The Murder at Jex Farm | Page 9

good half
hour later than Mr. Jex's return to the farm. We know nothing of Mr.
Jex's movements from the time of his coming home till his entry at nine
o'clock into the sitting-room where his mother and Miss Lewsome were
awaiting him. No servant opened the door for him; he let himself in. No
one saw or heard him enter. What was he doing during all the time that
elapsed between his coming home and the discovery of the murder? By
his own statement, there were nearly two whole hours to be accounted
for. He says he was taking off his wet things and putting on dry ones,
lounging about in his bed-room, resting. It may be so, but the time so
occupied seems unnecessarily long.

Whatever my prepossessions were towards the young farmer, under
whose roof I had made my temporary home, in whose company I had
lived on familiar terms for days, I could not resist the suspicions that
were gathering more strongly, day by day, round the man. To speak
frankly, I had got to like Charles Jex; his rough, downright, hearty
ways had, at first, quite disarmed my suspicions. I admit that likes and
dislikes are unprofessional things in a service where a man should keep
his personal predilections to himself; but I will confess that it takes a
cooler brain and a calmer temper than mine to keep clear of them. This
is one of the miserable drawbacks of a detective's life; duty compels
him too often to turn upon the man he has broken bread with; to slip the
handcuff over the hand that has passed him drinks and helped him to
his meat. I struggled to the very last against the damning facts that were
accumulating against Charles Jex, and fastening upon him the guilt of
this base and cruel murder.
This man too was, I saw now, a fool as well as (assuming his guilt) and
cruel murderer. It was the very extremity of his stupidity indeed, that
drew me to hope him innocent. It was almost unthinkable that such a
shrewd fellow as Jex had the character of being in the
country-side--keen at a bargain, quick at a joke, a hearty, jovial
companion at board and bar, knowing and clever in all the signs of
coming change in weather and market, should have proved so clumsy a
fool in this deadly affair; leaving traces enough and supplying motives
enough to hang a dozen men. Of all men, one would suppose that a
man of the fields and a sportsman, used to the marks and tracking of
game, would be careful how he left the print of his footprints on the
sort clay. Why, that evidence alone, with time fitting and motive
thrown in was enough to bring him to the gallows! As if this was not
enough, further most damning evidence was forthcoming.
Let me trace out step by step, the history of the murder, on the
assumption that Jex is the actual murderer. As to motive I have said
enough. No one but Jex had a pecuniary motive for the murder of the
girl whom he certainly did not love. The evidence of the footprints is
very strong, but I have said enough of them. To touch upon the
immediate cause of death. There were three small bullets found in the

brain. I have already stated that these bullets were not of the conical
kind usually found in revolver cartridges. They were round, and of the
size that are used in the dangerous toys known as drawing-room pistols.
They were, in short, slugs, bullets of the size of a very large pea.
During one of Jex's absences on the farm, I had carefully overhauled
the saddle-room, where the young farmer kept his guns and
ammunition. I found all his guns, cartridge-fillers, wads, shots of
different sizes, arranged with the neat order that a good sportsman uses.
The guns, carefully cleaned and oiled, were slung on the wall. Two
were of the ordinary kind--12-in. bore and double-barrelled. A third
was a heavy, single-barrelled duck gun, no doubt meant for use in the
neighbouring marsh. Half-a-dozen of the old-fashioned shot pouches
hung along the wall, full or half full of shot.
These receptacles, as every one knows, were formerly employed for
muzzle-loaders, when men put in first the powder, then the wadding
then the shot, and a wad over that. One of these pouches caught my eye.
It was of larger size than the others. I took it from the wall, held it
mouth downward over my left hand, and pressed the spring which
releases a charge of shot. No shot fell into my hand, but three slugs. I
snapped the spring again, and three slugs again fell out. I repeated the
experiment