Invisible Weapons. John Rhode

body was still lying on the cloakroom floor and had by now been decently covered with a sheet. Jimmy drew this down and examined the wound. He could see for himself that it had been caused by the blunt edge of a cube with a side of about one and a half inches. Then he stood up and examined the position of the basin in respect to the barred window. He saw at once that no weapon of the size of the key could have been swung as a hammer is swung from outside the window. The opening was far too small for that. On the other hand, it could easily have been jabbed through the window, and the edge of the box would then have inflicted just such a wound as he had seen.

      Staring out of the window Jimmy considered the implications of this theory. Whoever had wielded the weapon must have been standing close up to the protecting bars. But how could this be reconciled with Coates’ statement? The chauffeur had declared that if anyone had entered the carriage-way he could not have failed to have seen them. But could this statement be accepted? Jimmy already had experience of the fact that people were apt to declare impossible things which had actually happened. Not from any wish to mislead, but simply from natural conviction. Coates probably thought quite honestly that nobody could have reached the window unobserved by him. But his attention might well have been distracted for a few seconds. While he was lighting his cigarette, for instance. Or while he was looking round the car. He presumably went to the front of it, when the body would obscure his view of the carriage-way. On the whole Jimmy decided not to allow himself to be unduly influenced by Coates’ statement.

      And then another idea struck him. It wasn’t necessary for the attacker to have been standing in the carriage-way. He might have been sitting in a car driven close up against the bars. He could quite easily have jabbed the turn-cock through the open windows of the car and the cloakroom. It was an established fact that Dr Thornborough had driven down the carriage-way. Had he paused for a moment outside the cloakroom window and delivered the blow?

      There were obvious objections to this theory, but Jimmy thought that they might be overcome. Coates was the first of these. If the doctor’s car had stopped in its progress towards him he would surely have noticed it. Perhaps he had noticed and had his own reasons for saying nothing about it.

      The second objection lay in the position of the wound. This showed, beyond question, that when Mr Fransham was struck, his head was bent over the basin. But surely if he had heard a car stop outside the window he would have looked up. Expecting the doctor’s return, as he was, he would have at least have glanced at the car to see whether or not its occupant was his niece’s husband. It was almost unthinkable that he would have continued his ablutions without taking any notice. Unless he was deaf, or had got his eyes full of soap, or something like that.

      As Jimmy stared out of the window his view was bounded by the brick wall opposite. It was a good substantial brick wall eight feet high and obviously of the same age as the house. ‘What’s on the other side of that wall, sergeant?’ he asked.

      ‘Several acres of grassland, sir,’ the sergeant replied. ‘It’s been up for sale in building plots ever since Squire Gunthorpe died three years back.’

      ‘Squire Gunthorpe? This road’s called after him, I suppose?’

      ‘That’s right, sir. It was like this, you see. You may have noticed the museum and public gardens as you came along here? That used to be called the Hall when the squire was alive. He’d lived there as long as anyone could remember. There wasn’t any Gunthorpe Road then. Those entrance gates you may have seen, used to stand across the end of Middle Street. What is now Gunthorpe Road was the private drive leading up to the Hall.

      ‘When the squire died, he left the house and gardens to the town and they’ve been turned into what you see them now. The entrance gates were moved, and the drive was turned into a public road. You may have noticed that cottage standing on the further side a little way up. That used to be the gardener’s cottage standing at the end of the park. It was only the house and garden that was left to the town. The squire left the park to his family and they sold it to a speculator for building. But the only house that’s been built on it so far is the one we’re in now.’

      ‘How’s that?’ Jimmy asked. ‘Is there no demand for houses in Adderminster?’

      ‘There’s a demand for houses of the right kind, sir. Plenty of folk want houses that they can get for fifteen shillings a week or so. But that kind of house can’t be built up here. I don’t rightly understand it, sir, but the council stepped in with some sort of town-planning scheme. They won’t allow more than one house in every two acres, and then they’ve got to be built of a certain size. That sort of thing comes a bit too expensive for most folks.’

      ‘I see. Who lives in the old gardener’s cottage? It appeared to be occupied when I saw it just now.’

      ‘It was bought by a lady and gentleman from London. They pretty well pulled the inside to pieces and rebuilt it to suit themselves. But they aren’t very often there, for the gentleman has business abroad somewhere and usually takes his wife with him. They aren’t there now, I know for certain, but I did hear that it had been let furnished for the summer.’

      ‘Do you happen to know who it was let to?’

      ‘I can’t say that I do, sir. But I believe it’s a gentleman from London who comes down for the weekends. I don’t know that I’ve ever set eyes on him, sir.’

      ‘Is the vacant building land allowed to run to waste?’

      ‘No, sir. The farmer at the end of the road rents it for the hay. He should be cutting it any day now.’

      Jimmy returned to his contemplation of the wall. Its presence definitely limited the area from which the murderer must have delivered his blow. The head of a normal man bending over the basin would be level with the opening in the window. This horizontal line, if produced, would meet the wall at a point about four feet above its base. Anything projected from or over the top of the wall through the opening would strike the ledge inside the window. It followed, therefore, that the blow, whether inflicted by a projectile or a weapon, must have been delivered from the carriage-way.

      Missile or weapon, that was just the point. The theory of a missile involved obvious difficulties. It must have been hard and substantial to have inflicted such a wound. It could hardly have been thrown by hand with sufficient force and accuracy. Some means of projection would have been necessary. The shape and size of the missile precluded the idea of a pistol or gun. A catapult, perhaps. But what catapultist would choose a cubical missile in preference to a roughly spherical one?

      Further, if a missile had been employed, what had become of it? After striking Mr Fransham’s head it would have lost its velocity and fallen. Directly beneath the point of impact was the basin, still half-full of soapy water and now quite cold. Jimmy fished through this with his fingers, only to find that the basin contained nothing but water.

      Under the faintly amused eyes of Sergeant Cload, Jimmy proceeded to make a thorough search of the room. He did not desist until he had examined everything it contained, including the water-closet. No cubical object of any kind, or, for that matter, anything that could have been employed as a missile rewarded him.

      There remained the possibility that the criminal had somehow retrieved the missile. But how? Constant observation had been kept on the cloakroom since Linton had broken down the door. From that moment the police had been either in the room or within sight of the door. It was practically impossible that anyone should have had an opportunity of removing anything.

      Jimmy’s fertile mind reviewed other possibilities, only to reject them as impracticable. The criminal might have tied a string to the missile so as to recover it when it had done its work. Or he might have fished for it through the opening in the window with some instrument in the nature of a pair of lazy-tongs. But both these suppositions were ridiculous, for what would have remained an instant longer in the carriage-way, in full view of Coates in the garage only a few yards away, than he could help?

      The missile was thus ruled out, leaving the weapon in the field. The turn-cock hanging in the garage fulfilled all the necessary conditions of such a weapon. The box at its end corresponded to the dimensions of the wound. It