Was It Murder? by James Hilton Page B

the problem of the two deaths was an ever-insistent reality.  He pondered over it night and day, and the readiness of the others to forget only increased his determination.  The trouble was, as it had been right from the beginning, that although he had plenty of theories, there was precious little evidence in support of any of them.  Nor did his most careful investigations bear much result.  He got into diplomatic conversation with various boys who had known the two brothers, but none could tell him anything of importance, and even their “suspicions”, when he probed them, turned out to be based on nothing more than the mere coincidence of the double tragedy.
    Several times he strolled casually into the swimming-bath, professing a keen interest in the School swimming, but really in the hope of discovering something hitherto overlooked or of surprising Wilson at some suspicious task—one of his theories had included the baths-attendant as an accomplice.  But he discovered nothing, and all Wilson’s occupations seemed entirely innocent.
    In his notebook, naturally, it was all quite simple, for he had written down:
     
    “Assuming that the theory accepted by the Coroner is incorrect, and since the boy’s injuries were too severe to have been caused by a mere fall off the side, it follows that his death must have been caused by some object or instrument.  It is clear, too, that he must have been struck either (1) while he was standing on the side or (2) he must have been induced to descend into the empty bath and then struck.  As there were no blood-stains on the side, the second possibility seems more likely.  In that case the murderer would have had to be someone who could have made some plausible excuse for inducing the boy to descend into the bath.  Ellington, as one interested in swimming, could have done this.
    “Question, therefore:  What was the weapon or object used to kill the boy, and what was done with it afterwards?  What, also, did the murderer do with his clothes, if, as seems likely, they were blood-stained?”
     
    In detective stories, as Revell well knew, he would only have had to take a few casual walks about the School grounds to discover both the clothes and the weapon, to say nothing of complete sets of finger-prints.  Unfortunately, once again, realities were different, and though he kept half an eye on the shrubbery as he strolled round the Ring, it was not with any intense expectation of finding anything.  Naturally the murderer would have taken care to destroy or at least to hide his weapon.  It was a pity, perhaps, as Lambourne said, that you could not legally prove a thing had existed merely by proving that somebody had had motive and opportunity to destroy it.  And it was equally a pity that proof by elimination was not held in such high respect in law-courts as in Euclid.
    One thing, however, these few apparently unfruitful days at Oakington did yield, and that was a rich crop of rumours and impressions.  The rumours he mainly ignored (they varied from theories of “curses” laid on the Marshall family to reports of masked men searching the School grounds at midnight); but the impressions were valuable.  Revell learned, for example, that Ellington was unpopular, being considered somewhat of a bully, and that Roseveare was idolised.  Lambourne, he found, was a bad disciplinarian and rather unpopular with the boys on account of his sarcastic manner; Daggat, on the other hand, though laughed at and thought rather a fool, was quite well liked.  Murchiston, the School doctor, was also a favourite, chiefly, no doubt, because he was slack and good-natured.
    He learned a little more from an afternoon’s chance meeting with Mrs. Ellington in the neighbouring village of Patchmere.  He had borrowed a bicycle and was pedalling for pleasure about the country lanes he had known years before; she, with her handle-bar basket full of packages, was obviously on business.  “I’ve just