The Dartmoor Enigma Read Free

officers working in the provinces and this will make a third.”
    â€œStill, we can’t refuse. Have we any senior officer with local knowledge?”
    The Superintendent considered. “No, sir, but among the juniors there is Sergeant Jago, who was born at Tavistock and passed his early days there. The only chief inspector that could be spared at the moment is Richardson. He’s the junior chief inspector, but he’s had a varied experience and either by good luck or good management he has got home with his cases.”
    â€œCould he start at once?”
    â€œYes, sir, this afternoon if you like.”
    â€œSend him in, then.”
    In a few moments the junior chief inspector made his appearance. There were those who resented his quick promotion over the heads of officers senior to him, but it was impossible to feel malice towards a man who gave himself no airs, who appeared ever anxious to learn from those junior to himself in rank, and who gave the fullest credit to all who worked under him. It had been his success in a Paris case and the warm recommendation from the Foreign Office that had brought him his last step in promotion.
    â€œYou sent for me, sir?” he said to Morden.
    â€œYes, Mr. Richardson. It was to ask you if you know Dartmoor at all?”
    â€œNo, sir. I’ve been once to the convict prison, but that is all.”
    â€œWell, now is your opportunity. The Chief Constable has asked for help in a difficult case which is set out in these papers, and I propose that you take Sergeant Jago with you, as he has an intimate knowledge of the district. Get a copy made of these papers to take with you; get the anonymous letters photographed; get the usual advances and report yourself to the Superintendent at Winterton to-night if you can.”
    Â â€œVery good, sir.”
    â€œI don’t want you to waste valuable time in writing reports, but if you make any discovery that promises well, you should let us know.”
    For the next hour Richardson made life a burden to the various departments concerned in sending officers to work in the provinces. But in the end he found himself on the Waterloo platform with his companion in time for the afternoon express to Tavistock. All this had been arranged by telephone from Scotland Yard. The first part of the journey was devoted to a study of the Chief Constable’s letter, and to the photographs of the two anonymous letters.
    â€œHave a good look at these photographs, Jago, and tell me what you make of them,” said Richardson; “take your time.”
    Jago studied the envelopes and their postmarks and then scrutinized the text of the letters. “One thing strikes me, Chief Inspector. These two letters were sent off on the same day and the man who posted them could only have posted one in Tavistock and the other in Moorstead if he had a car or motor-lorry.”
    â€œAh! That’s where your local knowledge comes in. It’s a sound deduction, but why should the owner of the car go to such pains to be anonymous?”
    Sergeant Jago shook his head, and Richardson pulled out a map from his pocket. “The distance is only a dozen miles or so, nothing very much for a motor-lorry; but what do motor-lorries carry right across the moor?”
    â€œMostly granite.”
    Â â€œOh, then there are granite lorries between Tavistock and Moorstead?”
    â€œYes, sir, there’s Rowe’s quarry a mile or two out from Tavistock, where the best granite comes from, and there’s a smaller quarry somewhere near Moorstead.”
    â€œHave you noticed anything special about the handwriting of these anonymous letters? Would you say that the two were written by the same man?”
    Jago studied the photographs again. “Well, if they were, the fellow disguised his hand. The writing in the Commissioner’s letter slopes backward much more than the other.”
    â€œIt does, but that’s a familiar trick