The Ponson Case. Freeman Wills Crofts

to lose both involved some special cause. Possibly, he thought, Sir William had had some sudden start, had moved sharply, almost capsizing the boat, and in making an involuntary effort to right it had let go with both hands.

      He was still puzzling over the problem when a note was handed him which, when he had read it, banished the matter of the oars from his mind, and turned his thoughts into a fresh direction. It ran:

      Luce Manor, Thursday.—Please come out here at once. An unfortunate development has arisen.—WALTER AMES.

      Without loss of time the sergeant took his bicycle and rode out the two miles to Luce Manor. Dr Ames was waiting impatiently, and drew the officer aside.

      ‘Look here, sergeant,’ he said. ‘I’m not very happy about this business. I want a post-mortem.’

      ‘A post-mortem sir?’ the other repeated in astonishment. ‘Why, sir, is there anything fresh turned up, or what has happened?’

      ‘Nothing has happened, but’—the doctor hesitated—‘the fact is I’m not certain of the cause of death.’

      The sergeant stared.

      ‘But is there any doubt, sir—you’ll excuse me, I hope—is there any doubt that he was drowned?’

      ‘That’s just what there is—a doubt and no more. A post-mortem will set it at rest.’

      The sergeant hesitated.

      ‘Of course, sir,’ he said slowly, ‘if you say that it ends the matter. But it’ll be a nasty shock for Mr Austin, sir.’

      ‘I can’t help that. See here,’ the doctor went on confidentially, ‘some of the obvious signs of drowning are missing, and he has had a blow on the back of the head that looks as if it might have killed him. I want to make sure which it was.’

      ‘But might he not have got that blow against a rock, sir?’

      ‘He might, but I’m not sure. But we’re only wasting time. To put the matter in a nutshell, I won’t give a certificate unless there is a post-mortem, and if one is not arranged now, it will be after my evidence at the inquest.’

      ‘Please don’t think, sir, I was in any way questioning your decision,’ the sergeant hastened to reply. ‘But I think I should first communicate with the chief constable. You see, sir, in the case of so prominent a family—’

      ‘You do what you think best about that, but if you take my advice you’ll ask the Scotland Yard people to send down one of their doctors to act with me.’

      ‘Bless me, sir! Is it as serious as that?’

      ‘Of course it’s serious,’ rapped out the doctor. ‘Sir William may have been drowned, in which case it’s all right; or he may not, in which case it’s all wrong—for somebody.’

      The sergeant’s manner changed.

      ‘I’ll go immediately, sir, and phone the chief constable, and then, if he approves, Scotland Yard. Where will you be, sir?

      ‘I have my work to attend to; I’m going home. You’ll find me there any time during the evening. And look here, sergeant. I’d rather you said nothing about this. There may be nothing at all in it.’

      ‘Trust me, sir,’ and with a salute the officer withdrew.

      He rode rapidly back to Halford, and once again calling up the chief constable, repeated what Dr Ames had said.

      The two men discussed the matter at some length, and it was at last decided that the chief constable should ring up the Yard and ask the opinion of the Authorities about sending down a doctor. In a short time there was a reply. Dr Wilgar and Inspector Tanner were motoring down, and would be at Luce Manor about eight o’clock. The sergeant went round to tell Dr Ames, and it was arranged that the latter should meet the London men there. In the meantime the sergeant was to see Austin Ponson, and break the disagreeable news to him.

      This programme was carried out, and shortly after ten o’clock five men met at the police station at Halford. There were the medical men, Inspector Tanner, the sergeant, and Chief Constable Soames, who had motored over.

      ‘Well, gentlemen,’ said the latter, when the preliminary greetings were past, ‘we are met here under unusual and tragic circumstances, which may easily become more serious still.’ He turned to the doctors. ‘You have completed the post-mortem, I understand?’

      ‘We have,’ replied Dr Wilgar.

      ‘And are you in agreement as to your conclusions?’

      ‘Completely.’

      ‘Perhaps then you would tell us what they are?’

      Wilgar bowed to Dr Ames, and the latter replied:

      ‘The first moment I glanced at the body the thought occurred to me that it had not exactly the appearance of a drowned man. But at that time I did not seriously doubt that death had so occurred. When, however, I came to make a more careful examination, the uncertainty again arose in my mind. There was none of the discolouration usual in such cases, and the wounds on the side of the face did not look as if they had been inflicted before death. But, as a result of the long continued washing they had had, I could not be certain of this. When in addition I discovered a bruise on the back of the head which might easily have caused death, I felt I would not be justified in giving a certificate without further examination.’

      The chief constable bowed and Dr Wilgar took up the story.

      ‘When I saw the corpse I quite agreed with my colleague’s views, and we decided the post-mortem must be carried out. As a result of it we find the man was not drowned.’

      His hearers stared at him, but without interrupting.

      ‘There was no water in the lungs or stomach,’ went on Dr Wilgar. ‘The wounds on the face occurred after death, and were doubtless caused by the boulders in the river, but the cause of death was undoubtedly the blow on the back of the head to which my colleague has referred.’

      ‘You amaze me, gentlemen,’ the chief constable remarked, and a similar emotion showed on the sergeant’s expressive face. Inspector Tanner, a fair haired, blue eyed, clean-shaven man of about forty, merely looked keenly interested.

      ‘Do I understand you to say that the late Sir William was killed before falling into the river?’ went on Mr Soames.

      ‘There is no doubt of it.’

      ‘That means, I take it, that he was flung out of the boat in such a way that the back of his head struck a rock, killing him before he dropped into the stream?’

      ‘We do not think so, sir,’ Dr Wilgar answered. ‘In that case he would certainly have swallowed water. Besides, the blow was struck square on with a blunt, smooth-surfaced implement. The skin was not cut as a boulder would have cut it. No, we regret to say so, but the only hypothesis which seems to meet the facts is that Sir William was deliberately murdered.’

      ‘Good gracious, gentlemen, you don’t say so!’ The chief constable seemed shocked, while the sergeant actually gasped.

      ‘I am afraid, and Dr Ames agrees with me, that there is no alternative. The blow on the back of the head was struck while Sir William was alive, and it could not have been self inflicted. It would have been sufficient to kill him. The other injuries occurred after death, and it is certain he was not drowned. There is no escape from the conclusion that I have stated. On the contrary, there is every reason to believe a deliberate and carefully thought out crime has been committed. Though it is hardly our province, it seemed to us the whole episode of the boat and the river was merely an attempt to hide the true facts by providing the suggestion of an accident. And I may perhaps be permitted to say that had a less observant and conscientious man than my colleague been called in, the ruse might easily have succeeded.’

      ‘You amaze me, sir,’ exclaimed Mr Soames. ‘A terrible business! I knew the poor fellow well. I met him in Gateshead before he moved to these