“One of the lower orders in fact?”
“Yes,” said Fabian after a pause. “You got me there, didn’t you?”
“It was a cheap score, I’m afraid. Your theory is reasonable enough but no wandering tramp was seen about the district that day. I understand they stick to the road and usually make themselves known at the homesteads.”
“Not at Mount Moon with Flossie at home.”
“Perhaps not. Still your swagger remains a figure that as far as the police investigations go, and they seem to have been painstaking and thorough, was seen by nobody, either before or after the night of the disappearance.”
“I’ve no other contribution to offer, I’m afraid, and I’m keeping you up. Good night, sir. I’m still glad you came.”
“I hope you’ll continue of that mind,” said Alleyn. “Before you go, would you tell me how many of you played tennis on the night Mrs. Rubrick disappeared?”
“Now, this,” said Fabian with an air of gratification, “is the real stuff. Why should you want to know that, I wonder? Only Douglas and I played tennis.”
“You wore rubber-soled shoes during the search, then?”
“Certainly.”
“And the others? Can you remember?”
“Pin heels. They always did in the evenings.”
“When, actually, did Mrs. Rubrick first say she was going to the wool-shed?”
“Soon after we sat down. Might have been before. She was all arch about it. ‘What do you suppose your funny old Floosie’s going to do presently?’ That kind of thing. Then she developed her theme; the party and what-not.”
“I see. Thank you, very much. Good night.”
Fabian had gone and Alleyn was alone in the silent room. He stood motionless, a tall thin shape, dark in the candlelight. Presently he moved to the desk and opened one of the locked cases. From this he took a small tuft of cotton wool and dropped it on the carpet. Even by candlelight it was conspicuous, unavoidable, a white accent on a dark green ground. So must the tuft of wool have looked when Ursula, on the morning after Florence disappeared, caught it up in the carpet sweeper. Yet she hadn’t noticed it. Or had she merely forgotten it? They were all agreed that Flossie would never have suffered it to lie there. She had been up to her room after dinner and before the walk through the garden. Presumably, there had been no wool on her carpet then. Alleyn heard again Ursula Harme’s voice: “I don’t care what anybody says. Somebody was about on the landing at five minutes to three that morning.”
Alleyn pulled out his pipe, sat down at the desk, and unlocked his dispatch case. Here were the police files. With a sigh he opened them out on the desk. The room grew hazy with tobacco smoke, the pages turned at intervals and the grandfather clock on the landing told twelve, half-past twelve and one o’clock.
…on February 19th, 1942, at 2.45 p.m. I received instructions to proceed to the wool store of Riven Brothers at 68 Jernighan Avenue. I arrived there in company with P.C. Wetherbridge at 2.50 p.m. and was met by the storeman, Alfred Clark, and by Mr. Samuel Joseph, buyer for Riven Brothers. I was shown a certain wool pack and noted a strong odour resembling decomposition. I was shown a bale hook which was stained brownish-red. I noted that twisted about the hook there was a hank of hair, reddish-gold in colour. I noted that the pack in question had been partly slit. I instructed P.C. Wetherbridge to extend the slit and open up the pack. This was done in my presence and that of Alfred Clark. Samuel Joseph was not present, having taken sick for the time being, and retired to the outer premises. In the pack we located a body in an advanced state of decomposition. It was secured, in a sitting position, with the legs doubled up and fastened to the trunk with nineteen turns of cord subsequently identified as binder twine. The arms were doubled up and secured to the body by twenty-five turns of twine used for wool bales passing round the arms and legs. The chin rested on the knees. The body rested upon a layer of fleece, hard packed and six inches in depth. The body was packed round with wool. Above the body the bale was packed hard with fleece up to the top. The bale measured 28 inches in width both ways, and four feet in height. The body was that of a woman of very slight build. I judged it to be about five feet three inches in height. I left it as it was and proceeded to…
The pages turned slowly.
… the injury to the back of the head. According to medical evidence it might have been caused by a downward blow from the rear made by a blunt instrument. Three medical men agreed that the injury was consistent with such a blow from the branding iron found in the shearing shed. A microscopic examination of this iron revealed stains subsequently proved by analysis to be human blood-stains. Post-mortem examination revealed that death had been caused by suffocation. The mouth and nostrils contained quantities of sheep’s wool. The injury to the skull would almost certainly have brought about unconsciousness. It is possible that the assailant, after striking the blow, suffocated the deceased while she was unconscious. The medical experts are agreed that death cannot be attributed to accidental causes or to self-inflicted injuries.
Here followed a detailed report from the police surgeon. Alleyn read on steadily —
…a triangular tear near the hem of the dress, corresponding in position to the outside left ankle bone, the apex of the tear being uppermost… subsequent investigation… nail in wall of wool-shed beside press… thread of material attached… lack of evidence after so long an interval.
“Don’t I know it,” Alleyn sighed and turned a page.
… John Merrywether, wool presser, deposed that on the evening of January 29th at knocking-off time, the press was full in both halves. It had been tramped but not pressed. He left it in this condition. The following morning it appeared to be in the same state. The two halves were ready for pressing as he had left them, the top in position on the bottom half. He pressed the wool, using the ratchet mechanism in the ordinary way. He noticed nothing that was unusual. The wool in the top half was compressed until it was packed down level with the top of the bottom half. The bale was then sewn up and branded. It was stacked alongside the other bales and the same afternoon was removed with them and trucked down-country…
Sydney Barnes, lorry driver, deposed that on January 30th, 1942 he collected the Mount Moon clip and trucked it down-country…Alfred Clark, store-man… received the Mount Moon clip on February 3rd and stacked it to await assessment… James MacBride, government wool-assessor… February 19th… noticed smell but attributed it to dead rat… Slit all packs and pulled out tuft of wool near top… noticed nothing unusual… assessed with rest of clip… Samuel Joseph, buyer…
“And back we come, full circle,” Alleyn sighed and refilled his pipe.
“Subsequent investigations,” said the files ominously. In their own language they boiled down, dehumanized and tidied up the long accounts he had listened to that evening. “It seems certain,” said the files twenty minutes later, “that the disposal of the body could not have been effected in under forty-five minutes. Tests have been made. The wool must have been removed from the press; the body bound up in the smallest possible compass, placed in the bottom half of the press, and packed round with wool. The fleeces must then have been replaced and tramped down both in the bottom and the top halves of the press, and the top half replaced on the bottom half… Thomas Johns, working manager, deposed that on the next morning he found that his overalls had been split and were stained. He accused the ‘fleecies’ of having interfered with his overalls. They denied having done so.”