CHAPTER XVI
INFORMATION LAID BY CARSON WILDRED
The case being one of great local importance, having thrown the countryside into a whirl of excitement, the inspector himself had thought it worth while to accompany me on my journey to the mortuary. My name was familiar to him, he said, with a look of interest and curiosity in his eyes; and this being so, doubtless he had not been averse to the chance of keeping watch upon me when I went to gaze upon the body of the mysteriously murdered man.
If he were interested in me, I was, at least, equally interested in him, or rather in the opinions which he and brother members of the police force might have formed.
Reticence was, of course, supposed to be observed by so important a functionary as the inspector, but I saw that in his round, good-natured face which caused me to hope he might be amenable to a little judiciously applied flattery. I therefore extolled the arrangements of the local authorities, and ended by saying that, as the sight I had just witnessed had considerably upset me, I should be glad if he would do me the favour of having something with me at the private bar of the adjacent inn.
"Well, sir, it's against the rules, you know," he said, smiling sapiently. "But I certainly consider it an honour to be invited by so celebrated a gentleman as you, Mr. Stanton. And–if you'll go first, sir, I'll just look in a little later and find you at the private bar."
I followed the prudent suggestion, and was presently joined by the inspector, who appeared relieved at finding himself shut in and alone with me.
We had whisky and soda ad libitum, and then I cautiously began: "The fact is, inspector," I said, "I was particularly anxious for this chance of a little friendly chat with you. I have certain suspicions which may be, of course, without a grain of foundation. What I mean to say is, I have grave fears that the murdered man is the friend I thought it possible I might identify. Who the murderer may be in any case remains to be seen, but if the body is that of the person I have in my mind, I might be able to put a clue into the hands of the police. 'A word to the wise,' you know, inspector! But first I am hoping for a little help from you before I run the risk of incriminating one who may be innocent. Quite between ourselves, allow me to ask what your police surgeon has had to say regarding his examination?"
The inspector looked dubious, then brightened visibly. "You being the man you are, Mr. Stanton," he said, sociably, over his third glass of old Scotch, "I can't see that there'd be anything amiss in my answering you so far. Our surgeon, Mr. Potter, reported that the corpse was that of a well-nourished man of somewhere between forty and forty-five years of age, all the organs healthy, though there were traces of opium in the system–not, however, enough to have caused death. The head had been severed from the neck by a skilled anatomist, who knew exactly where to strike; but it had been separated after death, not before. Also the mutilation of the left hand had been done in the same way. I suppose that is roughly the sort of thing you wanted to know?"
"Exactly," I returned, "and every detail you have mentioned goes to strengthen my suspicions. Being an amateur, I was obliged to judge principally by size and height. The surgeon's report fits in with my theory precisely. Still, it does not comprise everything. It would be a great assistance if I might know whether the police have yet had any reliable information to work upon."
We had grown very friendly, indeed, almost fraternal now, and the inspector kindly allowed me to refill his glass. "Do you know who Mr. Carson Wildred, of the House by the Lock, is, Mr. Stanton?" he enquired, confidentially.
The question surprised and excited me. Was it possible, I hastily asked myself, that already the police were on the same track that I was following? If so, Wildred must have shown himself a less impenetrable villain than I had had reason to suppose him. "Yes, I not only know who he is, but have a slight personal acquaintance with him," I said conservatively.
"Well, sir"–slowly, and with some unction–"Mr. Wildred has been the only one so far–not counting what you yourself may have to say presently–who has given any information of value."
"Indeed? He has given information?" I could not eliminate the astonishment, and perhaps something of the disappointment, from my voice.
"Yes, sir. As you know Mr. Wildred, you're probably aware that his country house is close by our town, and close, too, to the spot where the body was found. He was in yesterday evening, as soon as the matter had got noised about, and asked to see the body." "Incredible!" The word sprang to my lips, but I forced it back, and refrained from uttering it.
"He was unable to identify it, but he spoke to having seen something in the neighbourhood of the small backwater not far from his house, just before Christmas, which seemed likely to throw light on the matter. The surgeon's idea is, as I think I forgot to mention, sir, that the body had been in the water since Christmas time, or thereabouts, which made Mr. Wildred's supposition the more feasible.
"It seems that the gentleman had a friend staying with him at the House by the Lock until a week or so ago–a Mr. Farnham, an American–who has since sailed for home. They were in the habit of taking a daily walk together, whenever they were not in town, and a week before Christmas noticed that close to the little backwater two men were living in a tent. "It was a quiet place enough in winter time, and the fellows might have expected to escape observation, perhaps, but it was the smell of their smoke which first attracted Mr. Wildred and his friend to the spot, and as it was his land Mr. Wildred at first was inclined to order the chaps away. He thought better of it, though, as he seems a good-natured gentleman, and said it didn't really matter to him whether they stayed or went. A strict watch was kept on all the locks up at the house, however, as it occurred to Mr. Wildred the men might have some queer design. A day or two went by, and the tent was still there, but on Christmas, when Mr. Wildred and Mr. Farnham were walking out, they heard the sound of loud voices, and went near enough to see that the two men were quarrelling outside.
"He says he wishes now he had interfered, but it didn't seem worth while at the time. That night there was an unpleasant smell of burning, which came up to the House by the Lock, with the wind from that quarter, and was noticed by all the servants, as well as Mr. Wildred, who asked the butler about it at dinner. Next day, when Mr. Wildred sent down to find out, the tent and the men were both gone."
"I suppose," I said, "that you have already taken means to ascertain whether there are any remaining traces of such an encampment by the backwater?"
"Certainly we have. That was done immediately, sir, and the ashes left by a big wood fire were found close to the water; also four rough stakes for the tent ropes, and–a coal sack–much of the sort in which the body up there at the mortuary was sewn. There was something else, too, sir. I wouldn't mention it thus early in the proceedings to anybody for whom I hadn't the respect I have for you; but even as it is, I must have your promise it shan't go any further till it comes out in the proper course of events."
I gave him my promise, hiding my impatience as best I could.
"Well, Mr. Stanton," the inspector went on, lowering his voice, though there was nobody within earshot, "in the wood ashes was found what looks like a most important clue. Nothing less, sir, than the calcined bones of four human fingers, cut from the left hand!"
"By Jove!" I ejaculated involuntarily, springing to my feet, and beginning to walk nervously up and down. I hardly knew whether to feel that I had been brought to a dead stop in my operations and suspicions, or to tell myself that Carson Wildred was the most cold-blooded, and, at the same time, the cleverest scoundrel who had ever walked the earth.