Chapter 4
THE ROYAL SPA HOTEL
George Rydesdale, Chief Constable of Middleshire, was a quiet man.
Of medium height, with shrewd eyes under rather bushy brows, he was in the habit of listening rather than talking.
Then, in his unemotional voice, he would give a brief order - and the order was obeyed.
He was listening now to Detective-Inspector Dermot Craddock. Craddock was now officially in charge of the case.
Rydesdale had recalled him last night from Liverpool where he had been sent to make certain inquiries in connection with another case.
Rydesdale had a good opinion of Craddock.
He not only had brains and imagination, he had also, which Rydesdale appreciated even more, the self-discipline to go slow, to check and examine each fact, and to keep an open mind until the very end of a case.
"Constable Legg took the call, sir," Craddock was saying.
"He seems to have acted very well, with promptitude and presence of mind.
And it can't have been easy.
About a dozen people all trying to talk at once, including one of those Mittel Europas who go off at the deep end at the mere sight of a policeman.
Made sure she was going to be locked up, and fairly screamed the place down."
"Deceased has been identified?"
"Yes, sir.
Rudi Scherz.
Swiss Nationality.
Employed at the Royal Spa Hotel, Medenham Wells, as a receptionist.
If you agree, sir, I thought I'd take the Royal Spa Hotel first, and go out to Chipping Cleghorn afterwards.
Sergeant Fletcher is out there now.
He'll see the bus people and then go on to the house."
Rydesdale nodded approval.
The door opened, and the Chief Constable looked up.
"Come in, Henry," he said.
"We've got something here that's a little out of the ordinary."
Sir Henry Clithering, ex-Commissioner of Scotland Yard, came in with slightly raised eyebrows. He was a tall, distinguished-looking elderly man.
"It may appeal to even your blase palate," went on Rydesdale.
"I was never blase," said Sir Henry indignantly.
"The latest idea," said Rydesdale, "is to advertise one's murders beforehand.
Show Sir Henry that advertisement, Craddock." "The North Benham News and Chipping Cleghorn Gazette," said Sir Henry. "Quite a mouthful."
He read the half-inch of print indicated by Craddock's finger.
"H'm, yes, somewhat unusual."
"Any line on who inserted this advertisement?" asked Rydesdale.
"By the description, sir, it was handed in by Rudi Scherz himself - on Wednesday."
"Nobody questioned it?
The person who accepted it, didn't think it odd?"
"The adenoidal blonde who receives the advertisements is quite incapable of thinking, I should say, sir.
She just counted the words and took the money."
"What was the idea?" asked Sir Henry.
"Get a lot of the locals curious," suggested Rydesdale.
"Get them all together at a particular place at a particular time, then hold them up and relieve them of their spare cash and valuables.
As an idea, it's not without originality."
"What sort of a place is Chipping Cleghorn?" asked Sir Henry.
"A large sprawling picturesque village.
Butcher, baker, grocer, quite a good antique shop - two teashops.
Self-consciously a beauty spot.
Caters for the motoring tourist.
Also highly residential.
Cottages formerly lived in by agricultural labourers now converted and lived in by elderly spinsters and retired couples.