Free The Dartmoor Enigma by Basil Thomson Page A

his luggage to look for a job there. But when Ernie was taken ill he said, ‘It’s rotten luck for you, but why shouldn’t you take the lorry and drive her yourself, with Susie to keep you on the right road. She has to go to Tavistock to get the money the fruiterer owes me. You can leave the lorry at the garage for me to call for when I’m better.’”
    â€œBut when you turned off towards Sandiland it wasn’t only because Pengelly was afraid of the Duketon constable. He must have had another reason.”
    â€œWell, as soon as he saw Mr. Dearborn’s car, he thought he’d stop him down the road and tell him off, so we drove on down the hill a bit of the way, parked the lorry there, well into the roadside, and then him and me went back up the hill to a place where we got a clear view of the top. We got off the road and sat down among the heather to wait for Mr. Dearborn. Dick says to me, ‘As soon as his car comes in sight I’ll step out into the middle of the road and hold up my arms; that’ll stop him; he won’t dare drive over me.’”
    â€œAnd then?”
    â€œWell, then a funny thing happened. Just as Mr. Dearborn’s car came in sight on the top of the hill, another chap jumped out of the heather and stuck out his arms just like Dick meant to, and he had a whacking great stick in his hand. He didn’t see us.”
    â€œWhat happened then?”
    â€œIt was all so quick that it was difficult to see exactly. Mr. Dearborn jumped out of his car with the starting-handle in his hand, and there was a bit of a set-to between them. I saw the fellow with the stick bring it down with a whack on Mr. Dearborn’s head, and I saw Mr. Dearborn drop the starting-handle. The man picked it up and threw it into the heather. He’d broken his stick and he threw the pieces away, after the starting-handle. Then he made off down into the gully, and there was Mr. Dearborn lying beside the car.”
    â€œDidn’t you go up the hill to help him?”
    â€œI wanted to, but Dick wouldn’t let me. He said, ‘They’ll blame me for this, that’s certain. We must get out of it as quick as we can and keep our mouths shut.’ And he took me by the arm and dragged me down to the lorry. I don’t believe we spoke a word till we got well-nigh into Tavistock.”
    â€œWhat made you write the anonymous letters?”
    â€œI knew one of the jurymen at the inquest, and he told me that they’d brought it in as death from an accident. Well then I thought, ‘Here’s a pretty state of affairs. A man’s murdered in broad daylight on the moor and the murderer gets away with it. It might be our turn next.’ So I just sat down and dropped a line to the Superintendent. And then when I thought what a slow lot they were in Winterton, I dropped a line to the big man in Scotland Yard.”
    â€œBut you posted one letter in Moorstead and the other in Tavistock.”
    â€œThat’s right. A friend of mine was going that way and I asked him for a lift. I wanted to find Dick Pengelly and get him to come with me to the police. I tried the garage, but they’d never seen him since the day we left the car there. So I bought a sheet of paper and an envelope and a stamp and wrote the letter in a tea-shop and posted it.”
    Sergeant Jago had been making notes of her admissions and was embodying them in the form of a statement. Richardson read this over to her.
    â€œLord! I didn’t know that I’d told you all that,” said she; “but it’s gospel truth.”
    â€œYou don’t want to add anything?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThen will you sign it?”
    â€œWhat! Sign another statement?”
    â€œYes. The first would be no use in a court of law.”
    â€œDo you mean that you’re going to have me up as a witness?”
    â€œNot until we catch the man who used the stick. When we do catch him,