What was most excellent about it, in the private opinion of Crewe, was the ingenious way in which it extricated Detective Gillett from an awkward situation. When he had arranged the interview for the purpose of frightening Marsland with a threat of detention, he had had this plan in his mind. He had not quite sufficient evidence against Marsland to justify him in arresting that young man without some damaging admissions on the part of the young man himself. And the plan to place him in charge of Heather was a technical escape from the difficulties that surrounded Marsland’s actual arrest at that stage; but, on the other hand, it would appear in the young man’s eyes as though he were under arrest and this was likely to have an important influence in getting some sort of confession from him.
“Bring out those things,” said Detective Gillett to Sergeant Westaway, and pointing to the cupboard against the wall.
Westaway produced a hand-bag and placed it on the table. Gillett took a bunch of keys from his trousers pocket and unlocked the bag.
“First of all, here is the key of the house,” he said, as he held out in the palm of his hand the key of a Yale lock. “As you must have noticed, Mr. Crewe, the front door of the farmhouse closes with a modern Yale lock; the old lock is broken and the bolt is tied back with a string. You will notice, inside the hole for the key to go on a ring, that there is a stain of blood. Next, we have a pair of heavy boots. These were worn by the man who murdered Frank Lumsden, for they correspond exactly with the plaster casts we took of the footprints outside the window.”
Westaway, who had opened the door of the cupboard, placed on the table near Crewe two plaster casts.
Crewe, after returning the key he had been examining, compared the boots with the plaster casts.
“I believe you are right,” he said, after a pause.
“Here we have the bullet that was fired. As you will remember, Mr. Crewe, it went clean through Lumsden’s body, and through the window. But what you don’t know is that it struck a man who was hiding in the garden near the window. It struck him in the left arm.”
“Who was this man?” asked Crewe.
“His name is Tom Jauncey. He is the son of an old shepherd who worked for Lumsden’s grandfather.”