Ned lit a fresh cigarette. “So you didn’t know the difference between a kestrel and a hen-harrier?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Neither do I,” said Ned, smiling. “And, of course, your brother had not started to do the hawks and falcons for his book.”

  “No. That’s it! If he had, I could have had a better notion. But I saw it once said that hen-harriers were hawks that nested in marshes, and when I came down here I saw a hawk drop down in the marsh. I thought, as it was nesting-time, it was dropping down on its nest.”

  “So you waited for days under the impression that the bird was sitting? Why didn’t you look for the nest?”

  “I was afraid to disturb the bird. I took some photographs of the place with a telephoto lens, hoping inspection of the finished pictures would show me the nest.”

  Ned stared. “Were those sketches not yours either?”

  Hench shook his head ruefully. “No. I can’t draw. My brother was naturally gifted that way.”

  “I see,” said Ned, doubtfully. “If we can square this out, I may be able to place the illustrations and sketches for you, but not the letterpress. Let me see now. You went to Hitherland that night about seven. You did not take supper at your usual time.”

  Hench shook his head. “No. The fact is, Mr. Hope, I made the acquaintance of a man there a fortnight ago. He had been a professional wildfowler, but is now retired. He lives in a cottage near the shore. I hoped to get some information about the habits of birds from him. I had promised to look him up one evening, so I had supper early, and went over.”

  “You are sure you sent no invitation to Mr. Habershon or his nephew?”

  “Of course not. I went to see Daly.”

  “And you left his cottage about nine, eh?”

  “Yes, about nine. I walked home then.”

  Ned pondered. So far, Hench’s explanation held water. But was it all true? Had the tragedy taken place after ten o’clock that night, and not before?

  “You did not think that there might be a light in your cottage which you mistook for one in mine?” he asked.

  Hench shrugged. “No, of course not.”

  “I suppose you lock up your cottage when you leave it?”

  The little man began to show signs of restiveness. He felt that Ned was usurping the functions of the police, and resented it.

  “Need you ask all these questions?”

  Ned quite understood, but endeavoured to explain. “If you think it over, Mr. Hench, you will see that if we can eliminate you from the case, all the better for you. The sooner Brews lets you out, the sooner you will be free to carry on without being worried about the affair.”

  Hench made an impatient gesture. “Well, I never lock up. I have no valuable possessions, and few come this way.”

  Ned got up. “Well, I won’t bother you any more. But just one thing before I go: Did you see anything in this cottage that worried you when you came home?”

  Hench stared. He hesitated for a moment before replying. Then he shook his head vigorously. “No, Nothing! Of course not.”

  When Ned left him, and went off to look for Nancy, he was not so sure of Hench’s innocence as he had been ten minutes before. It seemed to him that his last question had frightened Hench a little, or worried him. He had hesitated for a moment before replying, and then spoken with vehemence.

  Nancy had examined the banks of the drain most carefully, then she went back to the car. She felt that she did not want to meet Hench just then.

  Ned joined her after a little. “I say,” he said, as they got into their seats, “I am beginning to wonder if the murders took place before ten, or if Habershon’s watch was set back to help out the alibi. Hench seems straight enough, and his story tallies with our conclusions about the bird book, but I don’t quite like to drop him yet. What did you find—anything?”

  Nancy nodded. “If one dare judge by the torn water-weeds, and that sort of thing, it seems pretty certain that some kind, of boat or punt came up the drain. Where it joins the main stream, there is a bed of floating weeds, and that is not growing smooth as it would be in ordinary circumstances.”

  Chapter XXII

  WHEN they reached Nancy’s flat again, the porter said that a gentleman called Brews had called to see her. He had promised to call back about six.

  “Stay and see him,” Nancy said to Ned, as they went up, “I’ll make tea now. He may have some clue to the thing.”

  “Or simply want to pump me about Hench,” Ned suggested. “The beggar seems to know all my movements.

  He sat down to smoke, while Nancy made tea, and after tea they talked over the Hench interview until both felt that there was no more to be said about it. But Brews thought otherwise, when he came in at six, and was accommodated with a chair and a cigarette.

  “You’re not one to let the grass grow under your feet, Mr. Hope,” he began, beaming at Ned. “Make anything of Mr. Hench?”

  “I’ll tell you, if you promise to let me know the result of your work at the house to-day,” Ned replied.

  The inspector nodded. “That’s a bargain! Carry on, sir, if you please.”

  Ned told him briefly all that he had learned from the owner of Pear Cottage, and added that Hench’s explanation squared with his own and Miss Johnson’s theories. “But perhaps not with yours?” he added.

  “Oh, I don’t know that, sir. A great deal of it must be the truth. The only question is, how much fiction, if any, has been added. I know he did visit Daly, and stayed till nine or so. But, as you say, the watch may have been set to show the deaths took place before ten, whereas they may have taken place later. Hench would be back after ten. As for what Miss Johnson here says about the drain, it looks to me as if the punt had been used there. Did you ask Hench if he said he would go that particular night to visit Daly—I mean make the arrangement in advance?

  “No, I didn’t ask him that.”

  Brews smiled. “Well, I know he did! He told Daly he would go to see him that night. He fixed it up some days before his visit.”

  Ned shrugged. “Trying to strengthen an alibi, eh? That looks odd. But now you have my news. What’s yours?”

  The inspector stared into the fire. “Well, sir, to take first things first, I know none of the parcel companies delivered packages from Brazil to the house in Gale Street, and we know that the post-office didn’t either.”

  “That nails Mrs. Hoing down in a lie, I think.”

  “It seems to. Next, sir, I may tell you that I found no sign of those Bearer Bonds in the house. They’re gone right enough, and I am pretty sure Mr. Habershon did not take them with him in the car. If he took a passport, ready to do a bunk when the murders were done, you would think he would have the boodle with him, too. But I don’t think he had. Then our inquiries at the banks and safe-deposits have drawn blanks. He had no deposit anywhere.”

  Nancy stared. “Then you think the bonds have been stolen?”

  “Of course. But now I am going to tell you something bearing on the negative evidence as we called it. As you know, there weren’t any finger-prints on the car, so I’ve been reversing the usual routine and looking everywhere for the absence of finger-prints.”

  “And you found the absence?” Nancy asked and smiled.

  “I found lots of absences,” said Brews, with a grin. “Lots of little finger-prints seem to have been playing truant; on the handle of the safe, for instance, and on the phial where the mordinal was kept!”

  “By Jove!” cried Ned. “Bottles are fine for impressions generally.”

  “Splendid, sir. But the phial was as clean as a whistle. I was told the housemaid polished the handle of the safe regular, and naturally I couldn’t object to that. But I didn’t ask Mrs. Hoing if the housemaid was instructed to polish up the medicine bottles! That seemed to me to be a bit too thorough.”

  “It looks black for Mrs. Hoing.”

  “It looks thoroughly nasty for her. You see, so much turns on her evidence about Habershon and his relations with his wards, and what he did, and where he went. Take the case of Habershon’s drive that evening. The two young people are going to tea at their friend’s. Mr. Habershon, before his dinner, goes for his car, calls for the two, and rushes them off to the country. Now why does he do that? Has he had a telephone message from Hench? No! The telephone people say he was not called up that afternoon, and Mrs. Hoing says he wasn’t.”

  “We can’t take her word for it, but the exchange ought to know.”

  Brews nodded. “They do know. On the other hand, as we are investigating the possible complicity of Mrs. Hoing, we can ask ourselves what happened—not merely what she said happened.”

  “A sound idea, but what exactly do we ask ourselves?” ventured Nancy.

  “If Mrs. Hoing told Habershon there had been a telephone call for him! There is just a chance that she went to him——”

  “The telephone is in the hall, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, and he may have been in his library. Or he may have come in from somewhere. What was there to prevent her from telling him that Hench had rung up, and was very anxious for him to bring young Rainy over to see the photographs of his collection of eggs? He might say, or be made to say, that he was taking the lot to a publisher next day. Isn’t that possible?”

  “Quite. Indeed it seems probable, Brews. Mr. Habershon wouldn’t go there at night on chance. This is how it seems to me to work out. Mrs. Hoing got to know that Habershon was gambling, and in need of money. She had a false key to his safe, and made herself familiar with his financial affairs. She knew he had invested some of his wards’ money in negotiable securities, and suspected that he had an idea of bolting. She had an accomplice, and between them they worked it out to get Habershon and the two wards down to Pear Cottage that night. There Habershon was knocked on the head, and the two young people, being doped with mordinal in their coffee, were drowned. The whole affair was staged to make it appear that there was a suicide, and an accident, or that Habershon had committed murder, faked the appearance of a suicide, then spoiled his own plans by tumbling into the pond.”

  “But how were they carried to the pond? Do you mean by water?” asked Nancy.

  Brews intervened. “If we adopt the theory that a visit was paid to Pear Cottage, we can rule out the ponds as the scene of the drowning. It is more likely that the drowning took place in the six-foot drain. The punt was very wet when we examined it. Some of the water had dried up, but there was too much for an ordinary trip in a calm river. I am going to assume that the drowning took place in the drain, that the bodies were then shifted into the punt, the punt poled down to the river, and finally taken to that spot on the bank opposite your garden at Fen Court, sir.”

  “But why put them in my ponds?”

  “Because, otherwise, questions would be asked about Pear Cottage and its occupants on that night. Also, because, while Mr. Habershon could not get out of a deep pond, with a slimy edge, he might have saved himself from a mere drain.”

  “But the blow on the back of the neck might have stunned him,” said Nancy.

  “It would. But he could not get a blow on the back of the neck by falling into a drain from the clay bank. It was supposed by us at first to have been caused by the back of his neck striking the stone, as he slipped and went in.”

  “That was the work of the accomplice then,” observed Ned. “Mrs. Hoing, as you admit, was at home, and has an alibi. Do you think the bonds were stolen—if they were stolen—before or after Mr. Habershon left his house?”

  The inspector pursed his lips. “After, I am inclined to think. Mrs. Hoing dared not remove the bonds from the safe until she was sure that he would not come back to the house.”

  “That he would never come back to the house, you mean?”

  “Yes, that is what I do mean. The bodies were not discovered till the following day. Mrs, Hoing went out early, with a closed basket, nominally to shop, on the morning you found Habershon floating. We have not yet been able to trace where she went.”

  “By Jove!” cried Ned. “She may have had the bonds with her then?”

  “Quite possible. Though she did not post them. But we have one find, that may be a clue. An elderly woman deposited a parcel in the cloak-room at Liverpool Street Station that morning. She called for it on the day of the inquest.”

  “Nerve!” Nancy murmured.

  “If it was Mrs. Hoing, yes. But I met her on the platform at our end, and she had no parcel then.”

  “Could she have disposed of it en route ?”

  “That’s the point, sir. She may have done; but how, or when, we cannot say yet.”

  Ned started. “Hench was not at the inquest. Could he have waited somewhere by the side of the line, to pick up a parcel dropped from the train?”

  Brews jumped. “You may have hit it, sir! We’ll go into that. There are several places where a man might clamber on to the line, and pick something up. Mrs. Hoing was alone in a third-class carriage when the train came in.”

  “One up to you, Ned!” said Nancy. “Pear Cottage ought to be searched from top to bottom.”

  Brews shook his head. “I hardly think he would be fool enough to leave the bonds there. Nancy had been thinking of another phase of the case, one on which Brews had never satisfied their curiosity. She wondered if he would tell them now, when he seemed in such an expansive mood.”

  “How did you come by those scraps of the letter, Inspector?” she asked suddenly, smiling at him appealingly.

  “They came by post, Miss Johnson,” he said, readily. “I know you both have an idea that I make use of you without giving anything away. People get the idea that we are so anxious to make a personal hit that we either suppress ideas from outside, or make them our own. It’s a mistake! If I get help from you, and pull off the case, I get credit for it anyway. My superiors would take the view that it was smart of me to rope you in. I admit you have been a help, and I shall say so in court if I unravel this business. But one or two things I have had to keep to myself for a certain time. I can tell you now that the remains of that letter were sent to me in an envelope, by post, with the address in capitals.”

  He pulled two envelopes from his pocket as he spoke and handed one to Nancy. It was addressed to Brews, and was a cheap, whitey-brown envelope.

  “This other envelope,” he went on, holding it up, “contained a reply to a note I sent Mr. Hench. Apparently he hadn’t the sense to see that the two were the same.”

  Ned smiled. “Perhaps not. What impression did the letter give you when you pieced it together?”

  Brews shrugged. “A pettish sort of letter, and rather exaggerated in its terms. She and Rainy wanted to get married at once, and she thought the uncle was wilfully standing in their way. They had ‘almost given up hope, and there must be an end to it soon.’ If Habershon would not consent, they might take matters into their own hands.”

  “Why should Hench send that to you?”

  “Well, sir, it showed that the scrap of paper pinned on the poor thing’s dress was not a genuine message from some one about to commit suicide, and, since Habershon had received the letter, it would hint that he had torn a bit from it, and pinned it on. In other words, it would confirm the theory that Habershon made away with the two.”

  “Have you finished your job in town, Brews?” Ned asked, nodding assent to the last proposition.

  “As far as I can see, I have, sir. To-morrow morning, first thing, I shall put men on to search the railway-line, both sides, to see if there are any traces of a package having been thrown from the train Mrs. Hoing went by, or a man having clambered over to pick it up. I expect it will be too late, but I can’t afford to neglect it. Then I must see if I can trace any of the passengers who travelled by that train, and ask them if they saw a parcel thrown out.”

  “And the guard, driver, and stoker, of course,” said Ned.

  “Of course. That will be an easier job. The railway people will know who were on duty on the train. The passengers may be more difficult to find.”

  Chapter XXIII

  “THERE is one thing that still puzzles me about the case,” said Ned, next morning, when he and Nancy were again on the road to Fen Court.

  “I’m more modest—there are a dozen things that puzzle me, old thing,” she replied, thoughtfully.

  “I’m crushed,” he said. “I meant that one thing hasn’t really engaged my attention enough. That is the car, and the position it occupied when it was found. As we know, it was in that little field bay near Pudstey cross-roads. I suppose it was a pretty good car, if it belonged to Habershon, and was usually chauffeur driven. It must have had decent lights. Were they on, or off, when the car was found?”

  “Can’t we ask Brews?” she suggested.

  “He’ll be busy. Wait a moment! I believe the car was taken to that big garage at Upperton after the police had examined it. I think we’ll go round by Upperton, and make sure.”

  “Do you think it will help, Ned?”

  He frowned. “It may. After that, I have a good mind to stay at Fen Court for a few nights. I meant to before, but found Brews there, and changed my mind. I would go down quietly after dark, take a camp-bed, and spend the time nosing round the district. I really think those bonds have left town, and are hidden somewhere not a hundred miles from my house.”