Freeman Crofts – Inspector French: Sir John Magill’s Last Journey (страница 10)
‘By Jove, sir, very strange that! Have you any idea what he might have gone up there for?’
‘Well, a possible suggestion is that it was to meet someone about his invention. But there doesn’t seem to be any reason for such a theatrical kind of secrecy.’
‘That path doesn’t lead near any houses?’ French asked.
‘It leads up through the grounds of Belfast Castle. But there are many private houses along the inland side of the Antrim road and no doubt you could get to these from the path. You could go along parallel to the road on the side of the hill and drop down at the back of any of the houses. But why?’
‘Somebody in one of those houses working at the same idea?’
The superintendent glanced at Sergeant M’Clung.
‘That’s what M’Clung suggested,’ he answered, ‘and we have made a list of the occupiers of the houses for investigation. But I’m not hopeful of it myself.’
‘Have you any other theory, sir?’
Rainey shook his head.
‘I confess I haven’t. Sometimes I wonder if the old man hadn’t gone dotty, but there’s little to support that.’
‘Mightn’t he have just been out for a walk?’
‘We considered that also,’ the superintendent admitted, ‘but I think it’s unlikely. Sir John was too old and didn’t seem keen on that sort of thing. Then there was his secretive manner when he disappeared up the path. No, it’s certainly a puzzle—unless the constable made a mistake after all.’
Rainey paused and there was silence for some moments. Presently he went on.
‘Now there are one or two inquiries suggested by your statement, Inspector. M’Clung, you get away to M’Millan & Maxwell’s and ask them if they know anything of a Coates who might have called on Sir John, or who is interested in inventions or silk or linen. At the same time I’ll get a systematic search made among all of the name in the city. With any luck we should get something there.’
French agreed that both these avenues should be explored. Once again he felt impressed by the efficiency with which the case was being handled. These North of Ireland men had nothing to learn from London. He had to admit that even he himself could not have done much more in the time.
In half an hour M’Clung re-entered. A glance at his face gave his news.
‘No good, sir,’ he reported. ‘I saw M’Millan himself. They don’t know anybody called Coates that would suit.’
‘Had they been working on this silk-linen invention?’
‘Never even heard of it, sir.’
‘I thought that would be the way,’ Rainey declared, ‘so I’m hardly disappointed. Better luck next time, Sergeant.’
Before either man could reply a knock came to the door.
‘Gentleman to see you, sir,’ a constable said, handing Rainey a card.
‘“Mr Victor Magill.” Yes, this is the time I asked him to call. We’d better see him, Inspector.’
He glanced at French, and the latter having signified his agreement, he told the constable to send Mr Magill in.
Victor Magill was a small man, thin and wiry, and walking with a considerable limp. His features were strongly marked, the bones standing forward. His eyes were surmounted by a heavy frontal projection, his cheekbones were high and his chin and jaw well developed. A mobile expression and a nervous, eager manner gave him an appearance of energy and force, but this was countered by a weak mouth.
‘Good morning, Mr Magill,’ Rainey greeted him. ‘I am Superintendent Rainey and this is Detective-Sergeant M’Clung of our service. You have come at an opportune moment, Mr Magill, for we have with us here Detective-Inspector French from Scotland Yard, who who has come over to consult with us about Sir John’s disappearance.’
‘This is a terrible and most mysterious affair,’ Victor said as he shook hands. ‘I came directly I heard of it. My cousin, Malcolm, has just been giving me the details. He would have come down with me, but he had a directors’ meeting. I should like to know if you have learned anything fresh?’
‘I’m sorry to say we have not,’ Rainey answered. ‘We were just checking over how we stood with Inspector French, and we certainly haven’t much to go on. When I got your phone this morning I began to hope that you were going to give us some information.’
‘I?’ Victor Magill shook his head. ‘I should be only too thankful, were I able. But I’m afraid I know nothing that could help you. In fact the thing staggers me altogether. My poor uncle was the last man to be mixed up in anything abnormal. He was so conventional and—respectable is scarcely the word—I might perhaps say that he was a pillar of ordered society. I suppose’—he hesitated—‘you have no doubt that he is dead?’
‘We don’t know,’ Rainey returned, ‘but I must admit it doesn’t look very hopeful.’
Victor shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not. If he were alive we would have heard of him before this. I can see that Malcolm has lost hope too. Very sad and puzzling beyond belief.’
‘How did you hear of it, Mr Magill?’
‘Malcolm and my cousin Caroline—Miss Magill, you know—both sent me wires. I have been on a yachting cruise, or rather a motor launch cruise up the west coast of Scotland. I left a list of places where we’d call. It was at one of these, at Oban, that the wires were waiting. That was yesterday morning. I just managed to catch the twelve o’clock train for Glasgow, which brought me in time for last night’s steamer to Belfast. This morning I went up to see Malcolm at the mill and then came straight down to you.’
‘Very glad to have the benefit of your views,’ said Rainey. ‘May I ask if you have formed any opinion yourself as to what might have happened?’
Victor made a gesture of impotence.
‘Not the faintest,’ he declared. ‘The whole thing is utterly inexplicable to me. My uncle seemed so well the last time I saw him. He was in fine spirits and even cracked jokes, not his usual way at all.’
‘When was that, Mr Magill?’
‘On Sunday; Sunday week, that is; the Sunday before he left town.’
‘Four days before he disappeared?’
Victor agreed.
‘And nothing passed at that interview which would tend to explain the disappearance?’
There was nothing—absolutely nothing. Victor would have been only too thankful if he could have made some suggestion, but he could not.
‘He was in unusually good spirits on that Sunday, you say. Do you know of any special cause for that?’
‘Well, I do. He had just pulled off an invention that he had been working at for years and he was frightfully bucked. He was like a child with a new toy.’
‘We had heard that he made a hobby of mechanical work. Do you know the nature of this invention?’
‘Oh, yes, he told me all about it. It was in the park that I met him that Sunday afternoon. I said: “Well, uncle, how’s the magnum opus?” for he had shown me his trial models and I knew he thought he was near a solution. His face broke out into smiles and he caught me by the arm in his eagerness—a thing that normally he would never have thought of doing. “Got it, my boy,” he almost shouted. “I’ve got it at last.” He tapped his breast pocket and repeated: “Got it here. I’m not telling the others, for between you and me they’ve always been a bit superior about my efforts. But you’ve always believed in me,” he said, “and I’ll tell you.”’
‘And he did?’
‘Yes, he showed me his sketch plans. His idea was an improved combination of artificial silk and linen. He said that at last he had found a way of running a very fine linen thread through a solution of the silk so that it came out out coated with silk, same as very fine electric wires are coated with a liquid insulator. He’d got this silk-covered thread all right in his workship, but he didn’t know how it would weave up and he was going to Belfast to get a special loom fitted up to try it.’
‘That’s important news, Mr Magill. We knew that it was about this invention that Sir John had come to Belfast. Do you know who he was going to meet here?’
Victor had no idea.
Rainey nodded, then leaning forward, he spoke more earnestly.
‘I hope you can tell us something more than this, Mr Magill. Do please think carefully. Was there any reason why Sir John might want to disappear? Had he no enemies? Was there no one who wanted his money? We are speaking in confidence. Tell us even your slightest suspicion, no matter how unsupported by evidence. Even if you’re wrong no harm will be done. A hint at this stage might prove invaluable.’
It was no use. Victor would have been only too glad to help, but he knew no more than Rainey.
‘I confess I’m disappointed,’ returned the superintendent, ‘but of course it can’t be helped. You can’t manufacture evidence any more than we can.’
For some minutes they continued discussing the affair. To French, Victor seemed not only shocked by what he evidently believed would prove a tragedy, but he appeared also personally distressed about his uncle’s fate. In fact he presently put his feelings into words. ‘I didn’t see a great deal of my uncle,’ he said, in answer to one of Rainey’s questions, ‘but I had a great respect and indeed admiration for him. And I think he liked me. He was always very decent to me anyway and I should be distressed on personal grounds to think of anything happening to him.’