The Second Shot (13 page)

‘Exactly,’ nodded the superintendent. ‘He was, in fact, in his usual good spirits?’

‘Very much so. More. He had just become engaged, only this morning.’

‘So I understand. Poor young lady. Bound to be a terrible shock. Now I want to clear up the matter of these two shots, Mr Pinkerton. You heard the first, you say, when you were going up the path through the wood with Mrs Fitzwilliam?’

‘Yes. It seemed to alarm her, so I offered to go down and warn whoever was firing that it was not safe for a moment or two. Then, while I was still looking, I heard Mr Hillyard fire the second shot, as no doubt he told you.’

The superintendent looked at me in a manner which I found rather odd. ‘Now why do you say that, sir?’ he asked.

‘Say what?’

‘That you heard Mr Hillyard fire the
second
shot?’

‘Because I did,’ I said in surprised tones.

‘And how do you know it was the second shot that Mr Hillyard fired?’ the superintendent positively hurled at me. ‘Why couldn’t it have been the first?’

I stared at him. The point had actually never occurred to me.

‘I’m only asking for information, Mr Pinkerton,’ said the superintendent, more normally.

‘Well, if you put it like that,’ I had to say, ‘I don’t
know.
I took if for granted.’

‘But why?’ he persisted. ‘You must have had some reason. ‘Try to think if you please, sir.’

‘Is the point important?’

‘Quite,’ he said shortly.

I thought hard, but it was impossible for me to say why I had been so certain that it was the second shot which John fired, except perhaps that it was the less loud of the two. I had to intimate as much.

‘Then try to describe the two shots that you heard, will you? For instance, they didn’t both sound alike?’

‘Oh, no. Certainly not. The first, as I say, was a good deal louder. And nearer. The second seemed to be some little distance away. Let me see, now, so far as I can remember I fancied that the second came from the upstream direction, but I couldn’t possibly say how far.’

‘I see. You say, sir, that the first sounded to you louder than the second. Can you add anything to that?’

‘No,’ I replied, in some perplexity. ‘I don’t think I can.’

The superintendent was playing idly with a pencil on the table before which he sat. By the door stood the man we supposed to be the detective sergeant, taking no part in the conversation.

‘Well, sir, put it like this. Different guns make different sounds, don’t they? Would I be right in gathering, from what you tell me, that the first shot sounded more like a shotgun than a rifle? The sort of hollow sound that a small-bore shotgun makes?’

‘Yes,’ I said carelessly. ‘Something like that, I suppose. But now I remember, the second shot – ’ I broke off, for I noticed that the superintendent and his sergeant were exchanging a significant look. ‘What was that about a shotgun?’ I asked sharply.

‘Why,’ said the superintendent blandly, ‘Mr Hillyard tells us that he fired with a 20-bore shotgun. What you tell us seems to establish that his was the first shot.’

‘But I couldn’t possibly swear to anything of the sort,’ I protested, annoyed both with the superintendent for laying this silly trap and myself for falling into it. ‘I told you, the second one was too far away for me even to make a guess at the type of gun.’

‘Yes, quite so,’ the superintendent said smoothly. ‘Of course. Now will you tell me in a little more detail, Mr Pinkerton, just exactly what you did from the time you left Mrs Fitzwilliam to the time you encountered Mr Hillyard?’

I began to feel a little uneasy. This was a direct request that I should ‘account for my movements’, and the phrase had an ominous ring. And how can one plausibly tell a professionally suspicious policeman that one had simply stood about, to allay the fears of a lady?

‘Well,’ I said, ‘I went down to the glade where we had performed our little scene, and looked for the person who had fired. I fancy I called once or twice. I was about to return, when I heard the second shot. I will not say I was alarmed, but I did feel more seriously that the firer should be warned that people were about. I can say definitely (I remember more clearly now) that this shot did come from the upstream direction. I called again and penetrated some little distance into the undergrowth, still calling. Then, as I got no answer, I went back again, stopped for a moment in the glade to pick up a few things I had left there, such as a cigarette case and matches, and went back up the path to rejoin Mrs Fitzwilliam. She had gone on, and after a moment’s hesitation I went down the path again, and – ’

‘One moment, sir. Why did you do that? Why did you not follow Mrs Fitzwilliam back to the house?’

‘Because I had just remembered seeing the rifle lying in the glade as we had left it.’ I explained a little testily. ‘Mr Scott-Davies must have forgotten to take it with him. I knew Mr Hillyard would not like one of his rifles left on the grass.’

‘But you did nothing of the sort?’

‘No. As it happens, I didn’t. That is to say, I didn’t take the direct path into the glade. I turned into a smaller track, which leads into the glade but through another clearing.’

‘And why did you do that, sir?’

I was becoming exasperated. What use was it to attempt to say to a country policeman that the little clearing was beautiful, and I have a liking for beauty? ‘Just for variety,’ I said instead. ‘It was only a few steps farther, and so far as I knew there was no hurry. Then I saw Mr Scott-Davies lying across the path, and turned back at once for help.’

‘I see. Did you examine the body before you turned back?’

‘No.’

‘Now why not, Mr Pinkerton?’

‘Well,’ I said lamely, ‘I know nothing of such matters, and – ’

‘But so far as you knew he might not have been dead?’

‘Exactly,’ I retorted. ‘And therefore I thought there was no time to waste before going for competent assistance.’

The superintendent was still fiddling with his pencil, and it was beginning to annoy me. ‘I see. Now I wonder if you can help us in any way to find out how that second rifle got down to the wood. Mr Hillyard tells me that he has three. 22 rifles. He is certain they were all in the rack in here last night, because he examined one before he went to bed with a view to making the blank cartridge the next morning. The third as you see is still here. Mr Hillyard is not sure, but he thinks that one has been missing since first thing this morning. That would be the one which was lying by the body. Now can you throw any light on how it got there?’

‘I’m afraid I can’t,’ I replied, perhaps somewhat stiffly. ‘None at all.’

‘Well, can you put forward any suggestion for us to work on?’

I considered. ‘The only thing I can suggest, is that Mr Scott-Davies took it out this morning (he usually did take a gun of some kind with him), left it down in the woods and forgot it, remembered it after we had finished our acting and retrieved it. And I might add the further suggestion that though he remembered the gun, he did not remember that he had left it loaded; and that is how the accident occurred.’

The superintendent made a note on the piece of paper before him as he condescended to compliment me. ‘That’s a very helpful suggestion indeed. Thank you, sir. That would be quite possible. In fact, we might very well find that that’s what actually did occur. Eh, Sergeant Berry?’

‘Very ingenious, sir,’ said the sergeant, opening his mouth for the first time.

‘Well, I think that’s all, Mr Pinkerton. In your opinion, then, it was the first shot which killed Mr Scott-Davies?’

‘There can’t be a doubt of it,’ I said firmly. ‘I must have been within thirty or forty yards of his body when the second shot was fired. Or fifty at the outside. I can tell you quite definitely that that shot did not kill him.’

‘Thank you, sir. I think we shall find what you’ve told us most helpful,’ said the superintendent, rising. ‘Would you be good enough to ask Mr Hillyard if he would come in here for a moment?’

I found John in the hall, speaking to one of the maids, and delivered this message.

‘Oh, look here, Cyril,’ he said, ‘Mary tells me there’s a damned reporter here already. Get rid of him for me, will you? Don’t tell him any facts; the police will give out what they want later. Just say how upset we all are, and – ’

‘I think I know what to say and what not to say,’ I interrupted this homily, with a slight smile.

The man kept me longer than I intended, and the police were on the verge of departure when I got back into the house. The body had been brought up by the two constables, and the ambulance had arrived. The superintendent, the sergeant, and one constable got into it; the other constable was not in sight. I glanced at my watch. It was past seven o’clock.

The others had disappeared, and I was just preparing to go up to dress when John came into the house from seeing the police off.

‘Oh, Cyril, come into the study for a moment, will you?’ he said quietly.

I did so. As a matter of fact I wanted to ask him about something which had just occurred to me.

‘This is a bad business, John,’ I remarked.

‘Damned bad,’ John replied moodily.

‘By the way, why are the police taking the body away? Surely they don’t do that in a case of accident?’

‘No,’ John said shortly. They don’t.’

‘Ah!’ I said, and waited.

John poured out two drinks of whisky in silence and gave me one. I was not sorry to receive it. I had just discovered that I was feeling very limp.

‘Yes, it’s a bad business,’ John resumed. ‘About as bad as it can be. The police aren’t satisfied that it
is
an accident.’

‘And suicide is obviously out of the question,’ I said gravely. ‘They do suspect murder, then?’

‘Yes. They were bound to. They don’t rule accident out by any means; I think their minds are still quite open; but they’re taking no chances. They’ve left a man on guard down in the woods, to keep people off till they’ve examined the ground again tomorrow, and I’ve given an undertaking that none of us will leave the district till the superintendent gives permission. That means you’ll all have to stay on here; so if you want to make any arrangements – ’

‘Oh, I’m quite free,’ I told him.

John was fiddling awkwardly with his glass, and did not speak for a minute or two. When he did so I was surprised to notice that he was quite embarrassed.

‘I’m bound to say it
looks
like murder,’ he burst out at last.

‘I shall try to keep an open mind.’

‘And if it is,’ John pursued, disregarding my remark, ‘somebody shot Eric.’

‘Undoubtedly,’ I agreed.

‘It’s the matter of those two shots. I’d back you up that it was the second one I fired if I possibly could (the superintendent gave me an idea of what you told him), but honestly I can’t. I simply never heard another shot at all, before or after mine.’

‘Well, does it matter so much?’ I asked, rather impatiently. To tell the truth, I was tired of hearing about those two shots.

John looked more red and embarrassed than ever. ‘Look here, Cyril,’ he blurted out, ‘it’s a rotten thing to have to say, but I’m sure you ought to get hold of your solicitor. I don’t think the police are altogether satisfied with what you told them.’

As I dressed for dinner that evening I endeavoured to consider, with all possible calmness, the implications of John’s revelation.

To say that I was thunderstruck by it would perhaps, in the circumstances, be an exaggeration; Sylvia de Ravel’s attitude in the drawing room had showed me that such a gross misconception could at any rate exist; but that the police should make such a grotesque blunder was certainly the last thing I had ever expected. Yet how could I deal with it? I could do nothing, except reiterate the plain truth that it was a blunder, that the five or six minutes I had spent alone down in the wood after leaving Mrs Fitzwilliam had not been expended in shooting Eric Scott-Davies, that they had disastrously got hold of altogether the wrong end of the stick. I could merely wait helplessly and trust that some such evidence would, most improbably, arise to bear me out.

John had acquainted me with a few other facts before we went upstairs, but none of them offered any help. The doctor could not of course name the time of death to the minute; all that he had been able to say was that it had been quite recent and must have taken place within an hour previous to his examination of the body. The bullet had penetrated the back exactly opposite the heart; assuming that the rifle had been more or less level with the wound, as it would have been in the case of the firer holding it against his shoulder in an erect position in the normal way, the bullet would have passed almost straight through the centre of the heart; that of course could not be definitely ascertained until the postmortem, but assuming it to have been the case, death would have been almost instantaneous. There had been no blackening from the powder on the clothes.

The inferences from these facts were as obvious to me as to anyone. I considered them as I tied my tie, with hands which I was pleased to notice showed not the slightest unsteadiness. The doctor, I had gathered from John, while unwilling to commit himself definitely yet to the presumption that the bullet actually had penetrated the heart, had been able from the appearances to express such a strong opinion to that effect that the assumption was reasonable. In that case the police must know that Scott-Davies had been standing up when shot (with his back of course towards his assailant), that the firer had not been crouching in ambush in the undergrowth (though he might of course have been concealed in an erect position), and that the muzzle of the rifle could not have been less than, no doubt, five feet from Scott-Davies’ back when it was fired. Carefully though I examined these points, I could find in them nothing of the slightest assistance to myself.

Another matter had been touched upon by John. There had been found no mark of exit of the bullet, which meant that it was still embedded in the body. The post-mortem would establish its exact position, and it seemed that this was of considerable importance, as showing the degree of penetration. That is to say, if it had penetrated as far as could be expected with a charge of that strength, the inference would be that the range must have been correspondingly long. As soon as the exact place of lodgment was known, the police would take expert opinion on the point with a view to ascertaining as closely as possible the precise range from which the bullet had been fired.