The Loss of the Jane Vosper (21 page)

‘Did he pay by cheque?’

‘No, he called and paid cash.’

‘On what date was the matter closed?’

‘Tuesday week, the 15th instant.’

This seemed to be all the information obtainable, and after asking for a description of Rice and finding he was undoubtedly the man he had heard of elsewhere, French took his leave.

The next item on his list was ‘More intensive search of shed’, and he decided he would go on with this. Stopping at a street telephone booth, he put through a call to the Yard. First he wanted all the firms who sold runways to be circularized, in the hope of finding the one who supplied Rice. Secondly, he required Boyle and Cooper, fingerprint and photographic experts respectively, to meet him at the Redliff shed immediately.

‘You stay by the door and let them in. Carter,’ he directed, when they themselves reached the place. ‘I’m going ahead in the office.’

Reaching the hut, French began a meticulous search. There were more old newspapers than he had realized, and lifting them out to the carpenters’ bench, he began to go through them one by one.

Painstakingly he turned over each page, only to find that if any old letters, accounts, or other documents had slipped in between them, they had been carefully removed. The papers consisted of
Daily Telegraphs
and
Evening Standards
,
about a dozen or more of each, of varying dates within the last couple of months, but they bore no marks to give them an individual interest.

Before French had finished with the newspapers, the men arrived from the Yard. He set them to work at the office, to get all the fingerprints they could. There were not many available, as most of the woodwork was too rough to take impressions, but they got about a dozen clear prints. These were duly photographed.

‘That’s all right,’ French said when Cooper indicated they had finished. ‘Then get on to the rest of the shed.’

Having completed his newspapers, French turned back to the office. There were scraps of paper in the desk and in some of the drawers, but nothing in the slightest degree helpful. Most of these papers were leaves torn from catalogues, principally of building materials. There was no writing on any of them, except some cabalistic figures, apparently dimensions. French kept all such, though he doubted they would be helpful.

When he had completed the office he stood for a moment in the doorway, wondering if there could be anything he had overlooked. Then he noticed that the desk, though a fixture, did not fit close to the wall. There was a narrow space along the top.

With scant consideration for Messrs Duckworth & Crozier’s client’s property, French seized a piece of wood and levered the desk clear. Behind it was a piece of crumpled paper. He smoothed it out.

It was a label, dirty and covered with cobwebs, but new and unwritten on. It contained a modernistic representation of a factory in green and crimson, and the words, ‘From the Corona Engineering Company, Ltd, Claygate, Surrey, England.’ The back was gummed and its size was about four inches by six.

French heaved a sigh of relief. Here at long last was a clue! To get an unused label from this Claygate firm betokened a certain amount of intimacy with them. An application to them would surely lead him to Rice.

He put the label away and continued his search. But he could find nothing else in the slightest degree promising. Nor could Boyle, the fingerprint man. Nowhere about the shed was there any surface smooth enough to retain clear impressions.

As the telephone in the shed was not in use, French went out to the nearest street booth. He would fix up an appointment with these Corona people and go down to see them at once.

But when he asked for the name from Directory Enquiries he was told that none such was on the register. He therefore rang up the Claygate police station instead.

‘The Corona Engineering Company, sir?’ replied the sergeant in charge. ‘I never heard of it.’

‘It’s probably a new firm,’ French explained. ‘Are you sure there’s none of that name just opened or about to open?’

‘I’m sure there’s not, sir. I never heard of it, at all events.’

French suddenly became much more interested. ‘Well, sergeant,’ he said, ‘that’s curious, because I have their label here. I wish you’d make a few enquiries for me, will you? Slip round to the various house agents, and so on, and find out if any ground has been sold to these people for building. Also find out if there is a firm in the neighbourhood named Rice Brothers. Do what you can for me.’

The Corona Engineering Company, French imagined, was a new name for Rice Brothers, and the new premises Rice had spoken of were at Claygate. If so, it would account for his not having been able to trace the place. He had not counted on a change of title. And, if the alteration was quite recent, the Corona name would not yet be generally known.

At the same time it was obvious that another and more sinister explanation was possible. Suppose Sutton were right, and that Rice Brothers were up to no good? In this case there might easily be no Corona Engineering Company, and the title would simply be required to help on whatever crime or fraud was in progress.

This was a plausible suggestion enough, but when French tried to go a step further he found it a good deal less easy. Was this assumed evil-doing connected with the loss of the
Jane
Vosper
?
Was the crime to sink the ship, and the fraud to obtain insurance money which was not due? If so, where would a bogus Corona Engineering firm come in? French could not form any idea.

On the other hand, if the crime were not connected with the
Jane
Vosper
,
then he, French, was more completely at a loss than ever.

However, the matter was not entirely exhausted. One further enquiry still remained.

In small type at the bottom of the label was the printer’s name – Hale & Hardy of Angel Street. Angel Street, French knew, was near St Paul’s, and in a short time he and Carter were at the place. It was a small establishment with old and dilapidated premises. And the owner whom they saw was old and dilapidated also. The firm was clearly a survival, and one which looked as if it would not survive very much longer.

Mr Hardy, however, was willing to tell all he knew. It appeared that some couple of months earlier a Mr Rice called to say that his firm required some labels and that he would like to see one or two designs. Rice gave the wording he wanted, and explained that some kind of factory illustration was to be worked in with it. He gave the address of the Kelvin Hotel, Commercial Road, and said he would call again in three or four days.

‘What was Mr Rice like in appearance?’ French asked.

From Hardy’s description there could be no doubt that his client was the same elusive individual who had been behind all these manifestations.

‘We got out two or three designs,’ Hardy continued, ‘and in three days Mr Rice turned up again. He approved one of the designs, that which you have there. He said his firm was not yet actually manufacturing, but the premises were complete and they would soon start. He would take, he said, five hundred labels to begin with, and if they were generally approved he would come back for a larger supply. We printed off the labels, and after a couple more days he came back. He paid for them, and took them away. That was the last we heard of him.’

‘He never came back for the larger quantity?’

‘No, never.’

All these details, French thought, were suspicious. So far there had been no indication of any member of the Rice firm other than this one individual. The whole affair might be a one-man show. Rice might have no brothers, and the Corona Engineering Company might be simply James Rice – if it existed at all.

On the other hand, everything might still be in order. So far there was no actual proof that anything was wrong. It would be necessary to wait for the Claygate sergeant’s report before a conclusion could be reached.

In accordance with French’s practice of keeping in touch with the Yard, he rang up when the interview with Hardy was over. On this occasion his care was rewarded. Two pieces of information had come in.

First there was a further report from the sergeant at Claygate. There were not many house agents in the place, and he had got in touch with all of them. The result was a complete confirmation of his earlier statement. There was no ‘Corona Engineering Company’ at Claygate, and no land had been let to such a firm. He had accounted for all the vacant ground in the neighbourhood, and none of the owners or agents concerned had ever heard of the company. Nor was there any firm called Rice Bros in the district.

Here at last, French thought, was something final. It seemed impossible to believe that he was not on to some fraud, some crime upon which Sutton had blundered, with the result that he lost his life. French wondered intensely what could have drawn the man’s attention to the affair. The suggestion was that it was something he had heard or discovered at Waterloo, but so far no connection between Waterloo and Rice had appeared. Unless it was that the factory site at Claygate was really projected: because Waterloo was the station for Claygate. Perhaps Sutton had been to Claygate. Perhaps the factory was a reality, and for some unknown reason it was being run under another name.

French decided that it might be worthwhile running down himself to Claygate and having a word with the sergeant. However, for the moment that could wait. A second piece of news had come in.

It appeared that the firm who supplied Rice with the runway had been discovered. It was a well-known engineering firm, Messrs Turner & Entwhistle of Huddersfield, whose London office and showrooms were in Victoria Street.

‘Victoria Street,’ said French, emerging from the booth. ‘They’ve found the runway people.’

Carter thought that was pretty good, considering how short a time there had been for enquiries, but French said nonsense, that Turner & Entwhistle were about the first people you would ring up. ‘I hope we’ll get there before they close,’ he went on, looking at his watch. ‘We spent more time in that blessed shed than I realized.’

On this occasion, however, their luck held. The representative who had dealt with the Rice affair was still on duty. It proved to have been carried out in much the same way as the rest of Rice’s activities.

Some three months earlier a man who gave his name as James Rice, and his address as the Kelvin Hotel, Commercial Road, called and said that he wished to purchase an electric hoist or pair of blocks travelling on a runway. The runway was to be hung from the tie-beams of a shed roof, and was to be a complete ring, consisting of two semicircles of 15 feet in diameter, joined by two straight sections 15 feet long. The blocks were to be operated by a motor, and were to lift one ton. It was important that they should work quickly, that was, in the lifting and lowering. No motor was required to pull the blocks along the runway, as this, Rice said, could be done by hand. The apparatus was required for moving reinforced concrete beams and slabs about his builder’s yard.

The representative had suggested that he should visit the shed so as to inspect the roof trusses to enable him to supply suitable suspension arrangements. But Rice said this was unnecessary. He gave a drawing of the principals, and said the suspension clips must be made to attach to the runway at any point. He explained that he had mechanics in his employment who would do the erection.

The representative was doubtful that a good job could be made in this way. However Rice was insistent, and his orders were of course carried out. The runway was got out in sections to bolt up together, and they then asked where they should send it. Rice surprised them by saying he would call for it. He paid the price in notes, the runway was duly sent from Huddersfield, and Rice called for it at the railway. His signature for it at the goods depot closed the transaction so far as they were concerned.

One other point the representative mentioned. Rice had stated that he only required the runway temporarily, and asked if they would take it back later at a valuation. The firm had not agreed to this – it did not deal in second-hand stuff – but they had given Rice the name of Cleaver Hooper, Ltd, who did that sort of business, and he had said he would get in touch with them.

Asked for the address of Cleaver Hooper, Ltd, the young man said, ‘Waterloo Road, just beyond the station.’

Waterloo! Could this be at last the connection French had so long been seeking? Sutton had left Hislop to go to Waterloo. Was it to call on Cleaver Hooper?

On reaching the street French rang up Cleaver Hooper from the first booth he came to. But there was no reply. The establishment had evidently closed for the night.

As he thought over the situation that evening, French grew less optimistic about what he was likely to learn from Cleaver Hooper. If Sutton had visited them on the day of his disappearance, he could surely at most have only learnt about the second-hand runway. What could this have conveyed to him, which would have made him dangerous to those concerned in the fraud?

On the other hand, here was a likely suggestion of where Sutton might have been going on that fatal afternoon. Even if the dangerous secret were not learnt through Cleaver Hooper, Sutton, had he visited them, might have dropped a hint of where he was going next.

It was therefore with some eagerness that French set off with Carter next morning to pay the call. On sending in his card he was received by the senior partner, Mr Cleaver. He explained shortly what he wanted.

‘Yes,’ replied Cleaver, ‘you’re quite correct. We did that piece of business with Mr Rice. He called here first, and I saw him. He asked me if we would be disposed to buy a set of electric blocks and runway which he had had in his shop for a couple of months, and which were new and in perfect order. He showed me the invoice and specifications from Messrs Turner & Entwhistle, and explained that the runway had been for use in a temporary shed which he had occupied while his own premises were being completed. I agreed to take the stuff, subject to its being in the good order he described. I then asked where we could inspect it, but he said he had taken it down and that it was now loaded in his van, and that he would run it to us here, where we could inspect it at our leisure. I agreed. He went away and returned shortly, driving a 30-cwt Ford van, containing the runway. It proved to be in perfect order as he had said, and we therefore paid for it. He left, and the transaction ended.’