Police at the Funeral

Chapter 8 The Observations of Mr Cheetoo

Even the ineffable 'sacred rite' atmosphere which distinguishes any afternoon tea in Cambridge failed to make the little gathering any but a gloomy and dispirited affair on this occasion. After the Inspector's departure the company had assembled in Marcus's office and tea was brewed and sipped in silence. Two murders in the family have a sobering effect upon the most light-hearted, and even the irrepressible Miss Held was thoughtful and subdued. However, it was she who introduced the subject of Mr Cheetoo.

'Mr Campion,' she said, 'I don't want to put up any idea that isn't useful, and if I'm making a monkey of myself you mention it. But concerning that Indian student who discovered the body; he has told his story to the police, of course, but it occurred to me that if you would like to hear it yourself in an unofficial capacity I could fix that up for you almost right away.'

Mr Campion regarded her with interest. As she sat on the edge of her chair, a cream bun in her hand, she reminded him irresistibly of a little squirrel holding a nut.

'I should like it immensely,' he said. 'By the way, I thought there were two of them.'

'That is so,' she agreed. 'But one went for the police and the other remained by the body. It was in the paper this morning, as a matter of fact. That's the way I know about it. I noticed the name Cheetoo particularly, because during the vac. I've taken over the pups of a friend of mine, a Britisher taking the same subject as myself. I've got two years' research work, you know, that's why I'm here.'

Campion nodded with comparative intelligence, and she went on.

'Well, just before I came in here this afternoon I looked up in my notebook to see how long I had free and I discovered that Mr Cheetoo has an appointment for half-past five. Now you've never heard a man talk so much in all your life as this boy. He's so full of himself he can't keep his mind on his work for a split second, and I'm morally certain I shall have a verbatim account of that discovery of his, so if you care to come along and hear it I shall be delighted.'

Marcus glanced across the room questioningly. 'That would be an idea, Campion,' he said. 'Look here, Joyce and I will wait for you at Soul's Court. Then you can collect your things and I'll drive you both down to Socrates Close.'

Thus it came about that Mr Campion found himself walking across Parker's Piece with Miss Ann Held, in search of the man who found the body. Ann had rooms in a house in Cheshire Street, the home of two elderly schoolmistresses, and as they entered the large square hall the cold academic atmosphere rose up to meet them.

'Notice the odour of emancipation,' murmured Miss Held. 'Come on out of this ice-box.' She opened the door facing them on the right of the stairs and Mr Campion followed her into the most charming feminine study he had ever seen. Here were no framed postcards of Florence, no monochromes of the Winged Victory and the Perseus, nor did a coloured reproduction of Ruskin's study as he left it, nor even the Doge, look down upon him from a severely distempered inglenook. Miss Held had followed her own taste. Modern American etchings, including two Rosenbergs, hung on the walls of an airy yellow-papered room. The furniture was good, sparse, and comfortable. Books lined all one wall, and the drapery was bright without being noisy. A friendly and unusual room in which to find a research student.

It was twenty-five minutes past five when they arrived, and Campion was barely seated before the fire when the maid shared by the scholastic ladies entered to announce the man he had come to meet.

At first sight Mr Cheetoo was not an attractive person. He seemed to have embraced European culture with a somewhat indiscriminate zeal. The ordinary grey flannel trousers of the undergraduate were surmounted by a tightly-fitting tweed coat of a delicate pea green, a garment which could have emanated only from Paris. He set his books down upon the table and bowed stiffly to Ann. She introduced Campion and Mr Cheetoo repeated his formal gesture.

They had no difficulty in persuading him to talk. He was full of his own importance and broached the subject himself before he had been in the room two minutes.

'You have read the papers?' he inquired, looking quickly from one to the other, a gleam of childlike pride in his eyes, which he did not attempt to conceal. 'I was the first on the scene. It was I who found the body.'

Ann sat down at the table and he took his place opposite her. But it was evident that he had no intention of working, and he appeared delighted when she connived at this arrangement.

'Mr Campion,' she explained, 'is a friend of the family of the dead man, and he is very anxious to hear all he can about the shocking affair. I knew you wouldn't mind telling him about your--er--discovery.'

Mr Cheetoo flashed an annihilating grin in Mr Campion's direction.

'I should be glad,' he said. 'I am observant. I am also scientific. I formed many conclusions. The police did not value them. To my mind they were not anxious to make clear.'

Mr Campion nodded affably and his pale eyes flickered behind his big spectacles. This was a type of witness that he recognized, and his heart leapt.

'You were not alone, Mr Cheetoo,' he said, 'when you made your discovery?'

'No,' the observant student admitted with some regret. 'But it was I who remained by the body while my friend went for the police. I am to appear at the inquest tomorrow. But I have been told that my observations will not be of interest to the coroner.'

'Too bad,' said Miss Held helpfully.

Mr Cheetoo nodded and turned to Campion. 'You will be interested,' he said firmly. 'You will appreciate my observations. My friend and I were walking along the river bank searching for plants. My friend is a botanical student. As we approached the willow clump immediately beyond the bridge in the meadows I perceived a blackness beneath the water. There was also'--he turned apologetically to Ann--'an odour.'

'Quite,' said Mr Campion hastily.

Mr Cheetoo lived up to his reputation for observation. 'I will omit those details which can be assumed,' he said. 'My friend would not touch the body. But I,' he continued with pride, 'I am occidental. I am broad-minded. I pulled the body half out of the water. At first my friend recoiled; he is not courageous. His imagination is stronger than his observation. He is also more strict.' He paused.

Mr Campion looked at Ann and was relieved to see that she was not unduly apprehensive of the unpleasant details which must certainly be coming. Mr Cheetoo continued.

'I sent my friend for the police and when he had gone I made my observations. I have the inquiring mind of the investigator. My first observation was that the man was a tramp. That was my error. The beard, I now find, grows after the decease has taken place. It was not a pleasant sight. The top part of the head had been opened and in some places was not in existence any longer. I particularly observed if there were powder burns, having read of same in light fiction. But the action of the water...'

Mr Campion cleared his throat. 'I understand the body was tied up,' he said.

'I remarked upon that,' replied Mr Cheetoo, unperturbed by the interruption. 'The legs were securely bound about the ankles with a length of thin rope. The hands had been tied behind the back, but the cord had rotted and they were now apart. There was a knot of rope, with a ragged edge around the right wrist and another about the left. From this I deduced that the body had been in the water for some time and had been buffeted by the stream. The loose rope had caught around the willow roots and had prevented the body from drifting further. You must understand that this was not a pleasant sight. The corpse had swollen in the water. The rope was sodden and was already beginning to rot.'

Metaphorically, Mr Campion clung to the rope.

'This cord,' he said, 'what sort of stuff was it? New, save for the action of the water?'

Mr Cheetoo considered. It was evident that he liked considering.

'Your question is curious,' he said. 'It is what I asked myself. I touched the rope. It broke easily. This, I said to myself, has been in use before it was put to this disagreeable purpose. It was of the nature of a clothes-line.'

Campion glanced apologetically at Ann. 'I say,' he said, 'I wonder if you'd mind if I asked Mr Cheetoo, purely in the interests of abstract science of course, if he would be so awfully kind as to demonstrate on me exactly how this tying was done?'

'Why, certainly not.' Ann looked startled, but not ruffled.

Mr Cheetoo, on the other hand, was frankly delighted. He rose instantly in preparation. Ann pulled open a drawer in the table, from which she produced a ball of string.

'I haven't any clothes-line,' she said, 'but I guess you'll be able to do something with this.'

Mr Cheetoo took the string, which he unwound with an air of sacrificial solemnity, which would have been comic in any other circumstances and very nearly succeeded in being so as it was.

'I measured ocularly the amount of rope on the body,' he said, eyeing Campion sternly. 'There was in my estimation five yards and possibly one half. The shorter half of the cord was bound about the feet, thus.'

He dived for Mr Campion's legs and had the string round them in an instant.

'There,' he said, standing back. 'I demonstrated to my friend in exactly the same way afterwards. You will observe the two feet are held together tightly, knot in front. The hands were then fastened thus.'

Mr Campion's hands were pinioned and he stood on Ann Held's hearth-rug inconsequential, smiling and trussed like a chicken. Mr Cheetoo stood back in triumph.

'Consider the completeness,' he said.

Ann Held's bright eyes were dancing. 'It's certainly effective,' she said.

'Yes,' said Mr Cheetoo swiftly. 'But not professional. The knots are ordinary. They were not sailor's knots.'

Mr Campion tried his bonds. 'But when the body was found,' he said, 'the hands had become free.'

'That is so,' agreed Mr Cheetoo. He darted behind Mr Campion and severed the string which held his hands. 'Thus,' he said triumphantly. 'The cord, already rotten no doubt, gave way under the weight of the dead man's arms. And when I made my discovery he was bound like this.' He pointed to Campion's two wrists, one of which wore a single noose held by a slip knot. The left wrist was more securely bound, with three strands wound about it.

Mr Campion appeared fascinated by this information. 'Allow me to congratulate you on your powers, Mr Cheetoo,' he said. 'You have the true investigator's gift. Did you notice anything else about the man you found?'

Mr Cheetoo considered once again. 'There was the matter of the coat,' he said. 'The victim wore a heavy blue overcoat buttoned up to his throat. As if indeed,' he added with portentous solemnity, 'he had been aware of the storm that was to come upon him and had buttoned himself up against the elements.'

Campion paused in the process of untying himself. 'His coat was buttoned?' he said. 'Are you sure?'

For a moment it seemed that Mr Cheetoo was about to consider himself mortally offended.

'I am the observer,' he said. 'I have the eye. I noticed the coat was buttoned up to the neck.'

Campion rolled the string neatly into a ball and set it down upon the table before he replied.

'How very odd,' he said at last. 'And his hat, was that anywhere near? He had a hat when he left church--a bowler, I believe.'

'Of the hat,' said Mr Cheetoo firmly, 'there was absolutely no sign. I observed in this morning's paper that it had not yet been discovered.'

These two small points seemed to interest Mr Campion more than any of Mr Cheetoo's foregoing story. He remained standing on the hearth-rug staring in front of him, his natural expression intensified.

Mr Cheetoo was also thoughtful. 'From my deductions made upon the spot,' he said suddenly, 'it occurred to me that this unfortunate did not drift very far down the stream.'

Once again Mr Campion turned to him. 'Oh?' he said. 'Why?'

'Because,' said Mr Cheetoo, 'of the little footbridge. The water is high at this time of year. This little bridge creates an eddy which would have held the body close to it had the unfortunate entered the water at a point above the bridge. You can see for yourself. I was down there this morning making further observations. In my opinion, the body was thrown into the water somewhere between the bridge and the willow clump. There is no sign of a struggle on the bank, but it is probably ten days since the crime was committed and we have had much rain. There is also, nearly always at this time of year, a mist over the low ground near the river. This is my complete opinion. You are enlightened?'

'Absolutely,' said Mr Campion. 'I could hardly have seen more had I discovered the body myself.'

'Exactly,' said Cheetoo, and Campion, feeling that he had interrupted the higher education of his informant long enough, expressed his thanks all round and gracefully made his departure.

Ann saw him to the door. 'Well, I hope you're in a complete blaze of understanding,' she murmured.

Campion grinned. 'All seems to have been discovered,' he said. 'He ought to enjoy himself at the inquest. It certainly is an ill wind...'

But as he walked across the Piece a dozen disturbing thoughts wrestled in his mind. There were Uncle William's twenty-five unaccounted-for minutes to consider. Was it just possible that the old man had not parted with Andrew Seeley, but that he had accompanied him as far as the river and under cover of a ground mist had tied him up, shot him, hurled him into the stream and doubled back to Sunday luncheon? Immediately the circumstances which must have conspired to make such a procedure possible presented themselves to the young man in all their array of absurdity. If this supposition were correct, Uncle William must have sat for one hour and a half in church with fifteen feet of clothes-line concealed upon him, to say nothing of a revolver. And before tying up the unfortunate Andrew, Uncle William had presumably buttoned up his victim's overcoat and purloined his hat.

Mr Campion was discomforted. The Inspector's conjuror was distressingly in evidence.