
 
 But even as that fleeting vision passed he had time 
 to realise that what he might gain on the round- 
 abouts he would only lose on the swings even a 
 parachute would not save him from Inspector Hunt 
 and the gallows. 
 
 The sea was very close now. Instinct compelled 
 him to attempt to leap. But he had left it too late. 
 
 Before he could move, even slightly, the 'plane hit 
 the water and the last earthly thing he saw before 
 he was plunged for ever beneath the fleck-tipped 
 waves of Douglas Harbour was the hand of his air- 
 speed indicator. And that hand was tightly pressed 
 against the stop by the highest speed indicated on 
 the dial a speed of 200 miles per hour. 
 
 Hunt and Jim stood outside the Ceramo, rooted 
 to the pavement, watching a cascade of water, that 
 had been flung skywards by the last death-dealing 
 dive of the 'plane, descend again into the harbour. 
 
 For some moments after the last foam-frothed 
 ripple had vanished neither spoke. 
 
 It was Jim who broke the silence. "Am I still 
 under arrest?" he asked. 
 
 Hunt considered for a moment.
 
 THE "MOTH" MURDER 289 
 
 "No," he replied at length, " I think not but 
 remember," he added smilingly, "I have a full con- 
 fession recorded on a dictaphone, if I ever want to 
 use it." 
 
 He could afford to smile now. His most difficult 
 case was ended ended, too, in the pleasantest way 
 for all concerned. 
 
 "Although you're not under arrest, there's one 
 think you are though so far you don't seem to have 
 realised it." 
 
 "What's that?" questioned Jim wonderingly. 
 
 "Practically a millionaire," was Hunt's reply. "If 
 you ever manage to trace all Sir Charles' accounts, 
 you'll probably find yourself quite a millionaire." 
 
 They started to move back to the hotel; Jim to 
 get washed in readiness for the prize-giving, Hunt 
 to attend to his dictaphone. 
 
 In the hall, the Yard man halted. "I must leave 
 you here," he said. "I've just remembered I've a 
 telegram to send." He held out his hand in fare- 
 well. "In case I've left by the time you return." 
 
 Jim grasped it warmly. "I shall certainly look 
 you up, Inspector, when you get back to Town," he 
 promised. 
 
 "Do," replied Hunt with enthusiasm. "I'll show 
 you round the Yard and let you see the dreadful fate 
 of those misguided persons who are stupid enough 
 to obstruct the police in the execution of their 
 duties." 
 
 He started to move away. After a couple of paces 
 he stopped, turned, and faced Jim. "You know," 
 he began, "I shall often wonder in the years that are
 
 290 THE "MOTH" MURDER 
 
 to come just what caused Sir Charles' 'plane to crash 
 at the psychological moment it did." 
 
 He proceeded a few paces nearer to the telephone, 
 then stopped, and turned again. "But somehow I 
 don't think I'm going to let myself wonder too hard."
 
 DO 
 
 A 000 127 959 5 
 
 
 RARIEb 
 
 WEEKS