The Sussex Downs Murder by John Bude Page A

wore a large, broad-brimmed black hat. From her thin shoulders, entirely concealing her gawky legs, hung a voluminous black cloak.
    Ten minutes later her father was plodding up the street in search of the Steyning constable. He had noticed rust-coloured stains on the dark material, stains which, as an ex-serviceman, he recognized as dried blood. This fact, combined with the police notice which he had read only the previous day in the local paper, had aroused his suspicions.
    When Meredith reached Findon after his visit to Mrs. Abingworth, Rodd, whom he had ’phoned early that morning, had already collected this new evidence and handed it to his superior in a brown-paper parcel. He explained where and how it had been discovered.
    â€œWhich,” he added with a pleased smirk of self-congratulation, “corroborates old Mike Riddle’s story.”
    Meredith agreed. He was in an optimistic frame of mind because in his interview with Kate Abingworth, the housekeeper had stoutly upheld that Mrs. Will had come into the farmhouse “not later than the strike of half past nine”. Did it mean now that William Rother was out of the running and that Janet Rother plus the Cloaked Man were the perpetrators of the crime?
    â€œStrange,” he thought, “how suspicion in a case of this sort swings about from one direction to another. I’ll end by suspecting myself soon, or the Chief Constable! After all, in these detective yarns it’s always the most unlikely person who has committed the murder!”
    â€œBy the way,” he added aloud to Rodd, “have you found anybody who saw William Rother round about Findon on the evening of the twentieth?”
    Rodd shook his head.
    â€œOnly Clark up at the Filling Station—but you knew about that already.”
    â€œWell I’ve got a new slant now,” explained Meredith. “I want you to nose around and find out if anybody saw John Rother’s Hillman pass through the village at any time between 7 and, say, 9.30. Probably driven by the same chap that Riddle saw up near Hound’s Oak.”
    â€œWearing his hat and cloak?” asked Rodd with a meaning grin.
    Meredith laughed.
    â€œA bit too conspicuous, eh, Sergeant? Just as I thought. No—I reckon that hat and cloak act was performed solely for our benefit. He used that disguise simply to take himself from Bindings Lane over the downs to Steyning. By the way, did Steyning say anything about having seen a stranger on the roads late that night—I mean when you collected the cloak this morning?”
    â€œNothing. I made a point of asking that question myself.”
    â€œDamn!” said Meredith. “Loose ends everywhere, Rodd, and the murder nearly three weeks old already!”

Chapter Seven
    Dead End
    On his return to Lewes, Meredith found a note on his desk to say that the Chief would like to see him at the earliest possible moment. The Superintendent smothered an oath of irritation, suppressed all thought of an early retirement to his inevitable high-tea, and knocked on Major Forest’s door.
    â€œWell,” barked the Chief without preliminary, “any further?”
    Meredith slowly shook his head.
    â€œMore evidence and less daylight, sir. That’s the present situation in a nutshell.”
    â€œSit down. Take a fill of this. Light your pipe, and post me up to date,” ordered the Major.
    With an inward sigh Meredith plunged into a detailed recital of his latest investigations, whilst his superior, every now and then, furiously scribbled a note on his desk-pad. At the conclusion of Meredith’s story the Chief studied these notes for about five minutes in a dead silence, rose, snorted, lit a cigar and dumped himself down again with an even louder snort.
    â€œHopeless, eh? A damned muddle, eh? Complex, what?” Meredith dolefully agreed. “Yet interesting, Meredith. What about the stains on the cloak? Had them