BaitingThe Hook
IN accordance with wishes expressed in Bony’s note discovered on the kitchen table the following morning, Inspector Walters roused Bony at eleven with a cup of tea and a biscuit.
“Ah… good-morning,” Bony greeted him.“Sawtell here?”
“Yes. Did the fish nibble?” asked Walters with ill-restrained eagerness.
“He did. Fetch Sawtell and we’ll discuss it.”
When the sergeant saw Bony’s striking silk pyjamas, his eyes widened but he made no reference to them. Invariably conservative in clothes, Bony was excused by the discerning Sawtell now seated at the foot of the bed as the inspector occupied the only chair. Damn it! A man was entitled to have one outlet for a love of colours.
“How did the fishing go?” he asked, and being Sunday morning, he lit one of his favourite cigars.
“The fish nibbled. He detached Mrs. Sayers’ silk nightgown from her clothes line. Same man Dickenson saw leaving Mrs. Eltham’s house. Clicked his teeth as though extremely cold.”
“Who is he?” asked Walters.
“It was too dark to identify him.”
“Did you trail him?”persisted the inspector.
“As far as to be sure he made no attempt to enter the house. The risk of arousing his suspicions was too acute. He’ll come again, and he won’t throw up the hook we’ll bait for him.”
Walters was grim.
“Why fish for him again?” he objected. “You said that if he attempted to strangle Mrs. Sayers, you would know who he is. If you know him, let’s go after him. Possession of those four nightgowns will be evidence enough for the Crown Prosecutor.”
“I agree with you… if we found those four nightgowns in his possession. But we cannot be sure they are in his possession. When he stole that nightgown last night, he completed his sketch of himself.” Bony lit an alleged cigarette, and the two men impatiently waited for him to continue. “I can now see him, but if he has destroyed those nightgowns, the remaining evidence I hold would not be sufficient. And further, there would be a row if we acted now on a search warrant and did not find those garments in his possession. I have sufficient evidence to convince you, to convince the Crown Prosecutor himself, but not sufficient clear-cut proof to induce the Crown Prosecutor to take action. We are left with no alternative but to catch the murderer in the very act.
“Who is he?” bluntly asked Sawtell.
Seeing the slow smile on Bony’s face, both men knew they were butting their heads against a brick wall. Bony pressed on, an edge to his voice:
“He murdered Mrs. Cotton presumably because she sold liquor. He murdered Mrs. Eltham presumably because she sold her affections. On the face of it, he murdered Mrs. Overton presumably because she gave herself to good works. Doesn’t make sense, does it? When you detect why he attempts to murder Mrs. Sayers you will have in the motives behind the attacks on the four women the inner motive: for actually there is only one motive, and it presents a clear picture of the man.”
“Wouldn’t that evidence of motive be good enough for the Crown Prosecutor, even though the stolen nightgowns weren’t found in his possession?” argued Sawtell.
“Not good enough for the Crown Prosecutor to advise action on a capital indictment. Assuming I had apprehended this fellow after he had removed the garment from the line, with what could he be charged? With the theft of a garment, to wit, a woman’s nightgown. Admittedly, we could have applied for a warrant to search his house. If we did not find those other three nightgowns in his house, he, being a first offender and neither an Asian nor a poor white, would certainly be discharged on a bond of good behaviour. I’m not going to gamble on the chance that he has retained the four nightgowns.”
“Catching him in the act would certainly clinch the job,” admitted Walters. “Howd’you propose to do that?”
“I shall be right inside the room where he attacks Mrs. Sayers.”
“In her bedroom?”
“In her bedroom.”
“Jumping cats!” purred Sawtell. “Shestand for that?”
“She will. I haven’t asked her yet, but she will.” Bony left the bed and from the wardrobe took a dressing-gown. Sawtell audibly gasped when he saw it, a creation of pastel blue with yellow collar and cuffs and a large bright red pocket. The sergeant couldn’t remove his gaze from it when it encased the striped yellow and green pyjamas. Bony snatched up a towel, saying: “The slightest incautious move on our part will frighten off thismako shark from the hook I’ll bait with Mrs. Sayers.”
Walters stood up to regard Bony with cold pensiveness.
“Have you calculated the danger to Mrs. Sayers?” he asked.
“I’ve already worked out the finer points,” Bony replied, brightly. He turned to Sawtell: “In your private laboratory, have you a camera fitted with an automatic flashlight?”
The sergeant nodded. Then he burst into low laughter.
“You’re not aiming to take a flashlight picture of the man strangling Mrs. Sayers, are you?”
“It is my intention to make the effort. In the compound I have observed a portable blacksmith’s forge and anvil. D’youknow anything of iron work?”
“I can make horse-shoes,” admitted Sawtell.
“Good! Try your hand on making a collar for Mrs. Sayers. Fashion it with sheet roofing iron, and use Mrs. Walters as your model. See that the bottom edge is packed with material so that the collar will not cut the lady’s neck, and that it fits well enough to prevent the man’s hands from slipping in under it to reach the throat. If you make it slightly too large for Mrs. Walters, it will fit Mrs. Sayers.”
The unease and doubt fled from Inspector Walters before the brilliance of this facet of Napoleon Bonaparte.
“Think you can do it, Sawtell?” he asked.
“Give it a try, anyway,” replied the sergeant. “When do you want it, Bony?”
“I’d like to have it by four this afternoon. And remember that the children will be about. Don’t let them see their mother as the model for an iron collar.”
Sawtell, as Bony was aware, did not need the forge and anvil to make the collar. He shut himself into the trade shop and began to work on a piece of galvanised sheet-iron. At one o’clock he was due home for dinner, and on his return he brought a large brown-paper parcel which he opened on Bony’s table. Within half an hour, Bony had mastered the mechanism of the flashlight attachment, to which the sergeant had added a long cord shutter-release.
Meanwhile, Keith Walters had been despatched to Mrs. Sayers with a note and a cylindrical-shaped parcel. He had received clear instructions on the way he was to take to Mrs. Sayers, and the way he was to return. Bony questioned him on his return, to be assured that the boy had carried out the instructions.
“You’re a good scout, Keith,” Bony complimented him. “Now, don’t be curious and ask questions. And don’t talk about that little job.”
The boy promised, and Bony spent two hours writing in his “office”. He was called for afternoon tea at four o’clock by Mrs. Walters, whose eyes were bright with controlled excitement, and on being taken to the lounge, he found Walters and the sergeant already there. Displayed on a small table was the iron collar.
“Fit it on, Esther,” requested Walters.
“It’s a little too big for me, and so I’m sure it’ll do,” she said.
Sawtell had actually painted the thing witha fast -drying enamel, achieving a near flesh-colour which was a credit to him. At the top and bottom edges he had drilled holes and through them laced a thick strand from a dressing-gown girdle. He had fashioned the collar in two pieces, hinged at the back and fastened at the front with strong clips. Without much trouble, Mrs. Walters placed the collar about her neck and stood back for examination. She had to hold her chin high, but the chin maintained the collar down upon the collar bone.
“Excellent!” cried Bony. “Congratulations, my dear Sawtell. Why, even the most fastidious woman could not object to wearing the ornament. Permit me, Mrs. Walters.”
Placing his hands about Mrs. Walters’ protected neck, he was instantly satisfied that the iron collar was a hundred per cent efficient. Mrs. Walters was thrilled. Sawtell was proud of his work, and Walters was relieved of one of his gnawing worries. To him Bony proffered a foolscap-size envelope, saying:
“I have recorded in detail my fishing strategy. I would like you to study it with Sawtell, and adhere rigidly to the parts I have set out for you and Sawtell and the two constables. I do not expect the shark to take the bait tonight, but we must all be prepared and waiting. You will find how much I have stressed the vital necessity for caution that the shark will not become suspicious and sheer off.”
“We’ll be with you all the way,” declared Walters.
A few minutes later, Bony left the police station. He carried Sawtell’s camera and iron collar parcelled in brown paper. Other oddments were stuffed into his pockets, spoiling the “set” of his pin-striped dark-grey suit. He walked with the slow tread of the locals, and first passed through a section of Chinatown, where he met Mr. Dickenson and spent ten minutes instructing him. Eventually, he approached Mrs. Sayers’ house from a side street, keeping beneath the roadside trees until he reached her front gate. It was five o’clock when Mrs. Sayers welcomed him.
“It seems hours that I’ve been waiting for you,” she said, her face slightly flushed beneath the make-up. “There was no need to send the domestic home early as she always goes home at two on Sundays… and I’m just dying to know what’s in that parcel young Keith Walters brought.”
“You would never guess,” he told her, smilingly. “Or what’s in this one. Now, with your permission, shall we have Briggs in? There are proposals to be accepted and things to do before nightfall.”
“He may not be awake… He sat up all last night, and the night before.” An expression strange to Bony lit the brown eyes. “You see, Briggs is devoted to me, and he’s been a little bit difficult.”
“Anxious, and inclined not to obey orders, eh?”
“That’s it. This morning he rebelled when he heard about the nightie being stolen. Did you see him, the thief I mean?”
“I saw him, but I could not identify him. If you don’t mind, I’ll rouse Briggs. He’ll be less rebellious when he knows the details of a little plan I want to put into operation.” Bony smiled again. “I am taking it for granted that you will not rebel.”
“Only if you leave me out of it.”
“My dear Mrs. Sayers, you are the keystone of the arch, the kernel of the nut, the very sun of the universe, the irresistible lure. Without you I am lost. Ah! This might be Briggs.”
Footsteps in the passage beyond the lounge door. Then Briggs stood in the entrance, the chewing switched on. The small black eyes were not friendly.
“Briggs, come in,” commanded Mrs. Sayers. “Mr. Knapp wants to talk to us.”
Bonyunwrapped his parcel, the woman and her man-servant-friend standing with him. Neither spoke when the camera was disclosed, and Briggs remained silent when Bony removed the wrapping about the iron collar.
“Whatever is that?” asked Mrs. Sayers, and Bony turned to her, the collar held forward.
“I am going to call it ‘Lady-May-Venture’,” he replied. “Sawtell and I plan to mass-produce. It’ll be all the rage. Bound to be. Permit me.”
Bony swung the collar open like a bracelet and gently “wrapped” it about Mrs. Sayers’s neck, fastening it.
“Chin up, please. Ah! An excellent fit.” Bony stepped back, and Mrs. Sayers worked her chin up and down. “Briggs, try to strangle Mrs. Sayers.”
Briggs, who had stopped chewing, said:
“Stone the crows!”
Mrs. Sayers giggled. Briggs clamped his hands about her neck and squeezed. Briggs exerted himself. Mrs. Sayers giggled again. Then swiftly she was serious, and when Briggs drew back, she said:
“Are you sure I’ll be attacked?”
“Yes,” answered Bony. “Now let me show you how to remove that thing, and then we’ll talk. Satisfied, Briggs?”
“Yes, up to a point.”
“What I am going to propose,” Bony prefaced his explanation, “is nothing less than arresting the killer of these Broome women in the act of attempting to kill you, Mrs. Sayers. He is both ruthless and cunning, and he’s the type having the instincts of the brute and the brain of the human thinker. This one has succeeded so well that we haven’t sufficient evidence to ask for a warrant to search his home.
“Having stolen your nightgown, he has begun the plan which he has successfully executed thrice. If he meets with opposition anywhere along the line of this fourth progress of his plan, he will retire until he feels sure he can strike down another victim. He may wait a month, six months, a year, and for obvious reasons we can neither give up hunting for him nor permit him to formulate an entirely different plan.
“Having stolen your nightgown, it will be his intention to gain entrance to this house for the purpose of destroying you. I want him to make the attempt. I want him to enter this house, to find you in your room, to attempt to kill you. I want to take a picture of him in the very act. I want to be with you, even in your room, waiting for him.
“Without that collar, I wouldn’t think to expose you to such terrible risk. Wearing it, you will not be exposed to physical risk, but you will require courage and the ability to withstand great nervous tension. There are two reasons for believing he won’t harm you. One, that you will be waiting for him, as you waited for Briggs, and two, I shall be with you.”
“Why, Mr. Knapp, I wouldn’t have believed that Broome could stage such an adventure.”
“We may have to wait all night in the dark for two or three, or even five nights.”
“In my bedroom?”
“In your bedroom. You will be lying on your bed, and I shall be seated on a chair in a corner of the room. I do hope you will not be acutely embarrassed.”
“I bet not as much as you,” Mrs. Sayers said with conviction. She broke into low laughter.“Oh, what a man! You tell me I’m to go to bed and that you’ll sit by my bed all night, and then you express very politely the hope that I shall not be embarrassed. And what makes it so funny is that you’re quite sincere about it.”
“Sincerity, Mrs. Sayers, is one of my virtues,” he said stiffly.
“I believe that,” she hastened to assure him. “It’s just the situation that’s so funny when I think of what the social lights of this town will think when they hear about it. Where will Briggs be waiting?”
“In his room,” replied Bony. “I cannot stress too much the importance of both Briggs and you continuing your normal routine. On one point only do I ask for sacrifice, and that is you will neither entertain at night nor accept invitations to spend the evenings away from home. I would like to stay here, to sleep in a spare room during the day, concealed from your domestic. No one must even suspect I’m in the house, and no one must think either of you is alarmed or suspects trouble. That is my plan.”
Mrs. Sayers, who had again become grave, looked at Briggs. Briggs, who had forgotten to switch on his chewing, nodded his head slowly and with deliberation.
“Seems all correct at first look,” he conceded. “Goes a bit deeper, I suppose?”
“Yes, there are further details, Briggs. Whatd’youthink about it, Mrs. Sayers?”
“I like it, Mr. Knapp. The more I remember Mabel Overton the better I like it. It’s a perfect plan, and I’m already worked up to get my hands on that strangling beast. I’ll give him what he’s been begging for.”
Bony smiled bleakly.
“Accept my grateful thanks,” he said. “How long have you been closing the storm shutters at night?”
“Ever since the Eltham woman was murdered,” answered Briggs.
“When the shutters are fastened, is it possible to see into the house?”
“Don’t know. Might be at the sides.”
“Can anyone see down through the ventilators along the top of the shutters?”
“No. I’m sure about that.”
“Well, then, after dark tonight, ascertain if it’s possible to see into the house from outside. And at the same time, test the blinds or curtains of the remaining rooms. There’s a job I want you to do now. It’s probable that the murderer will have seen the alarm bell wire passing from the house to your room, and will cut it. Without taking down the wire, do you think you could rearrange the alarm system?”
“So that if he cuts the present wire it won’t makeno difference, yes.”
“I brought wire in case you haven’t any. You were at sea for several years, were you not?”
“For about twelve years.”
“Do you know anything about firing rockets?”
“All there is. Why?”
“That other parcel contains six rockets. They are an important part of our plan. Now you get along with that wiring. Take it underground so that it cannot be cut outside the house. As I said, leave the present wiring crossing the yard. He’s almost certain to cut that, as well as the telephone wires. Meanwhile, Mrs. Sayers, I would like to ramble about your house.”