Джорджетт Хейер: No Wind of Blame

"Yes, but I want to watch what they're doing!" Vicky demurred.

"No, go up to the house," Hugh said. "I'll join you later - when I've discovered what all this is about."

"Not even a fusty lawyer can just carelessly fling orders at me," said Vicky, as one imparting valuable information.

"That's all right, ducky: you can play at being the child-wife married to a drunken bully," suggested Hugh.

This immediately caught Vicky's ever-lively imagination. "Yes, or a Roman slave."

"Or a Roman slave," agreed Hugh, giving the end of the handkerchief into her hold.

From the opposite side of the pool, Inspector Hemingway watched Miss Fanshawe's departure with undisguised relief. When, however, he saw that Mr. Hugh Dering, instead of accompanying her, was walking on towards a point where the stream could be jumped, his satisfaction waned swiftly. He called: "Now, look here, sir, I'm busy, and I can't have you messing about here now!"

Hugh cleared the stream, and walked towards him. "Can't you?" he said. "Well, of course, if you won't have me on this side of the stream, I'll go back and watch you from the other side. I dare say Miss Fanshawe and her mother would like to come and watch, too, though of course I can't promise that they won't bring the dogs with them."

Sergeant Wake bent a shocked stare upon him. Hemingway said: "Oh! Nice state of affairs, I must say, if the police are to be blackmailed by gentlemen of your profession, sir! Now, you know very well you've no right to come meddling here!"

"Don't worry, I won't meddle. But all this earnest search leads me to suppose that new and startling evidence has cropped up. Moreover, you are holding in your hand, Inspector, something that bears all the appearance of a vice. From which I deduce that, contrary to expectations, the rifle found here was not fired by hand. Correct me if I'm wrong, my dear Watson."

Hemingway shook his head. "Yes, you're wasted at the Chancery Bar: I can see that," he said. "All the same '

"Hold!" said Hugh. "These things being as they are, I am further led to suppose that you are about to lay bare evidence which will clear the fair name of the lady to whom I am shortly to be joined in holy matrimony. I contend that this gives me a right to be here."

"Oh, so that's been fixed up, has it?" said Hemingway. "Well, I'm sure I hope you'll be very happy, sir. I've been expecting to hear of it ever since I came down to these parts."

"When you first came here I hadn't the slightest intention of getting married," said Hugh. "However, don't let me spoil your good story."

"I won't," said the Inspector. "What you don't grasp, sir, is that if there is one thing I've got, it's intuition. Besides, it's been standing out a mile. But as for your having any right to be here, that's another matter. Still, I can see that Inspector Cook wants me to let you stay, so I suppose you'll have to."

"I never!" Cook exclaimed, taken by surprise. "Why, I never said a word!"

"Well, if you don't want me to let him stay rather than have a couple of women and two dogs getting in the way, I've been mistaken in you," said Hemingway. "What's more, he knows too much already."

"Hair-trigger," said Hugh. "You might almost call me your good angel. Hallo, one of your henchmen has caught a fish!"

The Inspector turned, as Jupp came to the edge of the pool, holding an odd-looking object in his hand.

"Would this be what you're after, sir?"

The Inspector took it. "Yes," he said. "Yes, it might be. At any rate, it didn't grow in the pool. Know anything about these things, sir?"

"About as much as the next man," Hugh replied. "I know it's an electro-magnet. I don't immediately see the connection between it and the rifle, though. Do you?"

Hemingway shook his head. I'm bound to say I haven't figured it out. You know a bit about electrical gadgets, Wake: could you fire a rifle with this?"

"No," replied the Sergeant. "I don't see any sense to it. Even when you pass current through it, it wouldn't have any effect on the rifle-trigger, Couldn't have."

"Well, go on searching," said Hemingway, waving Jupp back to the pool. "Maybe you'll find something more. Though I've got a hunch this thing did the trick."

He stood for a few moments, silently, and rather abstractedly, watching the two constables, while his Sergeant frowned upon the electro-magnet.

"No," said Wake at last. "Look at it which way you will, you can't fit an electro-magnet into it. It wouldn't work, and that's all there is to it."

Hemingway lifted his head quickly. "Magnet!" he said.

"It sounds like "Eureka!"' remarked Hugh.

"It is Eureka," said the Inspector. "Now, don't you start asking me a whole lot of questions I can't possibly answer, sir! If I'm right, you'll know all in good time. All I want you to do now is to keep a still tongue in your head, which I'm sure you will do. All right, you two! That'll do!"

Twenty minutes later, in Fritton again, the Inspector produced from a drawer in his desk the magnet he had found in the shrubbery at the Dower House, and bade Sergeant Wake tell him what effect on it an electromagnet would have.

"It would attract it, of course," Wake replied. "Soon as you switched the current on. You mean, somehow or other it was fixed so that when it jumped to the electromagnet, it caught the trigger?"

"Good Lord!" said Cook blankly. "Could that have been done? I never heard of such a thing!"

"What we want to go in for now, is a bit of experiment," said Hemingway. "We'll rig that rifle up in the vice, and see how it could be made to work."

By the time the rifle had been produced, and the vice clamped to the leg of a stout table, Hemingway had discovered an additional reason for the position of the grazes on the sapling. "I get it!" he said. "It had to be close to the ground, to get the trigger on the same level as the electro-magnet. Now, if the two arms of the horseshoe magnet had to point towards the electromagnet, that must have been just behind the trigger, about like that. Come on, Wake! How would you manage to get the horseshoe magnet so that there's nothing to prevent its moving, and so that it's bound to pull that trigger as soon as it does move?"

"Well, it's got to rest on something. Couple of blocks of wood, perhaps."

"That's it," said Hemingway. "Easily kicked away when finished with. Books will be good enough for us. Hand me down a few!"

Kneeling on the floor he carefully built up his two little platforms, one on each side of the trigger-guard of the rifle, and close enough together to allow of the horseshoe magnet's arms resting one on each platform. The magnet he placed so that the round end was within the trigger-guard, and in front of the trigger itself, and the magnetised ends pointing towards the electro-magnet placed under the stock of the rifle. While Sergeant Wake busied himself with a length of flex and a wall-plug, Hemingway tried to cock the rifle. After several abortive attempts, he sat back on his heels and eyed the rifle with dislike. "It's no use: the damned thing won't cock!" he said. "It goes off the moment you close the bolt. Now, how did he work that trick?"

"The bent's been filed down so fine that the searnose won't catch," said' Cook. "I've got a brother in the gun trade, and I've seen these things stripped. The bent was filed down to give it that light pull. He'd have had to load it with the trigger pulled back. Let me try, will you, Inspector? I've got an idea how to cock it."

Hemingway said: "Go right ahead! If you can close the bolt without the blooming thing's going off, you're softer handed than I am."

"You don't need to touch the bolt to cock the rifle," said Cook. "I'll lay my life White didn't. You want to get hold of the cocking-piece, behind the bolt - this thing - and pull it gently back like this, until the nose of the sear - that's the piece which the top end of the trigger acts on - the bit that holds the firing-block back - catches in the bent. It won't do more than just catch, and you don't want to jog the gun, because it only needs a touch to set it off."