The Shrieking Pit

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"The weapon, then, entered the body in a lateral direction, that is,
from left to right?" asked Colwyn, who had been closely following the
specialist's remarks.

"That is what I meant to convey," responded Sir Henry, in his most
professional manner. "The blade entered on the left side, and travelled
towards the centre of the body."

"From the nature of the wound would you say that the knife entered
almost parallel with the ribs, though slanting slightly downwards, in
order to pierce the heart on the right side?"

"That would be the general direction, though it is impossible to
ascertain, without a postmortem examination, the exact spot where the
heart was pierced."

"But the wound slants in such a way as to prove that the blow was struck
from left to right?" persisted Colwyn.

"Undoubtedly," responded Sir Henry.

CHAPTER V

During the latter part of the conversation Superintendent Galloway
walked to the open window, and looked out. He turned round swiftly, with
a look of unusual animation on his heavy features, and exclaimed:

"The murderer entered through the window."

The others went over to the window. The inn on that side had been built
into a small hill of beehive shape, which had been partly levelled to
make way for the foundations. Seen from outside, the inn, with its back
to the sea and a corner of its front entering the hillside, bore a
remote resemblance to some nakedly ugly animal with its nose burrowed
into the earth. Part of the bar was actually underground, and the
windows of the rooms immediately above looked out on the hillside. The
window of Mr. Glenthorpe's room, which was above the bar parlour, was
not more than four or five feet away from the round-shouldered side of
the hill. From that point the hill fell away rapidly, and the
first-story windows at the back, where the house rose from the flat edge
of the marsh, were about fifteen feet from the ground. The space between
the inn wall and the beehive curve of the hill, which was very narrow
under Mr. Glenthorpe's window, but widened as the hill fell away, was
covered with a russet-coloured clay, which contrasted vividly with the
sombre grey and drab tints of the marshes.

"It was an easy matter to get in this window," said Superintendent
Galloway. "And here's the proof that the murderer came in this way." He
stooped and picked up something from the floor, close to the window,
and held it out in the palm of his hand for the inspection of his
companions. It was a small piece of red clay, like the russet-coloured
clay outside the window.

"Here is another clue," said Colwyn, pointing to a fragment of black
material adhering to a nail near the bottom of the window.

"Ronald ripped something he was wearing while getting through the
window," said Galloway, detaching the fragment, which he and Colwyn
examined closely.

"Have you noticed that?" said Colwyn, pointing to a pool of water which
had collected near the open window, between the edge of the carpet and
the skirting board.

"Yes," replied Galloway. "It was raining heavily last night."

With eyes sharpened by his discoveries, Galloway made a careful search
of the carpet, and found several more crumbs of red clay between the
window and the bed. Near the bed he detected some splashes of
candle-grease, which he detached from the carpet with his pocket-knife.
He also picked up the stump of a burnt wooden match, and the broken
unlighted rink head of another. After showing these things to his
companions he placed them carefully in an empty match-box, which he put
in his pocket.

"Somebody has bumped against this gas globe pretty hard," said Colwyn.
"The glass is broken and the incandescent burner smashed."

He bent down to examine the white fragments of the burner which were
scattered about the carpet, and as he did so he noticed another broken
wooden match, and two more splashes of candle-grease directly beneath
the gas-jet. He removed the candle-grease carefully, and showed it to
Galloway.

"More candle-grease!" the latter said. "Well, that's not likely to prove
anything except that Ronald was careless with his light. I suppose the
wind caused the candle to gutter. I would willingly exchange the
candle-grease for some finger-prints. There's not a sign of
finger-prints anywhere. Ronald must have worn gloves. Now, let us have a
look at Ronald's room. I want to see if he could get out of his own
window on to the hillside. His window is higher from the ground than
this window. The hill falls away very sharply."

The bedroom Ronald had occupied was small and narrow, and its meagre
furniture was in striking contrast with the comfortable appointments of
the room they had just left. It contained a single bed, a chest of
drawers, a washstand, and a wardrobe. The latter, a cumbrous article of
furniture, stood between the bed and the wall, against the side nearest
to Mr. Glenthorpe's room.

Galloway strode across to the window, which was open, and looked out.
The hillside fell away so rapidly that the bottom of the window was
quite eight feet from the ground outside.

"Not much of a drop for an athletic young fellow like Ronald," said
Galloway to Colwyn, who had joined him.

"The window is very much smaller than the one in Mr. Glenthorpe's
bedroom," said Colwyn.

"But large enough for a man to get through. Look here! I can get my head
and shoulders through, and where the head and shoulders go the rest of
the body will follow. Ronald got through it last night and into the next
room by the other window. There can be no doubt that that was how the
murder was committed."

Galloway left the window, and examined the bedroom carefully. He turned
down the bed-clothes, and scrutinised the sheets and pillows.

"I thought he might have left some blood-stains on the linen, after
carrying the body downstairs," he explained. "But he hasn't."

"Sir Henry says the bleeding was largely internal," remarked Mr.
Cromering. "That would account for the absence of any tell-tale marks on
the bed-clothes."

"He was too clever to wash his hands when he came back," grumbled
Galloway, turning to the washstand and examining the towels. "He's a
cool customer."

"I notice that the candle in the candlestick is a wax one," said Colwyn.

"And burnt more than half-way down," commented Galloway, glancing at it.

"You attach no significance to the fact that the candle is a wax one?"
questioned the detective.

"No, do you?" replied Galloway, with a puzzled glance.

Colwyn did not reply to the question. He was looking attentively at the
large wardrobe by the side of the bed.

"That's a strange place to put a wardrobe," he said. "It would be
difficult to get out of bed without barking one's shins against it."

"It was probably put there to hide the falling wall-paper,--the place is
going to rack and ruin," said Galloway, pointing to the top of the
wardrobe, where the faded wall-paper, mildewed and wet with damp, was
hanging in festoons. "Now, Queensmead, lead the way outside. I've seen
all I want to see in this room."

"Would you like to see the room where Ronald and Mr. Glenthorpe dined?"
suggested the constable. "It's on this floor, on the other side of Mr.
Glenthorpe's bedroom."

"We can see that later. I want to examine outside before it gets dark."

They left the room. The innkeeper was waiting patiently in the passage,
standing motionless at the head of the staircase, with his head
inclining forward, like a marsh heron fishing in a dyke. He hastened
towards them.

"I noticed a reading-lamp by Mr. Glenthorpe's bedside, Mr. Benson," said
Colwyn. "Did he use that as well as the gas?"

"He rarely used the gas, sir, though it was put into the room at his
request. He found the reading-lamp suited his sight better."

"Did he use candles? I saw no candlestick in the room."

"He never used candles, sir--only the reading-lamp."

"When was the gas-globe smashed? Last night?"

"It must have been, sir. Ann says it was quite all right yesterday."

"I've got my own idea how that was done," said Galloway, who had been an
attentive listener to the innkeeper's replies to Colwyn's questions.
"Show the way downstairs to the back door, Mr. Benson."

The innkeeper preceded them down the stairs and along the passage to
another one, which terminated in a latched door, which he opened.

"How was this door fastened last night?" asked Galloway.

"By this bolt at the top," said the innkeeper, pointing to it. "There is
no key--only this catch."

"Is this the only back outlet from the inn?" asked Colwyn.

"Yes, sir."

At Galloway's suggestion they first went to the side of the inn, in
order to examine the ground beneath the windows. The fence enclosing the
yard had fallen into disrepair, and had many gaps in it. There were no
footprints visible in the red clay of the natural passage-way between
the inn wall and the hill, either beneath the window of Ronald's room or
Mr. Glenthorpe's window.

"The absence of footprints means nothing," said Galloway. "Ronald may
have climbed from one room to the other in his stocking feet, and then
put on his boots to remove the body. Even if he wore his boots he might
have left no marks, if he walked lightly."

"I am not so sure of that," said Colwyn. "But what do you make of this?"

He pointed to an impression in the red earth underneath Mr. Glenthorpe's
window--a line so faint as to be barely noticeable, running outward from
the wall for about eighteen inches, with another line about the same
length running at right angles from it. Superintendent Galloway examined
these two lines closely and then shook his head as though to intimate he
could make nothing of them.

"What do you think they are?" said Mr. Cromering, turning to Colwyn.

"I think they may have been made by a box," was the reply.

"You are not suggesting that the murderer threw a box out of the
window?" exclaimed Superintendent Galloway, staring at the detective.
"Look how straight the line from the wall is! A box would have fallen
crookedly."

"I do not suggest anything of the kind. If it was a box, it is more
likely it was placed outside the window."

"For what purpose?"

"To help the murderer climb into the room."

"He didn't need it," replied Galloway. "It's an easy matter to get
through this window from the ground. I can do it myself." He placed his
hands on the sill, sprang on to the window ledge, and dropped back
again. "I attach no importance to these lines. They are so faint that
they might have been made months ago. There is nothing to be seen here,
so we may as well go and look at the footprints. Show us where the marks
of the footsteps commence, Queensmead."

The constable led the way to the other side of the house and across the
green. The grass terminated a little distance from the inn in a clay
bank bordering a wide tract of bare and sterile land, which extended
almost to the summit of the rise. Clearly defined in the clay and the
black soft earth were two sets of footprints, one going towards the
rise, and the other returning. The outgoing footsteps were deeply and
distinctly outlined from heel to toe. The right foot plainly showed the
circular mark of a rubber heel, which was missing in the other, though a
sharp indentation showed the mark of the spike to which the rubber had
been fastened.

"The footprints lead straight to the mouth of the pit where the body was
thrown," said Queensmead.

"What a clue!" exclaimed Superintendent Galloway, his eyes sparkling
with excitement. "You are quite certain the inn servant can swear that
these marks were made by Ronald's boots, Queensmead?"

"There's no doubt on that point, sir," replied the constable. "She had
the boots in her hands this morning, just before Ronald put them on, and
she distinctly noticed that there was a rubber heel on the right boot,
but not on the other."

"It seems a strange thing for a young man of Ronald's position to have
rubber heels affixed to his boots," remarked Mr. Cromering. "I was under
the impression that they were an economical device of the working
classes. But perhaps he found them useful to save his feet from
jarring."

"We shall find them useful to hang him," responded Galloway curtly. "Let
us proceed to the pit, gentlemen. May I ask you to keep clear of the
footprints? I do not want them obliterated before I can take plaster
casts."

They followed the footsteps up the rise. Near the summit they
disappeared in a growth of nettles, but reappeared on the other side,
skirting a number of bowl-shaped depressions clustered in groups along
the brow of the rise. These were the hut circles--the pit dwellings of
the early Britons, shallow excavations from six to eight feet deep, all
running into one another, and choked with a rank growth of weeds.
Between them and a little wood which covered the rest of the summit was
an open space, with a hole gaping nakedly in the bare earth.

"That's the pit where the body was thrown," said Queensmead, walking to
the brink.

The pit descended straight as a mining shaft until the sides disappeared
in the interior gloom. It was impossible to guess at its depth because
of the tangled creepers which lined its sides and obscured the view, but
Mr. Cromering, speaking from his extensive knowledge of Norfolk geology,
said it was fully thirty feet deep. He added that there was considerable
difference of opinion among antiquaries to account for its greater
depth. Some believed the pit was simply a larger specimen of the
adjoining hut circles, running into a natural underground passage which
had previously existed. But the more generally accepted theory was that
the hut circles marked the site of a prehistoric village, and the deeper
pit had been the quarry from which the Neolithic men had obtained the
flints of which they made their implements. These flints were imbedded
in the chalk a long way from the surface, and to obtain them the cave
men burrowed deeply into the clay, and then excavated horizontal
galleries into the chalk. Several of the red-deer antler picks which
they used for the purpose had been discovered when the pit was first
explored twenty-five years ago.

"Mr. Glenthorpe was very much interested in the prehistoric and late
Stone Age remains which are to be found in abundance along the Norfolk
coast," he added. "He has enriched the national museums with a valuable
collection of prehistoric man's implements and utensils, which he
recovered in various parts of Norfolk. For some time past he had been
carrying out explorations in this district in order to add to the
collection. It is sad to think that he met his death while thus
employed, and that his murdered body was thrown in the very pit which
was, as it were, the centre of his explorations and the object of his
keenest scientific curiosity."

"Did you ever see clearer footprints?" exclaimed the more
practical-minded Galloway. "Look how deep they are near the edge of the
pit, where the murderer braced himself to throw the body off his back
into the hole. See! there is a spot of blood on the edge."

It was as he had said. The footprints were clear and distinct to the
brink of the pit, but fainter as they turned away, showing that the man
who had carried the body had stepped more lightly and easily after
relieving himself of his terrible burden.

"I must take plaster casts of those prints before it rains," said
Galloway. "They are far too valuable a piece of evidence to be lost.
They form the final link in the case against Ronald."

"You regard the case as conclusive, then?" said Colwyn.

"Of course I do. It is now a simple matter to reconstruct the crime from
beginning to end. Ronald got through Mr. Glenthorpe's window last night
in the dark. As the catch has not been forced, he either found it
unlocked or opened it with a knife. After getting into the room he
walked towards the foot of the bed. He listened to make sure that Mr.
Glenthorpe was asleep, and then struck the match I picked up near the
foot of the bed, lit the candle he was carrying, put it on the table
beside the bed, and stabbed the sleeping man. Having secured the money,
he unlocked the door, carried the corpse out on his shoulder, closed the
door behind him but did not lock it, then took the body downstairs, let
himself out of the back door, carried it up here and cast it into the
pit. That's how the murder was committed."

"I agree with you that the murderer entered through the window," said
Colwyn. "But why did he do so? It strikes me as important to clear that
up. If Ronald is the murderer, why did he take the trouble to enter the
room from the outside when he slept in the next room?"

"Surely you have not forgotten that the door was locked from inside?
Benson says Mr. Glenthorpe was in the habit of locking his door and
sleeping with the key under the pillow. Ronald no doubt first tried to
enter the room by the door, but, finding it locked, climbed out of his
window, and got into the room through the other window. He dared not
break open the door for fear of disturbing the inmate or alarming the
house."

"Then how do you account for the key being found in the outside of Mr.
Glenthorpe's door this morning?"

"Quite easily. During the struggle or in the victim's death convulsions
the bed-clothes were disarranged, and Ronald saw the key beneath the
pillow. Or he may have searched for it, as he knew he would need it
before he could open the door and remove the body. It was easy for him
to climb through the window to commit the murder, but he couldn't remove
the body that way. After finding the key he unlocked the door, and put
the key in the outside, intending to lock the door and remove the key as
he left the room, so as to defer the discovery that Mr. Glenthorpe was
missing until as long after his own departure in the morning as
possible. He may have found it a difficult matter to stoop and lock the
door and withdraw the key while he was encumbered with the corpse, so
left it in the door till he returned from the pit. When he returned he
was so exhausted with carrying the body several hundred yards, mostly
uphill, that he forgot all about the key. That is my theory to account
for the key being in the outside of the door."

"It's an ingenious one, at all events," commented Colwyn. "But would
such a careful deliberate murderer overlook the key when he returned?"

"Nothing more likely," said the confident superintendent. "It's in
trifles like this that murderers give themselves away. The notorious
Deeming, who murdered several wives, and disposed of their bodies by
burying them under hearthstones and covering them with cement, would
probably never have been caught if he had not taken away with him a
canary which belonged to the last woman he murdered. It was a clue that
couldn't be missed--like the silk skein in Fair Rosamond's Bower."

"Here's another point: why did not Ronald, having disposed of the body,
disappear at once, instead of waiting for the morning?"

"Because if his room had been found empty in the morning, as well as
that of Mr. Glenthorpe's, the double disappearance would have aroused
instant suspicion and search. Ronald gauged the moment of his departure
very cleverly, in my opinion. On the one hand, he wanted to get away
before the discovery of Mr. Glenthorpe's empty bedroom; and, on the
other hand, he wished to stay at the inn long enough to suggest that he
had no reason for flight, but was merely compelled to make an early
departure. The trouble and risk he took to conceal the body outside
prove conclusively that he thought the pit a sufficiently safe
hiding-place to retard discovery of the crime for a considerable time,
and he probably thought that even when it was discovered that Mr.
Glenthorpe was missing his absence would not, at first, arouse
suspicions that he had met with foul play.

"It was not as though Mr. Glenthorpe was living at home with relatives
who would have immediately raised a hue and cry. He was a lonely old man
living in an inn amongst strangers, who were not likely to be interested
in his goings and comings. That suggests another alternative theory to
account for the key in the door: Ronald may have left it in the door to
convey the impression that Mr. Glenthorpe had gone out for an early
walk. That belief would at least gain Ronald a few hours to make good
his escape from this part of the country and get away by train before
any suspicions were aroused. The fact that none of Mr. Glenthorpe's
clothes were missing was not likely to be discovered in an inn until
suspicion was aroused. Ronald laid his plans well, but how was he to
know that in his path to the pit he walked over soil as plastic and
impressionable as wax?"

"But in spite of that you assume he knew exactly where this pit was
situated?"

"Nothing more likely. It is well-known to archaeologists. Ronald may well
have heard of it while staying at Durrington, or he may have known of
it personally through some previous visit to this part of the world. And
there is also evidence that Mr. Glenthorpe told him of the hut circles
and the pit during dinner last night."

"Just one more doubt, Superintendent. How do you account for the cracked
gas globe and the broken incandescent mantle?"

"Ronald probably knocked his head against it as he approached the bed,"
said Galloway promptly.

"Hardly. Ronald's height, according to the description, is five feet ten
inches. That happens to be also my height, and I can pass under the gas
globe without touching it."

"Then it was broken when Ronald was carrying the corpse downstairs,"
replied Galloway, after a moment's reflection. "He carried the corpse on
his shoulders and part of the body would be above his head."

"Superintendent Galloway has an answer for everything," said Colwyn with
a smile, to Mr. Cromering. "He is persuasive if not always convincing."

"The case seems clear enough to me," said the chief constable
thoughtfully. "Come, gentlemen, let us return to the inn. We have a
number of things to do, and not much time to do them in."

CHAPTER VI

The inn, seen in the grey evening of a grey day, had a stark and
sinister aspect, an atmosphere of mystery and secretiveness, an air of
solitary aloofness in the dreary marshes, standing half shrouded in the
night mists which were sluggishly crawling across the oozing flats from
the sea. It was not a place where people could be happy--this battered
abode of a past age on the edge of the North Sea, with the bitter waters
of the marshes lapping its foundations, and the cold winds for ever
wailing round its gaunt white walls.

The portion buried in the hillside, with only the tops of the windows
peering above, suggested the hidden holes and burrowing byways of a dead
and gone generation of smugglers who had used the inn in the heyday of
Norfolk's sea prosperity. It may have been a thought of the
possibilities of the inn as a hiding place which prompted Mr. Cromering
to exclaim, after gazing at it attentively for some seconds:

"We had better go through this place from the bottom."

As they approached the inn a stout short man, who was looking out from
the low and narrow doorway, retreated into the interior, and immediately
afterwards the long figure of the innkeeper emerged as though he had
been awaiting the return of the party, and had posted somebody to watch
for them.

The innkeeper showed no surprise on receiving Mr. Cromering's
instruction to show them over the inn. Walking before them he led them
along a side passage opposite the bar, opening doors as he went, and
drawing aside for them to enter and look at the rooms thus revealed.

It was a strange rambling old place inside, full of nooks and crannies,
and unexpected odd corners and apertures, short galleries and stone
passages winding everywhere and leading nowhere; the downstairs rooms on
different levels, with stone steps into them, and queer slits of windows
pierced high up in the thick walls. On the ground floor a central
passage divided the inn into two portions. On the one side were several
rooms, some empty and destitute of furniture, others barely furnished
and empty, and a big gloomy kitchen in which a stout countrywoman, who
shook and bobbed at the sight of the visitors, was washing greens at a
dirty deal table. Off the kitchen were two small rooms, poorly furnished
as servants' bedrooms, and the windows of these looked out on the
marshes at the back of the house. On the other side of the centre
passage was the bar, which was subterranean at the far end, with the
cellar adjoining tunnelled into the hillside. In the recesses of the
cellar the short stout man they had seen at the doorway was, by the
light of a tallow candle, affixing a spigot to one of the barrels which
stood against the earthen wall. Behind the bar was a small bar parlour,
and behind that two more rooms, the house on that side finishing in a
low and narrow gallery running parallel with the outside wall.

The staircase upstairs opened into a stone passage, running from the
front of the inn to the back. On the left-hand side of the passage,
going from the head of the stairs to the back of the house, were four
rooms. The first was a small, comfortably furnished sitting room, where
Mr. Glenthorpe and his guest had dined the previous night. The bed
chamber of the murdered man adjoined this room. Next came the room in
which Ronald had slept, and then an empty lumber room. There were four
bedrooms on the other side, all unfurnished, except one at the far end
of the passage, the lumber-room. The innkeeper explained that the
murdered man had been the sole occupant of that wing of the house until
the previous night, when Mr. Ronald had occupied the room next to him.
At this end of the passage another and narrower passage ran at right
angles from it along the back of the house, with several rooms opening
off it on one side only. The first of these rooms was empty; the next
room contained a small iron bedstead, a chair, and a table, and the
innkeeper said that it was his bedroom. At the next door he paused, and
turning to Mr. Cromering hesitatingly remarked:

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