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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76072 ***
+
+
+
+
+
+ THE MYSTERY OF
+ ANGELINA FROOD
+
+ BY
+ R. AUSTIN FREEMAN
+ Author of “The Singing Bone,” “The Blue Scarab,”
+ “The Red Thumb Mark,” etc.
+
+
+
+
+ NEW YORK
+ DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY
+ 1925
+
+
+
+
+ [COPYRIGHT]
+
+ Copyright, 1925,
+ By DR. R. AUSTIN FREEMAN
+
+
+
+
+ CONTENTS
+
+ I. The Doper’s Wife
+ II. Re-enter “Mr. Johnson”
+ III. Angelina Frood
+ IV. Deals with Charity and Archæology
+ V. John Thorndyke
+ VI. The Shadows Deepen
+ VII. Mrs. Gillow Sounds the Alarm
+ VIII. Sergeant Cobbledick Takes a Hand
+ IX. Jetsam
+ X. Which Deals with Ancient Monuments and a Blue Boar
+ XI. The Man with the Mole
+ XII. The Prints of a Vanished Hand
+ XIII. The Discovery in Black Boy-Lane
+ XIV. Sergeant Cobbledick is Enlightened
+ XV. The End of the Trail
+ XVI. The Inquiry and a Surprise
+ XVII. Thorndyke Puts Down His Piece
+ XVIII. The Uncontrite Penitent
+ XIX. Explanations
+
+
+
+
+ THE MYSTERY OF
+ ANGELINA FROOD
+
+ CHAPTER I.
+ THE DOPER’S WIFE
+
+It takes a good deal to surprise a really seasoned medical
+practitioner, and still more to arouse in him an abiding curiosity.
+But at the time when I took charge of Dr. Pumphrey’s practice in
+Osnaburgh-street, Regent’s Park, I was far from being a seasoned
+practitioner, having, in fact, been qualified little more than a year,
+in which short period I had not yet developed the professional
+immunity from either of the above mental states. Hence the singular
+experience which I am about to relate not only made a deep impression
+on me at the time, but remained with me for long after as a matter of
+curious speculation.
+
+It was close upon midnight, indeed an adjacent church clock had
+already struck the third quarter, when I laid aside my book and yawned
+profoundly, without prejudice to the author who had kept me so long
+from my bed. Then I rose and stretched myself, and was in the act of
+knocking the long-extinct ashes out of my pipe when the bell rang. As
+the servants had gone to bed, I went out to the door, congratulating
+myself on having stayed up beyond my usual bedtime, but wishing the
+visitor at the devil all the same. The opening of the door gave me a
+view of a wet street with a drizzle of rain falling, a large closed
+car by the kerb, and a tallish man on the doorstep, apparently about
+to renew his attack on the bell.
+
+“Dr. Pumphrey?” he asked; and by that token I gathered that he was a
+stranger.
+
+“No,” I answered; “he is out of town, but I am looking after his
+practice.”
+
+“Very well,” he said, somewhat brusquely. “I want you to come and see
+a lady who has been suddenly taken ill. She has had a rather severe
+shock.”
+
+“Do you mean a mental or a physical shock?” I asked.
+
+“Well, I should say mental,” he replied, but so inconclusively that I
+pressed him for more definite particulars.
+
+“Has she sustained any injuries?” I inquired.
+
+“No,” he answered, but still indecisively. “No; that is, so far as I
+know. I think not.”
+
+“No wound, for instance?”
+
+“No,” he replied, promptly and very definitely; from which I was
+disposed to suspect that there was an injury of some other kind. But
+it was of no use guessing. I hurried back into the surgery, and,
+having snatched up the emergency bag and my stethoscope, rejoined my
+visitor, who forthwith hustled me into the car. The door slammed, and
+the vehicle moved off with the silent, easy motion of a powerful
+engine.
+
+We started towards Marylebone-road and swept round into Albany-street,
+but after that I lost my bearings: for the fine rain had settled on
+the windows so that it was difficult to see through them, and I was
+not very familiar with the neighbourhood. It seemed quite a short
+journey, but a big car is very deceptive as to distance. At any rate,
+it occupied but a few minutes, and during that time my companion and I
+exchanged hardly a word. As the car slowed down I asked:
+
+“What is this lady’s name?”
+
+“Her name,” he replied, in a somewhat hesitating manner, “is--she is a
+Mrs. Johnson.”
+
+The manner of the reply suggested a not very intimate acquaintance,
+which seemed odd under the circumstances, and I reflected on it
+rapidly as I got out of the car and followed my conductor. We seemed
+to be in a quiet bystreet of the better class, but it was very dark,
+and I had but a glimpse as I stepped from the car to the gate of the
+house. Of the latter, all that I was able to note was that it appeared
+to be of a decent, rather old-fashioned type, standing behind a small
+front garden, that the windows were fitted with jalousie shutters, and
+that the number on the door was 43.
+
+As we ascended the steps the door opened, and a woman was dimly
+discernible behind it. A lighted candle was on the hall table, and
+this my conductor picked up, requesting me to follow him up the
+stairs. When we arrived at the first floor landing, he halted and
+indicated a door which was slightly ajar.
+
+“That is the room,” said he; and with that he turned and retired down
+the stairs.
+
+I stood for a few moments on the dark landing, deeply impressed by the
+oddity of the whole affair, and sensible of a growing suspicion, which
+was not lessened when, by the thin line of light from within the room,
+I observed on the door-jamb one or two bruises as if the door had been
+forced from without. However, this was none of my business, and thus
+reflecting, I was about to knock at the door when four fingers
+appeared round the edge of it and drew it further open, and a man’s
+head became visible in the opening.
+
+The fingers and the head were alike such as instantly to rivet the
+attention of a doctor. The former were of the kind known as “clubbed
+fingers,” fingers with bulbous ends, of which the nails curved over
+like nut-shells. The head, in form like a great William pear,
+presented a long, coffin-shaped face with high cheek-bones, deep-set
+eyes with narrow, slanting eye-slits, and a lofty, square forehead
+surmounted by a most singular mop of mouse-coloured hair which stood
+straight up like the fur of a mole.
+
+“I am the doctor,” said I, having taken in these particulars in an
+instantaneous glance, and having further noted that the man’s eyes
+were reddened and wet. He made no reply, but drew the door open and
+retired, whereupon I entered the room, closing the door behind me, and
+thereby becoming aware that there was something amiss with the latch.
+
+The room was a bed-room, and on the bed lay a woman, fully clothed,
+and apparently in evening dress, though the upper part of her person
+was concealed by a cloak which was drawn up to her chin. She was a
+young woman--about twenty-eight, I judged--comely, and, in fact,
+rather handsome, but deadly pale. She was not, however, unconscious,
+for she looked at me listlessly, though with a certain attention. In
+some slight embarrassment, I approached the bed, and, as the man had
+subsided into a chair in a corner of the room, I addressed myself to
+the patient.
+
+“Good evening, Mrs. Johnson. I am sorry to see you looking so ill.
+What is the matter? I understand that you have had some kind of
+shock.”
+
+As I addressed her, I seemed to detect a faint expression of surprise,
+but she replied at once, in a weak voice that was little more than a
+whisper: “Yes. I have had rather an upset. That is all. They need not
+really have troubled you.”
+
+“Well, you don’t look very flourishing,” said I, taking the wrist that
+was uncovered by her mantle, “and your hand is as cold as a fish.”
+
+I felt her pulse, checking it by my watch, and meanwhile looking her
+over critically. And not her alone. For on the wall opposite me was a
+mirror in which, by a little judicious adjustment of position, I was
+able to observe the other occupant of the room while keeping my back
+towards him; and what I observed was that he was sitting with his
+elbows on his knees, and his face buried in his hands.
+
+“Might one inquire,” I asked, as I put away my watch, “what kind of
+shock it is that you are suffering from?”
+
+The faintest trace of a smile stole across her pale face as she
+answered: “That isn’t really a medical question, Doctor, is it?”
+
+“Perhaps it isn’t,” I replied, though, of course, it was. But I
+thought it best to waive the question, as there seemed to be some
+reservation; and, noting this latter fact, I again considered her
+attentively. Whatever her condition was, and whatever it might be due
+to, I had to form my opinion unassisted, for I could see that no
+information would be furnished; and the question that I had to settle
+was whether her state was purely mental, or whether it was complicated
+by any kind of physical injury. The waxen pallor of her face made me
+uneasy, and I found it difficult to interpret the expression of the
+set features. Some strong emotion had left its traces; but whether
+that emotion was grief, horror, or fear, or whether the expression
+denoted bodily pain, I could not determine. She had closed her eyes,
+and her face was like a death mask, save that it lacked the serenity
+of a dead face.
+
+“Are you in any pain?” I asked, with my fingers still on the thready
+pulse. But she merely shook her head wearily, without opening her
+eyes.
+
+It was very unsatisfactory. Her appearance was consistent with all
+kinds of unpleasant possibilities, as was also the strange atmosphere
+of secrecy about the whole affair. Nor was the attitude of that
+ill-favoured man whom I could see in the glass, still sitting hunched
+up with his face buried in his hands, at all reassuring. And gradually
+my attention began to focus itself upon the cloak which covered the
+woman’s body and was drawn around her neck up to her chin. Did that
+cloak conceal anything? It seemed incredible, seeing that they had
+sent for a doctor. But the behaviour of everybody concerned was
+incredibly irrational. I produced my stethoscope, which was fitted
+with a diaphragm that enabled one to hear through the clothing, and,
+drawing the cloak partly aside, applied the chest-piece over the
+heart. On this the patient opened her eyes and made a movement of her
+hand towards the upper part of the cloak. I listened carefully to her
+heart--which was organically sound, though a good deal disordered in
+action--and moved the stethoscope once or twice, drawing aside the
+cloak by degrees. Finally, with a somewhat quick movement, I turned it
+back completely.
+
+“Why,” I exclaimed, “what on earth have you been doing to your neck?”
+
+“That mark?” she said in a half-whisper. “It is nothing. It was made
+by a gold collar that I wore yesterday. It was rather tight.”
+
+“I see,” said I--truthfully enough; for the explanation of her
+condition was now pretty clear up to a certain point. Of course, I did
+not believe her. I did not suppose that she expected me to. But it was
+evidently useless to dispute her statement or make any comment. The
+mark upon her neck was a livid bruise made by some cord or band that
+had been drawn tight with considerable force; and it was not more than
+an hour old. How or by whom the injury had been inflicted was not, in
+a medical sense, my concern. But I was by no means clear that I had
+not some responsibilities in the case other than the professional
+ones.
+
+At this moment the man in the corner uttered a deep groan and
+exclaimed in low, intense tones, “My God! My God!” Then, to my extreme
+embarrassment, he began to sob audibly.
+
+It was excessively uncomfortable. I looked from the woman--into whose
+ghastly face an expression of something like disgust and contempt had
+stolen--to the huddled figure in the glass. And as I looked, the man
+plunged one hand into his pocket and dragged out a handkerchief,
+bringing with it a little paper packet that fell to the floor.
+Something in the appearance of that packet, and especially in the
+hasty grab to recover it and the quick, furtive glance towards me that
+accompanied the action, made a new and sinister suggestion--a
+suggestion that the man’s emotional, almost hysterical state
+supported, and that lent a certain unpleasant congruity to the
+otherwise inexplicable circumstances. That packet, I had little doubt,
+contained cocaine. The question was how did that fact--if it were a
+fact--bear on my patient’s condition.
+
+I inspected her afresh, and felt her pulse again. In the man’s case
+the appearances were distinctive enough. His nerves were in rags, and
+even across the room I could see that the hand that held the
+handkerchief shook as if with a palsy. But in the woman’s condition
+there was no positive suggestion of drugs; and something in her
+face--a strong, resolute face despite its expression of suffering--and
+her quiet, composed manner when she spoke, seemed to exclude the idea.
+However, there was no use in speculating. I had got all the
+information I was likely to get, and all that remained for me to do
+was to administer such treatment as my imperfect understanding of the
+case indicated. Accordingly I opened my emergency bag, and, taking out
+a couple of little bottles and a measure-glass, went over to the
+washstand and mixed a draught in the tumbler, diluting it from the
+water-bottle.
+
+In crossing the room, I passed the fire-place, where, on and above the
+mantelpiece, I observed a number of signed photographs, apparently of
+actors and actresses, including two of my patient, both of which were
+in character costume and unsigned. From which it seemed probable that
+my patient was an actress; a probability that was strengthened by the
+hour at which I had been summoned and by certain other appearances in
+the room with which Dr. Pumphrey’s largely theatrical practice had
+made me familiar. But, as my patient would have remarked, this was not
+a medical question.
+
+“Now, Mrs. Johnson,” I said, when I had prepared the draught--and as I
+spoke she opened her eyes and looked at me with a slightly puzzled
+expression--“I want you to drink this.”
+
+She allowed me to sit her up enough to enable her to swallow the
+draught; and as her head was raised, I took the opportunity to glance
+at the back of her neck, where I thought I could distinctly trace the
+crossing of the cord or band that had been drawn round it. She sank
+back with a sigh, but remained with her eyes open, looking at me as I
+repacked my bag.
+
+“I shall send you some medicine,” I said, “which you must take
+regularly. It is unnecessary for me to say,” I added, addressing the
+man, “that Mrs. Johnson must be kept very quiet, and in no way
+agitated.”
+
+He bowed, but made no reply; and I then took my leave.
+
+“Good night, Mrs. Johnson,” I said, shaking her cold hand gently. “I
+hope you will be very much better in an hour or two. I think you will
+if you keep quite quiet and take your medicine.”
+
+She thanked me in a few softly spoken words and with a very sweet
+smile, of which the sad wistfulness went to my heart. I was loath to
+leave her, in her weak and helpless state, to the care of her
+unprepossessing companion, encompassed by I knew not what perils. But
+I was only a passing stranger, and could do no more than my
+professional office.
+
+As I approached the door--with an inquisitive eye on its disordered
+lock and loosened striking-box--the man rose, and made as if to let me
+out. I wished him good-night, and he returned the salutation in a
+pleasant voice, and with a distinctly refined accent, quite out of
+character with his uncouth appearance. Feeling my way down the dark
+staircase, I presently encountered my first acquaintance, who came to
+the foot of the stairs with the candle.
+
+“Well,” he said, in his brusque way, “how is she?”
+
+“She is very weak and shaken,” I replied. “I want to send her some
+medicine. Shall I take the address, or are you driving me back?”
+
+“I will take you back in the car,” said he, “and you can give me the
+medicine.”
+
+The car was waiting at the gate, and we went out together. As I turned
+to close the gate after me, I cast a quick glance at the house and its
+surroundings, searching for some distinctive feature in case
+recognition of the place should be necessary later. But it was a dark
+night, though the rain had now ceased, and I could see no more than
+that the adjoining house seemed to have a sort of corner turret,
+crowned with a small cupola, and surmounted by a weather-vane.
+
+During the short journey home not a word was spoken, and when the car
+drew up at Dr. Pumphrey’s door and I let myself in with the key, my
+companion silently followed me in. I prepared the medicine at once,
+and handed it to him with a few brief instructions. He took it from
+me, and then asked what my fee was.
+
+“Do I understand that I am not required to continue the attendance?” I
+asked.
+
+“They will send for you, I suppose, if they want you,” he replied.
+“But I had better pay your fee for this visit as I came for you.”
+
+I named the fee, and, when he had paid it, I said: “You understand
+that she will require very careful and tender treatment while she is
+so weak?”
+
+“I do,” he answered; “but I am not a member of the household. Did you
+make it clear to Mr. ---- her husband?”
+
+I noted the significant hesitation, and replied:
+
+“I told him, but as to making it clear to him, I can’t say. His mental
+condition was none of the most lucid. I hope she has someone more
+responsible to look after her.”
+
+“She has,” he replied; and then he asked: “You don’t think she is in
+any danger, I hope?”
+
+“In a medical sense,” I answered, “I think not. In other respects you
+know better than I do.”
+
+He gave me a quick look, and nodded slightly. Then, with a curt
+“good-night,” he turned and went out to the car.
+
+When he was gone, I made a brief record of the visit in the day-book,
+and entered the fee in the cash column. In the case of the experienced
+Dr. Pumphrey, this would have been the end of the transaction. But,
+new as I was to medical practice, I was unable to take this
+matter-of-fact view of its incidents. My mind still surged with
+surprise, curiosity, and a deep concern for my fair patient. Filling
+my pipe, I sat down before the gas fire to think over the mystery to
+which I had suddenly become a party.
+
+What was it that had happened in that house? Obviously, something
+scandalous and sinister. The secrecy alone made that manifest. Not
+only had the whereabouts of the house been withheld from me, but a
+false name had been given. I realized that when my late visitor
+stumbled over the name and substituted “her husband.” He had forgotten
+what name it was that he had given on the spur of the moment. I
+understood, too, the look of surprise that my patient had given when I
+addressed her by that false name. Clearly, something had happened
+which had to be hushed up if possible.
+
+What was it? The elements of the problem, and the material for solving
+it, were the mark on the woman’s neck, the condition of the door, and
+a packet which I felt morally certain contained cocaine. I considered
+these three factors separately and together.
+
+The mark on the neck was quite recent. Its character was unmistakable.
+A cord or band had been drawn tight and with considerable violence,
+either by the woman herself, or by some other person: that is to say,
+it was a case either of attempted suicide or attempted murder. To
+which of these alternatives did the circumstances point?
+
+There was the door. It had been broken in, and had therefore been
+locked on the inside. That was consistent with suicide, but not
+inconsistent with murder. Then, by whom had it been broken in? By a
+murderer to get at his victim? Or by a rescuer? And if the latter, was
+it to avert suicide or murder?
+
+Again, there was the drug--assumed, but almost certain. What was the
+bearing of that? Could these three persons be a party of “dopers,” and
+the tragedy the outcome of an orgy of drug-taking? I rejected this
+possibility at once. It was not consistent with the patient’s
+condition nor with her appearance or manner; and the man who had
+fetched me and brought me back was a robust, sane-looking man who
+seemed quite beyond suspicion.
+
+I next considered the persons. There were three of them: two men and a
+woman. Of the men, one was a virile, fairly good-looking man of
+perhaps forty; the other--the husband--was conspicuously
+unprepossessing, physically degenerate and mentally, as I judged, a
+hysterical poltroon. Here there seemed to be the making of trouble,
+especially when one considered the personal attractiveness of the
+woman.
+
+I recalled her appearance very vividly. A handsome woman, not,
+perhaps, actually beautiful--though she might have been that if the
+roses of youth and health had bloomed in those cheeks that I had seen
+blanched with that ghastly pallor. But apart from mere comeliness,
+there was a suggestion of a pleasing, gracious personality. I don’t
+know how it had been conveyed to me, excepting by the smile with which
+she had thanked me and bidden me farewell: a smile that had imparted a
+singular sweetness to her face. But I had received that impression,
+and also that she was a woman of decided character and intelligence.
+
+Her appearance was rather striking. She had a great mass of dark hair,
+parted in the middle, and drawn down over the temples, nearly covering
+the ears; darkish grey eyes, and unusually strong, black, level
+eyebrows, that almost met above the straight, shapely nose. Perhaps it
+was those eyebrows that gave the strength and intensity to her
+expression, aided by the compressed lips--though this was probably a
+passing condition due to her mental state.
+
+My cogitations were prolonged well into the small hours, but they led
+to nothing but an open verdict. At length I rose with a slight shiver,
+and, dismissing the topic from my mind, crept up to bed.
+
+But both the persons and the incident refused to accept their
+dismissal. For many days afterwards I was haunted by two faces; the
+one, ugly, coffin-shaped, surmounted by a shock of soft, furry,
+mouse-coloured hair; the other, sweet, appealing, mutely eloquent of
+tragedy and sorrow. Of course, I received no further summons; and the
+whereabouts of the house of mystery remained a secret until almost the
+end of my stay in Osnaburgh-street. Indeed, it was on the very day
+before Dr. Pumphrey’s return that I made the discovery.
+
+I had been making a visit to a patient who lived near Regent’s Park,
+and on my way back had taken what I assumed to be a short cut. This
+led me into a quiet, old fashioned residential street, of which the
+houses stood back behind small front gardens. As I walked along the
+street I seemed to be aware of a faint sense of familiarity which
+caused me to observe the houses with more than usual attention.
+Presently I observed a little way ahead on the opposite side a house
+with a corner turret topped by a cupola, which bore above it a
+weather-vane. I crossed the road as I approached it, and looked
+eagerly at the next house. Its identity was unmistakable. My attention
+was immediately attracted by the jalousies with which the windows were
+fitted, and on looking at the front door I observed that the number
+was forty-three.
+
+This, then, was the house of mystery, perhaps of crime. But whatever
+that tragedy had been, its actors were there no longer. The windows
+were curtainless and blank; an air of Spring-cleaning and preparation
+pervaded the premises, and a bill on a little notice-board announced a
+furnished house to let, and invited inquiries. For a moment, I was
+tempted to accept that invitation. But I was restrained by a feeling
+that it would be in a way a breach of confidence. The names of those
+persons had been purposely withheld from me, doubtless for excellent
+reasons, and professional ethics seemed to forbid any unauthorized
+pryings into their private affairs. Wherefore, with a valedictory
+glance at the first-floor window, which I assumed to be that of the
+room that I had entered, I went on my way, telling myself that, now,
+the incident was really closed, and that I had looked my last on the
+persons who had enacted their parts in it.
+
+In which, however, I was mistaken. The curtain was down on the first
+act, but the play was not over. Only the succeeding acts were yet in
+the unfathomed future. “Coming events cast their shadows before them”;
+but who can interpret those shadows, until the shapes which cast them
+loom up, plain and palpable, to mock at their own unheeded
+premonitions?
+
+
+
+
+ CHAPTER II.
+ RE-ENTER “MR. JOHNSON”
+
+It was a good many months before the curtain rose on the second act
+of the drama of which this narrative is the record. Rather more than a
+year had passed, and in that time certain changes had taken place in
+my condition, of which I need refer only to the one that, indirectly,
+operated as the cause of my becoming once more a party to the drama
+aforesaid. I had come into a small property, just barely sufficient to
+render me independent, and to enable me to live in idleness, if
+idleness had been my hobby. As it was not, I betook myself to
+Adam-street, Adelphi, to confer with my trusty medical agent, Mr.
+Turcival, and from that conference was born my connexion with the
+strange events which will be hereafter related.
+
+Mr. Turcival had several practices to sell, but only one that he
+thought quite suitable. “It is a death vacancy,” said he, “at
+Rochester. A very small practice, and you won’t get much out of it, as
+the late incumbent was an old man and you are a young man--and you
+look ten years younger since you shaved off that fine beard and
+moustache. But it is going for a song, and you can afford to wait; and
+you couldn’t have a more pleasant place to wait in than Rochester.
+Better go down and have a look at it. I’ll write to the local agents,
+Japp and Bundy, and they will show you the house and effects. What do
+you say?”
+
+I said “yes”; and so favourably was I impressed that the very next day
+found me in a first-class compartment en route for Rochester, with a
+substantial portmanteau in the guard’s van.
+
+At Dartford it became necessary to change, and as I sauntered on the
+platform, waiting for the Rochester train, my attention was attracted
+to a man who sat, somewhat wearily and dejectedly, on a bench, rolling
+a cigarette. I was impressed by the swift dexterity with which he
+handled the paper and tobacco, a dexterity that was explained by the
+colour of his fingers, which were stained to the hue of mahogany. But
+my attention was quickly diverted from the colour of the fingers to
+their shape. They were clubbed fingers. At the moment when I observed
+the fact I was looking over his shoulder from behind, and could not
+see his face. But I could see that he had a large, pear-shaped head,
+surmounted by an enormous cap, from beneath which a mass of
+mouse-coloured hair stuck out like untidy thatch.
+
+I suppose I must have halted unconsciously, for he suddenly looked
+round, casting at me a curious, quick, furtive, suspicious glance. He
+evidently did not recognize me--naturally, since my appearance was so
+much changed; but I recognized him instantly. He was “Mr. ----, her
+husband.” And his appearance was not improved since I had last seen
+him. Inspecting him from the front, I observed that he was sordidly
+shabby and none too clean, and that his large, rough boots were white
+with dust as if from a long tramp on the chalky Kentish roads.
+
+When the train came in, I watched him saunter to a compartment a few
+doors from my own, rolling a fresh cigarette as he went: and at each
+station when we stopped, I looked out of the window to see where he
+got out. But he made no appearance until the train slowed down at
+Rochester when I alighted quickly and strolled towards his
+compartment. It had evidently been well filled, for a number of
+passengers emerged before he appeared, contesting the narrow doorway
+with a stout workman. As he squeezed past, the skirt of his coat
+caught and was drawn back, revealing a sheath-knife of the kind known
+to seamen as “Green River,” attached to a narrow leather belt. I did
+not like the look of that knife. No landsman has any legitimate use
+for such a weapon. And the fact that this man habitually carried about
+him the means of inflicting lethal injuries--for it had no other
+purpose--threw a fresh light, if any were needed, on the sinister
+events of that memorable night in the quiet house near Regent’s Park.
+
+As I had to look after my luggage, I lost sight of him; and when
+having deposited my portmanteau in the cloak room, I walked out across
+the station approach and looked up and down the street, he was nowhere
+to be seen. Dimly wondering what this man might be doing in Rochester,
+and whether his handsome wife were here, too--assuming her to be still
+in existence--I turned and began to saunter slowly westward. I had
+walked but two or three hundred yards when the door of a tavern which
+I was approaching opened, and a man emerged, licking his lips with
+uncommon satisfaction, and rolling a cigarette. It was my late
+fellow-traveller. He stood by the tavern door, looking about him, and
+glancing at the people on the footway. Just as I was passing him, he
+approached me and spoke.
+
+“I wonder,” said he, “if you happen to know a Mrs. Frood who lives
+somewhere about here.”
+
+“I am afraid I don’t,” I replied, thankful to be able to tell the
+truth--for I should have denied knowledge of her in any case. “I am a
+stranger to the town at present.”
+
+He thanked me and turned away, and I walked on, but no longer at a
+saunter, wondering who Mrs. Frood might be and keeping an eye on the
+numbers of the houses on the opposite side of the street.
+
+A few minutes’ walk brought into view the number I was seeking,
+painted in the tympanum of a handsome Georgian portico appertaining to
+one of a pair of pleasant old redbrick houses. I halted to inspect
+these architectural twins before crossing the road. Old houses always
+interest me, and these two were particularly engaging, as their owners
+apparently realized, for they were in the pink of condition, and the
+harmony of the quiet green woodwork and the sober red brick was no
+chance effect. Moreover they were painted alike to carry out the
+intention of the architect, who had evidently designed them to form a
+single composition; to which end he had very effectively placed,
+between the twin porticoes, a central door which gave access to a
+passage common to the two houses and leading, no doubt, to the back
+premises.
+
+Having noted these particulars, I crossed the road and approached the
+twin which bore beside its doorway a brass plate, inscribed “Japp and
+Bundy, Architects and Surveyors.” In the adjoining bay window, in
+front of a green curtain, was a list of houses to let; and as I paused
+for a moment to glance at this, a face decorated with a pair of
+colossal tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles, rose slowly above the
+curtain, and then, catching my eye, popped down again with some
+suddenness.
+
+I ascended the short flight of steps to the open street door, and
+entering the hall, opened the office door and walked in. The owner of
+the spectacles was perched on a high stool at a higher desk with his
+back to me, writing in a large book. The other occupant of the office
+was a small, spare, elderly man, with a pleasant wrinkly face and a
+cockatoo-like crest of white hair, who confronted me across a large
+table on which a plan was spread out. He looked up interrogatively as
+I entered, and I proceeded at once to announce myself.
+
+“I am Dr. Strangeways,” said I, drawing a bundle of papers from my
+pocket. “Mr. Turcival--the medical agent, you know--thought I had
+better come down and settle things up on the spot. So here I am.”
+
+“Precisely,” said my new acquaintance, motioning me to a chair--it was
+a shield-back Heppelwhite, I noticed--“I agree with Mr. Turcival. It
+is all quite plain sailing. The position is this: Old Dr. Partridge
+died about three weeks ago, and the executor of his will, who lives in
+Northumberland, has instructed us to realize his estate. We have
+valued the furniture, fittings, and effects, have added a small amount
+to cover the drugs and instruments and the goodwill of the practice,
+and this is the premium. It is practically just the value of the
+effects.”
+
+“And the lease of the house?”
+
+“Expired some years ago and we allowed Dr. Partridge to remain as a
+yearly tenant, which he preferred. You could do the same or you could
+have a lease, if you wished.”
+
+“Is the house your property?” I asked.
+
+“No; but we manage it for the owner, a Mrs. Frood.”
+
+“Oh, it belongs to Mrs. Frood, does it?”
+
+He looked up at me quickly, and I noticed that the gentleman at the
+desk had stopped writing. “Do you know Mrs. Frood?” he asked.
+
+“No; but it happens that a man who came down by my train asked me a
+few minutes ago if I could give him her address. Fortunately I
+couldn’t.”
+
+“Why fortunately?”
+
+The question brought me up short. My prejudice against the man was due
+to my knowledge of his antecedents, which I was not prepared to
+disclose. I therefore replied evasively:
+
+“Well, I wasn’t very favourably impressed by his appearance. He was a
+shabby-looking customer. I suspected that he was a cadger of some
+kind.”
+
+“Indeed! Now, what sort of a person was he? Could you describe him?”
+
+“He was a youngish man--from thirty-five to forty, I should
+say--apparently well educated but very seedy and not particularly
+clean. A queer-looking man, with a big, pear-shaped head and a mop of
+hair like the fur of a Persian cat. His fingers are clubbed at the
+ends, and stained with tobacco to the knuckles. Do you know him?”
+
+“I rather suspect I do. What do you say, Bundy?”
+
+Mr. Bundy grunted. “Hubby, I ween,” said he.
+
+“You don’t mean Mrs. Frood’s husband?” I exclaimed.
+
+“I do. And it is, as you said, very fortunate that you were not able
+to give him her address, as she is unable to live with him and is at
+present unwilling to let him know her whereabouts. It is an
+unfortunate affair. However, to return to your business; you had
+better go up and have a look at the house and see what you think of
+it. You might just walk up with Dr. Strangeways, Bundy.”
+
+Mr. Bundy swung round on his stool, and, taking off his spectacles,
+stuck in his right eye a gold-rimmed monocle, through which he
+inspected me critically. Then he hopped off the stool, and, lifting
+the lid of the desk, took out a velour hat and a pair of chamois
+gloves, the former of which he adjusted carefully on his head before a
+small mirror, and, having taken down a labelled key from a key-board
+and provided himself with a smart, silver-mounted cane, announced that
+he was ready.
+
+As I walked along the picturesque old street at Mr. Bundy’s side, I
+reverted to my late fellow passenger and my prospective landlady.
+
+“I gather,” said I, “that Mrs. Frood’s matrimonial affairs are
+somewhat involved.”
+
+“So do I,” said Bundy. “Seems to have made a regular mucker of it. I
+don’t know much about her, myself, but Japp knows the whole story.
+He’s some sort of relative of hers; uncle or second cousin or
+something of the kind. But Japp is a bit like the sailor’s parrot; he
+doesn’t let on unnecessarily.”
+
+“What sort of a woman is Mrs. Frood?” I asked.
+
+“Oh, quite a tidy sort of body. I’ve only seen her once or twice;
+haven’t been here long myself: tallish woman; lot of black hair; thick
+eye-brows; rather squeaky voice. Not exactly my idea of a beauty, but
+Frood seems quite keen on her.”
+
+“By the way, how comes it that he doesn’t know her address? She’s a
+Rochester woman, isn’t she?”
+
+“No. I don’t know where she comes from. London, I think. This property
+was left to her by an aunt who lived here: a cousin of Japp’s.
+Angelina came down here a few weeks ago on the q.t. to get away from
+hubby, and I fancy she’s been keeping pretty close.”
+
+“She’s living in lodgings, then, I suppose?”
+
+“Yes; at least she lives in a set of offices that Japp furnished for
+her, and the lady who rents the rest of the house looks after her. As
+a matter of fact, the offices are next door to ours; but you had
+better consider that information as confidential, at any rate while
+hubby is in the neighbourhood. This is your shanty.”
+
+He halted at the door of a rather small, red brick house, and while I
+was examining the half-obliterated inscription on the brass plate, he
+thrust the key into the lock and made ineffectual efforts to turn it.
+Suddenly there was a loud click from within, followed by the clanking
+of a chain and the drawing of bolts. Then the door opened slowly, and
+a long-faced, heavy-browed, elderly woman surveyed us with a gloomy
+stare.
+
+“Why didn’t you ring the bell?” she demanded, gruffly.
+
+“Had a key,” replied Bundy, extracting it, and flourishing it before
+her face.
+
+“And what’s the good of a key when the door was bolted and chained?”
+
+“But, naturally, I couldn’t see that the door was bolted and chained.”
+
+“I suppose you couldn’t with that thing stuck in your eye. Well, what
+do you want?”
+
+“I have brought this gentleman, Dr. Strangeways, to see you. He has
+seen your portraits in the shop windows and wished to be introduced.
+Also he wants to look over the house. He thinks of taking the
+practice.”
+
+“Well, why couldn’t you say that before?” she demanded.
+
+“Before what?” he inquired blandly.
+
+She made no reply other than a low growl, and Bundy continued:
+
+“This lady, Dr. Strangeways, is the renowned Mrs. Dunk, more
+familiarly known as La Giaconda, who administered the domestic affairs
+of the late Dr. Partridge, and is at present functioning as custodian
+of the premises.” He concluded the presentation by a ceremonious bow
+and a sweep of his hat, which Mrs. Dunk acknowledged by turning her
+back on him and producing a large bunch of keys, with which she
+proceeded to unlock the doors that opened on the hall.
+
+“The upstairs rooms are unlocked,” she said, adding: “If you want me
+you can ring the bell,” and with this she retired to the basement
+stairs and vanished.
+
+My examination of the rooms was rather perfunctory, for I had made up
+my mind already. The premium was absurdly small, and I could see that
+the house was furnished well enough for my immediate needs. As to the
+practice, I had no particular expectations.
+
+“Better have a look at the books,” said Bundy when we went into the
+little surgery, “though Mr. Turcival has been through them, and I
+daresay he has told you all about the practice.”
+
+“Yes,” I answered, “he told me that the practice was very small and
+that I probably shouldn’t get much of it, as Partridge was an old man
+and I am a young one. Still, I may as well glance through the books.”
+
+Bundy laid the day book and ledger on the desk and placed a stool by
+the latter, and I seated myself and began to turn over the leaves and
+note down a few figures on a slip of paper, while my companion
+beguiled the time by browsing round the surgery, taking down bottles
+and sniffing at their contents, pulling out drawers and inspecting the
+instruments and appliances. A very brief examination of the books
+served to confirm Mr. Turcival’s modest estimate of the practice, and
+when I had finished, I closed them and turned round to report to Mr.
+Bundy, who was, at the moment, engaged in “sounding” the surgery clock
+with the late Dr. Partridge’s stethoscope.
+
+“I think it will do,” said I. “The practice is negligible, but the
+furniture and fittings are worth the money, and I daresay I shall get
+some patients in time. At any rate, the premises are all in going
+order.”
+
+“You are not dependent on the practice, then?” said he.
+
+“No. I have enough just barely to exist on until the patients begin to
+arrive. But what about the house?”
+
+“You can have a lease if you like, or you can go on with the
+arrangement that Partridge had. If I were you, I should take the house
+on a three years’ agreement with the option of a lease later if you
+find that the venture turns out satisfactorily.”
+
+“Yes,” I agreed, “that seems a good arrangement. And when could I have
+possession?”
+
+“You’ve got possession now if you agree to the terms. Say yes, and
+I’ll draft out the agreement when I get back. You and Mrs. Frood can
+sign it this evening. You give us a cheque and we give you your copy
+of the document, and the thing is d-u-n, done.”
+
+“And what about this old woman?”
+
+“La Giaconda Dunkibus? I should keep her if I were you. She looks an
+old devil, but she’s a good servant. Partridge had a great opinion of
+her, so Japp tells me, and you can see for yourself that the house is
+in apple-pie order and as clean as a new pin.”
+
+“You think she would be willing to stay?”
+
+Bundy grinned (he was a good deal given to grinning, and he certainly
+had a magnificent set of teeth). “Willing!” he exclaimed. “She’s going
+to stay whether you want her or not. She has been here the best part
+of her life and nothing short of a torpedo would shift her. You’ll
+have to take her with the fixtures, but I don’t think you’ll regret
+it.”
+
+As Bundy was speaking, I had been, half-unconsciously, looking him
+over, interested in the queer contrast between his almost boyish
+appearance and gay irresponsible manner on the one hand, and, on the
+other, his shrewdness, his business capacity, and his quick, decisive,
+evidently forceful character.
+
+To look at, he was just a young “nut,” small, spruce, dandified, and
+apparently not displeased with himself. His age I judged to be about
+twenty-five, his height about five feet six. In figure, he was slight,
+but well set-up, and he seemed active and full of life and energy. He
+was extraordinarily well turned-out. From his close-cropped head, with
+the fore-lock “smarmed” back in the correct “nuttish” fashion, so that
+his cranium resembled a large black-topped filbert, to his
+immaculately polished and remarkably small shoes, there was not an
+inch of his person that had not received the most careful attention.
+He was clean-shaved; so clean that on the smooth skin nothing but the
+faint blue tinge on cheek and chin remained to suggest the coarse and
+horrid possibilities of whiskers. And his hands had evidently received
+the same careful attention as his face; indeed, even as he was talking
+to me, he produced from his pocket some kind of ridiculous little
+instrument with which he proceeded to polish his finger-nails.
+
+“Shall I ring the bell?” he asked after a short pause, “and call up
+the spirit of the Dunklett from the vasty deep? May as well let her
+know her luck.”
+
+As I assented he pressed the bell-push, and in less than a minute Mrs.
+Dunk made her appearance and stood in the doorway, looking inquiringly
+at Bundy, but uttering no sound.
+
+“Dr. Strangeways is going to take the practice, Mrs. Dunk,” said
+Bundy, “inclusive of the house, furniture, and all effects, and he is
+also prepared to take you at a valuation.”
+
+As the light of battle began to gleam in Mrs. Dunk’s eyes, I thought
+it best to intervene and conduct the negotiations myself.
+
+“I understand from Mr. Bundy,” said I, “that you were Dr. Partridge’s
+housekeeper for many years, and it occurred to me that you might be
+willing to act in the same capacity for me. What do you say?”
+
+“Very well,” she replied. “When do you want to move in?”
+
+“I propose to move in at once. My luggage is at the station.”
+
+“Have you checked the inventory?” she asked.
+
+“No, I haven’t, but I suppose nothing has been taken away?”
+
+“No,” she answered. “Everything is as it was when Dr. Partridge died.”
+
+“Then we can go over the inventory later. I will have my things sent
+up from the station, and I shall come in during the afternoon to
+unpack.”
+
+She agreed concisely to this arrangement, and, when we had settled a
+few minor details, I departed with Bundy to make my way to the station
+and thereafter to go in search of lunch.
+
+“You think,” said I, as we halted opposite the station approach, “that
+we can get everything completed to-day?”
+
+“Yes,” he replied, “I will get the agreement drawn up in the terms
+that we have just settled on, and will make an appointment with Mrs.
+Frood. You had better look in at the office about half-past six.”
+
+He turned away with a friendly nod and a flash of his white teeth, and
+bustled off up the street, swinging his smart cane jauntily, and
+looking, with his trim, well-cut clothes, his primrose-coloured
+gloves, and his glistening shoes, the very type of cheerful,
+prosperous, self-respecting and self-satisfied youth.
+
+
+
+
+ CHAPTER III.
+ ANGELINA FROOD
+
+Punctually at half-past six I presented myself at the office of
+Messrs. Japp and Bundy. The senior partner was seated at a
+writing-table covered with legal-looking documents, and, as I entered,
+he looked up with a genial, wrinkly smile of recognition, and then
+turned to his junior.
+
+“You’ve got Dr. Strangeways’s agreement ready, haven’t you, Bundy?” he
+asked.
+
+“Just finished it five minutes ago,” was the reply. “Here you are.”
+
+Bundy swung round on his stool and held out the two copies. “Would you
+mind going through it with Dr. Strangeways?” said Japp. “And then you
+might go with him to Mrs. Frood’s and witness the signatures. I told
+her you were coming.”
+
+Bundy pulled out his watch, and glared at it through his great
+spectacles.
+
+“By Jove!” he exclaimed, “I’m afraid I can’t. There’s old Baldwin, you
+know. I’ve got to be there at a quarter to seven.”
+
+“So you have,” said Japp, “I had forgotten that. You had better be off
+now. I’ll see to Dr. Strangeways, if he isn’t in a hurry for a minute
+or two.”
+
+“I’m not in a hurry at all,” said I. “Don’t put yourself out for me.”
+
+“Well, if you really are not,” said Japp, “I’ll just finish what I am
+doing, and then I’ll run in with you and get the agreement completed.
+You might look through it while you are waiting and see that it is all
+in order.”
+
+Bundy handed me the agreement, and, as I sat down to study it, he
+removed his spectacles, stuck his eye-glass in his eye, hopped off his
+perch, brought forth his hat, gloves, and stick, and, having presented
+his teeth for my inspection, took his departure.
+
+I read through the agreement carefully to ascertain that it embodied
+the terms agreed on verbally and compared the two copies. Then, while
+Mr. Japp continued to turn over the leaves of his documents, I let my
+thoughts stray from the trim, orderly office to the house of mystery
+in London and the strange events that had befallen there on that rainy
+night more than a year ago. Once more I called up before the eyes of
+memory the face of my mysterious patient, sweet and gracious in spite
+of its deathly pallor. Many a time, in the months that had passed, had
+I recalled it: so often that it seemed, in a way, to have become
+familiar. In a few minutes I was going to look upon that face
+again--for there could be no reasonable doubt that my prospective
+landlady was she. I looked forward expectantly, almost with
+excitement, to the meeting. Would she recognize me? I wondered. And if
+she did not, should I make myself known? This was a difficult
+question, and I had come to no decision upon it when I was aroused
+from my reverie by a movement on the part of Mr. Japp, whose labours
+had apparently come to an end. Folding up the documents and securing
+them in little bundles with red tape, he deposited them in a cupboard
+with his notes, and from the same receptacle took out his hat.
+
+“Now,” said he, “if you find the agreement in order, we will proceed
+to execute it. Are you going to pay the premium now?”
+
+“I have my cheque-book with me,” I replied. “When we have signed the
+agreement, I will settle up for everything.”
+
+“Thank you,” said he. “I have prepared a receipt which is,
+practically, an assignment of the furniture and effects and of all
+rights in the practice.”
+
+He held the door open and I passed out. We descended the steps, and
+passing the central door common to the two houses, ascended to that of
+the adjoining house, where Mr. Japp executed a flourish on a handsome
+brass knocker. In a few moments the door was opened by a woman whom I
+could not see very distinctly in the dim hall, especially as she
+turned about and retired up the stairs. Mr. Japp advanced to the door
+of the front room and rapped with his knuckles, whereupon a high,
+clear, feminine voice bade him come in. He accordingly entered, and I
+followed.
+
+The first glance disposed of any doubts that I might have had. The
+lady who stood up to receive us was unquestionably my late patient,
+though she looked taller than I had expected. But it was the
+well-remembered face, less changed, indeed, than I could have wished,
+for it was still pale, drawn, and weary, as I could see plainly enough
+in spite of the rather dim light; for, although it was not yet quite
+dark, the curtains were drawn and a lamp lighted on a small table,
+beside which was a low easy-chair, on which some needlework had been
+thrown down.
+
+Mr. Japp introduced me to my future landlady, who bowed, and having
+invited us to be seated, took up her needlework and sat down in the
+easy-chair.
+
+“You are not looking quite up to the mark,” Japp observed, regarding
+her critically, as he turned over the papers.
+
+“No,” she admitted, “I think I am a little run down.”
+
+“H’m,” said Japp. “Oughtn’t to get run down at your age. Why, you are
+only just wound up. However, you’ve got a doctor for a tenant, so you
+will be able to take out some of the rent in medical advice. Let me
+see, I told you what the terms of the agreement were, but you had
+better look through it before you sign.”
+
+He handed her one of the documents, which she took from him, and,
+dropping her needlework in her lap, leaned back in her chair to read
+it. Meanwhile, I examined her with a good deal of interest and
+curiosity, wondering how she had fared and what had happened to her in
+the months that had elapsed since I had last seen her. The light was
+not very favourable for a minute inspection, for the lamp on the table
+was the sole luminary, and that was covered by a red silk shade. But I
+was confirmed in my original impression of her. She was more than
+ordinarily good-looking, and rather striking in appearance, and I
+judged that under happier conditions she might have appeared even more
+attractive. As it was, the formally parted dark hair, the strongly
+marked, straight eyebrows, the firm mouth, rather compressed and a
+little drawn down at the corners, and the pale complexion imparted to
+her face a character that was somewhat intense, sombre, and even
+troubled. But, for this I could fully account from my knowledge of her
+circumstances, and I was conscious of looking on her with a very
+sympathetic and friendly eye.
+
+“This is quite satisfactory to me,” she said at length, in the clear,
+high-pitched voice to which Bundy had objected, “and if it is equally
+so to Dr. Strangeways, I suppose I had better sign.”
+
+She laid the paper on the table, and, taking the fountain-pen that
+Japp proffered, signed her name, Angelina Frood, in a bold, legible
+hand, and then returned the pen to its owner; who forthwith affixed
+his signature as witness and spread out the duplicate for me to sign.
+When this also was completed, he handed me the copy signed by Mrs.
+Frood and the receipt for the premium, and I drew a cheque for the
+amount and delivered it to him.
+
+“Many thanks,” said he, slipping it into a wallet and pocketing it.
+“That concludes our business and puts you finally in possession. I
+wish you every success in your practice. By the way, I mentioned to
+Mrs. Frood that you had seen her husband and that you know how she is
+placed; and she agreed with me that it was best that you should
+understand the position in case you should meet him again.”
+
+“Certainly,” Mrs. Frood agreed. “There is no use in trying to make a
+secret of it. He came down with you from London, Mr. Japp tells me.”
+
+“Not from London,” said I. “He got in at Dartford.”
+
+Here Mr. Japp rose and stole towards the door. “Don’t let me interrupt
+you,” said he, “but I must get back to the office and hear what Bundy
+has to report. Don’t get up. I can let myself out.”
+
+He made his exit quietly, shutting the door after him, and as soon as
+he was gone Mrs. Frood asked:
+
+“Do you mean that he changed into your train at Dartford?”
+
+“No,” I answered. “I think he came to Dartford on foot. He looked
+tired and his boots were covered with white dust.”
+
+“You are very observant, Dr. Strangeways,” she said. “I wonder what
+made you notice him so particularly?”
+
+“He is rather a noticeable man,” I said, and then, deciding that it
+was better to be quite frank, I added: “But the fact is I had seen him
+before.”
+
+“Indeed!” said she. “Would you think me very inquisitive if I asked
+where you had seen him?”
+
+“Not at all,” I answered. “It was a little more than a year ago, about
+twelve o’clock at night, in a house near Regent’s Park, to which I was
+taken in a closed car to see a lady.”
+
+As I spoke she dropped her needlework and sat up, gazing at me with a
+startled and rather puzzled expression. “But,” she said, “you are not
+the doctor who came to see me that night?”
+
+“I am, indeed,” said I.
+
+“Now,” she exclaimed, “isn’t that an extraordinary thing? I had a
+feeling that I had seen you somewhere before. I seemed to recognize
+your voice. But you don’t look the same. Hadn’t you a beard then?”
+
+“Yes, I am but the shaven and shorn remnant of my former self, but I
+am your late medical attendant.”
+
+She looked at me with an odd, reflective, questioning expression, but
+without making any further comment. Presently she said:
+
+“You were very kind and sympathetic though you were so quiet. I wonder
+what you thought of it all.”
+
+“I hadn’t much to go on beyond the medical facts,” I replied
+evasively.
+
+“Oh, you needn’t be so cautious,” said she, “now that the cat is out
+of the bag.”
+
+“Well,” I said, “it was pretty obvious that there had been trouble of
+some kind. The door had been broken open, there was one man in a state
+of hysterics, another man considerably upset and rather angry, and a
+woman with the mark on her neck of a cord or band----”
+
+“It was a knitted silk neck-tie, to be accurate. But you put the
+matter in a nut-shell very neatly; and I see that you diagnosed what
+novelists call ‘the eternal triangle.’ And to a certain extent you
+were right; only the triangle was imaginary. If you don’t mind, I will
+tell you just what did happen. The gentleman who came for you was a
+Mr. Fordyce, the lessee of one or two provincial theatres--I was on
+the stage then; but perhaps you guessed that.”
+
+“As a matter of fact, I did.”
+
+“Well, Mr. Fordyce had an idea of producing a play at one of his
+houses, and was going to give me a leading part. He had been to our
+house once or twice to talk the matter over with Nicholas (my husband)
+and me, and we were more or less friendly. He was quite a nice, sober
+kind of man, and perfectly proper and respectful. On this night he had
+been at the theatre where I had an engagement, and, as it was a wet
+night, he drove me home in his car, and was coming in to have a few
+words with us about our business. He wanted to see a photograph of me
+in a particular costume, and when we arrived home I ran upstairs to
+fetch it. There I found Nicholas, who had seen our arrival from the
+window, and was in a state of furious jealousy. Directly I entered the
+room, he locked the door and flew at me like a wild beast. As to what
+followed, I think you know as much as I do, for I fainted, and when I
+recovered Nicholas was sobbing in a corner, and Mr. Fordyce was
+standing by the door, looking as black as thunder.”
+
+“Had your husband been jealous of Mr. Fordyce previously?”
+
+“Not a bit. But on this occasion he was in a very queer state. I think
+he had been drinking, and taking some other things that were bad for
+him----”
+
+“Such as cocaine,” I suggested.
+
+“Yes. But, dear me! What a very noticing person you are, Dr.
+Strangeways! But you are quite right. It was the cocaine that was the
+cause of the trouble. He was always a difficult man; emotional,
+excitable, eccentric, and not very temperate, but after he had
+acquired the drug habit he went to the bad completely. He became
+slovenly, and even dirty in his person, frightfully emotional, and
+gave up work of all kind, so that but for my tiny income and my small
+earnings we should have starved.”
+
+“So you actually supported him?”
+
+“Latterly I did. And I daresay, if I had remained on the stage, we
+should have done fairly well, as I was supposed to have some talent,
+though I didn’t like the life. But, of course, after this affair, I
+didn’t dare to live with him. He wasn’t safe. I should have been
+constantly in fear of my life.”
+
+“Had he ever been violent before?”
+
+“Not seriously. He had often threatened horrible things, and I had
+looked on his threats as mere vapourings, but this was a different
+affair. I must have had a really narrow escape. So the very next day,
+I went into lodgings. But that didn’t answer. He wouldn’t agree to the
+separation, and was continually dogging me and making a disturbance.
+In the end, I had to give up my engagement and go off, leaving no
+address.”
+
+“I suppose you went back to your people?”
+
+“No,” she replied. “As a matter of fact, I haven’t any people. My
+mother died when I was quite a child, and I lost my father when I was
+about seventeen. He died on the Gold Coast, where he held an
+appointment as District Commissioner.”
+
+“Ah,” said I, “I thought you were in some way connected with West
+Africa. I noticed the zodiac ring on your finger when you were signing
+the agreement. When I was newly qualified I took a trip down the West
+Coast as a ship’s surgeon, and bought one of those rings at Cape
+Coast.”
+
+“They are quaint little things, aren’t they?” she remarked, slipping
+the ring off her finger and handing it to me. “I don’t often wear it,
+though. It is rather clumsy, and it doesn’t fit very well; and I don’t
+care much for rings.”
+
+I turned the little trinket over in my hand and examined it with
+reminiscent interest. It was a roughly wrought band of yellow native
+gold, with the conventional signs of the zodiac worked round it in
+raised figures. Inside I noticed that the letters A. C. had been
+engraved.
+
+“It was given to you before you were married, I presume,” said I, as I
+returned it to her.
+
+“Yes,” she replied, “those are the initials of my maiden
+name--Angelina Carthew.” She took the ring from me, but instead of
+replacing it on her finger, dropped it into a little pouch-like purse
+with metal jaws, which she had taken from her pocket.
+
+“Your position is a very disagreeable one,” said I, reverting to the
+main topic. “I wonder that you haven’t applied for a judicial
+separation. There are ample grounds for making the application.”
+
+“I suppose there are. But it wouldn’t help me really, even if it were
+granted. I shouldn’t get rid of him.”
+
+“You could apply to the police if he molested you.”
+
+“No doubt. But that doesn’t sound very restful, does it?”
+
+“I am afraid it doesn’t. But it would be better than being constantly
+molested without having any remedy or refuge.”
+
+“Perhaps it would,” she agreed doubtfully, and then, with a faint
+smile, she added: “I suppose you are wondering what on earth made me
+marry him?”
+
+“Well,” I replied, “it appears to me that his good fortune was more
+remarkable than his personal attractions.”
+
+“He wasn’t always like he is now,” said she. “I married him nearly ten
+years ago, and he was fairly presentable then. His manners were quite
+nice and he had certain accomplishments that rather appealed to a
+young girl--I was only eighteen and rather impressionable. He was then
+getting a living by writing magazine stories--love stories, they were,
+of a highly emotional type--and occasional verses. They were
+second-rate stuff, really, but to me he seemed a budding genius. It
+was not until after we were married that the disillusionment came, and
+then only gradually as his bad habits developed.”
+
+“By the way, what do you suppose he has come down here for? What does
+he want? I suppose he wishes you to go back to him?”
+
+“I suppose he does. But, primarily, I expect he wants money. It is a
+horrible position,” she added, with sudden passion. “I hate the idea
+of hiding away from him when I suspect that the poor wretch has come
+down to his last few shillings. After all, he is my husband; and I am
+not so deadly poor now.”
+
+“He seemed to have the wherewith to provide a fair supply of tobacco,
+to say nothing of the cocaine and a ‘modest quencher’ at the tavern,”
+I remarked drily. “At any rate, I hope he won’t succeed in finding out
+where you live.”
+
+“I hope not,” said she. “If he does, I shall have to move on, as I
+have had to do several times already, and I don’t want to do that. I
+have only been here a little over two months, and it has been very
+pleasant and peaceful. But you see, Dr. Strangeways, that, if I am to
+follow Mr. Japp’s advice, I shall inflict on you a very unpromising
+patient. There is no medical treatment for matrimonial troubles.”
+
+“No,” I agreed, rising and taking up my hat, “but the physical effects
+may be dealt with. If I am appointed your medical advisor, I shall
+send you a tonic, and if I may look in now and again to see how you
+are getting on, I may be able to help you over some of your
+difficulties.”
+
+“It is very kind of you,” she said, rising and shaking my hand warmly;
+and, accepting my suggestion that she had better not come to the
+street door, she showed me out into the hall and dismissed me with a
+smile and a little bow.
+
+When I reached the bottom of the steps, I stood irresolutely for a few
+moments and then, instead of making my way homeward, turned up the
+street towards the cathedral and the bridge, walking slowly and
+reflecting profoundly on the story I had just heard. It was a pitiful
+story; and the quiet, restrained manner of the telling made it the
+more impressive. All that was masculine in me rose in revolt against
+the useless, inexcusable wrecking of this poor woman’s life. As to the
+man, he was, no doubt, to be pitied for being the miserable,
+degenerate wretch that he was. But he was doomed beyond any hope of
+salvation. Such wretches as he are condemned in the moment of their
+birth; they are born to an inheritance of misery and dishonour. But it
+is infamous that in their inevitable descent into the abyss--from
+which no one can save them--they should have the power to drag down
+with them sane and healthy human beings who were destined by nature to
+a life of happiness, of usefulness, and honour. I thought of the woman
+I had just left--comely, dignified, energetic, probably even talented.
+What was her future to be? So far as I could see, the upas shadow of
+this drug-sodden wastrel had fallen upon her, never to be lifted until
+merciful death should dissolve the ill-omened union.
+
+This last reflection gave my thoughts a new turn. What was this man’s
+purpose in pursuing her? Was he bent merely on extorting money or on
+sharing her modest income? Or was there some more sinister motive? I
+recalled his face; an evil, sly, vindictive face. I considered what I
+knew of him; that he had undoubtedly made one attempt to murder this
+woman, and that, to my knowledge, he carried about his person the
+means of committing murder. For what purpose could he have provided
+himself with that formidable weapon? It might be merely as a means of
+coercion, or it might be as a means of revenge.
+
+Thus meditating, I had proceeded some distance along the street when I
+observed, on the opposite side, an old, three-gabled house which
+looked like some kind of institution. A lamp above the doorway threw
+its light on a stone tablet on which I could see an inscription of
+some length, and, judging this to be an ancient almshouse, I crossed
+the road to inspect it more closely. A glance at the tablet told me
+that this was the famous rest-house established in the sixteenth
+century by worthy Richard Watts, to give a night’s lodging and
+entertainment to six poor travellers, with the express proviso that
+the said travellers must be neither rogues nor proctors. I had read
+through the quaint inscription and was speculating, as many others
+have speculated, on the nature of Richard Watts’s grievance against
+proctors as a class, when the door opened suddenly and a man rushed
+out with such impetuosity that he nearly collided with me. I had moved
+out of his way when he halted and addressed me excitedly.
+
+“I say, governor, can you tell me where I can find a doctor?”
+
+“You have found one,” I replied. “I am a doctor. What is the matter?”
+
+“There’s a bloke in here throwing a fit,” he answered, backing into
+the doorway and holding the door open for me. I entered, and followed
+him down a passage to a largish, barely furnished room, where I found
+four men and a woman, who looked like a hospital nurse, standing
+around and watching anxiously a man who lay on the floor.
+
+“Here’s a doctor, matron,” said my conductor, as he ushered me in.
+
+“Well, Simmonds,” said the matron, “you haven’t wasted much time.”
+
+“No, mum,” replied Simmonds, “I struck it lucky. Caught him just
+outside.”
+
+Meanwhile I had stepped up to the prostrate man, and at the first
+glance I recognized him. He was Mrs. Frood’s husband. And, whatever he
+might be “throwing,” it was not a fit--in the ordinary medical sense;
+that is to say, it was not epilepsy or apoplexy; nor was it a fainting
+fit of an orthodox kind. If the patient had been a woman one would
+have called it a hysterical seizure, and I could give it no other
+name, though I was not unmindful of the paper packet that I had seen
+on that former occasion. But the emotional element was obvious. The
+man purported to be insensible, and manifestly was not. The tightly
+closed eyes, the everted lips--showing a row of blackened teeth--the
+clutching movements of the claw-like hands--all were suggestive of at
+least half-conscious simulation. I stood for a while, stooping over
+him and watching him intently, and as I did so the bystanders watched
+me. Then I felt his pulse, and found it, as I had expected, quick,
+feeble, and irregular; and finally, producing my stethoscope, listened
+to his heart with as little disturbance of his clothing as possible.
+
+“Well, Doctor,” said the matron, “what do you think of him?”
+
+“He is decidedly ill,” I replied. “His heart is rather jumpy, and not
+very strong. Too much tobacco, I fancy, and perhaps some other things
+that are not very good, and possibly insufficient food.”
+
+“He told me, when he came in,” said the matron, “that he was
+practically destitute.”
+
+“Ah,” murmured Simmonds, “I expect he’s been blowing all his money on
+Turkish baths,” whereupon the other poor travellers sniggered softly,
+and were immediately extinguished by a reproving glance from the
+matron.
+
+“Do you know what brought this attack on?” I asked.
+
+“Yes,” she replied; “he had a little dispute with Simmonds, here, and
+suddenly became violently excited, and then he fell down insensible,
+as you see him. It was all about nothing.”
+
+“I jest arsked ’im,” said Simmonds, “if ’e could give me the name of
+the cove what done ’is ’air, ’cos I thought I’d like to ’ave mine done
+in the same fashionable style. That seemed to give ’im the fair pip.
+’E jawed me something chronic, until I got shirty and told ’im if ’e
+didn’t shut ’is face I’d give ’im a wipe acrost the snout. Then blow
+me if ’e didn’t start to throw a fit.”
+
+While this lucid explanation was proceeding I noticed that the patient
+was evidently listening intently, though he continued to twitch his
+face, exhibit his unlovely teeth, and wriggle his fingers. He was
+apparently waiting for my verdict with some anxiety.
+
+“The question is,” said the matron, “what is to be done with him? Do
+you think he is in any danger?”
+
+As she spoke, we drifted towards the door, and when we were in the
+passage, out of earshot, I said:
+
+“The best place for that man is the infirmary. There is nothing much
+the matter with him but dope. He has been dosing himself with cocaine,
+and he has probably got some more of the stuff about him. He is in no
+danger now, but if he takes any more he may upset himself badly.”
+
+“It is rather late to send him to the infirmary,” she said, “and I
+don’t quite like to do it. Poor fellow, he seems fearfully down on his
+luck, and he is quite a superior kind of man. Do you think it would be
+safe for him to stay here for the night if he had a little medicine of
+some kind?”
+
+“It would be safe enough,” I replied, “if you could get possession of
+his coat and waistcoat and lock them up until the morning.”
+
+“Oh, I’ll manage that,” said she; “and about the medicine?”
+
+“Let Simmonds walk up with me--I have taken Dr. Partridge’s
+practice--and I will give it to him.”
+
+We re-entered the supper-room and found the conditions somewhat
+changed. Whether it was that the word “infirmary” had been wafted to
+the patient’s attentive ears, I cannot say; but there were evident
+signs of recovery. Our friend was sitting up, glaring wildly about
+him, and inquiring where he was; to which questions Simmonds was
+furnishing answers of a luridly inaccurate character. When I had taken
+another look at the patient, and received a vacant stare of almost
+aggressive unrecognition, I took possession of the facetious Simmonds,
+and, having promised to look in in the morning, wished the matron
+good-night and departed with my escort; who entertained me on the way
+home with picturesque, unflattering, and remarkably shrewd comments on
+the sufferer.
+
+I had made up a stimulant mixture, and handed it to Simmonds when I
+remembered Mrs. Frood and that Simmonds would pass her house on his
+way back. For an instant, I thought of asking him to deliver her
+medicine for me; and then, with quite a shock, I realized what a
+hideous blunder it would have been. Evidently, the poor travellers
+gave their names, and if the man, Frood, had given his correctly, the
+coincidence of the names would have impressed Simmonds instantly, and
+then the murder would have been out, and the fat would have been in
+the fire properly. It was a narrow escape, and it made me realize how
+insecure was that unfortunate lady’s position with this man lurking in
+the town. And, realizing this, I determined to trust the addressed
+bottle to nobody, but to leave it at the house myself. Accordingly,
+having made up the medicine and wrapped it neatly in paper, I thrust
+it into my pocket, and, calling out to Mrs. Dunk that I should be back
+to supper in about half an hour, I set forth, and in a few minutes
+arrived at the little Georgian doorway and plied the elegant brass
+knocker. The door was opened--rather incautiously, I thought--by Mrs.
+Frood herself.
+
+“I am my own bottle-boy, you see, Mrs. Frood,” said I, handing her the
+medicine. “I thought it safer not to send an addressed packet under
+the circumstances.”
+
+“But how good of you!” she exclaimed. “How kind and thoughtful! But
+you shouldn’t have troubled about it to-night.”
+
+“It was only a matter of five minutes’ walk,” said I, “and besides,
+there was something that I thought you had better know,” and hereupon
+I proceeded to give her a brief account of my recent adventures and
+the condition of her precious husband. “Is he subject to attacks of
+this kind?” I asked.
+
+“Yes,” she answered. “When he is put out about anything in some ways
+he is rather like a hysterical woman. But, you see, I was right. He is
+penniless. And that--now I come to think of it--makes it rather odd
+that he should be here. But won’t you come in for a moment?”
+
+I entered and shut the door. “Why is it odd?” I asked.
+
+“Because he would be getting some money to-morrow. I make him a small
+allowance; it is very little, but it is as much as I can possibly
+manage; and it is paid monthly, on the fifteenth of the month. But he
+has to apply for it personally at the bank or send an accredited
+messenger with a receipt; and as to-morrow is the fifteenth, the
+question is, why on earth is he down here now? I mean that it is odd
+that he should not have waited to collect the allowance before coming
+to hunt me up.”
+
+“If he is in communication with your banker,” said I, “he could, I
+suppose, get a letter forwarded to you?”
+
+“No,” she replied; “the banker who pays him is the London agent of Mr.
+Japp’s banker, and he doesn’t know on whose behalf the payments are
+made. I had to make that arrangement, or he would have bombarded me
+with letters.”
+
+“Well,” I said, “you had better keep close for a day or two. If his
+search for you is unsuccessful, he may get discouraged and raise the
+siege. I will let you know what his movements are, so far as I can.”
+
+She thanked me once more with most evident sincerity, and as I made my
+way to the door, she let me out with a cordial and friendly shake of
+the hand.
+
+
+
+
+ CHAPTER IV.
+ DEALS WITH CHARITY AND ARCHÆOLOGY
+
+Immediately after breakfast on the following morning I made my way
+to Mr. Richard Watts’s establishment, where I learned that all the
+poor travellers had departed with the exception of my patient, who had
+been allowed to stay pending my report on him.
+
+“I shall be glad to see the back of him, poor fellow,” said the
+matron, “for, of course, we have no arrangements for dealing with sick
+men.”
+
+“Do you often get cases of illness here?” I asked.
+
+“I really don’t know,” she answered. “You see, I am only doing
+temporary duty here while the regular matron is away. But I should
+think not, though little ailments are apt to occur in the case of a
+poor man who has been on the road for a week or so.”
+
+“This man is on tramp, is he?” said I.
+
+“Well, no,” she replied. “It seems, from what he tells me, that his
+wife has left him, and he had reason to believe that she was staying
+in this town. So he came down here to try to find her. He supposed
+that Rochester was a little place where everybody knew everybody else,
+and that he would have no difficulty in discovering her whereabouts.
+But all his inquiries have come to nothing. Nobody seems to have heard
+of her. I suppose you don’t happen to know the name--Frood?”
+
+“I only came here yesterday, myself,” was my evasive reply. “I am a
+stranger to the town. But is he certain that she is here?”
+
+“I don’t think he is. At any rate, he seems inclined to give up the
+search for the present, and he is very anxious to get back to London.
+But I don’t know how he is going to manage it. He isn’t fit to walk.”
+
+“Well,” I said, “if it is only the railway fare that stands in the
+way, that difficulty can be got over. I will pay for his ticket; but I
+should like to be sure that he really goes.”
+
+“Oh, I’ll see to that,” she said, with evident relief. “I will go with
+him to the station, and get his ticket and see him into the train. But
+you had better just have a look at him, and see that he is fit to go.”
+
+She conducted me to the supper-room, where our friend was sitting in a
+Windsor armchair, looking the very picture of misery and dejection.
+
+“Here is the doctor come to see you, Mr. Frood,” the matron said
+cheerfully, “and he is kind enough to say that, if you are well enough
+to travel, he will pay your fare to London. So there’s an end of your
+difficulties.”
+
+The poor devil glanced at me for an instant, and then looked away;
+and, to my intense discomfort, I saw that his eyes were filling.
+
+“It is indeed good of you, Sir,” he murmured, shakily, but in a very
+pleasant voice and with a refined accent; “most good and kind to help
+a lame dog over a stile in this way. I don’t know how to thank you.”
+
+Here, as he showed a distinct tendency to weep, I replied hastily:
+
+“Not at all. We’ve all got to help one another in this world. And how
+are you feeling? Hand is still a little bit shaky, I see.”
+
+I put my finger on his wrist and then looked him over generally. He
+was a miserable wreck, but I judged that he was as well as he was ever
+likely to be.
+
+“Well,” I said, “you are not in first-class form, but you are up to a
+short railway journey. I suppose you have somewhere to go to in
+London?”
+
+“Yes,” he replied, dismally, “I have a room. It isn’t in the Albany,
+but it is a shelter from the weather.”
+
+“Never mind,” said I. “We must hope for better times. The matron is
+going to see you safely to the station and comfortably settled in the
+train--and”--here I handed her a ten shilling note--“you will get Mr.
+Frood’s ticket, matron, and you had better give him the change. He may
+want a cab when he gets to town.”
+
+He glowered sulkily at this arrangement--I suspect he had run out of
+cigarettes--but he thanked me again, and, when I had privately
+ascertained the time of the train which was to bear him away, I wished
+him adieu.
+
+“I suppose,” said I, “there is no likelihood of his hopping out at
+Strood to get a drink and losing the train?”
+
+The matron smiled knowingly. “He will start from Strood,” said she. “I
+shall take him over the bridge in the tram and put him into the London
+express there. We don’t want him back here to-night.”
+
+Much relieved by the good lady’s evident grasp of the situation, I
+turned away up the street and began to consider my next move. I had
+nothing to do this morning, for at present there was not a single
+patient on my books with the exception of Mrs. Frood; and it may have
+been in accordance with the prevailing belief that to persons in my
+condition, an individual, familiarly known as “the old gentleman,”
+obligingly functions as employment agent, that my thoughts turned to
+that solitary patient. At any rate they did. Suddenly, it was borne in
+on me that I ought, without delay, to convey to her the glad tidings
+of her husband’s departure. Whether the necessity would have appeared
+as urgent if her personal attractions had been less, I will not
+presume to say; nor whether had I been more self-critical, I should
+not have looked with some suspicion on this intense concern respecting
+the welfare of a woman who was almost a stranger to me. As it was, it
+appeared to me that I was but discharging a neighbourly duty when I
+executed an insinuating rat-tat on the handsome brass knocker which
+was adorned--somewhat inappropriately, under the circumstances--with
+a mask of Hypnos.
+
+After a short interval, the door was opened by a spare, middle-aged
+woman of melancholic aspect, with tow-coloured hair and a somewhat
+anæmic complexion, who regarded me inquiringly with a faded blue eye.
+
+“Is Mrs. Frood at home?” I asked briskly.
+
+“I am afraid she is not,” was the reply, uttered in a dejected tone.
+“I saw her go out some time ago, and I haven’t heard her come back.
+But I’ll just see, if you will come in a moment.”
+
+I entered the hall and listened with an unaccountable feeling of
+disappointment as she rapped on the door first of the front room, and
+then of the back.
+
+“She isn’t in her rooms there,” was the dispirited report, “but she
+may be in the basement. I’ll call out and ask.”
+
+She retired to the inner hall and gave utterance to a wail like that
+of an afflicted sea-gull. But there was no response; and I began to
+feel myself infected by her melancholy.
+
+“I am sorry you have missed her, Sir,” said she; and then she asked:
+
+“Are you her doctor, Sir?”
+
+I felt myself justified in affirming that I was, whereupon she
+exclaimed:
+
+“Ah, poor thing! It is a comfort to know that she has someone to look
+after her. She has been looking very sadly of late. Very sadly, she
+has.”
+
+I began to back cautiously towards the door, but she followed me up
+and continued: “I am afraid she has had a deal of trouble; a deal of
+trouble, poor dear. Not that she ever speaks of it to me. But I know.
+I can see the lines of grief and sorrow--like a worm in the bud, so to
+speak, Sir--and it makes my heart ache. It does, indeed.”
+
+I mumbled sympathetically and continued to back towards the door.
+
+“I don’t see very much of her,” she continued in a plaintive tone.
+“She keeps herself very close. Too close, I think. You see, she does
+for herself entirely. Now and again, when she asks me, which is very
+seldom, I put a bit of supper in her room. That is all. And I do think
+that it isn’t good for a young woman to live so solitary; and I do
+hope you’ll make her take a little more change.”
+
+“I suppose she goes out sometimes,” said I, noting that she was out at
+the present moment.
+
+“Oh, yes,” was the reply. “She goes out a good deal. But always alone.
+She never has any society.”
+
+“And what time does she usually come in?” I asked, with a view to a
+later call.
+
+“About six; or between that and seven. Then she has her supper and
+puts the things out on the hall table. And that is the last I usually
+see of her.”
+
+By this time I had reached the door and softly unfastened the latch.
+
+“If you should see her,” I said, “you might tell her that I shall look
+in this evening about half-past seven.”
+
+“Certainly, Sir,” she replied. “I shall see her at lunch-time, and I
+will give her your message.”
+
+I thanked her, and, having now got the door open, I wished her good
+morning, and retreated down the steps.
+
+As I was in the act of turning away, my eye lighted on the adjacent
+bay window, appertaining to the office of Messrs. Japp and Bundy, and
+I then perceived above the green curtain the upper half of a human
+face, including a pair of tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles; an
+apparition which informed me that Mr. Bundy had been--to use Sam
+Weller’s expression--“a-twigging of me.” On catching my eye, the face
+rose higher, disclosing a broad grin; whereupon, without any apparent
+reason, I felt myself turning somewhat red. However, I mounted the
+official steps, and, opening the office door, confronted the smiler
+and his more sedate partner.
+
+“Ha!” said the former, “you drew a blank, Doctor. I saw the lovely
+Angelina go out about an hour ago. Whom did you see?”
+
+“The lady of the house, I presume; a pale, depressed female.”
+
+“I know,” said Bundy. “Looks like an undertaker’s widow. That’s Mrs.
+Gillow. Rhymes with willow--very appropriate, too,” and he began to
+chant in an absurd, Punch-like voice: “Oh, all round my hat I’ll wear
+the green----”
+
+“Be quiet, Bundy,” said Mr. Japp, regarding his partner with a wrinkly
+and indulgent smile.
+
+Bundy clapped his hand over his mouth and blew out his cheeks, and I
+took the opportunity to explain: “I called on Mrs. Frood to let her
+know that her husband is leaving the town.”
+
+“Leaving the town, is he?” said Mr. Japp, elevating his eyebrows and
+thereby causing his forehead to resemble a small Venetian blind. “Do
+you know when?”
+
+“He goes this morning by the ten-thirty express to London.”
+
+“Hooray!” ejaculated Bundy, with a flourish of his arms that nearly
+capsized his stool. He recovered himself with an effort, and then,
+fixing his eyes on me, proceeded to whistle the opening bars of “O!
+Thou that tellest good tidings to Zion!”
+
+“That’ll do, Bundy,” said Mr. Japp. Then turning to me, he asked:
+“Where did you learn these good tidings, Doctor?”
+
+I gave them a brief account of the happenings of the previous night
+and this morning’s sequel, to which they listened with deep attention.
+When I had finished Mr. Japp said: “You have done a very great
+kindness to my friend Mrs. Frood. It will be an immense relief to her
+to know that she can walk abroad without the danger of encountering
+this man. Besides, if he had stayed here he would probably have found
+her out.”
+
+“He might even have found her at home,” said Bundy, “and that would
+have been worse. So I propose a vote of thanks to the doctor--with
+musical honours. For-hor he’s a jolly good fell----”
+
+“There, that’ll do, Bundy, that’ll do,” said Mr. Japp. “I never saw
+such a fellow. You’ll have the neighbours complaining.”
+
+Bundy leaned towards me confidentially and remarked in a stage
+whisper, glancing at his partner: “Fidgetty old cove; regular old
+kill-joy.” Then, with a sudden change of manner, he asked: “What about
+that wall job, Japp? Are you going to have a look at them?”
+
+“I can’t go at present,” said Japp. “Bulford will be coming in
+presently and I must see him. Have you got anything special to do?”
+
+“Only old Jeffson’s lease, and that can wait. Shall I trot over and
+see what sort of mess they are making of things?”
+
+“I wish you would,” said Japp; whereupon Mr. Bundy removed his
+spectacles, stuck in his eye-glass, extracted from the desk his hat
+and gloves which he assumed with the aid of the looking-glass, and
+took his stick from the corner. Then he looked at me reflectively and
+asked:
+
+“Are you interested in archæology, Doctor?”
+
+“Somewhat,” I replied. “Why do you ask?”
+
+“Because we are putting some patches in the remains of the city wall.
+It isn’t much to look at, and there isn’t a great deal of the original
+Roman work left; but if you would care to have a look at it you might
+walk up there with me.”
+
+I agreed readily, being, as I have said, somewhat at a loose end, and
+we set forth together, Bundy babbling cheerfully as we went.
+
+“I have often thought,” said he, “that there must have been something
+rather pleasant and restful about the old walled cities, particularly
+after curfew when the gates were shut--that is, provided you were
+inside at the time.”
+
+“Yes,” said I. “An enclosed precinct has a certain agreeable quality
+of seclusion that you can’t get in an open town or village. When I was
+a student, I lived for a time in chambers in Staple Inn, and it was,
+as you say, rather pleasant, when one came home at night, and the
+porter had let one in at the wicket, to enter and find the gates
+closed, the courts all quiet and empty, and to know that all traffic
+was stopped and all strangers shut out until the morning. But it
+doesn’t appear to be in accordance with modern taste, for those old
+Chancery Inns have nearly all gone, and there is no tendency to
+replace them with anything similar.”
+
+“No,” Bundy agreed, stopping to look up at an old timber house, “taste
+in regard to buildings, if there is any--Japp says there isn’t--has
+changed completely in the last hundred years or so. Look at this alley
+we are in now. Every house has got a physiognomy of its own. But when
+we rebuild it, we shall fill it up with houses that will look as if
+they had been bought in packets like match-boxes.”
+
+Gossiping thus, we threaded our way through all sorts of queer little
+alleys and passages. At length Bundy stopped at a wooden gate in a
+high fence, and, pushing it open, motioned for me to enter; and as I
+did so he drew out the key which was in the lock and put it in his
+pocket.
+
+The place which we had entered was a space of waste land, littered
+with the remains of some old houses that had been demolished and
+enclosed on three sides by high fences. The fourth side was formed by
+a great mass of crumbling rubble, patched in places with rough masonry
+and brickwork, and showing in its lower part the remains of courses of
+Roman bricks. It rose to a considerable height, and was evidently of
+enormous thickness, as could be seen where large areas of the face had
+crumbled away, exposing great cavities, in which wall-flowers,
+valerian and other rock-haunting plants, had taken up their abode. On
+one of these a small gang of men were at work, and it was evident that
+repairs on a considerable scale were contemplated, for there were
+several large heaps of rough stone and old bricks, and in a cart-shed
+in a corner of the space were a large number of barrels of lime.
+
+As we entered, the foreman came forward to meet us, and Bundy handed
+him the key from the gate.
+
+“Better keep it in your pocket,” said he. “Mr. Japp is rather
+particular about keys that he has charge of. He doesn’t like them left
+in doors or gates. How are the men getting on?”
+
+“As well as you can expect of a lot of casuals like these,” was the
+reply. “There isn’t a mason or a bricklayer among them, excepting that
+old chap that’s mixing the mortar. However, it’s only a rough job.”
+
+We walked over to the part of the old wall where the men were at work,
+and the appearances certainly justified the foreman’s last remark. It
+was a very rough job. The method appeared to consist in building up
+outside the cavity a primitive wall of unhewn stone with plenty of
+mortar, and, when it had risen a foot or two, filling up the cavity
+inside with loose bricks, lumps of stone, shovelfuls of liquid mortar,
+and chunks of lime.
+
+I ventured to remark that it did not look a very secure method of
+building, upon which Bundy turned his eyeglass on me and smiled
+knowingly.
+
+“My dear Doctor,” said he, “you don’t appear to appreciate the
+subtlety of the method. The purpose of these activities is to create
+employment. That has been clearly stated by the town council. But if
+you want to create employment you build a wall that will tumble down
+and give somebody else the job of putting it up again.”
+
+Here, as a man suddenly bore down on us with a bucket of mortar, Bundy
+hopped back to avoid the unclean contact, and nearly sat down on a
+heap of smoking lime.
+
+“You had a narrow escape that time, mister,” remarked the old
+gentleman who presided over the mortar department, as Bundy carefully
+dusted his delicate shoes with his handkerchief; “that stuff would
+’ave made short work of them fine clothes of yourn.”
+
+“Would it?” said Bundy, dusting his shoes yet more carefully and
+wiping the soles on the turf.
+
+“Ah,” rejoined the old man; “terrible stuff is quicklime. Eats up
+everything same as what fire does.” He rested his hands on his shovel,
+and, assuming a reminiscent air, continued: “There was a pal o’ mine
+what was skipper of a barge. A iron barge, she was, and he had to take
+on a lading of lime from some kilns. The stuff was put aboard with a
+shoot. Well, my pal, he gets ’is barge under the shoot and then ’e
+goes off, leavin’ ’is mate to see the lime shot into the hold. Well,
+it seems the mate had been takin’ some stuff aboard, too. Beer, or
+p’raps whisky. At any rate, he’d got a skinful. Well, presently the
+skipper comes back, and he sees ’em a-tippin’ the trucks of lime on to
+the shoot, and he sees the barge’s hold beginning to fill, but ’e
+don’t see ’is mate nowhere. He goes aboard, down to the cabin, but
+there ain’t no signs of the mate there, nor yet anywheres else. Well,
+they gets the barge loaded and the hatch-covers on, and everything
+ready for sea; and still there ain’t no signs of the mate. So my pal,
+rememberin’ that the mate--his name was Bill--rememberin’ that Bill
+seemed a bit squiffy, supposed he must ’ave gone overboard. So ’e
+takes on a fresh hand temporary and off ’e goes on ’is trip.
+
+“Well, they makes their port all right and brings up alongside the
+wharf, but owing to a strike among the transport men they can’t unload
+for about three weeks. However, when the strike is over, they rigs a
+whip and a basket and begins to get the stuff out. All goes well until
+they get down to the bottom tier. Then one of the men brings up a bone
+on his shovel. ‘Hallo!’ says the skipper, ‘what’s bones a-doin’ in a
+cargo of fresh lime?’ He rakes over the stuff on the floor and up
+comes a skull with a hole in the top of it. ‘Why, blow me,’ says the
+skipper, ‘if that don’t look like Bill. He warn’t as thin in the face
+as all that, but I seem to know them teeth.’ Just then one of the men
+finds a clay pipe--a nigger’s head, it was--and the skipper
+reckernizes it at once. ‘That there’s Bill’s pipe,’ sez he, ‘and them
+bones is Bill’s bones,’ ’e sez. And so they were. They found ’is
+belt-buckle and ’is knife, and ’is trouser buttons and the nails out
+of ’is boots. And that’s all there was left of Bill. He must have
+tumbled down into the hold and cracked his nut, and then the first
+truckful of lime must ’ave covered ’im up. So, if you sets any value
+on them ’andsome shoes o’ yourn, don’t you go a-treadin’ in quick
+lime.”
+
+Bundy looked down anxiously at his shoes, and, having given them an
+additional wipe, he moved away from the dangerous neighbourhood of the
+lime and we went together to examine the ancient wall.
+
+“That was rather a tall yarn of the old man’s,” remarked Bundy. “Is it
+a fact that lime is as corrosive as he made out?”
+
+“I don’t really know very much about it,” I replied. “There is a
+general belief that it will consume almost anything but metal. How
+true that is I can’t say, but I remember that at the Crippen trial one
+of the medical experts--I think it was Pepper--said that if the body
+had been buried in quicklime it would have been entirely
+consumed--excepting the bones, of course. But it is difficult to
+believe that a body could disappear completely in three weeks, or
+thereabouts, as our friend said. How fine this old wall looks with
+those clumps of valerian and wallflowers growing on it! I suppose it
+encircled the town completely at one time?”
+
+“Yes,” he replied, “and it is a pity there isn’t more of it left, or
+at least one or two of the gateways. A city gate is such a magnificent
+adornment. Think of the gates of Canterbury and Rye, and especially at
+Sandwich, where you actually enter the town through the barbican; and
+think of what Rochester must have been before all the gates were
+pulled down. But you must hear Japp on the subject. He’s a regular
+architectural Jeremiah. By the way, what did you think of Mrs. Frood?
+You saw her last night, didn’t you?”
+
+“Yes. I was rather taken with her. She is very nice and friendly and
+unaffected, and good-looking, too. I thought her distinctly handsome.”
+
+“She isn’t bad-looking,” Bundy admitted. “But I can’t stand her voice.
+It gets on my nerves. I hate a squeaky voice.”
+
+“I shouldn’t call it squeaky,” said I. “It is a high voice, and rather
+sing-song; and it isn’t, somehow, quite in keeping with her appearance
+and manner.”
+
+“No,” said Bundy, “that’s what it is. She’s too big for a voice like
+that.”
+
+I laughed at the quaint expression. “People’s voices,” said I, “are
+not like steamers’ whistles, graduated in pitch according to their
+tonnage. Besides, Mrs. Frood is not such a very big woman.”
+
+“She is a good size,” said he. “I should call her rather tall. At any
+rate, she is taller than I am. But I suppose you will say that she
+might be that without competing with the late Mrs. Bates.”
+
+“Comparisons between the heights of men and women,” I said cautiously,
+“are rather misleading,” and here I changed the subject, though I
+judged that Bundy was not sensitive in regard to his stature, for
+while he was cleaning the lime from his shoes I had noticed that he
+wore unusually low heels. Nor need he have been, for though on a small
+scale, he was quite an important-looking person.
+
+“Don’t you think,” he asked, after a pause, “that it is rather queer
+that the man Frood should have gone off so soon? He only came down
+yesterday, and he can’t have made much of a search for Madame.”
+
+“The queer thing is that he should have come down on that particular
+day,” I replied. “It seems that he draws a monthly allowance on the
+fifteenth. That was what made him so anxious to get back; but it is
+odd that he didn’t put off his visit here until he had collected the
+money.”
+
+“If he had run his wife to earth, he could have collected it from
+her,” said Bundy. “I wonder how he found out that she was here.”
+
+“He evidently hadn’t very exact information,” I said, “nor did he seem
+quite certain that she really was here. And his failure to get any
+news of her appears to have discouraged him considerably. It is just
+possible that he has gone back to get more precise information if he
+can, when he has drawn his allowance.”
+
+“That is very likely,” Bundy agreed; “and it is probable that we
+haven’t seen the last of him yet.”
+
+“I have a strong suspicion that we haven’t,” said I. “If he is sure
+she is here, and can get enough money together to come and spend a
+week here, he will be pretty certain to discover her whereabouts. It
+is a dreadful position for her. She ought to get a judicial
+separation.”
+
+“I doubt if she could,” said he. “You may be sure he would contest
+that application pretty strongly, and what case would she have in
+support of it? He is an unclean blighter; he doesn’t work; he smokes
+and drinks too much, and you say he takes drugs. But he doesn’t seem
+to be violent or dangerous or threatening, or to be on questionable
+terms with other women--at least, I have never heard anything to that
+effect. Have you?”
+
+“No,” I answered-- I had said nothing to him or Japp about the London
+incident. “He seems to have married the only woman in the world who
+would look at him.”
+
+Bundy grinned. “An unkind cut, that, Doctor,” said he; “but I believe
+you’re right. And here we are, back at the official premises. Are you
+coming in?”
+
+I declined the invitation, and as he skipped up the steps I turned my
+face homewards.
+
+
+
+
+ CHAPTER V.
+ JOHN THORNDYKE
+
+The sexual preferences or affinities of men and women have always
+impressed me as very mysterious and inexplicable. I am referring to
+the selective choice of individuals, not to the general attraction of
+the sexes for one another. Why should a particular pair of human
+beings single one another out from the mass of their fellows as
+preferable to all others? Why to one particular man does one
+particular woman and no other become the exciting cause of the emotion
+of love? It is not a matter of mere physical beauty or mental
+excellence, for if it were men and women would be simply classifiable
+into the attractive and the non-attractive; whereas we find in
+practice that a woman who may be to the majority of men an object of
+indifference, is to some one man an object of passionate love; and
+vice-versa. Nor is love necessarily accompanied by any delusions as to
+the worth of its object, for it will persist in spite of the clear
+recognition of personal defects and in conscious conflict with
+judgment and reason.
+
+The above reflections, with others equally profound, occupied my mind
+as I sat on a rather uncomfortable little rush-seated chair in the
+nave of Rochester Cathedral; whither I had proceeded in obedience to
+orders from Mrs. Dunk, to attend the choral afternoon service; and
+they were occasioned by the sudden recognition--not without
+surprise--of the very deep impression that had been made on me by my
+patient, Mrs. Frood. For the intensity of that impression I could not
+satisfactorily account. It is true that her circumstances were
+interesting and provocative of sympathy. But that was no reason for
+the haunting of my thoughts by her, of which I was conscious. She was
+not a really beautiful woman, though I thought her more than commonly
+good-looking; and she had evidently made no particular impression on
+Bundy. Yet, though I had seen her but three times, including my first
+meeting with her a year ago, I had to recognize that she had hardly
+been out of my thoughts since, and I was aware of looking forward with
+ridiculous expectancy to my proposed visit to her this evening.
+
+Thus, speculations on the meaning of this preoccupation mingled
+themselves with other speculations, as, for instance, on the abrupt
+changes of intention suggested by half of an Early English arch
+clapped up against a Norman pier; and as my thoughts rambled on,
+undisturbed by a pleasant voice, intoning with soothing
+unintelligibility somewhere beyond the stone screen, I watched with
+languid curiosity the strangers who entered and stole on tip-toe to
+the nearest vacant chair. Presently, however, as the intoning voice
+gave place to the deep, pervading hum of the organ, a visitor entered
+who instantly attracted my attention.
+
+He was obviously a personage--a real personage; not one of those who
+have achieved greatness by the free use of their elbows, or have had
+it thrust upon them by influential friends. This was an unmistakable
+thoroughbred. He was a tall man, very erect and dignified in carriage,
+and in spite of his iron-grey hair, evidently strong, active, and
+athletic. But it was his face that specially riveted my attention: not
+merely by reason that it was a handsome, symmetrical face, inclining
+to the Greek type, with level brows, a fine, straight nose, and a
+shapely mouth, but rather on account of its suggestion of commanding
+strength and intelligence. It was a strangely calm--even
+immobile--face; but yet it conveyed a feeling of attentiveness and
+concentration, and especially of power.
+
+I watched the stranger curiously as he stepped quietly to a seat not
+far from me, noting how he seemed to stand out from the ordinary men
+who surrounded him, and wondering who he was. But I was not left to
+wonder very long. A few moments later another visitor arrived, but not
+a stranger this time; for in this newcomer I recognized an old
+acquaintance, a Dr. Jervis, whom I had known when I was a student and
+when he had taken temporary charge of my uncle’s practice. Since then,
+as I had learned, he had qualified as a barrister and specialized in
+legal medicine as the coadjutor of the famous medical jurist, Dr. John
+Thorndyke.
+
+For a few moments Jervis stood near the entrance looking about the
+nave, as if in search of someone. Then, suddenly, his eye lighted on
+the distinguished stranger, and he walked straight over to him and sat
+down by his side; from which, and from the smile of recognition with
+which he was greeted, I inferred that the stranger was none other than
+Dr. Thorndyke himself.
+
+Jervis had apparently not seen, or at least not recognized me, but, as
+I observed that there was a vacant chair by his side, I determined to
+renew our acquaintance and secure, if possible, a presentation to his
+eminent colleague. Accordingly, I crossed the nave, and, taking the
+vacant chair, introduced myself, and was greeted with a cordial
+hand-shake.
+
+The circumstances did not admit of conversation, but presently, when
+the anthem appeared to be drawing to a close, Jervis glanced at his
+watch and whispered to me: “I want to hear all your news, Strangeways,
+and to introduce you to Thorndyke; and we must get some tea before we
+go to the station. Shall we clear out now?”
+
+As I assented he whispered to Thorndyke, and we all rose and filed
+silently towards the door, our exit covered by the concluding strains
+of the anthem. As soon as we were outside Jervis presented me to his
+colleague, and suggested an immediate adjournment to some place of
+refreshment. I proposed that they should come and have tea with me,
+but Jervis replied: “I’m afraid we haven’t time to-day. There is a
+very comfortable teashop close to the Jasperian gate-house. You had
+better come there and then perhaps you can walk to the station with
+us.”
+
+We adopted this plan, and when we had established ourselves on a
+settle by the window of the ancient, low-ceiled room and given our
+orders to a young lady in a becoming brown costume, Jervis proceeded
+to interrogate.
+
+“And what might you be doing in Rochester, Strangeways?”
+
+“Nominally,” I replied, “I am engaged in medical practice. Actually, I
+am a gentleman at large. I have taken a death vacancy here, and I
+arrived yesterday morning.”
+
+“Any patients?” he inquired.
+
+“Two at present,” I answered. “One I brought down with me and returned
+empty this morning. The other is his wife.”
+
+“Ha,” said Jervis, “a concise statement, but obscure. It seems to
+require amplification.”
+
+I accordingly proceeded to amplify, describing in detail my journey
+from town and my subsequent dealings with my fellow-traveller. The
+circumstances of Mrs. Frood, being matters of professional confidence,
+I was at first disposed to suppress; but then, reflecting that my two
+friends were in a position to give expert opinions and advice, I put
+them in possession of all the facts that were known to me, excepting
+the Regent’s Park incident, which I felt hardly at liberty to
+disclose.
+
+“Well,” said Jervis, when I had finished, “if the rest of your
+practice develops on similar lines, we shall have to set up a branch
+establishment in your neighbourhood. There are all sorts of
+possibilities in this case. Don’t you think so, Thorndyke?”
+
+“I should hardly say ‘all sorts,’” was the reply. “The possibilities
+seem to me to be principally of one sort; extremely disagreeable for
+the poor lady. She has the alternatives of allowing herself to be
+associated with this man--which seems to be impossible--or of spending
+the remainder of her life in a perpetual effort to escape from him;
+which is an appalling prospect for a young woman.”
+
+“Yes,” agreed Jervis, “it is bad enough. But there seems to me worse
+possibilities with a fellow of this kind; a drinking, drug-swallowing,
+hysterical degenerate. You never know what a man of that type will
+do.”
+
+“You always hope that he will commit suicide,” said Thorndyke; “and to
+do him justice, he does, fairly often show that much perception of his
+proper place in nature. But, as you say, the actions of a mentally and
+morally abnormal man are incalculable. He may kill himself or he may
+kill somebody else, or he may join with other abnormals to commit
+incomprehensible and apparently motiveless political crimes. But we
+will hope that Mr. Frood will limit his activities to sponging on his
+wife.”
+
+The conversation now turned from my affairs to those of my friends,
+and I ventured to inquire what had brought them to Rochester.
+
+“We came down,” said Jervis, “to watch an inquest for one of our
+insurance clients. But after all it has had to be adjourned for a
+fortnight. So we may have the pleasure of seeing you again.”
+
+“We won’t leave it to chance,” said I. “Let us settle that you come to
+lunch with me, if that will be convenient. You can fix your own time.”
+
+My two friends consulted, and, having referred to their time-table,
+accepted the invitation for one o’clock on that day fortnight; and
+when I had “booked the appointment,” we finished our tea and sallied
+forth, making our way over the bridge to Strood Station, at the main
+entrance to which I wished them adieu.
+
+As I turned away from the station and sauntered slowly along the shore
+before recrossing the bridge, I recalled the conversation of my two
+colleagues with a certain vague discomfort. To both of them, it was
+evident, the relations of my fair patient and her husband presented
+sinister possibilities, although I had not informed them of the actual
+murderous attack; and though the more cautious reticent Thorndyke had
+seemed to minimize them, his remarks had expressed what was already in
+my own mind, accentuated by what I knew. These nervy, abnormal men are
+never safe to deal with. Their unstable emotions may be upset in a
+moment and then no one can tell what will happen. It was quite
+possible that Frood had come to Rochester with the perfectly peaceable
+intention of inducing his wife to return to him. But this was far from
+certain, and I shuddered to think of what might follow a refusal on
+her part. I did not like that knife. I have a sane man’s dislike of
+lethal weapons of all kinds; but especially do I dislike them in the
+hands of those whose self-control is liable to break down suddenly.
+
+It was true that this man had not succeeded in finding his wife, and
+even seemed to have given up the search. But I felt pretty certain
+that he had not. Somehow, he had discovered that she was in the town,
+and from the same source he might get further information; and, in any
+case, I felt no doubt that he would renew the pursuit, and that, in
+the end, he would find her. And then--but at this point I found myself
+opposite the house and observed Mrs. Gillow standing on the doorstep,
+fumbling in her pocket for the latch-key. She had just extracted it,
+and was in the act of inserting it into the latch when I crossed the
+road and made my presence known. She greeted me with a wan smile as I
+ascended the steps, and, having by this time got the door open,
+admitted me to the hall.
+
+“I gave Mrs. Frood your message at lunch-time, sir,” said she, in a
+depressed tone, “and I believe she has come in.” Here, having closed
+the street door, she rapped softly with her knuckles at that of the
+front room, whereupon the voice to which Bundy objected so much called
+out: “Come in, Mrs. Gillow.”
+
+The latter threw the door open. “It is the doctor, Madam,” said she;
+and on this announcement, I walked in.
+
+“I didn’t hear you knock,” said Mrs. Frood, rising, and holding out
+her hand.
+
+“I didn’t knock,” I replied. “I sneaked in under cover of Mrs.
+Gillow.”
+
+“That was very secret and cautious of you,” said she. “You make me
+feel like a sort of feminine Prince Charlie, lying perdu in the
+robbers’ cavern; whereas, I have actually been taking my walks abroad
+and brazenly looking in the shop windows. But I have kept a sharp
+lookout, all the same.”
+
+“There really wasn’t any need,” said I. “The siege is raised.”
+
+“You don’t mean that my husband has gone?” she exclaimed.
+
+“I do, indeed,” I answered; and I gave her a brief account of the
+events of the morning, suppressing my unofficial part in the
+transaction.
+
+“Do you think,” she asked, “that the matron paid his fare out of her
+own pocket?”
+
+“I am sure she didn’t,” I answered hastily. “She touched some local
+altruist for the amount; it was only a few shillings, you know.”
+
+“Still,” she said, “I feel that I ought to refund those few shillings.
+They were really expended for my benefit.”
+
+“Well, you can’t,” I said with some emphasis. “You couldn’t do it
+without disclosing your identity, and then you would have some
+philanthropist trying to effect a reconciliation. Your cue is to keep
+yourself to yourself for the present.”
+
+“For the present!” she echoed. “It seems to me that I have got to be a
+fugitive for the rest of my natural life. It is a horrible position,
+to have to live in a state of perpetual concealment, like a criminal,
+and never dare to make an acquaintance.”
+
+“Don’t you know anyone in Rochester?” I asked.
+
+“Not a soul,” she replied, “excepting Mr. Japp, who is a relative by
+marriage--he was my aunt’s brother-in-law--his partner, and Mrs.
+Gillow and you. And you all know my position.”
+
+“Does Mrs. Gillow know the state of affairs?” I asked in some
+surprise.
+
+“Yes,” she answered, “I thought it best to tell her, in confidence, so
+that she should understand that I want to live a quiet life.”
+
+“I suppose you haven’t cut yourself off completely from all your
+friends?” said I.
+
+“Very nearly. I haven’t many friends that I really care about much,
+but I keep in touch with one or two of my old comrades. But I have had
+to swear them to secrecy--though it looks as if the secret had leaked
+out in some way. Of course they all know Nicholas--my husband.”
+
+“And I suppose you have been able to learn from them how your husband
+views the separation?”
+
+“Yes. Of course he thinks I have treated him abominably, and he
+evidently suspects that I have some motive for leaving him other than
+mere dislike of his unpleasant habits. The usual motive, in fact.”
+
+“What Sam Weller would call a ‘priory attachment’?” I suggested.
+
+“Yes. He is a jealous and suspicious man by nature. I had quite a lot
+of trouble with him in that way before that final outbreak, though I
+have always been most circumspect in my relations with other men.
+Still, a woman doesn’t complain of a little jealousy. Within reason,
+it is a natural, masculine failing.”
+
+“I should consider a tendency to use a knitted silk necktie for
+purposes which I need not specify as going rather beyond ordinary
+masculine failings,” I remarked drily; on which she laughed and
+admitted that perhaps it was so. There was a short pause; then,
+turning to a fresh subject, she asked:
+
+“Do you think you will get any of Dr. Partridge’s practice?”
+
+“I suspect not, or at any rate very little; and that reminds me that I
+have not yet inquired as to my patient’s condition. Are you any
+better?”
+
+As I asked the question, I looked at her attentively, and noted that
+she was still rather pale and haggard, so far as I could judge by the
+subdued light of the shaded lamp, and that the darkness under the eyes
+remained undiminished.
+
+“I am afraid I am not doing you much credit,” she replied, with a
+faint smile. “But you can’t expect any improvement while these
+unsettled conditions exist. If you could induce my respected husband
+to elope with another woman you would effect an immediate cure.”
+
+“I am afraid,” said I, “that is beyond my powers, to say nothing of
+the inhumanity to the other woman. But we must persevere. You must let
+me look in on you from time to time, just to keep an eye on you.”
+
+“I hope you will,” she replied, energetically. “If it doesn’t weary
+you to listen to my complaints and gossip a little, please keep me on
+your visiting list. With the exception of Mr. Japp, you are the only
+human creature that I hold converse with. Mrs. Gillow is a dear, good
+creature, but instinct warns me not to get on conversational terms
+with her. She’s rather lonely, too.”
+
+“Yes; you might find it difficult to turn the tap off. I am always
+very cautious with housekeepers and landladies.”
+
+She darted a mischievous glance at me. “Even if your landlady happens
+to be your patient?” she asked.
+
+I chuckled as I remembered our dual relationship. “That,” said I, “is
+an exceptional case. The landlady becomes merged in the patient, and
+the patient tends to become a friend.”
+
+“The doctor,” she retorted, “tends very strongly to become a friend,
+and a very kind and helpful friend. I think you have been exceedingly
+good to me--a mere waif who has drifted across your horizon.”
+
+“Well,” I said, “if you think so, far be it from me to contradict you.
+One may as well pick up gratefully a stray crumb of commendation that
+one doesn’t deserve to set off against the deserved credit that one
+doesn’t get. But I should like to think that all my good deeds in the
+future will be as agreeable in the doing.”
+
+She gave me a prim little smile. “We are getting monstrously polite,”
+she remarked, upon which we both laughed.
+
+“However,” said I, “the moral of it all is that you ought to have a
+friendly medical eye kept on you, and, as mine is the eye that happens
+to be available, and as you are kind enough to accept the optical
+supervision, I shall give myself the pleasure of looking in on you
+from time to time to see how you are and to hear how the world wags.
+What is the best time to find you at home?”
+
+“I am nearly always at home after seven o’clock, but perhaps that is
+not very convenient for you. I don’t know how you manage your
+practice.”
+
+“The fact is,” said I, “that at present you are my practice, so I
+shall adapt my visiting round to your circumstances, and make my call
+at, or after, seven. I suppose you get some exercise?”
+
+“Oh, yes. Quite a lot. I walk out in the country, and wander about
+Chatham and Gillingham and out to Frindsbury. I have been along the
+Watling Street as far as Cobham. Rochester itself I rather avoid for
+fear of making acquaintances, though it is a pleasant old town in
+spite of the improvements.”
+
+As she spoke of these solitary rambles the idea floated into my mind
+that, later on, I might perchance offer to diminish their solitude.
+But I quickly dismissed it. Her position was, in any case, one of some
+delicacy--that of a young woman living apart from her husband. It
+would be an act the very reverse of friendly to compromise her in any
+way; nor would it tend at all to my own professional credit. A
+doctor’s reputation is nearly as tender as a woman’s.
+
+Our conversation had occupied nearly three quarters of an hour, and,
+although I would willingly have lingered, it appeared to me that I had
+made as long a visit as was permissible. I accordingly rose, and,
+having given a few words of somewhat perfunctory professional advice,
+shook hands with my patient and let myself out.
+
+
+
+
+ CHAPTER VI.
+ THE SHADOWS DEEPEN
+
+The coming events, whose premonitory shadows had been falling upon
+me unnoted since I came to Rochester, were daily drawing nearer.
+Perhaps it may have been that the deepening shadows began dimly to
+make themselves felt; that some indistinct sense of instability and
+insecurity had begun to steal into my consciousness. It may have been
+so. But, nevertheless, looking back, I can see that when the
+catastrophe burst upon me it found me all unsuspicious and unprepared.
+
+Nearly a fortnight had passed since my meeting with my two friends in
+the Cathedral, and I was looking forward with some eagerness to their
+impending visit. During that fortnight little seemed to have happened,
+though the trivial daily occurrences were beginning to acquire a
+cumulative significance not entirely unperceived by me. My promise to
+Mrs. Frood had been carried out very thoroughly: for at least every
+alternate evening had found me seated by the little table with the
+red-shaded lamp, making the best pretence I could of being there in a
+professional capacity.
+
+It was unquestionably indiscreet. The instant liking that I had taken
+to this woman should have warned me that here was one of those
+unaccountable “affinities” that are charged with such immense
+potentialities of blessing or disaster. The first impression should
+have made it clear to me that I could not safely spend much time in
+her society. But unfortunately the very circumstance that should have
+warned me to keep away was the magnet that drew me to her side.
+
+However, there was one consoling fact: if the indiscretion was mine,
+so by me alone were the consequences supported. Our relations were of
+the most unexceptionable kind; indeed, she was not the sort of woman
+with whom any man would have taken a liberty. As to my feelings
+towards her, I could not pretend to deceive myself, but similarly, I
+had no delusions as to her feelings towards me. She welcomed my visits
+with that frank simplicity that is delightful to a friend and hopeless
+to a lover. It was plain to me that the bare possibility of anything
+beyond straightforward, honest friendship never entered her head. But
+this very innocence and purity, while at once a rebuke and a
+reassurance, but riveted my fetters the more firmly.
+
+Such as our friendship was (and disregarding the secret reservation on
+my side), it grew apace; indeed, it sprang into existence at our first
+meeting. There was between us that ease and absence of reserve that
+distinguishes the intercourse of those who like and understand one
+another. I never had any fear of unwittingly giving offence. In our
+long talks and discussions, we had no need of choosing our words or
+phrases or of making allowances for possible prejudices. We could say
+plainly what we meant with the perfect assurance that it would be
+neither misunderstood nor resented. In short, if my feelings towards
+her could only have been kept at the same level as hers towards me,
+our friendship would have been perfect.
+
+In the course of these long and pleasant gossiping visits, I observed
+my patient somewhat closely, and, quite apart from the personal
+affinity, I became more and more favourably impressed. She was a
+clever woman, quick and alert in mind, and evidently well informed.
+She seemed to be kindly, and was certainly amiable and even-tempered,
+though not in the least weak or deficient in character. Probably, in
+happier circumstances, she would have been more gay and vivacious,
+for, though she was habitually rather grave and even sombre, there
+were occasional flashes of wit that suggested a naturally lively
+temperament.
+
+As to her appearance--to repeat in more detail what I have already
+said--she was a rather large woman, very erect and somewhat stately in
+bearing; distinctly good-looking (though of this I was not, perhaps, a
+very good judge). Her features were regular, but not in any way
+striking. Her expression was, as I have said, a little sombre and
+severe, the mouth firmly set and slightly depressed at the corners,
+the eyebrows black, straight, and unusually well-marked and nearly
+meeting above the nose. She had an abundance of black, or nearly
+black, hair, parted low on the forehead and drawn back loosely,
+covering the ears and temples, and she wore a largish coil nearly on
+the top of the head; a formal, matronly style that accentuated the
+gravity of her expression.
+
+Such was Angelina Frood as I looked on her in those
+never-to-be-forgotten evenings; as she rises before the eyes of memory
+as I write, and as she will remain in my recollection so long as I
+live.
+
+In this fortnight one really arresting incident had occurred. It was
+just a week after my meeting with Dr. Thorndyke, when, returning from
+a walk along the London Road as far as Gad’s Hill, I stopped on
+Rochester Bridge to watch a barge which had just passed under, and was
+rehoisting her lowered mast. As I was leaning on the parapet, a man
+brushed past me, and I turned my head idly to look at him. Then, in an
+instant, I started up; for though the man’s back was towards me, there
+was something unmistakably familiar in the gaunt figure, the seedy
+clothes, the great cloth cap, the shock of mouse-coloured hair, and
+the thick oaken stick that he swung in his hand. But I was not going
+to leave myself in any doubt on the subject. Cautiously I began to
+retrace my steps, keeping him in view but avoiding overtaking him,
+until he reached the western end of the bridge, when he halted and
+looked back. Then any possible doubt was set at rest. The man was
+Nicholas Frood. I don’t know whether he saw me; he made no sign of
+recognition; and when he turned and walked on, I continued to follow,
+determined to make sure of his destination.
+
+As I had hoped and expected, he took the road to the right, leading to
+the river bank and the station. Still following him, I noted that he
+walked at a fairly brisk pace and seemed to have recovered completely
+from his debility--if that debility had not been entirely counterfeit.
+Opposite the pier he turned into the station approach, and when from
+the corner I had watched him enter the station, I gave up the pursuit,
+assuming that he was returning to London.
+
+But how long had he been in Rochester? What had he been doing, and
+what success had he had in his search? These were the questions that I
+asked myself as I walked back over the bridge. Probably he had come
+down for the day; and since he was returning, it was reasonable to
+infer that he had had no luck. As I entered the town and glanced up at
+the great clock that hangs out across the street from the Corn
+Exchange, like a sort of horological warming-pan, I saw that it was
+close upon eight. It was a good deal after my usual time for calling
+on Mrs. Frood, but the circumstances were exceptional and I felt that
+it was necessary to ascertain whether anything untoward had occurred.
+I was still debating what I should do when, as I came opposite the
+house, I saw Mrs. Gillow coming out of the door. Immediately I crossed
+the road and accosted her.
+
+“Have you seen Mrs. Frood this evening, Mrs. Gillow?” I asked, after
+passing the usual compliments.
+
+“Yes, sir,” was the reply. “I left her only a few minutes ago working
+at one of the drawings that she does for Mr. Japp. She seems better
+this evening--brighter and more cheerful. I think your visits have
+done her good, sir. It is a lonely life for a young woman--having no
+one to talk to all through the long evenings. I’m always glad to hear
+your knock, and so, I think, is she.”
+
+“I’m pleased to hear you say so, Mrs. Gillow,” said I. “However, as it
+is rather late, and she has something to occupy her, I don’t think I
+will call this evening.”
+
+With this I took my leave and went on my way in better spirits.
+Evidently all was well so far. Nevertheless, the reappearance of this
+man was an uncomfortable incident. It was clear that he had not given
+up the pursuit, and, seeing that Rochester was only some thirty miles
+from London, it would be quite easy for him to make periodical
+descents on the place to continue the search. There was no denying
+that Mrs. Frood’s position was extremely insecure, and I could think
+of no plan for making it less so, excepting that of leaving Rochester,
+for a time at least, a solution which ought to have commended itself
+to me, but did not.
+
+Perhaps it was this fact that decided me not to say anything about the
+incident. The obvious thing was to have told her and put her on her
+guard. But I persuaded myself that it would only make her anxious to
+no purpose; that she could not prevent him from coming nor could she
+take any further measures for concealment. And then there was the
+possibility that he might never come again.
+
+So far as I know, he never did. During the rest of the week I
+perambulated the town hour after hour, looking into the shops,
+scanning the faces of the wayfarers in the streets and even visiting
+the stations at the times when the London trains were due; but never a
+glimpse did I catch of that ill-omened figure.
+
+And all the time, the shadows were deepening, and that which cast them
+was drawing nearer.
+
+It was nearly a week after my meeting with Nicholas Frood that an
+event befell at which I looked askance at the time and which was, as
+it turned out, the opening scene of a new act. It was on the Saturday.
+I am able to fix the date by an incident, trivial enough in itself,
+but important by reason of its forming thus a definite point of
+departure. My visitors were due on the following Monday, and it had
+occurred to me that I had better lay in a little stock of wine; and as
+Mr. Japp was an old resident who knew everybody in the town, I decided
+to consult him as to the choice of a wine merchant.
+
+It was a little past mid-day when I arrived at the office, and as I
+entered I observed that some kind of conference was in progress. A
+man, whom I recognized as the foreman of the gang who were working on
+the old wall, was standing sheepishly with his knuckles resting on the
+table; Bundy had swung round on his stool and was glaring owlishly
+through his great spectacles, while Mr. Japp was sitting bolt upright,
+his forehead in a state of extreme corrugation and his eyes fixed
+severely on the foreman.
+
+“I suppose,” said Bundy, “you left it in the gate?”
+
+“I expect Evans did,” replied the foreman. “You see, I had to call in
+at the office, so I gave the key to Evans and told him to go on with
+the other men and let them in. When I got there the gate was open and
+the men were at work, and I forgot all about the key until it was time
+to come away and lock up. Then I asked Evans for it, and he said he’d
+left it in the gate. But when I went to look for it it wasn’t there.
+Someone must have took it out.”
+
+“Doesn’t seem very likely,” said Bundy. “However, I suppose it will
+turn up. It had one of our wooden labels tied to it. Shall I give him
+the duplicate to lock up the place?”
+
+“You must, I suppose,” said Japp; “but it must be brought straight
+back and given to me. You understand, Smith? Bring it back at once,
+and deliver it to me or to Mr. Bundy. And look here, Smith. I shall
+offer ten shillings reward for that key; and if it is brought back and
+I have to pay the reward you will have to make it up among you. You
+understand that?”
+
+Smith indicated grumpily that he understood; and when Bundy had handed
+him the duplicate key, he took his departure in dudgeon.
+
+When he had gone I stated my business, and Bundy pricked up his ears.
+
+“Wine, hey?” said he, removing his spectacles and assuming his
+eyeglass. “Tucker will be the man for him, won’t he, Japp? Very
+superior wine merchant is Tucker. Old and crusted; round and soft;
+rare and curious. I’d better pop round with him and introduce him,
+hadn’t I? You’ll want to taste a few samples, I presume, Doctor?”
+
+“I’m not giving a wholesale order,” said I, smiling at his enthusiasm.
+“A dozen or so of claret and one or two bottles of port is all I
+want.”
+
+“Still,” said Bundy, “you want to know what the stuff’s like. Not
+going to buy a pig in a poke. You’ll have to taste it, of course. I’ll
+help you. Two heads are better than one. Come on. You said Tucker,
+didn’t you, Japp?”
+
+“As a matter of fact,” said Japp, wrinkling his face up into an
+appreciative smile, “I didn’t say anything. But Tucker will do; only
+he won’t let you taste anything until you have bought it.”
+
+“Won’t he!” said Bundy. “We shall see. Come along, Doctor.”
+
+He dragged me out of the office and down the steps, and we set forth
+towards the bridge; but we had not walked more than a couple of
+hundred yards when he suddenly shot up a narrow alley and beckoned to
+me mysteriously. I followed him up the alley, and as he halted I
+asked:
+
+“What have you come here for?”
+
+“I want you,” he replied impressively, “to take a look at this wall.”
+
+I scrutinized the wall with minute attention but failed to discover
+any noteworthy peculiarities in it.
+
+“Well,” I said, at length, “I don’t see anything unusual about this
+wall.”
+
+“Neither do I,” he replied, looking furtively down the alley.
+
+“Then, what the deuce--” I began.
+
+“It’s all right,” said he. “She’s gone. That damsel in the pink hat. I
+just popped up here to let her pass. The fact is,” he explained, as he
+emerged cautiously into the High Street, glancing up and down like an
+Indian on the war-path, “these women are the plague of my life; always
+trying to hook me for teas or bazaars or garden fêtes or some sort of
+confounded foolishness; and that pink-hatted lady is a regular
+sleuth-hound.”
+
+We walked quickly along the narrow pavement, Bundy looking about him
+warily, until we reached the wine-merchant’s premises, into which my
+companion dived like a harlequin and forthwith proceeded to introduce
+me and my requirements. Mr. Tucker was a small, elderly man; old and
+crusted and as dry as his own Amontillado; but he was not proof
+against Bundy’s blandishments. Before I had had time to utter a
+protest, I found myself in a dark cavern at the rear of the shop,
+watching Mr. Tucker fill a couple of glasses from a mouldy-looking
+cask.
+
+“Ha!” said Bundy, sipping the wine with a judicial air. “H’m. Yes. Not
+so bad. Slightly corked, perhaps.”
+
+“Corked!” exclaimed Tucker, staring at Bundy in amazement. “How can it
+be corked when it is just out of the cask?”
+
+“Well, bunged, then,” Bundy corrected.
+
+“I never heard of wine being bunged,” said Tucker. “There’s no such
+thing.”
+
+“Isn’t there? Well, then, it can’t be. Must be my fancy. What do you
+think of it, Doctor?”
+
+“It seems quite a sound claret,” said I, inwardly wishing my volatile
+friend at the devil, for I felt compelled, by way of soothing the wine
+merchant’s wounded feelings, to order twice the quantity that I had
+intended. We had just completed the transaction, and were crossing the
+outer shop when the doorway became occluded by two female figures, and
+Bundy uttered a half-suppressed groan. I drew aside to make way for
+the newcomers--two ladies whom polite persons would have described as
+middle-aged, on the assumption that they contemplated a somewhat
+extreme degree of longevity--and I was aware that Bundy was
+endeavouring to take cover behind me. But it was of no use. One of
+them espied him instantly and announced her discovery with a little
+squeak of ecstasy.
+
+“Why, it’s Mr. Bundy. I do declare! Now, where _have_ you been all
+this long time? It’s ages and ages and ages since you came to see us,
+isn’t it, Martha? Let me see, now, when was it?” She fixed a
+reflective eye on her companion, while Bundy smiled a sickly smile and
+glanced wistfully at the open door.
+
+“I know,” she exclaimed, triumphantly. “It was when we had the
+feeble-minded children to tea, and Mr. Blote showed them the gold fish
+trick--at least he tried to, but the glass bowl stuck in the bag under
+his coat-tails and wouldn’t come out; and when he tried to pull it out
+it broke----”
+
+“I think you are mistaken, Marian,” the other lady interrupted. “It
+wasn’t the feeble-minded tea. It was after that, when we helped the
+Jewbury-Browns to get up that rumble sale----”
+
+“Jumble sale, you mean, dear,” her companion corrected.
+
+“I mean rummage sale,” the lady called Martha insisted, severely. “If
+you will try to recall the circumstances, you will remember that the
+jumble sale took place after----”
+
+“Not after,” the other lady corrected. “It was before--several days
+before, I should say, speaking from a somewhat imperfect memory. If
+you will try to recollect, Martha, dear----”
+
+“I recollect quite distinctly,” the lady called Martha interposed, a
+little haughtily. “There was the feeble-minded tea--that was on a
+Tuesday--or was it a Thursday--no, it was a Tuesday, or at
+least--well, at any rate, it was some days before the jum--rum----”
+
+“Not at all,” the other lady dissented emphatically.
+
+At this point, catching the eye of the lady called Marian, I crept by
+slow degrees out on the threshold and turned an expectant eye on
+Bundy. The rather broad hint took immediate effect, for the lady said
+to her companion: “I am afraid, Martha, dear, you are detaining Mr.
+Bundy and his friend. _Good_-bye, Mr. Bundy. Shall we see you next
+Friday evening? We are giving a little entertainment to the
+barge-boys. We are inviting them to come and bring their mouth-organs
+and get up a little informal concert. _Do_ come if you can. We shall
+be _so_ delighted. _Good_-bye.”
+
+Bundy shook hands effusively with the two ladies and darted out after
+me, seizing my arm and hurrying me along the pavement.
+
+“Bit of luck for me, Doctor, having you with me. If I had been alone
+and unprotected I shouldn’t have escaped for half-an-hour; and I
+should have been definitely booked for the barge-boys’ pandemonium.
+Hallo! What’s Japp up to? Oh, I see. He’s sticking up the notice about
+that key. I ought to have done that. Japp writes a shocking fist. I
+must see if it is possible to make it out.”
+
+As we approached the office I glanced at the sheet of paper which Mr.
+Japp had just affixed to the window, and was able to read the rather
+crabbed heading, “Ten Shillings Reward.” The rest of the inscription
+being of no interest to me, I wished Bundy adieu and went on my way,
+leaving him engaged in a critical inspection of the notice. Happening
+to look back a few moments later, I saw him still gazing earnestly at
+the paper, all unconscious of a lady in a pink hat who was tripping
+lightly across the road and bearing down on him with an alluring
+smile.
+
+Threading my way among the foot-passengers who filled the narrow
+pavements, I let my thoughts ramble idly from subject to subject; from
+the expected visit of my two friends on the following Monday to the
+alarming character of the local feminine population. But always they
+tended to come back to my patient, Mrs. Frood. I had seen her on the
+preceding night and had been very ill-satisfied with her appearance.
+She had been paler than usual--more heavy-eyed and weary-looking; and
+she had impressed me as being decidedly low-spirited. It seemed as
+though the continual uncertainty and unrest, the abiding threat of
+some intolerable action on the part of her worthless husband, were
+becoming more than she could endure; and unwillingly I was beginning
+to recognize that it was my duty, both as her doctor and as her
+friend, to advise her to move, at least for a time, to some locality
+where she would be free from the constant fear of molestation.
+
+The question was: when should I broach the subject? And that involved
+the further question: when should I make my next visit? Inclination
+suggested the present evening, but discretion hinted that I ought to
+allow a decent interval between my calls; and thus oscillating between
+the two, I found myself in a state of indecision which lasted for the
+rest of the day. Eventually discretion conquered, and I decided to
+postpone the visit and the proposal until the following evening.
+
+The decision was reached about the time I should have been setting
+forth to make the visit, and no sooner had that time definitely passed
+than I began to regret my resolution and to be possessed by a
+causeless anxiety. Restlessly I wandered from room to room; taking up
+books, opening them and putting them down again, and generally
+displaying the typical symptoms of an acute attack of fidgets until
+Mrs. Dunk proceeded with a determined air to lay the supper, and drew
+my attention to it with an emphasis which it was impossible to
+disregard.
+
+I had just drawn the cork of a bottle of Mr. Tucker’s claret when the
+door-bell rang, an event without precedent in my experience. Silently
+I replaced the newly-extracted cork and listened. Apparently it was a
+patient, for I heard the street door close and footsteps proceed to
+the consulting-room. A minute later Mrs. Dunk opened the dining-room
+door and announced:
+
+“Mrs. Frood to see you, sir.”
+
+With a slight thrill of anxiety at this unexpected visit, I strode
+out, and, crossing the hall, entered the somewhat dingy and
+ill-lighted consulting-room. Mrs. Frood was seated in the patients’
+chair, but she rose as I entered and held out her hand; and as I
+grasped it, I noticed how tall she looked in her outdoor clothes. But
+I also noticed that she was looking even more pale and haggard than
+when I had seen her last.
+
+“There is nothing the matter, I hope?” said I.
+
+“No,” she answered; “nothing much more than usual; but I have come to
+present a petition.”
+
+I looked at her inquiringly, and she continued:
+
+“I have been sleeping very badly, as you know. Last night I had
+practically no sleep at all, and very little the night before; and I
+feel that I really can’t face the prospect of another sleepless night.
+Would you think it very immoral if I were to ask you for something
+that would give me a few hours’ rest?”
+
+“Certainly not,” I answered, though with no great enthusiasm, for I am
+disposed to take hypnotics somewhat seriously. “You can’t go on
+without sleep. I will give you one or two tablets to take before you
+go to bed. They will secure you a decent night’s rest, and then I hope
+you will feel a little brighter.”
+
+“I hope so,” she said, with a weary sigh.
+
+I looked at her critically. She was, as I have said, pale and haggard;
+but there seemed to be something more; a certain wildness in her eyes
+and a suggestion of fear.
+
+“You are not looking yourself at all to-night,” I said. “What is it?”
+
+“I don’t know,” she answered. “The same old thing, I suppose. But I do
+feel rather miserable. I seem to have come to the end of my endurance.
+I look into the future and it all seems dark. I am afraid of it. In
+fact, I seem to have--you’ll think me very silly, I know--but I have
+a sort of presentiment of evil. Of course, it’s all nonsense. But that
+is what I feel.”
+
+“Is there any reason for this presentiment?” I asked uneasily; for my
+thoughts flew at once to that ill-omened figure that I had seen on the
+bridge. “Has anything happened to occasion these forebodings?”
+
+“Oh, nothing in particular,” she replied. But she spoke without
+looking at me--an unusual thing for her to do--and I found in her
+answer something ambiguous and rather evasive. Could it be that she
+had seen her husband on that day when I had followed him? Or had he
+been in the town again--this very day, perhaps? Or was there something
+yet more significant, something even more menacing? That this deep
+depression of spirits, these forebodings, were not without some
+exciting cause I felt the strongest suspicion. But whatever the cause
+might be, she was evidently unwilling to speak about it.
+
+While I was speculating thus, I found myself looking her over with a
+minute attention of which I was not conscious at the time; noting
+little trivial details of her appearance and belongings with an odd
+exactness of observation. My eyes travelled over the little hand-bag,
+stamped with her initials, that rested on her lap; her dainty,
+high-heeled shoes with their little oval buckles of darkened bronze;
+the small brooch at her throat with the large opal in the middle and
+the surrounding circle of little pearls, and even noted that one of
+the pearls was missing and that the vacant place corresponded to the
+figure three on a clock-dial. And then they would come back to her
+face; to the set mouth and the downcast eyes with their expression of
+gloomy reverie.
+
+I was profoundly uneasy and was on the point of opening the subject of
+her leaving the town. Then I decided that I would see her on the
+morrow and would go into the matter then. Accordingly I went into the
+surgery and put a few tablets of sulphonal into a little box, and
+having stuck one of Dr. Partridge’s labels on it, wrote the directions
+and then wrapped it up and sealed it.
+
+“There,” I said, giving it to her, “take a couple of those tablets and
+go to bed early, and let me find you looking a little more cheerful
+to-morrow.”
+
+She took the packet and dropped it into her bag. “It is very good of
+you,” she said warmly. “I know you don’t like doing it, and that makes
+it the more kind. But I will do as you tell me. I have just to go in
+to Chatham, but when I get back I will go to bed quite early.”
+
+I walked with her to the door, and when I had opened it she stopped
+and held out her hand. “Good night,” she said, “and thank you so very
+much. I expect you will find me a great deal better to-morrow.” She
+pressed my hand slightly, made me a little bow, smiled, and, turning
+away, passed out; and I now noticed that the haze which had hung over
+the town all the afternoon had thickened into a definite fog. I
+stepped out on to the threshold and watched her as she walked quickly
+down the street, following the erect, dignified figure wistfully with
+my eyes as it grew more and more shadowy and unsubstantial until it
+faded into the fog and vanished. Then I went in to my solitary supper,
+with an unwonted sense of loneliness; and throughout the long evening
+I turned over again and again our unsatisfying talk and wondered
+afresh whether that presentiment of evil was but the product of
+insomnia and mental fatigue, or whether behind it was some sinister
+reality.
+
+
+
+
+ CHAPTER VII.
+ MRS. GILLOW SOUNDS THE ALARM
+
+Nine o’clock on the following morning found me still seated at the
+breakfast table, with the debris of the meal before me and the Sunday
+paper propped up against the coffee-pot. It was a pleasant, sunny
+morning at the end of April. The birds were twittering joyously in the
+trees at the back of the house, a premature bluebottle perambulated
+the window-pane, after an unsuccessful attempt to crawl under the
+dish-cover, and somewhere in the town an optimistic bell-ringer was
+endeavouring to lure unwary loiterers out of the sunshine into the
+shadow of the sanctuary.
+
+It was all very agreeable and soothing. The birds were delightful in
+the exuberance of their spirits; even the bluebottle was a harbinger
+of summer; and the solo of the bell-ringer, softened by distance,
+impinged gently on the appreciative ear, awakening a grateful sense of
+immunity. The sunshine and the placid sounds were favourable to
+reflection, which the Sunday paper was powerless to disturb. As my eye
+roamed inattentively down the inconsequent column of printers’ errors,
+my mind flitted, beelike, from topic to topic; from my vague
+professional prospects to the visitors whom I was expecting on the
+morrow and from them to the rather disturbing incident of the previous
+evening. But here my thoughts had a tendency to stick; and I was just
+considering whether the proprieties admitted of my making a morning
+call on Mrs. Frood, with a view to clearing up the obscurity, when the
+street-door bell rang. The unusual sound at such an unlikely time
+caused me to sit up and listen with just a tinge of uneasy expectancy.
+A few moments later Mrs. Dunk opened the door, and having stated
+concisely and impassively, “Mrs. Gillow,” retired, leaving the door
+ajar. I started up in something approaching alarm, and hurried across
+to the consulting-room, where I found Mrs. Gillow standing by the
+chair with anxiety writ large on her melancholy face.
+
+“There’s nothing amiss, I hope, Mrs. Gillow?” said I.
+
+“I am sorry to say there is, sir,” she replied. “I hope you’ll excuse
+me for disturbing you on a Sunday morning, but I thought, as you were
+her doctor, and a friend, too, and I may say----”
+
+“But what has happened?” I interrupted impatiently.
+
+“Why, sir, the fact is that she went out last night and she hasn’t
+come back.”
+
+“You are quite sure she hasn’t come back?”
+
+“Perfectly. I saw her just before she went out, and she said she was
+coming to see you, to get something to make her sleep, and then she
+was just going into Chatham, and that she would be back soon, so that
+she could go to bed early. I sat up quite late listening for her, and
+before I went to bed I went down and knocked at both her doors, and as
+I didn’t get any answer, I looked into both rooms. But she wasn’t in
+either, and her little supper was untouched on the table in the
+sitting-room. I couldn’t sleep a wink all night for worrying about
+her, and the first thing this morning I went down, and, when I found
+the door unbolted and unchained, I went into her rooms again. But
+there was no sign of her. Her supper was still there, untouched, and
+her bed had not been slept in.”
+
+“Did you look downstairs?” I asked.
+
+“Yes. She usually kept the door of the basement stairs locked, I
+think, but it was unlocked this morning, so I went down and searched
+all over the basement; but she wasn’t there.”
+
+“It is very extraordinary, Mrs. Gillow,” I said, “and rather alarming.
+I certainly understood that she was going home as soon as she had been
+to Chatham. By the way, do you know what she was going to Chatham
+for?”
+
+“I don’t, sir. She might have been going there to do some shopping,
+but it was rather late, though it was Saturday night.”
+
+“You don’t know, I suppose, whether she took any things with
+her--though she couldn’t have taken much, as she had only a little
+handbag with her when she came here.”
+
+“She hasn’t taken any of her toilet things,” said Mrs. Gillow,
+“because I looked over her dressing-table, and all her brushes and
+things were there; and, as you say, she couldn’t have taken much in
+that little bag. What do you think we had better do, sir?”
+
+“I think,” said I, “that, in the first place, I will go and see Mr.
+Japp. He is a relative and knows more about her than we do, and, of
+course, it will be for him to take any measures that may seem
+necessary. At any rate, I will see him and hear what he says.”
+
+“Don’t you think we ought to let the police know?” she asked.
+
+“Well, Mrs. Gillow,” I said, “we mustn’t be too hasty. Mrs. Frood had
+reasons for avoiding publicity. Perhaps we had better not busy
+ourselves too much until we are quite certain that she has gone. She
+may possibly return in the course of the day.”
+
+“I am sure I hope so,” she replied despondently. “But I am very much
+afraid she won’t. I have a presentiment that something dreadful has
+happened to her.”
+
+“Why do you say that?” I asked. “Have you any reason for thinking so?”
+
+“I have no actual reason,” she answered, “but I have always thought
+that there was something behind her fear of meeting her husband.”
+
+Having no desire to discuss speculative opinions, I made no direct
+reply to this. Apparently Mrs. Gillow had no more to tell, and as I
+was anxious to see Mr. Japp and hear if he could throw any light on
+the mystery, I adjourned the discussion on which she would have
+embarked and piloted her persuasively towards the door. “I shall see
+you again later, Mrs. Gillow,” I said, “and will let you know if I
+hear anything. Meanwhile, I think you had better not speak of the
+matter to anybody.”
+
+As soon as she was gone I made rapid preparations to go forth on my
+errand, and a couple of minutes later was speeding down the street at
+a pace dictated rather by the agitation of my mind than by any urgency
+of purpose. Although, by an effort of will, I had preserved a quiet,
+matter-of-fact demeanour while I was talking to Mrs. Gillow, her
+alarming news had fallen on me like a thunder-bolt; and even now, as I
+strode forward swiftly, my thoughts seemed numbed by the suddenness of
+the catastrophe. That something terrible had happened I had little
+more doubt than had Mrs. Gillow, and a good deal more reason for my
+fears; for that last interview with the missing woman, looked back
+upon by the light of her unaccountable disappearance, now appeared
+full of dreadful suggestions. I had thought that she looked
+frightened, and she admitted to a presentiment of evil. Of whom or of
+what was she afraid?
+
+And what did she mean by a presentiment? Reasonable people do not have
+gratuitous presentiments; and I recalled her evasive reply when I
+asked if she had any reasons for her foreboding of evil. Now, there
+was little doubt that she had; that the shadow of some impending
+danger had fallen on her and that she knew it.
+
+As I approached the premises of Japp and Bundy, I was assailed by a
+sudden doubt as to whether Mr. Japp lived there; and this doubt
+increased when I had executed two loud knocks at the door without
+eliciting any response. I was just raising my hand to make a third
+attack when I became aware of Bundy’s head rising above the curtain of
+the office window; and even in my agitation I could not but notice its
+extremely dishevelled state. His hair--usually “smarmed” back neatly
+from the forehead and brushed over the crown of his head--now hung
+down untidily over his face like a bunch of rat’s tails, and the
+unusualness of his appearance was increased by the fact that he wore
+neither spectacles nor the indispensable eyeglass. The apparition,
+however, was visible but for a moment, for even as I glanced at him he
+made a sign to me to wait and forthwith vanished.
+
+There followed an interval of about a minute, at the end of which the
+door opened and I entered, discovering Bundy behind it in a
+dressing-gown and pyjamas, but with his hair neatly brushed and his
+eye-glass duly adjusted.
+
+“Sorry to keep you waiting, Doc.,” said he. “Fact is, your knock woke
+me. The early bird catches the worm in his pyjamas.”
+
+“I apologize for disturbing your slumbers,” said I, “but I wanted to
+see Japp. Isn’t he in?”
+
+“Japp doesn’t live here,” said Bundy, motioning to me to follow him
+upstairs. “He used to, but the house began to fill up with the
+business stuff and we had to make a drawing office and a store-room,
+so he moved off to a house on Boley Hill, and now I live here like
+Robinson Crusoe.”
+
+“Do you mean that you do your own cooking and housework?”
+
+“Lord, no,” he replied. “I get most of my meals at Japp’s place.
+Prepare my own breakfast sometimes--I’m going to now: and I make tea
+for us both. Got a little gas-stove in the kitchen. And a charlady
+comes in every day to wash up and do my rooms. If you are not in a
+hurry, I’ll walk round with you to Japp’s house.”
+
+“I am in rather a hurry,” said I; “at least--well, I don’t know why I
+should be; but I am rather upset. The fact is, a very alarming thing
+has happened. I have just heard of it from Mrs. Gillow. It seems that
+Mrs. Frood went out last evening and has not come back.”
+
+Bundy whistled. “She’s done a bolt,” said he. “I wonder why. Do you
+think she can have run up against hubby in the town?”
+
+“I don’t believe for a moment that she has gone away voluntarily,”
+said I. “She came to see me last night to get a sedative because she
+couldn’t sleep, and she said that she was going home as soon as she
+had been to Chatham, and that she was going to take her medicine and
+go to bed early.”
+
+“That might have been a blind,” suggested Bundy; “or she might have
+run up against her husband in Chatham.”
+
+I shook my head impatiently. “That is all nonsense, Bundy. A woman
+doesn’t walk off into space in that fashion. Something has happened to
+her, I feel sure. I only hope it isn’t something horrible; one doesn’t
+dare to think of the possibilities that the circumstances suggest.”
+
+“No,” said Bundy, “and it’s better not to. Great mistake to let your
+imagination run away with you. Don’t you worry, Doc. She’ll probably
+turn up all right, or send Japp a line to say where she has gone to.”
+
+“Devil take it, Bundy!” I exclaimed irritably, “you are talking as if
+she were just a cat that had strayed away. If you don’t care a hang
+what becomes of her, I do. I am extremely alarmed about her. How soon
+will you be ready?”
+
+“I’ll run and get on my things at once,” he replied, with a sudden
+change of manner. “You must excuse me, old chap. I didn’t realize that
+you were so upset. I’ll be with you in a few minutes and then we will
+start. Japp will be able to give me some breakfast.”
+
+He bustled off--to the next room, as I gathered from the sound--and
+left me to work off my impatience by gazing out of the window and
+pacing restlessly up and down the barely-furnished sitting-room. But,
+impatient as I was, the rapidity with which he made his toilet
+surprised me, for in less than ten minutes he reappeared, spick and
+span, complete with hat, gloves, and stick, and announced that he was
+ready.
+
+“I am not usually such a sluggard,” he said, as we walked quickly
+along the street, “but yesterday evening I got a novel. I ought not to
+read novels. When I do, I am apt to make a single mouthful of it; and
+that is what I did last night. I started the book at nine and finished
+it at two this morning; and the result is that I am as sleepy as an
+owl even now.”
+
+In illustration of this statement he gave a prodigious yawn and then
+turned up the steep little thoroughfare, where he presently halted at
+the door of a small, old-fashioned house and rang the bell. The door
+was opened by a middle-aged servant, from whom he learned that Mr.
+Japp was at home, and to whom Bundy communicated his needs in the
+matter of breakfast. We found Mr. Japp seated by the dining-room
+window, studying a newspaper with the aid of a large pipe, and Bundy
+proceeded to introduce me and the occasion of my visit in a few crisp
+sentences.
+
+Mr. Japp’s reception of the news was very different from his
+partner’s. Starting up from his chair and taking his pipe from his
+mouth, he gazed at me for some seconds in silent dismay.
+
+“I suppose,” he said at length, “there is no mistake. It is really
+certain that she did not come back last night?”
+
+“I am afraid there is no doubt of the fact,” I replied, and I gave him
+the details with which Mrs. Gillow had furnished me.
+
+“Dear! dear!” he exclaimed. “I don’t like the look of this at all.
+What the deuce can have happened to her?”
+
+Here Bundy repeated the suggestion that he had made to me, but Japp
+shook his head. “She wouldn’t have gone off without letting me or the
+doctor know. Why should she? We are friends, and she knew she could
+trust us. Besides, the thing isn’t possible. A middle-class woman
+can’t set out like a tramp without any luggage or common necessaries.
+There’s only one possibility,” he added after a pause. “She might have
+seen Nicholas prowling about and gone straight to the station and
+taken a train to London. One of her woman friends would have been able
+to put her up for the night.”
+
+“Or,” suggested Bundy, “she might even have gone up to town with Nick
+himself if he met her and threatened to make a scene.”
+
+“Yes,” said Japp doubtfully, “that is, I suppose, possible. But it
+isn’t in the least likely. For that matter, nothing is likely. It is a
+most mysterious affair, and very disturbing, very disturbing, indeed.”
+
+“The question is,” said I, “what is to be done? Do you think we ought
+to communicate with the police?”
+
+“Well, no,” he replied; “not immediately. If we don’t hear anything,
+say to-morrow, I suppose we shall have to. But we had better not be
+precipitate. If we go to the police, we shall have to tell them
+everything. Let us give her time to communicate, in case she has had
+to make a sudden retirement--a clear forty-eight hours, as it is a
+week-end. But we had better make some cautious inquiries meanwhile. I
+suggest that we walk up to the hospital. They know me pretty well
+there, and I could just informally ascertain whether any accidents had
+been admitted, without giving any detailed reasons for the inquiry.
+Are you coming with us, Bundy?”
+
+“Yes,” replied Bundy, who, having been provided with a light
+breakfast, was despatching it with lightning speed; “I shall be ready
+by the time you have got your boots on.”
+
+A few minutes later we set forth together, and made our way straight
+to the hospital. Bundy and I waited outside while Japp went in to make
+his inquiries; and, as we walked up and down, my imagination busied
+itself in picturing the hideous possibilities suggested by a somewhat
+extensive experience of the casualty department of a general hospital.
+Presently Japp emerged, shaking his head.
+
+“She is not there,” said he. “There were no casualties of any kind
+admitted last night or since.”
+
+“Is there no other hospital?” I asked.
+
+“None but the military hospital,” he replied. “All the casualties from
+the district would be brought here. So we seem to be at the end of our
+resources, short of inquiring at the police-station; and even if that
+were advisable, it would be useless, for if--anything had
+happened--anything, I mean, that we hope has not happened--Mrs. Gillow
+would have heard. She will be sure to have had something about her by
+which she could have been identified.”
+
+“She had,” said I. “The little box that I gave her had her name and my
+address on it.”
+
+“Then,” said Japp. “I don’t see that we can do anything more. We can
+only wait until to-morrow evening or Tuesday morning, and if we don’t
+get any news of her by then, notify the police.”
+
+Unwillingly I had to admit that this was so; and when I had walked
+back with the partners to Mr. Japp’s house, I left them and proceeded
+to report to Mrs. Gillow and to ascertain whether, in the meantime,
+she had received any tidings of her missing tenant.
+
+It was with more of fear than hope that I plied the familiar knocker,
+but the eager, expectant face that greeted me when the door opened,
+while it relieved the one, banished the other. She had heard nothing,
+and when I had communicated my own unsatisfactory report she groaned
+and shook her head.
+
+“You are quite sure,” I said, after an interval of silence, “that she
+did not return from Chatham?”
+
+“I don’t see how she could have done,” was the reply. “You see, it was
+like this: I was going to see my sister at Frindsbury, and as I came
+down to the hall, Mrs. Frood opened her door and spoke to me. She had
+her hat on then, and she told me she was coming to you, and then going
+on to Chatham, but that she would be back pretty soon, and was going
+to bed early. I went out, leaving her at her room door, and took the
+tram to Frindsbury, and I got back home about a quarter to ten. Her
+sitting-room door was open, and I could see that she hadn’t gone to
+bed, because her lamp was alight and her supper tray was on the table
+and hadn’t been touched. I knocked at her bedroom door, but there was
+no answer, so I went upstairs and sat up listening for her, and before
+I went to bed I went down again, as I told you.”
+
+“What time was it when you went out?” I asked.
+
+“About a quarter past eight. I told her I was going to Frindsbury, and
+that I should be home before ten, and I asked her not to bolt the door
+if she came in before me.”
+
+“Then,” said I, “she must have gone out directly after you, because it
+was only a little after half-past eight when she called on me; and
+presumably she went straight on to Chatham. If we only knew what she
+was going there for we might be able to trace her. Did she know
+anybody at Chatham?”
+
+“So far as I know,” replied Mrs. Gillow, “she didn’t know anybody here
+but you and Mr. Japp. I can’t imagine what she could have been going
+to Chatham for.”
+
+After a little further talk, I took my leave and walked homeward in a
+very wretched frame of mind. Tormented as I was with a gnawing
+anxiety, inaction was intolerable. Yet there was nothing to be done;
+nothing but to wait in the feeble hope that the morning might bring
+some message of relief, and with a heavy foreboding that the tidings,
+when they came, would be evil tidings. But I found it impossible to
+wait passively at home. At intervals during the day I went forth to
+wander up and down the streets; and some impulse which I hardly dared
+to recognize directed my steps again and again to the wharves and
+foreshore that lie by the bend of the river between Rochester and
+Chatham.
+
+On the following morning I betook myself as early as I decently could
+to the office of Japp and Bundy. No letter had arrived by the early
+post, nor, when I repeated my visit later, was there any news, either
+by post or telegram, or from Mrs. Gillow. I paid a furtive visit to
+the police-station and glanced nervously over the bills on the
+notice-board, and I made another perambulation of the waterside
+districts, which occupied me until it was time for me to repair to the
+station to meet the train by which my friends were expected to arrive,
+and did, in fact, arrive.
+
+As we walked from the station to my house Jervis looked at me
+critically from time to time. After one of these inspections he
+remarked:
+
+“I don’t know whether it is my fancy, Strangeways, but it seems to me
+that the cares of medical practice are affecting your spirits. You
+look worried.”
+
+“I am worried,” I replied. “There has been a very disturbing
+development of that case that I was telling you about.”
+
+“The doper, you mean?”
+
+“His wife. She has disappeared. She went out on Saturday night and has
+not been seen since.”
+
+“That sounds rather ominous,” said Jervis. “I presume the
+circumstances--if you know them--could be communicated without any
+breach of confidence.”
+
+“They will have to be made fully public if she doesn’t turn up by this
+evening,” I replied, “and I am only too glad of the chance to talk the
+matter over with you,” and forthwith I proceeded to give a
+circumstantial account of the events connected with the disappearance,
+not omitting any detail that seemed to have the slightest bearing. And
+I now felt justified in relating my experience when I was acting for
+Dr. Pumphrey. The narrative was interrupted by our arrival at my
+house, but when we had taken our places at the table it was continued
+and listened to with intense interest by my two friends.
+
+“Well,” said Jervis, when I had finished, “it has an ugly look,
+especially when one considers it in connexion with that affair in
+London. But there is something to be said for your friend Bundy’s
+suggestion. Don’t you think so, Thorndyke?”
+
+“Something, perhaps,” Thorndyke agreed, “but not much; and if no
+letter arrives to-night or to-morrow morning, I should say it is
+excluded. This lady seems to have had complete confidence in
+Strangeways and in Mr. Japp. She could depend on their secrecy if she
+had to move suddenly to a fresh locality; and she seems to have been a
+responsible person who would not unnecessarily expose them to anxiety
+about her safety. Moreover, she would know that, if she kept them in
+the dark, they must unavoidably put the police on her track, which
+would be the last thing that she would wish.”
+
+“Can you make any suggestion as to what has probably happened?” I
+asked.
+
+“It is not of much use to speculate,” replied Thorndyke. “If we
+exclude a voluntary disappearance, an accident or sudden illness, as
+we apparently can, there seems to remain only the possibility of
+crime. But to the theory of crime--of murder, to put it bluntly--there
+is a manifest objection. So far as the circumstances are known to us,
+a murder, if it had occurred, would have been an impromptu murder,
+committed in a more or less public place. But the first indication of
+a murder of that kind is usually the discovery of the body. Here,
+however, thirty-six hours have elapsed, and no body has come to light.
+On the other hand, we have to bear in mind that there is a large,
+tidal river skirting the town. Into that river the missing lady might
+have fallen accidentally, or have been thrown, dead or alive. But it
+is not very profitable to speculate. We can neither form any opinion
+nor take any action until we have some further facts.”
+
+I must confess that, as I listened to Thorndyke thus calmly comparing
+the horrible possibilities, I experienced a dreadful sinking of the
+heart, but yet I realized that this passionless consideration of the
+essential evidence was more to the point, and promised more result
+than any amount of unskilful groping under the urge of emotion and
+personal feeling. And, realizing this, I formed the bold resolution of
+enlisting Thorndyke’s aid in a regular, professional capacity, and
+began to cast about for the means of introducing the rather delicate
+subject. But while I was reflecting, the opportunity was gone, at
+least for the present. Lunch had virtually come to an end, for Mrs.
+Dunk had silently and with iron visage just placed the port and the
+coffee on the table and retired, when Jervis, who had observed her
+with evident interest, inquired: “Does that old Sphinx do the cooking,
+Strangeways?”
+
+“She does everything,” I answered. “I have suggested that she should
+get some help, but she just growled and ignored the suggestion.”
+
+“Well,” said Jervis, “she doesn’t give you much excuse for growling.
+She has turned out a lunch that would have done credit to Delmonico’s.
+Are you coming to the inquest with us? We shall have to be starting in
+a few minutes.”
+
+“I may as well,” said I. “Then I can bring you back to tea. And I want
+to make a proposal, which we can discuss as we go along. It is with
+regard to the case of Mrs. Frood.”
+
+As my two friends looked at me inquiringly but made no remark, I
+poured out the coffee and continued: “You see, Mrs. Frood was my
+patient, and, in a way, my friend; in fact, with the exception of
+Japp, I was the only friend she had in the place. Consequently I take
+it as my duty to ascertain what has happened to her, and, if she has
+come to any harm, to see that the wrongdoers are brought to account.
+Of course, I am not competent to investigate the case myself, but I am
+in the position to bear any costs that the investigation would
+entail.”
+
+“Lucky man,” said Jervis. “And what is the proposal?”
+
+“I was wondering,” I replied, a little nervously, “whether I could
+prevail on you to undertake the case.”
+
+Jervis glanced at his senior, and the latter replied: “It is just a
+little premature to speak of a ‘case.’ The missing lady may return or
+communicate with her friends. If she does not, the inquiry will fall
+into the hands of the police; and there is no reason to suppose that
+they will not be fully competent to deal with it. They have more means
+and facilities than we have. But if the inquiry should become
+necessary, and the police should be unsuccessful, Jervis and I would
+be prepared to render you any assistance that we could.”
+
+“On professional terms,” I stipulated.
+
+Thorndyke smiled. “The financial aspects of the case,” said he, “can
+be considered when they arise. Now, I think, it is time for us to
+start.”
+
+As we walked down to the building where the inquest was to be held, we
+pursued the topic, and Thorndyke pointed out my position in the case.
+
+“You notice, Strangeways,” said he, “that you are the principal
+witness. You are the last person who saw Mrs. Frood before her
+disappearance, you heard her state her intended movements, you knew
+her circumstances, you saw and examined her husband, and you alone can
+give an exact description of her as she was at the time when she
+disappeared. I would suggest that, during the inquest, which will not
+interest you, you might usefully try to reconstitute that last
+interview and make full notes in writing of all that occurred with a
+very careful and detailed description of the person, clothing, and
+belongings of the missing lady. The police will want this information,
+and so shall I, if I am to give any consideration to the case.”
+
+On this suggestion I proceeded to act as soon as we had taken our
+places at the foot of the long table occupied by the coroner and the
+jury, detaching myself as well as I could from the matter of the
+inquest; and by the time that the deliberations were at an end and the
+verdict agreed upon, I had drafted out a complete set of notes and
+made two copies, one for the police and one for Thorndyke.
+
+As soon as we were outside the court I presented the latter copy,
+which Thorndyke read through.
+
+“This is admirable, Strangeways,” said he, as he placed it in his
+note-case. “I must compliment you upon your powers of observation. The
+description of the missing lady is remarkably clear and exhaustive.
+And now I would suggest that you call in at Mr. Japp’s office on our
+way back, and ascertain whether any letter has been received. If there
+has been no communication we shall have to regard the appearances as
+suspicious, and calling for investigation.”
+
+Secretly gratified at the interest which Thorndyke seemed to be
+developing in the mystery, I conducted my friends up the High-street
+until we reached the office, which I entered, leaving my colleagues
+outside. Mr. Japp looked up from a letter which he was writing, and
+Bundy, who had been peeping over the curtain, revolved on his stool
+and faced me.
+
+“Any news?” I asked.
+
+Japp shook his head gloomily. “Not a sign,” said he. “I shall wait
+until the first post is in to-morrow morning, and then, if there are
+no tidings of her, I shall go across to the police station. Perhaps
+you had better come with me, as you are able to give the particulars
+that they will want.”
+
+“Very well,” I said, “I will look in at half-past nine”; and with this
+I was turning away when Bundy inquired: “Are those two toffs outside
+friends of yours?” and, on my replying in the affirmative, he
+continued: “They seem to be taking a deuce of an interest in Japp’s
+proclamation. You might tell them that if they happen to have found
+that key, the money is quite safe. I will see that Japp pays up.”
+
+I promised to deliver the message, and, as Bundy craned up to make a
+further inspection of my colleagues, I departed to join the latter.
+
+“There is no news up to the present,” I said, “but Japp proposes to
+wait until to-morrow morning for a last chance before applying to the
+police.”
+
+“Was that Japp who was inspecting us through that preposterous pair of
+barnacles?” Jervis asked.
+
+“No,” I answered. “That was Bundy. He suspects you of having found
+that key and of holding on to it until you are sure of the reward.”
+
+“What key is it?” asked Jervis. “The key of the strong-room? They seem
+to be in a rare twitter about it.”
+
+“No; it is just a gate-key belonging to a piece of waste land where
+they are doing some repairs to the old city wall. And, by the way,
+thereby hangs a tale; a horrible and tragic tale of a convivial
+bargee, which ought to have a special interest for a pair of medical
+jurists”--and here I related to them the gruesome story that was told
+to Bundy and me by the old mortar-mixer.
+
+They both chuckled appreciatively at the dénouement, and Jervis
+remarked:
+
+“It would seem that the late Bill was a rather inflammable gentleman.
+The yarn recalls the tragic end of Mr. Krook in ‘Bleak House,’ only
+that Krook went one better than Bill, for he managed to combust
+himself in an hour or two without any lime at all.”
+
+The story and the comment brought us to my house, which we had no
+sooner entered than Mrs. Dunk, who seemed to have been lying in wait
+for us, made her appearance with the tea; and while we were disposing
+of this refreshment Thorndyke reverted to the case of my missing
+patient.
+
+“As I am to keep an eye on this case,” said he, “I shall want to be
+kept in touch with it. Of course, the actual investigation--if there
+has to be one--will need to be conducted on the spot, which is not
+possible to me. What I suggest is that you write out a detailed
+account of everything that is known to you in connexion with it. Don’t
+select your facts. Put down everything in any way connected with the
+case and say all you know about the person concerned--Mrs. Frood
+herself and everybody who was acquainted with her. Send this statement
+to me and keep a copy. Then, if any new fact becomes known, let me
+have it and make a note of it for your own information. You are on the
+spot and I shall look to you for the data; and if I want any of them
+amplified or confirmed I shall communicate with you.
+
+“There is one other matter. Do not confide to anyone that you have
+consulted me or that I am interested in the case; neither to Mr. Japp,
+to the police, nor to anybody else whatsoever; and I advise you to
+keep your own interest in the mystery to yourself as far as possible.”
+
+“What is the need of this secrecy?” I asked, in some surprise.
+
+“The point is,” replied Thorndyke, “that when you are investigating a
+crime you are playing against the criminal. But if the criminal is
+unknown to you you are playing against an unseen adversary. If you are
+visible to him he can watch your moves and reply to them. Obviously
+your policy is to keep out of sight and make your moves unseen. And
+remember that as long as you do not know who the criminal is you don’t
+know who he is not. Anyone may be the criminal, or may be his
+unconscious agent or coadjutor. If you make confidences they may be
+innocently passed on to the guilty parties. So keep your own counsel
+rigorously. If there has been a crime, that crime has local connexions
+and probably a local origin. The solution of the mystery will probably
+be discovered here. And if you intend to take a hand in the solution
+let it be a lone hand; and keep me informed of everything that you do
+or observe; and for my part, I will give you all the help I can.”
+
+By the time we had finished our tea and our discussion the hour of my
+friends’ departure was drawing nigh. I walked with them to the
+station, and when I bade them farewell I received a warm invitation to
+visit them at their chambers in the Temple; an invitation of which I
+determined to avail myself on the first favourable opportunity.
+
+
+
+
+ CHAPTER VIII.
+ SERGEANT COBBLEDICK TAKES A HAND
+
+Punctually at half-past nine on the following morning I presented
+myself at the office, and, if I had indulged in any hopes of
+favourable news--which I had not--they would have been dispelled by a
+glance at Mr. Japp’s troubled face.
+
+“I suppose you have heard nothing?” I said, when we had exchanged
+brief greetings.
+
+He shook his head gloomily as he opened the cupboard and took out his
+hat.
+
+“No,” he answered, “and I am afraid we never shall.” He sighed
+heavily, and, putting on his hat, walked slowly to the door. “It is a
+dreadful affair,” he continued, as we went out together. “How she
+would have hated the idea of it, poor girl! All the horrid publicity,
+the posters, the sensational newspaper paragraphs, the descriptions of
+her person and belongings. And then, at the end of it all, God knows
+what horror may come to light. It won’t bear thinking of.”
+
+He trudged along at my side with bent head and eyes cast down, and for
+the remainder of the short journey neither of us spoke. On reaching
+the police-station we made our way into a small, quiet office, the
+only tenant of which was a benevolent-looking, bald-headed sergeant,
+who was seated at a high desk, and, who presented that peculiar,
+decapitated aspect that appertains to a police officer minus his
+helmet. As we entered the sergeant laid down his pen and turned to us
+with a benign smile.
+
+“Good morning, Mr. Japp,” said he. “What can I have the pleasure of
+doing for you?”
+
+“I am sorry to say, Sergeant,” replied Japp, “that I have come here on
+very unpleasant business,” and he proceeded to give the officer a
+concise summary of the facts, to which our friend listened with close
+attention. When it was finished, the sergeant produced a sheet of blue
+foolscap, and, having folded a wide margin on it, dipped his pen in
+the ink and began his examination.
+
+“I’d better take the doctor’s statement first,” said he. “The lady’s
+name is Angelina Frood, married, living apart from husband--I shall
+want his address presently--last seen alive by----”
+
+“John Strangeways, M.D.,” said I, “of Maidstone-road, Rochester.”
+
+The sergeant wrote this down, and continued: “Last seen at about 8.30
+P.M. on Saturday, 26th April, proceeding towards Chatham, on unknown
+business. Can you give me a description of her?”
+
+I described her person, assisted by Japp, and the sergeant, having
+committed the particulars to writing, read them out:
+
+“‘Age 28, height 5 ft. 7 in., complexion medium, hazel eyes, abundant
+dark brown hair, strongly marked black eyebrows, nearly meeting over
+nose.’
+
+“No special marks that you know of?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Now, Doctor, can you tell us how she was dressed?”
+
+“She was wearing a snuff-brown coat and skirt,” I replied, “and a
+straw hat of the same colour with a broad, dull green band. The hat
+was fixed on by two hat-pins with silver heads shaped like
+poppy-capsules. The coat had six buttons, smallish, bronze
+buttons--about half an inch in diameter--with a Tudor rose embossed on
+each. Brown suède gloves with fasteners--no buttons--brown silk
+stockings, and brown suède shoes with small, oval bronze buckles. She
+had a narrow silk scarf, dull green, with three purple bands at each
+end--one broad band and two narrow--and knotted fringe at the ends.
+She wore a small circular brooch with a largish opal in the centre and
+a border of small pearls, of which one was missing. The missing pearl
+was in the position of the figure three on a clock dial. She carried a
+small morocco hand-bag with the initials A. F. stamped on it, which
+contained a little cardboard box, in which were six white tablets; the
+box was labelled with one of Dr. Partridge’s labels, on which her name
+was written, and it was wrapped in white paper and sealed with
+sealing-wax. That is all I can say for certain. But she always wore a
+wedding-ring, and occasionally an African Zodiac ring; but sometimes
+she carried this ring in a small purse with metal jaws and a ball
+fastening. I believe she always carried the purse.”
+
+As I gave this description, the sergeant wrote furiously, glancing at
+me from time to time with an expression of surprise, while Japp sat
+and stared at me open-mouthed.
+
+“Well, Doctor,” said the sergeant, when he had taken down my statement
+and read it out, “if I find myself ailing I’m going to pop along and
+consult you. I reckon there isn’t much that escapes your notice. With
+regard to that African ring now, I daresay you can tell us what it is
+like.”
+
+I was, of course, able to describe it in detail, including the
+initials A. C. inside, and even to give a rough sketch of some of the
+signs embossed on it, upon which the sergeant chuckled admiringly and
+wagged his head as he wrote down the description and pinned the sketch
+on the margin of his paper. The rest of my statement dealt with the
+last interview and the incidents connected with Nicholas Frood’s
+visits to Rochester, all of which the sergeant listened to with deep
+interest and committed to writing.
+
+Finally, I recounted the sinister incident--now more sinister than
+ever--of the murderous assault in the house near Regent’s Park,
+whereat the sergeant looked uncommonly serious and took down the
+statement verbatim.
+
+“Did you know about this, Mr. Japp?” he asked.
+
+“I knew that something unpleasant had happened,” was the reply, “but I
+didn’t know that it was as bad as this.”
+
+“Well,” said the sergeant, “it gives the present affair rather an ugly
+look. We shall have to make some inquiries about that gentleman.”
+
+Having squeezed me dry, he turned his attention to Japp, from whom he
+extracted a variety of information, including the address of the
+banker who paid the allowance to Nicholas Frood, and that of a lady
+who had formerly been a theatrical colleague of Mrs. Frood’s, and with
+whom Mr. Japp believed the latter had kept up a correspondence.
+
+“You haven’t a photograph of the missing lady, I suppose?” said the
+sergeant.
+
+With evident reluctance Japp drew from his pocket an envelope and
+produced from it a cabinet photograph, which he looked at sadly for a
+few moments and then handed to me.
+
+“I brought this photograph with me,” he said, “as I knew you would
+want it, but I rather hope that you won’t want to publish it.”
+
+“Now, why do you hope that?” the sergeant asked in a soothing and
+persuasive tone. “You want this lady found--or, at any rate, traced.
+But what better means can you suggest than publishing her portrait?”
+
+“I suppose you are right,” said Japp; “but it is a horrible thing to
+think of the poor girl’s face looking out from posters and newspaper
+pages.”
+
+“It is,” the sergeant agreed. “But, you see, if she is alive it is her
+own doing, and if she is dead it won’t affect her.”
+
+While they were talking I had been looking earnestly at the beloved
+face, which I now felt I should never look upon again. It was an
+excellent likeness, showing her just as I had known her, excepting
+that it was free from the cloud of trouble that had saddened her
+expression in these latter days. As the sergeant held out his hand for
+it, I turned it over and read the photographer’s name and address and
+the register number, and, having made a mental note of them, I
+surrendered it with a sigh.
+
+Our business was now practically concluded. When we had each read over
+the statements and added our respective signatures, the sergeant
+attested them and, having added the date, placed the documents in his
+desk and rose.
+
+“I am much obliged to you, gentlemen,” said he as he escorted us to
+the door. “If I hear anything that will interest you I will let you
+know, and if I should want any further information I shall take the
+liberty of calling on you.”
+
+“Well,” said Japp, as we turned to walk back, “the fat’s in the fire
+now. I mean to say,” he added quickly, “that we’ve fairly committed
+ourselves. I hope we haven’t been too precipitate. We should catch it
+if she came back and found that we had raised the hue and cry and set
+the whole town agog.”
+
+“I am afraid there is no hope of that,” said I. “At any rate, we had
+no choice or discretion in the matter. A suspected crime is the
+business of the police.”
+
+Mr. Japp agreed that this was so; and having by this time arrived at
+the office, we separated, he to enter his premises and I to betake
+myself to Chatham with no very defined purpose, but lured thither by a
+vague attraction.
+
+As I walked along the High-street, making occasional digressions into
+narrow alleys to explore wharves and water-side premises, I turned
+over the statements that had been given to the police and wondered
+what they conveyed to our friend, the sergeant, with his presumably
+extensive experience of obscure crime. To me they seemed to furnish no
+means whatever of starting an investigation, excepting by inquiring as
+to the movements of Nicholas Frood, by communicating with Angelina’s
+late colleague or by publishing the photograph. And here I halted to
+write down in my note-book before I should forget them the name and
+address of that lady--Miss Cumbers--and of the photographers, together
+with the number of the photograph; for I had decided to obtain a copy
+of the latter for myself, and it now occurred to me that I had better
+get one also for Thorndyke. And this latter reflection reminded me
+that I had to prepare my précis of the facts for him, and that I
+should do well to get this done at once while the matter of the two
+statements was fresh in my mind. Accordingly, as I paced the deck of
+the Sun Pier, looking up and down the busy river, with its endless
+procession of barges, bawleys, tugs, and cargo boats, striving
+ineffectually to banish the dreadful thought that, perchance,
+somewhere, at this very moment there was floating on its turbid waters
+the corpse of my dear, lost friend: I tried to recall and write down
+the substance of Japp’s statement, as I had heard it made and had
+afterwards read it. At length, finding the neighbourhood of the river
+too disturbing, I left the pier and took my way homewards, calling in
+at a stationer’s on the way to provide myself with a packet of sermon
+paper on which to write out my summary.
+
+When Thorndyke had given me my instructions, they had appeared to me a
+little pedantic. The full narrative which he asked for of all the
+events, without selection as to relevancy, and the account of what I
+knew of all the persons concerned in the case, seemed an excessive
+formality. But when I came to write the case out the excellence of his
+method became apparent in two respects. In the first place, the
+ordered narrative put the events in their proper sequence and
+exhibited their connexions; and in the second, the endeavour to state
+all that I knew, particularly of the persons, showed me how very
+little that was. Of the persons in any way concerned in the case there
+were but five: Angelina herself, her husband, Mrs. Gillow, Mr. Japp,
+and Bundy. Of the first two I knew no more than what I had observed
+myself and what Angelina had told me; of the last three I knew
+practically nothing. Not that this appeared to me of the slightest
+importance, but I had my instructions, and in compliance with them I
+determined to make such cautious inquiries as would enable me to give
+Thorndyke at least a few particulars of them. And this during the next
+few days I did; and I may as well set down here the scanty and rather
+trivial information that my inquiries elicited, and which I duly sent
+on to Thorndyke in a supplementary report.
+
+Mrs. Gillow was the wife of a mariner who was the second mate of a
+sailing ship that plied to Australia, who had now been away about four
+months and was expected home shortly. She was a native of the locality
+and had known Mr. Japp for several years. She occupied the part of the
+house above the ground floor and kept no servant or dependent, living
+quite alone when her husband was at sea. She had no children. Her
+acquaintance with Angelina began when the latter became the tenant of
+the ground floor and basement; it was but a slight acquaintance, and
+she knew nothing of Angelina’s antecedents or affairs excepting that
+she had left her husband.
+
+Mr. Japp was a native of Rochester and had lived in the town all his
+life, having taken over his business establishment from his late
+partner, a Mr. Borden. He was a bachelor and was related to Angelina
+by marriage, his brother--now deceased--having married Angelina’s
+aunt.
+
+As to Bundy, he was hardly connected with the case at all, since he
+had seen Angelina only once or twice and had scarcely exchanged a
+dozen words with her. Moreover, he had but recently come to
+Rochester--about six weeks ago, I gathered--having answered an
+advertisement of Japp’s for an assistant with a view to partnership;
+and the actual deed had not yet been executed, though the two partners
+were evidently quite well satisfied with one another.
+
+That was all the information that I had to give Thorndyke; and with
+the exception of the London incident it amounted to nothing.
+Nevertheless, it was as well to have established the fact that if
+anyone were concerned in Angelina’s disappearance, that person would
+have to be sought elsewhere than in Rochester.
+
+Having sent off my summary and read over again and again the copy
+which I had kept, I began to realize the justice of Thorndyke’s
+observation that the inquiry was essentially a matter for the police,
+who had both the experience and the necessary facilities; for whenever
+I tried to think of some plan for tracing my lost friend, I was
+brought up against the facts that I had nothing whatever to go on and
+no idea how to make a start. As to Thorndyke, he had no data but those
+that I had given him, and I realized clearly that these were utterly
+insufficient to form the basis of any investigation; and I found
+myself looking expectantly to the police to produce some new facts
+that might throw at least a glimmer of light on this dreadful and
+baffling mystery.
+
+I had not very long to wait. On the Friday after our call on the
+sergeant, I was sitting after lunch in my dining-room with a book in
+my hand, while my thoughts strayed back to those memorable evenings of
+pleasant converse with the sweet friend who, I felt, had gone from me
+for ever, when the door bell rang, and Mrs. Dunk presently announced:
+
+“Sergeant Cobbledick.”
+
+“Show him in here, Mrs. Dunk,” said I, laying aside my book, and
+rising to receive my visitor; who proved to be, as I had expected, the
+officer who had taken our statements. He entered with his helmet in
+his hand, and greeted me with a smile of concentrated benevolence.
+
+“Sit down, Sergeant,” said I, offering him an easy-chair. “I hope you
+have some news for us.”
+
+“Yes,” he replied, beaming on me. “I am glad to say we are getting on
+as well as we can expect. We have made quite a nice little start.”
+
+He spoke as if he had something particularly gratifying to
+communicate, and, having carefully placed his helmet on the table, he
+drew from his pocket a small paper packet, which he opened with great
+deliberation, extracting from it a small object, which he held out in
+the palm of his hand.
+
+“There, Doctor,” said he, complacently; “what do you say to that?”
+
+I looked at the object, and my heart seemed to stand still. It was
+Angelina’s brooch! I stared at it in speechless dismay for some
+moments. At length I asked, huskily: “Where did you get it?”
+
+“I found it,” said the sergeant, gazing fondly at the little trinket,
+“where I hardly hoped to find it--in a pawnbroker’s shop in Chatham.”
+
+“Did you discover who pawned it?” I asked.
+
+“In a sense, yes,” the sergeant replied with a bland smile.
+
+“How do you mean--in a sense?” I inquired.
+
+“I mean that his name was John Smith--only, of course, it wasn’t; and
+that his address was 26, Swoffer’s-alley, Chatham--only he didn’t live
+there, because there is no such number. You see, Doctor, John Smith is
+the name of nearly every man who gives a false description of himself;
+and I went straight off to Swoffer’s-alley--it was close by--and found
+that there wasn’t any number 26.”
+
+“Then you really don’t know who pawned it?”
+
+“We won’t exactly say that,” he replied. “I got a fair description of
+the man from the pawnbroker’s wife, who made out the ticket and says
+she could swear to the man if she saw him. He was a seafaring man,
+dressed in sailor’s clothes--a peaked cap and pea-jacket--a shortish
+fellow, rather sunburnt, with a small, stubby, dark moustache and dark
+hair, and a mole or wart on the left side of his nose, near the tip.
+She asked him where he had got the brooch, and he said it had belonged
+to his old woman. I should say he probably picked it up.”
+
+“Why do you think so?” I asked.
+
+“Well, if he had--er--got it in any other way, he would hardly have
+popped it in Chatham forty-eight hours after the--after it was lost,
+with the chance that the pawnbrokers had already been notified--he
+pawned it on Monday night.”
+
+“Then,” said I, “if he picked it up, he isn’t of much importance; and
+in any case you don’t know who he is.”
+
+“Oh, but he is of a good deal of importance,” said the sergeant. “I’ve
+no doubt he picked it up, but that is only a guess. He may have got it
+the other way. But at any rate, he had it in his possession and he
+will have to give an account of how he obtained it. The importance of
+it is this: taken with the disappearance, the finding of this brooch
+raises a strong suspicion that a crime has been committed, and if we
+could find out where it was picked up, we should have a clue to the
+place where the affair took place. I want that man very badly, and I’m
+going to have a good try to get him.”
+
+“I don’t quite see how,” said I. “You haven’t much to go on.”
+
+“I’ve got his nose to go on,” replied the sergeant.
+
+“But there must be plenty of other men with moles on their noses.”
+
+“That’s their look-out,” he retorted. “If I come across a man who
+answers the description, I shall hang on to him until Mrs. Pawnbroker
+has had a look at him. Of course, if she says he’s not the man, he’ll
+be released.”
+
+“But she won’t,” said I. “If he has a mole on his nose, she will be
+perfectly certain that he is the man.”
+
+The sergeant smiled benignly. “There’s something in that,” he
+admitted. “Ladies are a bit cock-sure when it comes to identification.
+But you can generally check ’em by other evidence. And if this chap
+picked the brooch up, he would be pretty certain to tell us all about
+it when he heard where it came from. Still, we haven’t got him yet.”
+
+For a while we sat without speaking, each pursuing his own thoughts.
+To me, this dreadful discovery, though it did but materialize the
+vague fears that had been surging through my mind, had fallen like a
+thunderbolt. For, behind those fears, I now realized that there had
+lurked a hope that the mystery might presently be resolved by the
+return of the lost one. Now that hope had suddenly become extinct. I
+knew that she had gone out of my life for ever. She was dead. This
+poor little waif that had drifted back into our hands brought the
+unmistakable message of her death, with horrible suggestions of
+hideous and sordid tragedy. I shuddered at the thought; and in that
+moment, from the grief and horror that possessed my soul, there was
+born a passion of hatred for the wretch who had done this thing and a
+craving for revenge.
+
+“There’s another queer thing that has come to light,” the sergeant
+resumed at length. “There may be nothing in it, but it’s a little
+queer. About the husband, Nicholas Frood.”
+
+“What about him?” I asked, eagerly.
+
+“Why, he seems to have disappeared, too. Of course, you understand,
+Doctor, that what I’m telling you is confidential. We are not talking
+about this affair outside, and we aren’t telling the Press much, at
+present.”
+
+“Naturally,” said I. “You can trust me to keep my own counsel, and
+yours, too.”
+
+“I’m sure I can. Well, about this man, Frood. It seems that last
+Friday he went away from his lodgings for a couple of days; but he
+hasn’t come back, and nobody knows what has become of him. He was
+supposed to be going to Brighton, where he has some relatives from
+whom he gets a little assistance occasionally, but they have seen or
+heard nothing of him. Quaint, isn’t it? You said you saw him here on
+the Monday.”
+
+“Yes, and I haven’t seen him since, though I have kept a look-out for
+him. But he may have been here, all the same. It looks decidedly
+suspicious.”
+
+“It is queer,” the sergeant agreed, “but we’ve no evidence that he has
+been in this neighbourhood.”
+
+“Have you made any other inquiries?” I asked.
+
+“We looked up that lady, Miss Cumbers, but we got nothing out of her.
+She had had a letter from Mrs. Frood on the 24th--yesterday
+week--quite an ordinary letter, giving no hint of any intention to go
+away from Rochester. So there you are. The mystery seems to be
+concerned entirely with this neighbourhood, and I expect we shall have
+to solve it on the spot.”
+
+This last observation impressed me strongly. The sergeant’s view of
+the case was the same as Thorndyke’s, and expressed in almost the same
+words.
+
+“Have you any theory as to what has actually happened?” I asked.
+
+The sergeant smiled in his benignant fashion. “It isn’t much use
+inventing theories,” said he. “We’ve got to get the facts before we
+can do anything. Still, looking at the case as we find it, there are
+two or three things that hit us in the face. There is a strong
+suspicion of murder, there is no trace of the body, and there is a big
+tidal river close at hand. On Saturday night it was high water at
+half-past eleven, so there wouldn’t have been much of the shore
+uncovered at, say, half-past nine, and there would have been plenty of
+water at any of the piers or causeways.”
+
+“Then you think it probable that she was murdered and her body flung
+into the river?”
+
+“It is the likeliest thing, so far as we can judge. There is the
+river, and there is no sign of the body on shore. But, as I say, it is
+no use guessing. We’ve got people watching the river from Allington
+Lock to Sheerness, and that’s all we can do in that line. The body is
+pretty certain to turn up, sooner or later. Of course, until it does,
+there is no real criminal case; and even when we’ve got the body, we
+may not be much nearer getting the murderer. Excepting the man Frood,
+there is no one who seems to have had any motive for making away with
+her; and if it was just a casual robbery with murder it is unlikely
+that we shall ever spot the man at all.”
+
+Having given expression to this rather pessimistic view, the sergeant
+rose, and, picking up his helmet, took his departure, after promising
+to let me know of any further developments.
+
+As soon as he was gone, I wrote down the substance of what he had
+said, and then embodied it in a report for Thorndyke. While I was thus
+occupied, the afternoon post was delivered, and included a packet from
+the London photographer, to whom I had written, enclosing two copies
+of the photograph of Angelina that Mr. Japp had handed to the
+sergeant. Of these, I enclosed one copy in my communication to
+Thorndyke, on the bare chance that it might be of some assistance to
+him, and, having closed up the large envelope and stamped it, I went
+forth to drop it into the post-box.
+
+
+
+
+ CHAPTER IX.
+ JETSAM
+
+That portion of Chatham High-street which lies adjacent to the River
+Medway presents a feature that is characteristic of old riverside
+towns in the multitude of communications between the street and the
+shore. Some of these are undisguised entrances to wharves, some are
+courts or small thoroughfares lined with houses and leading to
+landing-stages, while others are mere passages or flights of steps,
+opening obscurely and inconspicuously on the street by narrow
+apertures, unnoticed by the ordinary wayfarer and suggesting the
+burrows of some kind of human water-rat.
+
+In the days that followed the sergeant’s visit to me I made the
+acquaintance of all of them. Now I would wander down the cobbled
+cartway that led to a wharf, there to cast a searching eye over the
+muddy fore-shore or scan the turbid water at high tide as it eddied
+between the barges and around the piles. Or I would dive into the
+mouths of the burrows, creeping down slimy steps and pursuing the
+tortuous passages through a world of uncleanness until I came out upon
+the shore, where the fresh smell of seaweed mingled with odours
+indescribable. I began to be an object of curiosity--and perhaps of
+some suspicion--to the denizens of the little, ruinous, timber houses
+that lined these alleys, and of frank interest to the children who
+played around the rubbish heaps or dabbled in the grey mud. But never
+did my roving eye light upon that which it sought with such dreadful
+expectation.
+
+One afternoon, about a week after the sergeant’s visit, when I was
+returning home from one of these explorations, I observed a man on my
+doorstep as I approached the house. His appearance instantly aroused
+my attention, for he was dressed in the amphibious style adopted by
+waterside dwellers, and he held something in his hand at which he
+looked from time to time. Before I reached the door it had opened and
+admitted him, and when I arrived I found him in the hall nervously
+explaining his business to Mrs. Dunk.
+
+“Here _is_ the doctor,” said the latter; “you’d better tell him about
+it.”
+
+The man turned to me and held out an amazingly dirty fist. “I’ve got
+something here, sir,” said he, “what belongs to you, I think.” Here he
+unclosed his hand and exhibited a little cardboard box bearing one of
+Dr. Partridge’s labels. It was smeared with mud and grime, but I
+recognized it instantly; indeed, when I took it with trembling fingers
+from his palm and looked at it closely, the name, “Mrs. Frood,” was
+still decipherable under the smears of dirt.
+
+“Where did you find this?” I asked.
+
+“I picked it up on the strand,” he replied, “about halfway betwixt the
+Sun Pier and the end of Ship Alley, and just below spring tide
+high-water mark. Is it any good?”
+
+“Yes,” I answered; “it is very important. I will get you to walk along
+with me to the police station.”
+
+“What for?” he demanded suspiciously. “I don’t want no police
+stations. If it’s any good, give us what you think it’s worth, and
+have done with it.”
+
+I gave him half-a-crown to allay his suspicions, and then said: “You
+had better come with me to the station. I expect the police will want
+you to show them exactly where you found this box and help them to
+search the place; and I will see that you are paid for your trouble.”
+
+“But look ’ere, mister,” he objected; “what’s the police got to do
+with this ’ere box?”
+
+I explained the position to him briefly, and then, suddenly, his face
+lit up. “I know,” he said excitedly. “I seen the bills stuck up on the
+dead-’ouse door. And d’you mean to say as this ’ere box was ’ers? ’Cos
+if it was it’s worth more’n ’arf-a-crown.”
+
+“Perhaps it is,” said I. “We will hear what the sergeant thinks,” and
+with this I opened the door and went out, and my new acquaintance now
+followed with the greatest alacrity, taking the opportunity, as we
+walked along, to remind me of my promise and to offer tentative
+suggestions as to the scale of remuneration for his services.
+
+Our progress along the High-street was not unnoticed. Doubtless, we
+appeared a somewhat ill-assorted pair, for I observed a good many
+persons turn to look at us curiously, and when we passed the office,
+on the opposite side of the road, I saw Bundy’s face rise above the
+curtain with an expression of undissembled curiosity.
+
+On arriving at the station, I inquired for Sergeant Cobbledick, and
+was fortunate enough to find him in his office. As I entered with my
+companion, he bestowed on the latter a quick glance of professional
+interest and then greeted me with a genial smile. It was hardly
+necessary for me to state my business, for the single quick glance of
+his experienced eye at my companion had furnished the diagnosis. I had
+only to produce the box and indicate the finder.
+
+“This looks like a lead,” said he, reaching his helmet down from a
+peg. “What’s your name, sonny, and where do you live?”
+
+Sonny affirmed, with apparent reluctance, that his name was Samuel
+Hooper and that his abode was situated in Foul Anchor Alley; and when
+these facts had been committed to writing by the sergeant, the latter
+put on his helmet and invited the said Hooper to “come along,”
+evidently assuming that I was to form one of the party.
+
+As we approached the office this time I saw Bundy from afar off; and
+by the time we were abreast of the house he was joined by Japp, who
+must have stood upon tip-toe to bring his eyes above the curtain. Both
+men watched us with intense interest, and we had barely passed the
+house when Bundy’s head suddenly disappeared, and a few moments later
+its owner emerged from the doorway and hurriedly crossed the road.
+
+“What is in the wind, Doctor?” he asked, as he came up with us. “Japp
+is in a rare twitter. Have they found the body?”
+
+“No,” I answered; “only the little box that was in her hand-bag. We
+are going to have a look at the place where it was found.”
+
+“To see if the bag is there, too?” said he. “It probably is, unless it
+has been picked up already. I think I’ll come along with you, if you
+don’t object. Then I can give Japp all the news.”
+
+I did not object, nor did the sergeant--verbally; but his expression
+conveyed to me that he would willingly have dispensed with Mr. Bundy’s
+society. However, he was a suave and tactful man, and he made the best
+of the unwelcome addition to the party, even going so far as to offer
+the box for Bundy’s inspection.
+
+“It is pretty dirty,” the latter observed, holding it delicately in
+his fingers. “Wasn’t it wrapped in paper when you gave it to her,
+Doctor?”
+
+“It was wrapped up in paper when I found it,” said Hooper, “but I took
+off the paper to see what was inside, and, yer see, my ’ands wasn’t
+very clean, a-grubbin’ about in the mud.” In conclusive confirmation
+of this statement, he exhibited them to us, and then gave them a
+perfunctory wipe on his trousers.
+
+“What struck me,” said Bundy, “was that it doesn’t seem to have been
+in the water.”
+
+“It hadn’t,” said Hooper. “The outside paper was quite clean when I
+picked it up.”
+
+“It looks,” observed the sergeant, “as if they had turned out the bag
+and thrown away what they didn’t want; and then they probably threw
+away the bag, too. It is ten chances to one that it has been picked
+up, but if it hasn’t it will probably be somewhere along the
+high-water mark. How are the tides, Hooper?”
+
+“Just past the bottom of the nips,” was the reply; and a few moments
+later our guide added: “It’s down here,” and plunged into what looked
+like an open doorway. We followed, one at a time, cautiously
+descending a flight of very filthy stone steps and stooping to avoid
+knocking our heads against the overhanging story of an ancient timber
+house. At the bottom we proceeded, still in single file, along a
+narrow, crooked passage between grimy walls and ruinous tarred fences
+until, after many twistings and turnings, we came to a flight of rough
+wooden steps, thickly coated with yellow mud and slimy sea-grass,
+which led down to the shore.
+
+“Now,” said the sergeant, turning up the bottoms of his trousers,
+“show us exactly where you picked the box up.”
+
+“It was just oppersight that there schooner,” said our guide, taking
+his way along the muddy streak between the two lines of jetsam that
+corresponded to the springtide and neap-tide high-water marks;
+“betwixt her and the wharf.”
+
+We followed him, picking our way daintily, and, having inspected the
+spot that he indicated, squeezed in between the schooner’s bilge and
+the piles and raked over the rubbish that the tide had deposited on
+the shore.
+
+“Was you looking for anything in partickler?” Hooper asked.
+
+“We are looking for a small leather handbag,” replied the sergeant,
+“or anything else we can find.”
+
+“A ’and-bag wouldn’t ’ave been ’ere long,” Hooper remarked. “Somebody
+would ’ave twigged it pretty quick, unless it got hidden under
+something big.” He straightened himself up and gave a searching look
+up and down the shore; and then suddenly he started off with an air of
+definite purpose. Glancing in the direction towards which he was
+shaping his course, I observed, in the corner of a stage that jutted
+out from the quay, a heap of miscellaneous rubbish surmounted by the
+mortal remains of a large hamper. It looked a likely spot and we all
+followed, though not at his pace, being somewhat more fastidious as to
+where we stepped. Consequently he arrived considerably before us, and
+having flung away the hamper, began eagerly to grub among the
+underlying raffle. Just as we had come within a dozen yards of him,
+anxiously making the perilous passage over a stretch of peculiarly
+slimy mud, he stood up with a howl of triumph, and we all stopped to
+look at him. His arm was raised above his head, and from his hand hung
+by its handle a little morocco bag.
+
+“There’s no need to ask you to identify it, Doctor,” said the
+sergeant, as he despoiled the water-rat of his prize. “It fits your
+description to a T.”
+
+Nevertheless, he handed it to me, drawing my attention to the initials
+“A. F.” stamped on the leather. I turned it over gloomily, noting that
+it showed signs of having been in the water--though not, apparently,
+for any considerable time--and that none of its contents remained
+excepting a handkerchief tucked into an inner pocket, and returned it
+to him without remark.
+
+“Now, look here, Hooper,” said he, “I want you to stay down here and
+keep an eye on this shore until I send some of our men up, and then
+you can stay and help them, if you like. And remember that anything
+that you find--no matter what it is--you keep and hand over to me or
+my men; and you will be paid the full value and a reward for finding
+it as well. Do you understand that?”
+
+“I do,” replied Hooper. “That’s a fair orfer, and you can depend on me
+to do the square thing. I’ll stay down here until your men come.”
+
+Thereupon we left him, pursuing our way along the shore and keeping an
+attentive eye on all the rubbish and litter that we passed, until we
+came to a set of rough wooden steps by the Ship Pier.
+
+“I had no authority to offer to pay that chap,” said the sergeant, as
+we walked up Ship Alley, “but the superintendent has put me on to work
+at this case, and I’m not going to lose any chances for the sake of a
+few shillings. It is well to keep in with these waterside people.”
+
+“Have you published a list of things that are likely to turn up?”
+Bundy asked.
+
+“We’ve posted up a description of the missing woman with full details
+of her dress and belongings,” replied the sergeant. “But perhaps a
+list of the things that might be washed up would be useful. People are
+such fools. Yes, it’s a good idea. I’ll have a list printed of
+everything that might get loose and be picked up, and stick it up on
+the wharves and waterside premises. Then there will be nothing left to
+their imagination.”
+
+At the top of Ship Alley he halted, and having thanked me warmly for
+my prompt and timely information, turned towards Chatham Town, leaving
+me and Bundy to retrace our steps westward.
+
+“That was a bit of luck,” the latter remarked, “finding that bag; and
+he hardly deserved it. He ought to have had that piece of shore under
+observation from the first. But he was wise to make an acceptable
+offer to that body-snatcher, Hooper. I expect he lives on the shore,
+watching for derelict corpses and any unconsidered trifles that the
+river may throw up. I see there is a reward of two pounds for the
+body.”
+
+“You have seen the bills, then?”
+
+“Yes. We have got one to stick up in the office window. Rather
+gruesome, isn’t it?”
+
+“Horrible,” I said; and for a while we walked on in silence. Presently
+Bundy exclaimed: “By Jove! I had nearly forgotten. I have a message
+for you. It is from Japp. He is taking a distinguished American
+archæologist for a personally conducted tour round the town to show
+him the antiquities, and he thought you might like to join the party.”
+
+“That is very good of him,” said I. “It sounds as if it should be
+rather interesting.”
+
+“It will be,” said Bundy. “Japp is an enthusiast in regard to
+architecture and ancient buildings, and he is quite an authority on
+the antiquities of this town. You’d better come. The American--his
+name is Willard--is going to charter a photographer to come round with
+us and take records of all the objects of interest, and we shall be
+able to get copies of any photographs that we want. What do you say?”
+
+“When does the demonstration take place?”
+
+“The day after to-morrow. We shall do the Cathedral in the morning and
+the castle and the town in the afternoon. Shall I tell Japp you will
+join the merry throng?”
+
+“Yes, please; and convey my very warm thanks for the invitation.”
+
+“I will,” said he, halting as we arrived at the office, “unless you
+would like to come in and convey the joyful tidings yourself.”
+
+“No,” he replied, “I won’t come in now. I will get home and change my
+boots.”
+
+“Yes, by Jingo!” Bundy agreed, with a rueful glance at his own
+delicate shoes. “Mudlarking calls for a special outfit. And I clean my
+own shoes; but I’d rather do that than face Mrs. Dunk.”
+
+With this he retired up the steps, and I turned homeward, deciding to
+profit by his last remark and forestall unfavourable comment by
+shedding my boots on the doormat.
+
+
+
+
+ CHAPTER X.
+ WHICH DEALS WITH ANCIENT MONUMENTS
+ AND A BLUE BOAR
+
+On arriving home, I found awaiting me a letter from Dr. Thorndyke
+suggesting--in response to a general invitation that I had given him
+some time previously--that he should come down on Saturday to spend
+the week-end with me. Of course, I adopted the suggestion with very
+great pleasure, not a little flattered at receiving so distinguished a
+guest; and now I was somewhat disposed to regret my engagement to
+attend Mr. Japp’s demonstration. However, as Thorndyke was not due
+until lunch time, I should have an opportunity of modifying my
+arrangement, if necessary.
+
+But, as events turned out, I congratulated myself warmly on not having
+missed the morning visit to the Cathedral. It was a really remarkable
+experience; and not the least interesting part of it to me was the
+revelation of the inner personality of my friend, Mr. Japp. That
+usually dry and taciturn man of business was transfigured in the
+presence of the things that he really loved. He glowed with
+enthusiasm; he exhaled the very spirit of mediæval romance; at every
+pore he exuded strange and recondite knowledge. Obedient to his
+behest, the ancient building told the vivid story of its venerable
+past, presented itself in its rude and simple beginnings; exhibited
+the transformations that had marked the passing centuries; peopled
+itself with the illustrious departed, whose heirs we were and whose
+resting-places we looked upon; and became to us a living thing whose
+birth and growth we could watch, whose vicissitudes and changing
+conditions we could trace until they brought us to its august old age.
+Under his guidance we looked down the long vista of the past, from the
+time when simple masons scalloped the Norman capitals within, while
+illustrious craftsmen fashioned the wonderful west doorway, to that
+last upheaval that swept away the modern shoddy and restored to the
+old fabric its modest comeliness.
+
+Architectural antiquities, however, are not the especial concern of
+this history, though they were not without a certain influence in its
+unfolding. Accordingly, I shall not follow our progress--attended by
+the indispensable photographic recording angel--through nave and
+aisles, form choir to transepts, and from tower to undercroft. At the
+close of a delightful morning I betook myself homeward, charged with
+new and varied knowledge, and with a cordial invitation to my guest to
+join the afternoon’s expedition if he were archæologically inclined.
+
+Apparently he was, for when, shortly after his arrival, I conveyed the
+invitation to him he accepted at once.
+
+“I always take the opportunity,” said he, “of getting what is
+practically first-hand information. Your friend, Mr. Japp, is
+evidently an enthusiast; he has expert technical knowledge, and he has
+apparently filled in his detail by personal investigation. A man like
+that can tell you more in an hour than guide-books could tell you in a
+lifetime. We had better get a large-scale map of the town to enable us
+to follow the description, unless you have one.”
+
+“I haven’t,” said I, “but we can get one on the way to the rendezvous.
+You got my report, I suppose?”
+
+“Yes,” he replied, “I got it yesterday. That, in fact, was what
+determined me to come down. The discovery of that bag upon the shore
+dispels to some extent the ambiguity of our data. The finding of the
+brooch did not enlighten us much. It might simply have been dropped
+and picked up by some casual wayfarer. In fact, that is what the
+appearances suggested, for it is manifestly improbable that a person
+who had committed a crime would take the risk of pawning the product
+of robbery with violence in the very neighbourhood where the crime had
+been committed, and after an interval of time which would allow of the
+hue and cry having already been raised. Your sergeant is probably
+right in assuming that the man with the mole had nothing to do with
+the affair. But the finding of this bag is a different matter. It
+connects that disappearance with the river and it offers a strong
+suggestion of crime.”
+
+“Don’t you think it possible that she might have fallen into the river
+accidentally?” I asked.
+
+“It is possible,” he admitted. “But that is where the significance of
+the brooch comes in. If she had fallen into the river from some wharf
+or pier, there does not seem to be any reason why the brooch should
+have become detached and fallen on land--as it apparently did. The
+finding of the bag where it had been thrown up by the river, and of
+the brooch on shore, suggests a struggle on land previous to the fall
+into the water. You don’t happen, I suppose, to know what the bag
+contained?”
+
+“I don’t--excepting the packet of tablets that I gave her. When the
+bag was found, it was empty; at least, it contained only the
+handkerchief, as I mentioned in my report.”
+
+“Yes,” he said reflectively. “By the way, I must compliment you on
+those reports. They are excellent, and with regard to this one, there
+are two or three rather curious circumstances. First, as to the packet
+of tablets. You mention that it had not been unwrapped and that, when
+it was found, the paper was quite clean. Therefore it had never been
+in the water. Therefore it had been taken out of the bag--by somebody
+with moderately clean hands--before the latter was dropped into the
+river; and it must have been thrown away on the shore above high-water
+mark. Incidentally, since the disappearance occurred--presumably--on
+the evening of the 26th of April, and the packet was found on the 7th
+of May, it had been lying on the shore for a full ten days. Perhaps
+there is nothing very remarkable in that; but the point is that Mrs.
+Frood was carrying the bag in her hand and she would almost certainly
+have dropped it if there had been any struggle. How, then, did the bag
+come to be in the river, and how came some of its contents to be found
+on the shore clean and free from any traces of submersion?”
+
+“We can only suppose,” said I, with an inward shudder--for the
+discussion of these hideous details made my very flesh creep--“that
+the murderer picked up the bag when he had thrown the body into the
+river, took out any articles of value, if there were any, and threw
+the rest on the shore.”
+
+“Yes,” agreed Thorndyke, a little doubtfully, “that would seem to be
+what happened. And in that case, we should have to assume that the
+place where the packet was found was, approximately, the place where
+the crime was committed. For, as the packet was never immersed, it
+could not have been carried to that place by the tide, and one cannot
+think of any other agency by which it could have been moved. Its clean
+and unopened condition seems to exclude human agency. The question
+then naturally arises, Is the place where the packet was found, a
+place at, or near, which the tragedy could conceivably have occurred?
+What do you say to that?”
+
+I considered for a few moments, recalling the intricate and obscure
+approach of the shore and the absence of anything in the nature of a
+public highway.
+
+“I can only say,” I replied at length, “that it seems perfectly
+inconceivable that Mrs. Frood could have been at that place, or even
+near it, unless she went there for some specific purpose--unless, for
+instance, she were lured there in some way. It is a place that is, I
+should say, unknown to any but the waterside people.”
+
+“We must go there and examine the place carefully,” said he, “for if
+it is, as you say, a place to which no one could imaginably have
+strayed by chance, that fact has an important evidential bearing.”
+
+“Do you think it quite impossible that the package could have been
+carried to that place and dropped there?”
+
+“Not impossible, of course,” he replied, “but I can think of no
+reasonably probable way in which it could have happened, supposing the
+murderer to have pocketed it, and afterwards to have thrown it away.
+That would be a considered and deliberate act; and it is almost
+inconceivable that he should not have opened the packet to see what
+was inside, and that he should have dropped it on the dry beach when
+the river was close at hand. Remember that the bag was found quite
+near, and that it had been in the water.”
+
+“And assuming the crime to have been committed at that place, what
+would it prove?”
+
+“In the first place,” he replied, “it would pretty definitely exclude
+the theory of accidental death. Then it would suggest at least a
+certain amount of premeditation, since the victim would have had, as
+you say, to be enticed to that unlikely spot. And it would suggest
+that the murderer was a person acquainted with the locality.”
+
+“One of the waterside people,” said I. “They are a pretty shady lot,
+but I don’t see why any of them should want to murder her.”
+
+“It is not impossible,” said he. “She was said to be shopping in
+Chatham, and she might have had a well-filled purse and allowed it to
+be seen. But that is mere speculation. The fact is that we have no
+data at present. We know practically nothing about Mrs. Frood. We
+can’t say if she had any secret enemies, or if there was anyone who
+might have profited by her death or have had any motive for making
+away with her.”
+
+“We know something about her husband,” said I, “and that he has
+disappeared in a rather mysterious fashion; and that his disappearance
+coincides with that of his wife.”
+
+“Yes,” Thorndyke agreed, “those are significant facts. But we mustn’t
+lose sight of the legal position. Until the body is recovered, there
+is no evidence of death. Until the death is proved, no charge of
+murder can be sustained. When the body is found it will probably
+furnish some evidence as to how the death occurred, if it is recovered
+within a reasonable time. As a matter of fact, it is rather remarkable
+that it has not yet been found. The death occurred--presumably--nearly
+a fortnight ago. Considering how very much frequented this river is,
+it is really rather unaccountable that the body has not come to light.
+But I suppose it is time that we started for the rendezvous.”
+
+I looked at my watch and decided that it was, and we accordingly set
+forth in the direction of the office, which was the appointed
+meeting-place, calling at a stationer’s to provide ourselves each with
+a map. We chose the six-inch town plan, which contained the whole
+urban area, including the winding reaches of the river, folding them
+so as to show at an opening the peninsula on which the city of
+Rochester is built.
+
+“A curious loop of the river, this,” said Thorndyke, scanning the map
+as we went along. “Rather like that of the Thames at the Isle of Dogs.
+You notice that there are quite a number of creeks on the low shore at
+both sides. Those will be places to watch. A floating body has rather
+a tendency to get carried into shallow creeks and to stay there. But I
+have no doubt the longshoremen are keeping an eye on them as a reward
+has been offered. Perhaps we might be able to go down and have a look
+at the shore when we have finished our perambulation of the town.”
+
+“I don’t see why not,” I replied, though, to tell the truth, I was not
+very keen on this particular exploration. To Thorndyke this quest was
+just an investigation to be pursued with passionless care and method.
+To me it was a tragedy that would colour my whole life. To him,
+Angelina was but a missing woman whose disappearance had to be
+explained by patient inquiry. To me she was a beloved friend whose
+loss would leave me with a life-long sorrow. Of course, he was not
+aware of this; he had no suspicion of the shuddering horror that his
+calm, impersonal examination of the evidential details produced in me.
+Nor did I intend that he should. It was my duty and my privilege to
+give him what assistance I could, and keep my emotions to myself.
+
+“You will bear in mind,” said he, as we approached the office, “that
+my connexion with the case of Mrs. Frood is not to be referred to. I
+am simply a friend staying with you for a day or two.”
+
+“I won’t forget,” said I, “though I don’t quite see why it should
+matter.”
+
+“It probably doesn’t matter at all,” he replied. “But one never knows.
+Facts which might readily be spoken of before a presumably
+disinterested person might be withheld from one who was known to be
+collecting evidence for professional purposes. At any rate, I make it
+a rule to keep out of sight as far as possible.”
+
+These observations brought us to the office, where we found our three
+friends together with a young man, who was apparently acting as deputy
+during the absence of the partners, and the photographer. I presented
+Thorndyke to my friends, and when the introduction had been made Mr.
+Japp picked up his hat, and turned to the deputy.
+
+“You know where to find me, Stevens,” he said, “if I should be really
+wanted--really, you understand. But I don’t particularly want to be
+found. Shall we start now? I propose to begin at the bridge, follow
+the High-street as far as Eastgate House, visit Restoration House,
+trace the city wall on the southwest side, and look over the castle.
+By that time we shall be ready for tea. After tea we can trace the
+north-east part of the wall and the gates that opened through it, and
+that will finish our tour of inspection.”
+
+Hereupon the procession started, Mr. Japp and his guest leading,
+Thorndyke, Bundy, and I following, and the photographer bringing up
+the rear.
+
+“Let me see,” said Bundy, looking up at Thorndyke with a sort of pert
+shyness, “weren’t you down here a week or two ago?”
+
+“Yes,” replied Thorndyke; “and I think I had the honour of being
+inspected by you while I was reading your proclamation respecting a
+certain lost key.”
+
+“You had,” said Bundy; “in fact, I may say that you raised false hopes
+in my partner and me. We thought you were going to find it.”
+
+“What, for ten shillings!” exclaimed Thorndyke.
+
+“We would have raised the fee if you had made a firm offer,” said
+Bundy, removing his eyeglass to polish it with his handkerchief. “It
+was a valuable key. Belonged to a gate that encloses part of the city
+wall.”
+
+“Indeed!” said Thorndyke. “I don’t wonder you were anxious about it
+considering what numbers of dishonest persons there are about. Ha!
+Here is the bridge. Let us hear what Mr. Japp has to say about it.”
+
+Mr. Japp’s observations were concise. Having cast a venomous glance at
+the unlovely structure, he turned his back on it and remarked acidly:
+
+“That is the new bridge. It is, as you see, composed of iron girders.
+It is not an antiquity, and I hope it never will be. Let us forget it
+and go on to the Guildhall.” He strode forward doggedly and Bundy
+turned to us with a grin.
+
+“Poor old Japp,” said he, “he does hate that bridge. He has an
+engraving of the old stone one in his rooms, and I’ve seen him stand
+in front of it and groan. And really you can’t wonder. It is an awful
+come-down. Just think what the town must have looked like from across
+the river when that stone bridge was standing.”
+
+Here we halted opposite the Guildhall, and when we had read the
+inscription, admired the magnificent ship weather-cock--said to be a
+model of the Rodney--and listened to Japp’s observations on the
+architectural features of the building, the photographer was
+instructed to operate on its exterior while we entered to explore the
+Justice Room and examine the portraits. From the Guildhall we passed
+on to the Corn Exchange, the quaint and handsome overhanging clock of
+which had evidently captured Mr. Willard’s fancy.
+
+“That clock,” said he, “is a stroke of genius. It gives a character to
+the whole street. But what in creation induced your City Fathers to
+allow that charming little building to be turned into a picture
+theatre?”
+
+Japp shook his head and groaned. “You may well ask that,” said he,
+glaring viciously at the inane posters and the doorway, decorated in
+the film taste. “If good Sir Cloudesley Shovel, who gave it to the
+town, could rise from his grave and look at it, now he’d--bah! The
+crying need of this age is some means of protecting historic buildings
+from town councils. To these men an ancient building is just
+old-fashioned--out-of-date; a thing to be pulled down and replaced by
+something smart and up-to-date in the corrugated iron line.” He
+snorted fiercely, and as the photographer dismounted his camera, he
+turned and led the way up the street. I lingered to help the
+photographer with his repacking, and meanwhile Thorndyke and Bundy
+walked on together, chatting amicably and suggesting to my fancy an
+amiable mastiff accompanied by a particularly well-groomed fox
+terrier.
+
+“Do you usually give your patients a week-end holiday?” Bundy was
+inquiring as I overtook them.
+
+“I haven’t any patients,” replied Thorndyke. “My medical practice is
+conducted mostly in the Law Courts.”
+
+“Good gracious!” exclaimed Bundy. “Do you mean that you live by
+resuscitating moribund jurymen and fattening up murderers for
+execution, and that sort of thing?”
+
+“Not at all,” replied Thorndyke. “Nothing so harmless. I am what is
+known as a Medical Expert. I give opinions on medical questions that
+affect legal issues.”
+
+“Then you are really a sort of lawyer?”
+
+“Yes. A medico-legal hybrid; a sort of centaur or merman, with a
+doctor’s head and a lawyer’s tail.”
+
+“Well,” said Bundy, “there are some queer professions. I once knew a
+chap in the furniture trade who described himself as a
+‘worm-eater’--drilled worm-holes in faked antiques, you know.”
+
+“And what,” asked Thorndyke, “might be the analogy that you are
+suggesting? You don’t propose to associate me with the diet of worms,
+I hope.”
+
+“Certainly not,” said Bundy, “though I suppose your practice is
+sometimes connected with exhumations. But I was thinking that you must
+know quite a lot about crime.”
+
+“A good deal of my practice is concerned with criminal cases,”
+Thorndyke admitted.
+
+“Then you will be rather interested in our local mystery. Has the
+doctor told you about it?”
+
+“You mean the mystery of the disappearing lady? But of what interest
+should it be to me? I was not acquainted with her.”
+
+“I meant a professional interest. But I suppose you are not taking a
+’bus-man’s holiday: don’t want to be bothered with mysteries that
+don’t concern you. Still, I should like to hear your expert opinion on
+the case.”
+
+“You mistake my functions,” said Thorndyke. “A common witness
+testifies to facts known to himself. An expert witness interprets
+facts presented to him by others. Present me your facts, and I will
+try to give you an interpretation of them.”
+
+“But there are no facts. That is what constitutes the mystery.”
+
+“Then there is nothing to interpret. It is a case for the police, and
+not for the scientific expert.”
+
+Here our conversation was interrupted by our arrival at the House of
+the Six Poor Travellers, and by a learned disquisition by Japp on the
+connotation of the word Proctor--which, it appeared, was sometimes
+used in the Middle Ages in the sense of a cadger or swindler. Thence
+we proceeded to Eastgate House, where Japp mounted his hobby and
+discoursed impressively on the subject of ceilings, taking as his text
+a specimen modelled _in situ_, and bearing the date 1590.
+
+“The fellow who put up that ceiling,” said he, “took his time about
+it, no doubt. But his work has lasted three hundred and fifty years.
+That is the best way to save time. Your modern plasterer will have his
+ceiling up in a jiffy; and it will be down in a jiffy, and to do all
+over again. And never worth looking at at all.”
+
+Mr. Willard nodded. “It is very true,” said he. “What is striking me
+in looking at all this old work is the great economy of time that is
+effected by taking pains and using good material, to say nothing of
+the beauty of the things created.”
+
+“If he goes on talking like that,” whispered Bundy, “Japp’ll kiss him.
+We must get them out of this.”
+
+Mercifully--if such a catastrophe was imminent--the ceiling discourse
+brought our inspection here to an end. From Eastgate House we went
+back to the Maidstone-road, and when we had inspected Restoration
+House, began to trace out the site of the city wall, which Thorndyke
+carefully marked on his map, to Japp’s intense gratification. This
+perambulation brought us to the castle--which was dealt with rather
+summarily, as Mr. Willard had already examined it--and we then
+returned to the office for tea, which Bundy prepared and served with
+great success in his own sitting-room, while Japp dotted in with red
+ink on Thorndyke’s map the entire city wall, including the part which
+we had yet to trace; and ridiculously small the ancient city looked
+when thus marked out on the modern town.
+
+After tea we retraced our steps to the site of the East Gate, and,
+having inspected a large fragment of the wall at the end of an alley,
+traced its line across the High-street, and then proceeded down Free
+School-lane to the fine angle-bastion at the northern corner of the
+lane. Thence we followed the scanty indications as far as the site of
+the North Gate, and thereafter through a confused and rather unlovely
+neighbourhood until, on the edge of the marshes, we struck into a
+narrow lane, enclosed by a dilapidated tarred fence, a short distance
+along which we came to a closed gate, which I recognized as the one
+through which I had passed with Bundy on the day when we were made
+acquainted with the tragic history of Bill the Bargee. As Japp
+unlocked the gate and admitted us to the space of waste land, Bundy
+remarked to Thorndyke: “That is the gate that the missing key belonged
+to. You see there is no harm done so far. The wall is still there.”
+
+“Yes,” said Thorndyke, “and not much improved in appearance by your
+builders’ attentions. Those patches suggest the first attempts of an
+untalented dental student at conservation.”
+
+“They are rather a disfigurement,” said Japp. “But the men had to have
+a job found for them, and that is the result. Perhaps they won’t show
+so much in the photograph.”
+
+While the photographer was setting up his camera and making the
+exposure, Japp explained the relation of this piece of wall to the
+North Gate and the Gate that faced the bridge, and marked its position
+on Thorndyke’s map.
+
+“And that,” he continued, “concludes our perambulation. The
+photographer is chartered by Mr. Willard, but I understand that we are
+at liberty to secure copies of the photographs, if we want them. Is
+that not so, Mr. Willard?”
+
+“Surely,” was the cordial reply; “only I stipulate that they shall be
+a gift from me, and I shall ask a favour in return. If there is a
+plate left, I should like to have a commemorative group taken, so that
+when I recall this pleasant day, I can also recall the pleasant
+society in which I spent it.”
+
+We all acknowledged the kindly compliment with a bow, and as the
+photographer announced that he had a spare plate, we grouped ourselves
+against a portion of undisfigured wall, removed our hats, and took up
+easy and graceful postures on either side of Mr. Willard. When the
+exposure had been made, and the photographer proceeded to pack up his
+apparatus, Thorndyke tendered his very hearty thanks to Mr. Japp and
+his friend for their hospitality.
+
+“It has been a great privilege,” said he, “to be allowed to share in
+the products of so much study and research, and I assure you it is far
+from being unappreciated. Whenever I revisit Rochester--which I hope
+to do before long--I shall think of you gratefully, and of your very
+kind and generous friend, Mr. Willard.”
+
+Our two hosts made suitable acknowledgments; and while these
+compliments were passing, I turned to Bundy.
+
+“Can we get down to the shore from here?” I asked. “Thorndyke was
+saying that he would like to have a look at the river. If it is
+accessible from here we might take it on the way home.”
+
+“It isn’t difficult to get at,” replied Bundy. “If he wants to get a
+typical view of the river with the below-bridge traffic, by far the
+best place is Blue Boar Pier. It isn’t very far, and it is on your way
+home--more or less. I’ll show you the way there if you like. Japp is
+dining with Willard, so he won’t want me.”
+
+I accepted the offer gladly, and as the exchange of compliments seemed
+to be completed and our party was moving towards the gate, I tendered
+my thanks for the day’s entertainment and bade my hosts farewell,
+explaining that we were going riverwards. Accordingly we parted at the
+gate, Japp and Willard turning towards the town, while Thorndyke,
+Bundy, and I retraced our steps towards the marshes.
+
+At the bottom of the lane Bundy paused to explain the topography.
+“That path,” said he, “leads to Gas House-road and the marshes by the
+North Shore. But there isn’t much to see there. If we take this other
+track we shall strike Blue Boar-lane, which will take us to the pier.
+From there we can get a view of the whole bend of the river right
+across to Chatham.”
+
+Thorndyke followed the description closely with the aid of his map,
+marking off our present position with a pencil. Then we struck into a
+rough cart-track, with the wide stretch of the marshes on our left,
+and, following this, we presently came out into the lower part of Blue
+Boar-lane and turned our faces towards the river. We had not gone far
+when I observed a man approaching whose appearance seemed to be
+familiar. Bundy also observed him, for he exclaimed: “Why, that is old
+Cobbledick! Out of uniform, too. Very irregular. I shall have to
+remonstrate with him. I wonder what he has been up to. Prowling about
+the river bank in search of clues, I expect. And he’ll suspect us of
+being on the same errand.”
+
+Bundy’s surmise appeared to be correct, for as the sergeant drew
+nearer and recognized us, his face took on an expression of shrewd
+inquiry. But I noticed with some surprise that his curiosity seemed to
+be principally concerned with Thorndyke, at whom he gazed with
+something more than common attention. Under the circumstances I should
+have passed him with a friendly greeting, but he stopped, and, having
+wished me “Good evening,” said: “Could I have a few words with you,
+Doctor?” upon which I halted, and Thorndyke and Bundy walked on
+slowly. The sergeant looked after them, and, turning his back to them,
+drew from his pocket with a mysterious air a small dirty brown bundle,
+which he handed to me.
+
+“I wanted you just to have a look at that,” he said.
+
+I opened out the bundle, though I had already tentatively recognized
+it. But when it was unrolled it was unmistakable. It was poor
+Angelina’s scarf.
+
+“I thought there couldn’t be any doubt about it,” the sergeant said
+cheerfully when I had announced the identification. “Your description
+was so clear and exact. Well, this gives us a pretty fair kick-off.
+You can see that it has been in the water--some time, too. So we know
+where to look for the body. The mysterious thing is, though, that
+we’ve still got to look for it. It ought to have come up on the shore
+days ago. And it hasn’t. There isn’t a longshoreman for miles up and
+down that isn’t on the look-out for it. You can see them prowling
+along the sea-walls and searching the creeks in their boats. I can’t
+think how they can have missed it. The thing is getting serious.”
+
+“Serious?” I repeated.
+
+“Well,” he explained, “there’s no need for me to point out to a
+medical gentleman like you that bodies don’t last for ever, especially
+in mild weather such as we’ve been having, and in a river where the
+shore swarms with rats and shore-crabs. Every day that passes is
+making the identification more difficult.”
+
+The horrible suggestions that emerged from his explanation gave me a
+sensation of physical sickness. I fidgeted uneasily, but still I
+managed to rejoin huskily: “There’s the clothing, you know.”
+
+“So there is,” he agreed; “and very good means of identification in an
+ordinary case--accidental drowning, for instance. But this is a
+criminal case. I don’t want to have to depend on the clothing.”
+
+“Was the scarf found floating?” I asked, a little anxious to change
+the subject to one less gruesome.
+
+“No,” he replied. “It was on the shore by the small creek just below
+Blue Boar Pier, under an empty fish-trunk. One of the Customs men from
+the watch-house found it. He noticed the trunk lying out on the shore
+as he was walking along and went out to see if there was anything in
+it. Then, when he found it was empty, he turned it over, and there was
+the scarf. He recognized it at once--there’s a list of the articles
+stuck up on the watch-house--and kept it to bring to me. But it
+happened that I came down here--as I do every day--just after he’d
+found it. But I mustn’t keep you here talking, though I’m glad I met
+you and got your confirmation about this scarf.”
+
+He smiled benignly and raised his hat, whereupon I wished him “Good
+evening” and went on my way with a sigh of relief. He was a pleasant,
+genial man, but his matter-of-fact way of looking at this tragedy that
+had eaten so deeply into my peace of mind, was to me positively
+harrowing. But, of course, he did not understand my position in the
+case.
+
+“Well,” said Bundy, when I hurried up, “what’s the news? Old
+Cobbledick was looking mighty mysterious. And wasn’t he interested in
+us? Why he’s gazing after us still. Has he had a bite? Because if he
+hasn’t, I have. Some beastly mosquito.”
+
+“Don’t rub it,” said Thorndyke, as Bundy clapped his hand to his
+cheek. “Leave it alone. We’ll put a spot of ammonia or iodine on it
+presently.”
+
+“Very well,” replied Bundy, with a grimace expressive of resignation.
+“I am in the hands of the Faculty. What sort of fish was it that Isaak
+Walton Cobbledick had hooked? Or is it a secret?”
+
+“I don’t think there is any secrecy about it,” said I. “One of the
+Customs men has found Mrs. Frood’s scarf,” and I repeated what the
+sergeant had told me as to the circumstances.
+
+“It is a gruesome affair,” said Bundy, “this search for these ghastly
+relics. Look at those ghouls down on the shore there. I suppose that
+is the fish-trunk.”
+
+As he spoke, we came out on the shore to the right of the pier and
+halted to survey the rather unlovely prospect. Outside the stunted
+sea-wall a level stretch of grey-green grass extended to the spring
+high-water mark, beyond which a smooth sheet of mud--now dry and
+covered with multitudinous cracks--spread out to the slimy domain of
+the ordinary tides. At the edge of the dry mud lay a derelict
+fish-trunk around which a group of bare-legged boys had gathered--and
+all along the shore, on the faded grass, on the dry mud and wading in
+the soft slime, the human water-rats were to be seen, turning over
+drift-rubbish, prying under stranded boats or grubbing in the soft
+mud. Hard by, on the grass near the sea-wall, an old ship’s long-boat
+had been hauled up above tide-marks to a permanent berth and turned
+into a habitation by the erection in it of a small house. A short
+ladder gave access to it from without and the resident had laid down a
+little causeway of flat stones leading to the wall.
+
+“Mr. Noah seems to be at home,” observed Bundy, as we approached the
+little amphibious residence to inspect it. He pointed to a thin wisp
+of smoke that issued from the iron chimney; and, almost as he spoke,
+the door opened and an old man came out into the open stern-sheets of
+the boat with a steaming tin pannikin in his hand. His appearance
+fitted his residence to a nicety; for whereas the latter appeared to
+have been constructed chiefly from driftwood and wreckage, his costume
+suggested a collection of assorted marine salvage, with a leaning
+towards oil-skin.
+
+“Mr. Noah” cast a malevolent glance at the searchers; then, having
+fortified himself with a pull at the pannikin, he turned a filmy blue
+eye on us.
+
+“Good evening,” said Thorndyke. “There seems to be a lot of business
+doing here,” and he indicated the fish-trunk and the eager searchers.
+
+The old man grunted contemptuously. “Parcel of fules,” said he,
+“a-busyin’ theirselves with what don’t concern ’em, and lookin’ in the
+wrong place at that.”
+
+“Still,” said Bundy, “they have found something here.”
+
+“Yes,” the old man admitted, “they have. And that’s why they ain’t
+goin’ to find anything more.” He refreshed himself with a drink
+of--presumably--tea, and continued: “But the things is a-beginning to
+come up. It’s about time she come up. But she won’t come up here.”
+
+“Where do you suppose she will come up?” asked Bundy.
+
+The old man regarded him with a cunning leer. “Never you mind where
+she’ll come up,” said he. “It ain’t no consarn o’ yourn.”
+
+“But how do you know where she’ll come up?” Bundy persisted.
+
+“I knows,” the old scarecrow replied conclusively, “becos I do. Becos
+I gets my livin’ along-shore, and it’s my business for to know.”
+
+Having made this pronouncement, Mr. Noah looked inquiringly into the
+pannikin, emptied it at a draught, and, turning abruptly, retired into
+the ark, shutting the door after him with a care suited to its evident
+physical infirmity.
+
+“I wonder if he really does know,” said Bundy, as we walked away past
+the Customs watch-house.
+
+“We can fairly take it that he doesn’t,” said Thorndyke, “seeing that
+the matter is beyond human calculation. But I have no doubt that he
+knows the places where bodies and other floating objects are most
+commonly washed ashore, and we may assume that he is proposing to
+devote his probably extensive leisure to the exploration of those
+places. It wouldn’t be amiss to put the sergeant in communication with
+him.”
+
+“Probably the sergeant knows him,” said I, “but I will mention the
+matter the next time I see him.”
+
+At the top of Blue Boar-lane Bundy halted and held out his hand to
+Thorndyke. “This is the parting of the ways,” said he.
+
+“Oh, no, it isn’t,” replied Thorndyke. “You’ve got to have your
+mosquito-bite treated. Never neglect an insect-bite, especially on the
+face.”
+
+“As a matter of fact,” said I, “you have got to come and have dinner
+with us. We can’t let you break up the party in this way.”
+
+“It’s very nice of you to ask me,” he began, hesitatingly, a little
+shy, as I guessed, of intruding on me and my visitor; but I cut him
+short, and, hooking my arm through his, led him off, an obviously
+willing captive. And if his presence hindered me from discussing with
+Thorndyke the problem that had occasioned his visit, that was of no
+consequence, since we should have the following day to ourselves; and
+he certainly contributed not a little to the cheerfulness of the
+proceedings. Indeed, I seemed to find in his high spirits something a
+little pathetic; a suggestion that the company of two live men--one of
+them a man of outstanding intellect--was an unusual treat, and that
+his life with old Japp and the predatory females might be a trifle
+dull. He took to Thorndyke amazingly, treating him with a sort of
+respectful cheekiness, like a schoolboy dining with a favourite
+head-master; while Thorndyke, fully appreciative of his irresponsible
+gaiety, developed a quiet humour and playfulness which rather took me
+by surprise. The solemn farce of the diagnosis and treatment of the
+mosquito bite was an instance; when Thorndyke, having seated the
+patient in the surgery chair and invested him with a large towel,
+covered the table with an assortment of preposterous instruments and
+bottles of reagents, and proceeded gravely to examine the bite through
+a lens until Bundy was as nervous as a cat, and then to apply the
+remedy with meticulous precision on the point of a fine sable brush.
+
+It was a pleasant evening, pervaded by a sense of frivolous gaiety
+that was felt gratefully by the two elder revellers and was even
+viewed indulgently by Mrs. Dunk. As to Bundy, his high spirits flowed
+unceasingly--but, I may add, with faultless good manners--and when, at
+length, he took his departure, he shook our hands with a warmth which,
+again, I found slightly pathetic.
+
+“I _have_ had a jolly evening!” he exclaimed, looking at me with a
+queer sort of wistfulness. “It has been a red-letter day”; and with
+this he turned abruptly and walked away.
+
+We watched him from the threshold, bustling jauntily along the
+pavement; and as I looked at him, there came unbidden to my mind the
+recollection of that other figure that I had watched from this same
+threshold, walking away in the fading light--walking into the fog that
+was to swallow her up and hide her from my sight for ever.
+
+From these gloomy reflections I was recalled by Thorndyke’s voice.
+
+“A nice youngster, that, Strangeways. Gay and sprightly, but not in
+the least shallow. I often think that there was a great deal of wisdom
+in that observation of Spencer’s, that happy people are the greatest
+benefactors to mankind. Your friend, Bundy, has helped me to renew my
+youth; and who could have done one a greater service?”
+
+
+
+
+ CHAPTER XI.
+ THE MAN WITH THE MOLE
+
+When I had seen my guest off by the last train on Saturday night, I
+walked homeward slowly, cogitating on the results of his visit. It
+seemed to me that they were very insignificant. In the morning we had
+explored the piece of shore on which the bag and the box of tablets
+had been found, making our way to it by the narrow and intricate
+alleys which seemed to be the only approach; and we had reached the
+same conclusion. It was an impossible place.
+
+“If we assume,” said Thorndyke, “as we must, on the apparent
+probabilities, that the tragedy occurred here, we must assume that
+there are some significant circumstances that are unknown to us. Mrs.
+Frood could not have strayed here by chance. We can think of no
+business that could have brought her here; and since she was neither a
+child nor a fool, she could not have been enticed into such an
+obviously sinister locality without some plausible pretext. There is
+evidently something more than meets the eye.”
+
+“Something, you mean, connected with her past life and the people she
+knew?”
+
+“Exactly. I am having careful inquiries made on the subject in likely
+quarters, including the various theatrical photographers. They form
+quite a promising source of information, as they are not only able to
+give addresses but they can furnish us with photographs of members of
+the companies who would have been colleagues, and, at least,
+acquaintances.”
+
+“If you come across any photographs of Mrs. Frood,” I said, “I should
+like to see them.”
+
+“You shall,” he replied. “I shall certainly collect all I can get, on
+the chance that they may help us with the identification of the body;
+which may possibly present some difficulty.”
+
+Here I was reminded of Cobbledick’s observations, and, distasteful as
+they were, I repeated them to Thorndyke.
+
+“The sergeant is quite right,” said he. “This is apparently a criminal
+case, involving a charge of wilful murder. To sustain that charge, the
+prosecution will have to produce incontestable evidence as to the
+identity of the deceased. Clothing alone would not be sufficient to
+secure a conviction. The body would have to be identified. And the
+sergeant’s anxiety is quite justified. Have you had any experiences of
+bodies recovered from the water?”
+
+“Yes,” I replied; “and I don’t like to think of them.” I shuddered as
+I spoke, for his question had recalled to my memory the incidents of a
+professional visit to Poplar Mortuary. There rose before my eyes the
+picture of a long black box with a small glass window in the lid, and
+of a thing that appeared at that window; a huge, bloated, green and
+purple thing, with groups of radiating wrinkles, and in the middle a
+button-like object that looked like the tip of a nose. It was a
+frightful picture; and yet I knew that when the river that we stood by
+should give up its dead----
+
+I put the thought away with a shiver and asked faintly: “About the man
+Frood. Don’t you think that his disappearance throws some light on the
+mystery?”
+
+“It doesn’t throw much light,” replied Thorndyke, “because nothing is
+known about it. Obviously the coincidence in time of the
+disappearance, added to the known character of the man and his
+relations with his wife, make him an object of deep suspicion. His
+whereabouts will have to be traced and his time accounted for. But I
+have ascertained that the police know nothing about him, and my own
+inquiries have come to nothing, so far. He seems to have disappeared
+without leaving a trace. But I shall persevere. Your object--and
+mine--is to clear up the mystery, and if a crime has been committed,
+to bring the criminal to justice.”
+
+So that was how the matter stood; and it did not appear to me that
+much progress had been made towards the elucidation of the mystery. As
+to the perpetrator of that crime, he remained a totally unknown
+quantity, unless the deed could be fixed on the missing man, Frood.
+And so matters remained for some days. Then an event occurred which
+seemed to promise some illumination of the darkness; a promise that it
+failed to fulfil.
+
+It was about a week after Thorndyke’s visit. I had gone out after
+lunch to post off to him the set of photographs which had been
+delivered to me by the photographer with my own set. I went into the
+post-office to register the package, and here I found Bundy in the act
+of sending off a parcel. When we had transacted our business we
+strolled out together, and he asked:
+
+“What are you going to do now, Doctor?”
+
+“I was going to walk down to Blue Boar Pier,” said I, “to see if
+anything further has been discovered.”
+
+“Should I be in the way if I walked there with you?” he asked. “I’ve
+got nothing to do at the moment. But perhaps you would rather go
+alone. You’ve had a good deal of my society lately.”
+
+“Not more than I wanted, Bundy,” I answered. “You are my only chum
+here, and you are not unappreciated, I can assure you.”
+
+“It’s nice of you to say that,” he rejoined, with some emotion. “I’ve
+sometimes felt that I was rather thrusting my friendship on you.”
+
+“Then don’t ever feel it again,” said I. “It has been a bit of luck
+for me to find a man here whom I could like and chum in with.”
+
+He murmured a few words of thanks, and we walked on for a while
+without speaking. Presently, as we turned into the lane by the Blue
+Boar Inn, he said, a little hesitatingly:
+
+“Don’t you think, Doc, that it is rather a mistake to let your mind
+run so much on this dreadful affair? It seems to be always in your
+thoughts. And it isn’t good for you to think so much about it. I’ve
+noticed you quite a lot, and you haven’t been the same since--since it
+happened. You have looked worried and depressed.”
+
+“I haven’t felt the same,” said I. “It has been a great grief to me.”
+
+“But,” he urged, “don’t you think you should try to forget it? After
+all, she was little more than an acquaintance.”
+
+“She was a great deal more than that, Bundy,” said I. “While she was
+alive, I would not admit even to myself that my feeling towards her
+was anything more than ordinary friendship. But it was; and now that
+she is gone, there can be no harm in recognizing the fact, or even in
+confessing it to you, as we are friends.”
+
+“Do you mean, Doc,” he said in a low voice, “that you were in love
+with her?”
+
+“That is what it comes to, I suppose,” I answered. “She was the only
+woman I had ever really cared for.”
+
+“And did she know it?” he asked.
+
+“Of course she didn’t,” I replied indignantly. “She was a lady and a
+woman of honour. Of course she never dreamed that I cared for her, or
+she would never have let me visit her.”
+
+For a few moments he walked at my side in silence. Then he slipped his
+arm through mine, and pressing it gently with his hand, said softly
+and very earnestly: “I’m awfully sorry, Doc. It is frightfully hard
+luck for you, though it couldn’t have been much better even if--but
+it’s no use talking of that. I _am_ sorry, old chap. But still, you
+know, you ought to try to put it away. _She_ wouldn’t have wished you
+to make yourself unhappy about her.”
+
+“I know,” said I. “But I feel that the office belongs to me, who cared
+most for her, to see that the mystery of her death is cleared up and
+that whoever wronged her is brought to justice.”
+
+He made no reply to this but walked at my side with his arm linked in
+mine, meditating with an air of unwonted gravity.
+
+When we reached the head of the pier the place was deserted excepting
+for one man; a sea-faring person, apparently, who was standing with
+his back to us, studying intently the bills that were stuck on the
+wall of the look-out. As we were passing, my eye caught the word
+“Wanted” on a new bill, and pausing to read it over the man’s
+shoulder, I found that it was a description of the unknown man--“with
+a mole on the left side of his nose”--who had pawned the opal brooch.
+Bundy read it, too, and as we walked away he remarked: “They are
+rather late in putting out those bills. I should think that gentleman
+will have left the locality long ago, unless he was a local person”;
+an opinion with which I was disposed to agree.
+
+After a glance round the shore and at “the Ark”--which was closed but
+of which the chimney emitted a cheerful smoke suggestive of culinary
+activities on the part of “Mr. Noah”--we sauntered up past the head of
+the creek, along the rough path by the foundry, and out upon the upper
+shore.
+
+“Well, I’m hanged!” exclaimed Bundy, glancing back at the watch-house,
+“that chap is still reading that bill. He must be a mighty slow
+reader, or he must find it more thrilling than I did. Perhaps he knows
+somebody with a mole on his nose.”
+
+I looked back at the motionless figure; and at that moment another
+figure appeared and advanced, as we had done, to look over the
+reader’s shoulder.
+
+“Why, that looks like old Cobbledick--come to admire his own literary
+productions. There’s vanity for you. Hallo! What’s up now?”
+
+As Bundy spoke, the reader had turned to move away and had come face
+to face with the sergeant. For a moment both men had stood stock
+still; then there was a sudden, confused movement on both sides, with
+the final result that the sergeant fell, or was knocked, down and that
+the stranger raced off, apparently in our direction. He disappeared at
+once, being hidden from us by the foundry buildings, and we advanced
+towards the end of the fenced lane by which we had come, to intercept
+him, waiting by the edge of a trench or dry ditch.
+
+“Here he comes,” said Bundy, a trifle nervously, as rapid footfalls
+became audible in the narrow, crooked lane. Suddenly the man appeared,
+running furiously, and as he caught sight of us, he whipped out a
+large knife, and, flourishing it with a menacing air, charged straight
+at us. I watched an opportunity to trip him up; but as he approached
+Bundy pulled me back with such energy that he and I staggered on the
+brink of the ditch, capsized, and rolled together to the bottom. By
+the time we had managed to scramble up, the man had disappeared into
+the wilderness of sheds, scrap-heaps, derelict boilers, and stray
+railway-waggons that filled the area of land between the foundry and
+the coal-wharves and jetties.
+
+“Come on, Bundy,” said I, as my companion stood tenderly rubbing
+various projecting portions of his person; “we mustn’t lose sight of
+him.”
+
+But Bundy showed no enthusiasm; and at this moment a rapid crescendo
+of heavy foot-falls was followed by the emergence of the sergeant,
+purple-faced and panting, from the end of the lane.
+
+“Which way did he go?” gasped Cobbledick.
+
+I indicated the wilderness, briefly explaining how the fugitive had
+escaped us, whereupon the sergeant started forward at a lumbering trot
+and we followed. But it was an unfavourable hunting-ground, for the
+bulky litter--the heaps of coal-dust, the wagons, the cranes, the
+piles of condemned machinery, mingled with clumps of bushes--gave the
+fugitive every opportunity to disappear. And, in fact, he had
+disappeared without leaving a trace. Presently we came out on a wharf
+beside which a schooner was berthed; a trim-looking little craft with
+a white under-body and black top-sides, bearing a single big yard on
+her fore-mast and the name Anna on her counter. She was all ready for
+sea and was apparently waiting for high water, for her deck was all
+clear and a man on it was engaged in placidly coiling a rope on the
+battened hatch while another watched him from the door of the
+deck-house. On this peaceful scene the sergeant burst suddenly and
+hailing the rope-coiler demanded:
+
+“Have you seen a man run past here?”
+
+The mariner dropped the rope, and looking up drowsily, repeated:
+
+“Have I seen a mahn?”
+
+“Yes, a sea-faring man with a mole on his nose.”
+
+The mariner brightened up perceptibly. “Please?” said he.
+
+“A sailor-man with a mole on his nose.”
+
+“Ach!” exclaimed the mariner. “Vos it tied on?”
+
+“Tied on!” the sergeant snorted impatiently. “Of course it wasn’t. It
+grew there.”
+
+Here the second mariner apparently asked some question, for our friend
+turned to him and replied: “_Ja. Maulwurf_”; on which I heard Bundy
+snigger softly.
+
+“No, no,” I interposed; “not that sort of mole. A kind of wart, you
+know. _Das Mal_.”
+
+On this the second mariner fell out of the deckhouse door, and the
+pair burst into yells of laughter, rolling about the deck in agonies
+of mirth, wiping their eyes, muttering _Maulwurf_, _Maulwurf_, and
+screeching like demented hyenas.
+
+“Well,” Cobbledick demanded impatiently, “have you seen him?”
+
+The mariner shook his head. “No,” he replied, shakily. “I have not any
+mahn seen.”
+
+“Well, why couldn’t you say so at first?” the sergeant growled.
+
+“I vos zo zubbraised,” the mariner explained, glancing at his
+shipmate; and the pair burst out into fresh howls of laughter.
+
+The sergeant turned away with a sort of benevolent contempt and ran
+his eye despairingly over the wilderness. “I suppose we had better
+search this place,” said he, “though he is pretty certain to have got
+away.”
+
+At his suggestion we separated and examined the possible hiding-places
+systematically, but, of course, with no result. Once only I had a
+momentary hope that we had not lost our quarry, when the sergeant
+suddenly stooped and began cautiously to stalk an abandoned boiler
+surrounded by a clump of bushes; but when the grinning countenance of
+Bundy appeared at the opposite end and that reprobate crept out
+stealthily and proceeded to stalk the sergeant, the last hope faded.
+
+“I certainly thought I saw someone moving in those bushes,” said
+Cobbledick, with a disappointed air.
+
+“So did Mr. Bundy,” said I. “You must have seen one another.”
+
+The sergeant glanced suspiciously at our colleague, but made no
+remark; and we continued our rather perfunctory search. At length we
+gave it up and slowly returned to the neighbourhood of the pier. By
+this time the tide had turned, and a few loiterers were standing about
+watching the procession of barges moving downstream on the ebb. Among
+them was a grave-looking, sandy-haired man who leaned against the
+watch-house, smoking reflectively as he surveyed the river. To this
+philosopher Cobbledick addressed himself, explaining, as he was in
+plain clothes:
+
+“Good afternoon. I am a police officer and I am looking for a man who
+is described on that bill.” Here he indicated the poster.
+
+The philosopher turned a pale grey, and somewhat suspicious eye on
+him, and having removed his pipe, expectorated thoughtfully but made
+no comment on the statement.
+
+“A sea-faring man,” continued the sergeant, “with a mole on the left
+side of his nose.” He looked enquiringly at the philosopher, who
+replied impassively:
+
+“Nhm--nhm.”
+
+“Do you happen to have seen a man answering that description?”
+
+“Nhm--nhm,” was the slightly ambiguous reply.
+
+“You _have_ seen him?” the sergeant asked, eagerly.
+
+“Aye.”
+
+“Do you know if he belongs to any of the craft that trade here?”
+
+“Nhm--nhm.”
+
+“Do you happen to know which particular vessel he belongs to?”
+
+“Aye,” was the answer, accompanied by a grave nod.
+
+“Can you tell me,” the sergeant asked patiently, “which vessel that
+is, and where she is at present?”
+
+Our friend replaced his pipe and took a long draw at it, gazing
+meditatively at a schooner which was moving swiftly down the river
+under the power of an auxiliary motor, and setting her sails as she
+went. I had noticed her already, and observed that she had a white
+under-body and black top-sides, and that she carried a single long
+yard on her fore-mast. At length our friend removed his pipe,
+expectorated, and nodded gravely at the schooner.
+
+“Yon,” said he, and replaced his pipe, as a precaution, I supposed,
+against unnecessary loquacity.
+
+Cobbledick gazed wistfully at the receding schooner. “Pity,” said he.
+“I should have liked to have a look at that fellow.”
+
+“You could get the schooner held up at Sheerness, couldn’t you?” I
+asked.
+
+“Yes; I could send a ’phone message to Garrison Point Fort. But, you
+see, she’s a foreigner. Might make trouble. And he is probably not the
+man we want. After all, it’s only a matter of a mole.”
+
+“Maulwurf,” murmured Bundy.
+
+“Yes,” said the sergeant, with a faint grin; “those beggars were
+laughing at us. Well, it can’t be helped.”
+
+We stood for a moment or two watching the schooner set one sail after
+another. Presently Bundy observed:
+
+“Methinks, Sergeant, that Mr. Noah is trying to attract your
+attention.”
+
+We glanced towards the Ark, the tenant of which was seated in the
+stern-sheets, scrubbing a length of rusty chain. As he caught the
+sergeant’s eye, he beckoned mysteriously, whereupon we descended the
+bank, and, picking our way across the muddy grass by his little
+causeway of stepping-stones, approached the foot of the short ladder.
+
+“Well, Israel,” said the sergeant, resting his hands on the gunwale of
+the old boat as he made a rapid survey of the interior, “giving the
+family plate a bit of a polish, eh?”
+
+“Plate!” exclaimed the old man, holding up the chain, which, as I now
+saw, had a number of double hooks linked to it, “this ain’t plate.
+’Tis what we calls a creeper.”
+
+“A creeper,” repeated the sergeant, looking at it with renewed
+interest. “Ha, yes, hm. A creeper, hey? Well, Israel, what’s a-doing?
+Have you got something to show us?”
+
+The old man laid down the creeper and the scrubbing-brush--which had a
+strong suggestion of salvage in its appearance--and moved towards the
+door of the Ark. “Come along inside,” said he.
+
+Cobbledick mounted the ladder and motioned me to follow, which I did,
+while Bundy discretely sauntered away and sat down on the bank. On
+entering, I observed that the Ark followed closely the constructional
+traditions. Like its classical prototype, it was “pitched with pitch,
+within and without,” and was furnished with a single small window, let
+into the door and hermetically sealed.
+
+Seeing that our host looked at me with some disfavour, the tactful
+sergeant hastened to make us known to one another.
+
+“This is Dr. Strangeways, Israel. He was Mrs. Frood’s doctor, and he
+knows all about this affair. This, Doctor, is Mr. Israel Bangs, the
+eminent long-shoreman, a sort of hereditary Grand Duke of the
+Rochester foreshore.”
+
+I bowed ceremoniously, and the Grand Duke acknowledged the
+introduction with a sour grin. Then, lifting the greasy lid of a
+locker, he dived into it and came to the surface, as it were, with a
+small shoe in his hand.
+
+“What do you say to that?” he demanded, holding the shoe under the
+sergeant’s nose. The sergeant said nothing, but looked at me; and I,
+suddenly conscious of the familiar sickening sensation, could do no
+more than nod in reply. Soiled, muddy and sodden as it was, the poor
+little relic instantly and vividly recalled the occasion when I had
+last seen it, then all trim and smart, peeping coyly beneath the hem
+of the neat brown skirt.
+
+“Where did you find it, Israel?” asked Cobbledick.
+
+“Ah,” said Bangs, with a sly leer, “that’s tellin’, that is. Never you
+mind where I found it. There’s the shoe.”
+
+“Don’t be a fool, Israel,” said the sergeant. “What use do you suppose
+the shoe is to me if I don’t know where you found it? I’ve got to put
+it in evidence, you know.”
+
+“You can put it where you like, so long as you pays for it,” the old
+rascal replied, doggedly. “The findin’ of it’s my business.”
+
+There ensued a lengthy wrangle, but the sergeant, though patient and
+polite, was firm. Eventually Israel gave way.
+
+“Well,” he said, “if you undertakes not to let on to Sam Hooper or any
+of his lot, I’ll tell you. I found it on the mud, side of the long
+crik betwixt Blue Boar Head and Gas-’us Point.”
+
+The sergeant made a note of the locality, and, after having sworn not
+to divulge the secret to Sam Hooper or any other of the shore-rat
+fraternity, and having ascertained that Israel had no further
+information to dispose of, rose to depart; and, I noticed that, as we
+passed out towards the ladder, he seemed to bestow a glance of
+friendly recognition on the creeper.
+
+“Well,” said Bundy, when we rejoined him, “what had Mr. Noah to say? I
+hope you remembered me kindly to my old friends, Shem, Ham, and
+Japhet.”
+
+“He has found one of Mrs. Frood’s shoes,” answered the sergeant,
+producing it from his pocket and offering it for inspection. Bundy
+glanced at it indifferently, and then remarked: “It seems to answer
+the description, but, for my part, I don’t quite see the use of all
+this searching and prying. It only proves what we all know. There’s no
+doubt that she fell into the river. The question is, how did she get
+there? It is not likely that it was an accident, and, if it wasn’t, it
+must have been a crime. What we want to know is, who is the criminal?”
+
+Cobbledick pocketed the shoe with an impatient gesture.
+
+“That’s the way they always talk,” said he. “They will always begin at
+the wrong end. The question, ‘Who is the murderer?’ does not arise
+until it is certain that there has been a murder; and it can’t be
+certain that there has been a murder until it is certain that the
+missing person is dead. And that certainty can hardly be established
+until the body is found. But, in the meantime, these articles are
+evidence enough to justify us in making other inquiries, and they may
+give us a hint where to look for the body. They do, in fact. They
+suggest that the body is probably not very far away, and more likely
+to be up-stream than down.”
+
+“I don’t see how they do,” said Bundy.
+
+“I do,” retorted the sergeant, “and that’s enough for me.”
+
+Bundy, with his customary discretion, took this as closing the
+discussion, and further--as I guessed--surmising that the sergeant
+might wish to have a few words with me alone, took his leave of us
+when we reached the vicinity of the office.
+
+“That is not a bad idea of old Israel’s,” said Cobbledick, when Bundy
+had gone. “The creeper, I mean.”
+
+“What about it?” I asked.
+
+“You know what a creeper is used for, I suppose,” said he. “In the old
+days, the revenue boats used to trail them along over the bottom in
+shallow water where they suspected that the smugglers had sunk their
+tubs. You see they couldn’t always get a chance to land the stuff.
+Then they used to fill the spirits into a lot of little ankers or
+tubs, lash them together into a sort of raft and sink the raft close
+in-shore, on a dark night, in a marked place where their pals could go
+some other night and fish them up. Well the revenue cutters knew most
+of those places and used to go there and drift over them trailing
+creepers. Of course, if there were any tubs there, the creepers hooked
+on to the lashings and up they came.”
+
+“But what do you suppose is Israel’s idea?” I asked.
+
+“Why, as the body ought to have come up long before this, and it
+hasn’t, he thinks it has been sunk. It might have been taken up the
+river in a boat, and sunk in midstream with a weight of some sort. Or
+it might have got caught by a lost anchor or on some old moorings.
+That would account for its not coming up and for these oddments
+getting detached and drifting ashore. So old Israel is going to get to
+work with a creeper. I expect he spends his nights creeping over the
+likely spots, and that is what makes him so deuced secret about the
+place where he found that shoe. He reckons that the body is somewhere
+thereabouts.”
+
+I made no comment on this rather horrible communication. Of course, it
+was necessary that the body should be searched for, since its
+discovery was the indispensable condition of the search for the
+murderer. But I did not want to hear more of the dreadful details than
+was absolutely unavoidable.
+
+When we reached the Guildhall, I halted and was about to take leave of
+the sergeant when he said, somewhat hesitatingly:
+
+“Do you remember, Doctor, when you met me last Saturday, you had a
+gentleman with you?”
+
+“I remember,” said I.
+
+“Now, I wonder if you would think I was taking a liberty if I were to
+ask what that gentleman’s name was. I had an idea that I knew his
+face.”
+
+“Of course it wouldn’t be a liberty,” I replied. “His name is
+Thorndyke; Dr. John Thorndyke.”
+
+“Ah!” exclaimed Cobbledick, “I thought I couldn’t be mistaken. It
+isn’t the sort of face that one would forget. I once heard him give
+evidence at the Old Bailey. Wonderful evidence it was, too. Since then
+I’ve read reports of his investigations from time to time. He’s a
+marvellous man. The way he has of raking up evidence from nowhere is
+perfectly astonishing. Did you happen to talk to him about this case
+at all?”
+
+“Well, you see, Sergeant,” I answered, rather evasively, “he had come
+down here for the week-end as my guest----”
+
+“Exactly, exactly,” Cobbledick interrupted, unconsciously helping me
+to avoid answering his question, “he came down for a rest and a
+change, and wouldn’t want to be bothered with professional matters.
+Still, you know, I think he would be interested in this case. It is
+quite in his own line. It is a queer case; a very queer case in some
+respects.”
+
+“In what respects?” I asked.
+
+It was Cobbledick’s turn to be evasive. He had apparently said more
+than he had intended, and now drew in his horns perceptibly.
+
+“Why,” he replied, “when you come to think of--of the--er--the
+character of the lady, for instance. Why should anyone want to do her
+any harm? And then there is the mystery as to how it happened, and the
+place, and--in fact, there are a number of things that are difficult
+to understand. But I mustn’t keep you standing here. If you should
+happen to see Dr. Thorndyke again, it might be as well to tell him
+about the case. It would be sure to interest him; and if he should, by
+any chance, want to know anything that you are not in a position to
+tell him, why, you know where I am to be found. I shouldn’t want to
+make any secrets with him. And he might spot something that we haven’t
+noticed.”
+
+I promised to follow the sergeant’s advice, and, having bid him adieu,
+turned back, and walked slowly homeward. As I went I reflected
+profoundly on my conversation with Cobbledick; from which, as it
+seemed to me, two conclusions emerged. First, there were elements in
+this mystery that were unknown to me. I had supposed that the essence
+of the mystery was the mere absence of data. But it now appeared from
+the sergeant’s utterances, and still more from his evasions, that he
+saw farther into the affair than I did; either because he had more
+facts, or because, by reason of his greater experience, the facts
+meant more to him than they did to me. The second conclusion was that
+he was in some way in difficulties; that he was conscious of an
+inability to interpret satisfactorily the facts that were known to
+him. His evident eagerness to get into touch with Thorndyke made this
+pretty clear; and the two conclusions together suggested a further
+question. How much did Thorndyke know? Did he know all that the
+sergeant knew? Did he perchance know more? From the scanty data with
+which I had supplied him, might he possibly have drawn some
+illuminating inferences that had carried his understanding of the case
+beyond either mine or Cobbledick’s? It was quite possible. Thorndyke’s
+great reputation rested upon his extraordinary power of inference and
+constructive reasoning from apparently unilluminating facts. The facts
+in this case seemed unilluminating enough. But they might not be so to
+him. And again I recalled how both he and the sergeant seemed to look
+to the finding of the body as probably furnishing the solution of the
+mystery.
+
+
+
+
+ CHAPTER XII.
+ THE PRINTS OF A VANISHED HAND
+
+Mr. Bundy’s opinion that no particular significance attached to the
+finding of further relics of the missing woman was one that I was
+myself disposed to adopt. The disappearance of poor Angelina was an
+undeniable fact, and there seemed to be no doubt that her body had
+fallen, or been cast, into the river. On these facts, the recovery of
+further articles belonging to her, and presumably detached from the
+body, shed no additional light. From the body itself, whenever it
+should be surrendered by the river, one hoped that something fresh
+might be learned. But all that anyone could say was that Angelina
+Frood had disappeared, that her disappearance was almost certainly
+connected with a crime, and that the agents of that crime and their
+motives for committing it were alike an impenetrable mystery, a
+mystery that the finding of further detached articles tended in no way
+to solve.
+
+I shall, therefore, pass somewhat lightly over the incidents of the
+succeeding discoveries, notwithstanding the keen interest in them
+displayed by Sergeant Cobbledick and even by Thorndyke. On Monday, the
+25th of May, the second shoe was found (to Israel Bangs’ unspeakable
+indignation) by Samuel Hooper of Foul Anchor Alley, who discovered it
+shortly after high-water, lying on the gridiron close to Gas-house
+Point, and brought it in triumph to the police station.
+
+After this, there followed a long interval, occupied by a feverish
+contest between Israel Bangs and Samuel Hooper. But the luck fell to
+the experienced Israel. On Saturday, the 20th of June, that
+investigator, having grounded his boat below a wharf between Gas-house
+Point and the bridge, discovered a silver-headed hat-pin lying on the
+shore between two of the piles of the wharf. Its identity was
+unmistakable. The silver poppy-head that crowned the pin was no trade
+production that might have had thousands of indistinguishable fellows.
+It was an individual work wrought by an artist in metal, and excepting
+its fellow, there was probably not another like it in the world.
+
+The discovery of this object roused a positive frenzy of search. The
+stretch of muddy shore between Gas-house Point and the bridge
+literally swarmed with human shore-rats, male and female, adult and
+juvenile. Every day, and all the day, excepting at high-water, Israel
+Bangs hovered in his oozy little basket of a boat on the extreme edge
+of the mud, scanning every inch of slime, and glowering fiercely at
+the poachers ashore who were raking over his preserves. But nothing
+came of it. Day after day passed. The black and odorous mud was
+churned up by countless feet; the pebbles were sorted out severally by
+innumerable filthy hands; every derelict pot, pan, box, or meat-tin
+was picked up again and again, and explored to its inmost recesses.
+But in vain. Not a single relic of any kind was brought to light by
+all those searchings and grubbings in the mud. Presently the searchers
+began to grow discouraged. Some of them gave up the search; others
+migrated to the shore beyond the bridge, and were to be seen wading in
+the mud below the Esplanade, the cricket-ground, or the boat-building
+yards. So the month of June ran out, and the third month began. And
+still there was no sign of the body.
+
+Meanwhile I watched the two professional investigators, and noted a
+certain similarity in their outlook and methods. Both were keenly
+interested in the discoveries; and both, I observed, personally
+examined the localities of the finds. The sergeant conducted me to
+each spot in turn, making appropriate, but not very illuminating,
+comments; and I perceived that he was keeping a careful account of
+time and place. So, too, with Thorndyke, who had now taken to coming
+down regularly each week-end. He visited each spot where anything had
+been found, marking it carefully on his map, together with a reference
+number, and inquiring minutely as to the character of the object, its
+condition, and the state of the tide and the hour of the day when it
+was discovered; all of which particulars he entered in his note-book
+under the appropriate reference number.
+
+Both of my friends, too, expressed increasing surprise and uneasiness
+at the non-appearance of the body. The sergeant was really worried,
+and he expressed his sentiments in a tone of complaint as if he felt
+that he was not being fairly treated.
+
+“It’s getting very serious, Doctor,” he protested. “Nearly three
+months gone--three summer months, mind you--and not a sign of it. I
+don’t like the look of things at all. This case means a lot to me.
+It’s my chance. It’s a detective-inspector’s job, and if I bring it
+off it’ll be a big feather in my cap. I want to get a conviction, and
+so far I haven’t got the material for a coroner’s verdict. I’ve half a
+mind to do a bit of creeping myself.”
+
+Thorndyke’s observations on the case were much to the same effect.
+Discussing it one Saturday afternoon at the beginning of July, when I
+had met him at Strood Station and was walking with him into Rochester,
+he said:
+
+“My feeling is that the crux of this case is going to be the question
+of identity--if the body ever comes to light. Of course, if it
+doesn’t, there is no case: it is simply an unexplained disappearance.
+But if the body is found and is unrecognizable excepting by clothing
+and other extrinsic evidence, it will be hard to get a conviction even
+if the unrecognizable corpse should give some clue to the
+circumstances of death.”
+
+“I suppose,” said I, “the police are searching for Nicholas Frood.”
+
+“I doubt it,” he replied. “They are not likely to be wasting efforts
+to find a murderer when there is no evidence that a murder has been
+committed. What could they do if they did find him? The woman was not
+in his custody or even living with him. And his previous conduct is
+not relevant in the absence of evidence of his wife’s death.”
+
+“You said you were making some inquiries yourself.”
+
+“So I am. And I am not without hopes of picking up his tracks. But
+that is a secondary matter. What we have to settle beyond the shadow
+of a doubt is the question, ‘What has become of Angelina Frood? Is she
+dead? And, if she is, what was the cause and what were the
+circumstances of her death?’ The evidence in our possession points to
+the conclusion that she is dead, and that she met her death by foul
+means. That is the belief that the known facts produce. But we have
+got to turn that belief into certainty. Then it will be time to
+inquire as to the identity of the criminal.”
+
+“Do you suppose the body would be unrecognizable now?”
+
+“I feel no doubt that it would be quite unrecognizable by ordinary
+means if it has been in the water all this time. But it would still be
+identifiable in the scientific sense, if we could only obtain the
+necessary data. It could, for instance, be tested by the Bertillon
+measurements, if we had them; and it would probably yield
+finger-prints, clear enough to recognize, long after the disappearance
+of all facial character or bodily traits.”
+
+“Would it really?” I exclaimed.
+
+“Certainly,” he replied. “Even if the whole outer skin of the hand had
+come off bodily, like a glove, as it commonly does in long-submerged
+bodies, that glove-like cast would yield fairly clear finger-prints if
+property treated--with dilute formalin, for instance. And then the
+fingers from which the outer skin had become detached would still
+yield recognizable finger-prints, if similarly treated; for you must
+remember that the papillary ridges which form the finger-print
+pattern, are in the true skin. The outer skin is merely moulded on
+them. But, unfortunately, the question is one of merely academic
+interest to us as we have no original finger-prints of Mrs. Frood’s by
+which to test the body. The only method of scientific identification
+that seems to be available is that of anthropometric measurements, as
+employed by Bertillon.”
+
+“But,” I objected, “the Bertillon system is based on the existence of
+a record of the measurements of the person to be identified. We have
+no record of the measurements of Mrs. Frood.”
+
+“True,” he agreed. “But you may remember that Dr. George Bertillon was
+accustomed to apply his system, not only to suspected persons who had
+been arrested, but also to stray garments, hat, gloves, shoes, and so
+forth, that came into the possession of the police. But it is clear
+that, if such garments can be compared with a table of recorded
+measurements, they can be used as standards of comparison to determine
+the identity of a dead body. Of course, the measurements would have to
+be taken, both of the garments and of the body, by someone having an
+expert knowledge of anthropometrical methods.”
+
+“Of course,” I agreed. “But it seems a sound method. I must mention it
+to Cobbledick. He has the undoubted shoes, and I have no doubt that he
+could get a supply of worn garments from Mrs. Gillow.”
+
+“Yes,” said Thorndyke. “And, speaking of Mrs. Gillow reminds me of
+another point that I have been intending to inquire into. You
+mentioned to me that Mrs. Gillow told you, at the time of the
+disappearance, that she had been expecting a tragedy of some kind. She
+must have had some grounds for that expectation.”
+
+“She said it was nothing but a vague, general impression.”
+
+“Still, there must have been something that gave her that impression.
+Don’t you think it would be well to question her a little more
+closely?”
+
+“Perhaps it might,” said I, not very enthusiastically. “We are close
+to the house now. We can call in and see her, if you like.”
+
+“I think we ought to leave no stone unturned,” said he; and a minute
+or two later, when we arrived opposite the office, he remarked,
+looking across attentively at the two houses: “I don’t see our friend
+Bundy’s face at the window.”
+
+“No,” I replied, “he is playing tennis somewhere up at the Vines. But
+here is Mrs. Gillow, herself, all dressed up and evidently going out
+visiting.”
+
+The landlady had appeared at the door just as we were crossing the
+road. Perceiving that we were bearing down on her, she paused, holding
+the door ajar. I ran up the steps, and having wished her “good
+afternoon” asked if she had time to answer one or two questions.
+
+“Certainly,” she replied, “though I mustn’t stay long because I have
+promised to go to tea with my sister at Frinsbury. I usually go there
+on a Saturday. Perhaps we had better go into poor Mrs. Frood’s room.”
+
+She opened the door of the sitting-room, and we all went in and sat
+down.
+
+“I have been talking over this mysterious affair, Mrs. Gillow,” said
+I, “with my friend, Dr. Thorndyke, who is a lawyer, and he suggested
+that you might be able to throw some light on it. You remember that
+you had had some forebodings of some sort of trouble or disaster.”
+
+“I had,” she replied, dismally, “but that was only because she always
+seemed so worried and depressed, poor dear. And, of course, I knew
+about that good-for-nothing husband of hers. That was all. Sergeant
+Cobbledick asked me the same question, but I had nothing to tell him.”
+
+“Did the sergeant examine the rooms?” asked Thorndyke.
+
+“Yes, he looked over the place, and he opened her little davenport--it
+isn’t locked--and read through one or two letters that he found there,
+but he didn’t take them away. All he took with him was a few torn-up
+letters that he found in the waste-paper basket.”
+
+“If those other letters are still in the davenport,” said Thorndyke,
+“I think it would be well for us to look through them carefully, if
+you don’t mind, Mrs. Gillow.”
+
+“I don’t see that there could be any harm in it,” she replied. “I’ve
+never touched anything in her rooms, myself, since she went away. I
+thought it better not to. I haven’t even washed up her tea-things.
+There they are, just as she left them, poor lamb. But if you are going
+to look through those letters, I will ask you to excuse me, or I shall
+keep my sister waiting for tea.”
+
+“Certainly, Mrs. Gillow,” said I. “Don’t let us detain you. And, by
+the way,” I added, as I walked with her to the door, “it would be as
+well not to say anything to anybody about my having come here with my
+friend.”
+
+“Very well, sir,” she replied. “I think you are right. The least said,
+the soonest mended”; and with this profound generalization she went
+out and I shut the street door after her.
+
+When I returned to the sitting-room I found Thorndyke engaged in a
+minute examination of the tea-things, and in particular of the spoon.
+I proceeded at once to the davenport, and, finding it unlocked, lifted
+the desk-lid and peered into the interior. It contained a supply of
+papers and envelopes, neatly stacked, and one or two letters, which I
+took out. They all appeared to be from the same person--the Miss
+Cumbers, of whom I had heard, and a rapid glance at the contents
+showed that they were of no use as a source of information. I passed
+them to Thorndyke--who had laid down the spoon and was now looking
+inquisitively about the room--who scanned them rapidly and returned
+them to me.
+
+“There is nothing in them,” said he. “Possibly the contents of the
+waste-paper basket were more illuminating. But I suspect not, as the
+sergeant appears to be as much in the dark as we are. Shall we have a
+look at the bedroom before we go?”
+
+I saw no particular reason for doing so, but, assuming that he knew
+best, I made no objection. Going out into the hall, we entered the
+deserted bed-room, the door of which was locked, though the key had
+not been removed. At the threshold Thorndyke paused and stood for
+nearly half a minute looking about the room in the same queer,
+inquisitive way that I had noticed in the other room, as if he were
+trying to fix a mental picture of it. Meanwhile, full of the Bertillon
+system, I had walked across to the wardrobe to see what garments were
+available for measurement. I had my hand on the knob of the door when
+my glance fell on two objects on the dressing-table; an empty tumbler
+and a small water-bottle, half-full. There was nothing very remarkable
+about these objects, taken by themselves, but, even from where I
+stood, I could see that both bore a number of finger-marks which stood
+out conspicuously on the plain glass.
+
+“By Jove!” I exclaimed. “Here is the very thing that you were speaking
+of. Do you see what it is?”
+
+Apparently he had, for he had already taken his gloves out of his
+pocket and was putting them on.
+
+“Don’t touch them, Strangeways,” said he, as I was approaching to
+inspect them more closely. “If these are Mrs. Frood’s finger-prints
+they may be invaluable. We mustn’t confuse them by adding our own.”
+
+“Whose else could they be?” I asked.
+
+“They might be Sergeant Cobbledick’s,” he replied. “The sergeant has
+been in here.” He drew a chair up to the table, and, taking a lens
+from his pocket, began systematically to examine the markings.
+
+“They are a remarkably fine set,” he remarked, “and a complete
+set--the whole ten digits. Whoever made them held the bottle in the
+right hand and the tumbler in the left. And I don’t think they are the
+sergeant’s. They are too small and too clear and delicate.”
+
+“No,” I agreed, “and the probabilities are against their being his.
+There is no reason why he should have wanted to take a drink of water
+during the few minutes that he spent here. It would have been
+different if it had been a beer bottle. But it would have been quite
+natural for Mrs. Frood to drink a glass of water while she was
+dressing or before she started out.”
+
+“Yes,” said he. “Those are the obvious probabilities. But we must turn
+them into certainties if we can. Probabilities are not good data to
+work from. But the question is now, what are we to do? I have a small
+camera with me, but it would not be very convenient to take the
+photographs here, and it would occupy a good deal of time. On the
+other hand, these things would be difficult to pack without smearing
+the finger-prints. We want a couple of small boxes.”
+
+“Perhaps,” said I, “we may find something that will do if we take a
+look round.”
+
+“Yes,” he agreed, “we must explore the place. Meanwhile, I think I
+will develop up these prints for our immediate information, as we have
+to try to find some others to verify them.”
+
+He went back to the sitting-room, where he had put down the two cases
+that he always brought with him: a small suit-case that contained his
+toilet necessaries and a similar-sized case covered with green canvas
+which had been rather a mystery to me. I had never seen it open, and
+had occasionally speculated on the nature of its contents. My
+curiosity was now to be satisfied, for, when he returned with it in
+his hand he explained: “This is what I call my research-case. It
+contains the materials and appliances for nearly every kind of
+medico-legal investigation, and I hardly ever travel without it.”
+
+He placed it on a chair and opened it, when I saw that it formed a
+complete portable laboratory, containing, among other things a
+diminutive microscope, a little folding camera, and an insufflator, or
+powder-spray. The latter he now took from its compartment, and,
+lifting the tumbler with his gloved hand, stood it on a corner of the
+mantelpiece and blew over it with the insufflator a cloud of
+impalpably fine white powder, which settled evenly on the surface of
+the glass. He then tapped the tumbler gently once or twice with a lead
+pencil, when most of the powder coating either jarred off or crept
+down the surface. Finally, he blew at it lightly, which removed the
+rest of the powder, leaving the finger-prints standing out on the
+clear glass as if they had been painted on with Chinese white.
+
+While he was operating in the same manner on the water-bottle--having
+first emptied it into the ewer--I examined the tumbler with the aid of
+his lens. The markings were amazingly clear and distinct. Through the
+lens I could see, not only the whole of the curious, complicated
+ridge-pattern, but even the rows of little round spots that marked the
+orifices of the sweat glands. For the first time, I realized what a
+perfect means of identification these remarkable imprints furnished.
+
+“Now,” said Thorndyke, when he had finished with the bottle, “the two
+questions are, where shall we look for confirmatory finger-prints, and
+where are we to get the boxes that we want for packing these things?
+You said that Mrs. Frood had a kitchen.”
+
+“Yes. But won’t you try the furniture here; the wardrobe door, for
+instance. The dark, polished mahogany ought to give good prints.”
+
+“An excellent suggestion, Strangeways,” said he. “We might even find
+the sergeant’s finger-prints, as he has probably had the wardrobe
+open.”
+
+He sprayed the three doors of the wardrobe, and when he had tapped
+them and blown away the surplus powder, there appeared near the edge
+of each a number of finger-marks, mostly rather indistinct, and none
+of them nearly so clear as those on the glass.
+
+“This is very satisfactory,” said Thorndyke. “They are poor prints,
+but you can see quite plainly that there are two pairs of hands, one
+pair much larger than the other; and the prints of the larger hands
+are evidently not the same pattern as those on the glass, whereas
+those of the smaller ones are quite recognizable as the same, in spite
+of their indistinctness. As the large ones are almost certainly
+Cobbledick’s, the small ones are pretty certainly Mrs. Frood’s. But we
+mustn’t take anything for granted. Let us go down to the kitchen. We
+shall have a better chance there.”
+
+The door of the basement staircase was still unlocked, as Mrs. Gillow
+had described it. I threw it open, and we descended together, I
+carrying the insufflator and he bearing the tumbler and bottle in his
+gloved hands. When he had put the two articles down on the kitchen
+table, he proceeded to powder first the kitchen door and then the
+side-door that gave on to the passage between the two houses. Both of
+them were painted a dark green and both yielded obvious finger-marks,
+and though these were mere oval smudges, devoid of any trace of
+pattern, their size and their groupings showed clearly enough that
+they appertained to a small hand. But we got more conclusive
+confirmation from a small aluminium frying-pan that had been left on
+the gas stove; for, on powdering the handle, Thorndyke brought into
+view a remarkably clear thumb-print, which was obviously identical
+with that on the water-bottle.
+
+“I think,” said he, “that settles the question. If Mrs. Gillow has not
+touched anything in these premises--as she assures us that she has
+not--then we can safely assume that these are Mrs. Frood’s
+finger-prints.”
+
+“Are you going to annex the frying-pan to produce in evidence?” I
+asked.
+
+“No,” he replied. “This verification is for our own information: to
+secure us against the chance of producing Cobbledick’s finger-prints
+to identify the body. I propose, for the present, to say nothing to
+anyone as to our possessing this knowledge. When the time comes we can
+tell what we know. Until then we shall keep our own counsel.”
+
+Once more I found myself dimly surprised at my friend’s apparently
+unnecessary secrecy, but, assuming that he knew best, I made no
+comment, but watched with somewhat puzzled curiosity his further
+proceedings. His interest in the place was extraordinary. In a queer,
+cat-like fashion he prowled about the premises, examining the most
+trivial objects with almost ludicrous attention. He went carefully
+through the cooking appliances and the glass and china; he peered into
+cupboards, particularly into a large, deep cupboard in which spare
+crockery was stored, and which was, oddly enough, provided with a Yale
+lock; he sorted out the meagre contents of the refuse-bin, and
+incidentally salved from it a couple of cardboard boxes that had
+originally contained groceries, and he explored the, now somewhat
+unsavoury, larder.
+
+“I suppose,” he said reflectively, “the dustman must have used the
+side door. Do you happen to know?”
+
+“I don’t,” said I, inwardly wondering what the deuce the dustman had
+to do with the case. “I understand that the door of the passage was
+not used.”
+
+“But she couldn’t have had the dust-bin carried up the stairs and out
+at the front door,” he objected.
+
+“I should think not,” said I. “Perhaps we could judge better if we had
+a look at the passage.”
+
+He adopted the suggestion and we opened the side-door--which had a
+Yale night-latch--and went out into the covered passage that was
+common to the two houses. The door that opened on to the street was
+bolted on the inside, but the bolts were in good working order, as we
+ascertained by drawing them gently; so this gave no evidence one way
+or the other. Then Thorndyke carefully examined the hard gravel floor
+of the passage, apparently searching for dropped fragments, or the
+dustman’s foot-prints; but though there were traces suggesting that
+the side-doors had been used, there were no perceptible tracks leading
+to the street or in any way specifically suggestive of dustmen.
+
+“Japp seems fond of Yale locks,” observed Thorndyke, indicating the
+second side-door, which was also fitted with one. “I wonder where he
+keeps his dust-bin.”
+
+“Would it be worth while to ask him?” said I, more and more mystified
+by this extraordinary investigation.
+
+“No,” he replied, very definitely. “A question often gives more
+information than it elicits.”
+
+“It might easily do that in my case,” I remarked with a grin; upon
+which he laughed softly and led the way back into the house. There I
+gathered up the two boxes and the insufflator and made my way up to
+the bed-room, he following with the tumbler and the water-bottle. Then
+came the critical business of packing these two precious objects in
+the boxes in such a way as to protect the finger-prints from contact
+with the sides; which was accomplished very neatly with the aid of a
+number of balls of plasticine from the inexhaustible research-case.
+
+“This is a little disappointing,” said Thorndyke, looking at the
+hair-brush and comb as he took off his gloves. “I had hoped to collect
+a useful sample of hair. But her excessive tidiness defeats us. There
+seems to be only one or two short hairs and one full length. However,
+we may as well have them. They won’t be of much use for comparison
+with the naked eye, but even a single hair can be used as a colour
+control under the microscope.”
+
+He combed the brush until the last hair was extracted from it, and
+then drew the little collection from the comb and arranged it on a
+sheet of paper. There were six short hairs, from two to four inches
+long, and one long hair, which seemed to have been broken off, as it
+had no bulb.
+
+“Many ladies keep a combing-bag,” he remarked, as he bestowed the
+collection in a seed-envelope from the research-case; “but I gather
+from your description that Mrs. Frood’s hair was luxuriant enough to
+render that economy unnecessary. At any rate, there doesn’t seem to be
+such a bag. And now I think we have finished, and we haven’t done so
+badly.”
+
+“We have certainly got an excellent set of finger-prints,” said I.
+“But it seems rather doubtful whether there will ever be an
+opportunity of using them; and if there isn’t, we shan’t be much more
+forward for our exploration. Of course, there is the hair.”
+
+“Yes,” said Thorndyke, “there is the hair. That may be quite valuable.
+And perhaps there are some other matters--but time will show.”
+
+With this somewhat cryptic conclusion he proceeded with great care to
+pack the two boxes in his suit-case, wedging them with his pyjamas so
+that they should not get shaken in transit.
+
+As we walked home I reflected on Thorndyke’s last remark. It seemed to
+contain a suggestion that the mystery of Angelina’s death was not so
+complete to him as it was to me. For my own part, I could see no
+glimmer of light in any direction. She seemed to have vanished without
+leaving a trace excepting those few derelict objects which had been
+washed ashore and which told us nothing. But was it possible that
+those objects bore some significance that I had overlooked? That they
+were charged with some message that I had failed to decipher? I
+recalled a certain reticence on the part of Cobbledick which had made
+me suspect him of concealing from me some knowledge that he held or
+some inferences that he had drawn; and now there was this cryptic
+remark of Thorndyke’s, offering the same suggestion. Might it possibly
+be that the profound obscurity was only in my own mind, the product of
+my inexperience, and that to these skilled investigators the problem
+presented a more intelligible aspect? It might easily be. I determined
+cautiously to approach the question.
+
+“You seemed,” said I, “to imply, just now, that there are certain data
+for forming hypotheses as to the solution of this mystery that
+envelops the disappearance of Mrs. Frood. But I am not aware of any
+such data. Are you?”
+
+“Your question, Strangeways,” he replied, “turns on the meaning of the
+word ‘aware.’ If two men, one literate and the other illiterate, look
+at a page of a printed book, both may be said to be aware of it; that
+is to say that in both it produces a retinal image which makes them
+conscious of it as a visible object having certain optical properties.
+In the case of the illiterate man the perception of the optical
+properties is the total effect. But the literate man has something in
+his consciousness already, and this something combines, as it were,
+with the optical perception, and makes him aware of certain secondary
+properties of the printed characters. To both, the page yields a
+visual impression; but to one only does it yield what we may call a
+psychical impression. Are they both aware of the page?”
+
+“I appreciate your point,” said I, with a sour smile, “and I seem to
+be aware of a rather skilful evasion of my question.”
+
+He smiled in his turn and rejoined: “Your question was a little
+indirect. Shall we have it in a more direct form?”
+
+“What I wanted to know,” said I, “though I suppose I have no right to
+ask, is whether there appears to you to be any prospect whatever of
+finding any solution of the mystery of Mrs. Frood’s death.”
+
+“The answer to that question,” he replied, “is furnished by my own
+proceedings. I am not a communicative man, as you may have noticed,
+but I will say this much: that I have taken, and am taking, a good
+deal of trouble with this case, and am prepared to take more, and that
+I do not usually waste my efforts on problems that appear to be
+unsolvable. I am not disposed to say more than that, excepting to
+refer you again to the instance of the printed page and to remind you
+that whatever I know I have either learned from you or from the
+observation, in your company, of objects equally visible to both of
+us.”
+
+This reply, if not very illuminating, at least answered my question,
+as it conveyed to me that I was not likely to get much more
+information out of my secretive friend. Nevertheless, I asked:
+
+“About the man Frood: you were saying that you had some hopes of
+running him to earth.”
+
+“Yes, I have made a start. I have ascertained that he did apparently
+set out for Brighton the day before Mrs. Frood’s disappearance, but he
+never arrived there. That is all I know at present. He was seen
+getting into the Brighton train, but he did not appear at the Brighton
+barrier--my informant had the curiosity to watch all the passengers go
+through--and he never made the visit which was the ostensible object
+of his journey. So he must have got out at an intermediate station. It
+may be difficult to trace him, but I am not without hope of succeeding
+eventually. Obviously, his whereabouts on the fatal day is a matter
+that has to be settled. At present he is the obvious suspect; but if
+an alibi should be proved in his case, a search would have to be
+initiated in some other direction.”
+
+This conversation brought us to my house in time to relieve Mrs.
+Dunk’s anxieties on the subject of dinner; and as the daylight was
+already gone, the photographic operations were postponed until the
+following morning. Indeed, Thorndyke had thought of taking the objects
+to his chambers, where a more efficient outfit was available, but, on
+reflection, he decided to take the photographs in my presence so that
+I could, if necessary, attest their genuineness on oath. Accordingly,
+on the following morning, we very carefully extracted the tumbler and
+the bottle from their respective boxes and set them up, with a black
+coat of mine for a background, at the end of a table. Then Thorndyke
+produced his small folding camera--which pulled out to a surprising
+length--and, having fitted it with a short-focus objective, made the
+exposures, and developed the plates in a dark cupboard by the light of
+a little red lamp from the research case. When the plates were dry we
+inspected them through a lens, and found them microscopically sharp.
+Finally, at Thorndyke’s suggestion, I scratched my initials with a
+needle in the corner of each plate.
+
+“Well,” I said, when he had finished, “you have got the evidence that
+you wanted, and in a very complete form. It remains to be seen now
+whether you will ever get an opportunity to use it.”
+
+“Don’t be pessimistic, Strangeways,” said he. “We have had exceptional
+luck in getting this splendid series of finger-prints. Let us hope
+that Fortune will not desert us after making us these gifts.”
+
+“What is to be done with the originals?” I asked. “Shall I put them
+back where we found them?”
+
+“I think not,” he replied. “If you have a safe or a secure lock-up
+cupboard, where they could be put away, out of sight, and from whence
+they could be produced if necessary, I will ask you to take charge of
+them.”
+
+There was a cupboard with a good lock in the old bureau that I had
+found in my bedroom, and to this I conveyed the precious objects and
+locked them in. And so ended--at least, for the present--the episode
+of our raid on poor Angelina’s abode.
+
+
+
+
+ CHAPTER XIII.
+ THE DISCOVERY IN BLACK BOY-LANE
+
+On a fine, sunny afternoon, about ten days after our raid on
+Angelina’s rooms (it was Tuesday, the 14th of July, to be exact), I
+was sitting in my dining-room, from which the traces of lunch had just
+been removed, idly glancing over the paper, and considering the
+advisability of taking a walk, when I heard the door-bell ring. There
+was a short interval; then the door was opened, and the sounds of
+strife and wrangling that followed this phenomenon informed me that
+the visitor was Mr. Bundy, between whom and Mrs. Dunk there existed a
+state of chronic warfare. Presently the dining-room door opened--in
+time for me to catch a concluding growl of defiance from Mrs.
+Dunk--and that lady announced gruffly: “Mr. Bundy.”
+
+My visitor tripped in smilingly, “all teeth and eyeglass,” as his
+inveterate enemy had once expressed it, holding a Panama hat, which
+had temporarily superseded the velour.
+
+“Well, John,” said he, “coming out to play?” He had lately taken to
+calling me John; in fact, a very close and pleasant intimacy had
+sprung up between us. It dated from the occasion when I had confided
+to him my unfortunate passion for poor Angelina. That confidence he
+had evidently taken as a great compliment, and the matter of it had
+struck a sympathetic chord in his kindly nature. From that moment
+there had been a sensible change in his manner towards me. Beneath his
+habitual flippancy there was an undertone of gentleness and sympathy,
+and even of affection. Nor had I been unresponsive. Like Thorndyke, I
+found in his sunny temperament, his invariable cheerfulness and high
+spirits, a communicable quality that took effect on my own state of
+mind. And then I had early recognized that, in spite of his apparent
+giddiness, Bundy was a man of excellent intelligence and considerable
+strength of character. So the friendship had ripened naturally enough.
+
+I rose from my chair and, dropping the paper, stretched myself.
+
+“You are an idle young dog,” said I. “Why aren’t you at work?”
+
+“Nothing doing at the office except some specifications. Japp is doing
+them. Come out and have a roll round.”
+
+“Well, Jimmy,” said I. “Your name is Jimmy, isn’t it?”
+
+“No, it is not,” he replied with dignity. “I am called Peter--like the
+Bishop of Rumtifoo, and, by a curious coincidence, for the very same
+reason.”
+
+“Let me see,” said I, falling instantly into the trap, “what was that
+reason?”
+
+“Why, you see,” he replied impressively, “the Bishop was called Peter
+because that was his name.”
+
+“Look here, young fellow my lad,” said I, “you’ll get yourself into
+trouble if you come up here pulling your elder’s legs.”
+
+“It was only a gentle tweak, old chap,” said he. “Besides, you aren’t
+so blooming senile, after all. You are only cutting your first crop of
+whiskers. Are you coming out? I saw old Cobbledick just now, turning
+down Blue Boar Lane and looking as miserable as a wet cat.”
+
+“What was he looking miserable about?”
+
+“The slump in relics, I expect. He is making no headway with his
+investigation. I fancy he had reckoned on getting an inspectorship out
+of this case, whereas, if he doesn’t reach some sort of conclusion, he
+is likely to get his rapples knucked, as old Miss Barman would say. I
+suspect he was on his way to the Ark to confer with Mr. Noah. What do
+you say to a stroll in the direction of Mount Ararat?”
+
+It was a cunning suggestion on the part of Bundy, for it drew me
+instantly. Repulsive as old Israel’s activities were to me, the
+presence of those finger-prints, securely locked up in my bureau, had
+created in me a fresh anxiety to see the first state of the
+investigation completed so that the search for the murderer could be
+commenced in earnest. Not that my presence would help the sergeant,
+but that I was eager to hear the tidings of any new discovery.
+
+Bundy’s inference had been quite correct. We arrived at the head of
+the Blue Boar pier just in time to see the sergeant slowly descending
+the ladder, watched gloomily by Israel Bangs. As the former reached
+terra firma he turned round and then observed us.
+
+“Any news, Sergeant?” I asked, as he approached across the grass.
+
+He shook his head discontentedly. “No,” he replied, “not a sign; not a
+vestige. It’s a most mysterious affair. The things seemed to be coming
+up quite regularly until that hatpin was found. Then everything came
+to an end. Not a trace of anything for nigh upon a month. And what, in
+the name of Fortune, can have become of the body? That’s what I can’t
+make out. If this goes on much longer, there won’t be any body: and
+then we shall be done. The case will have to be dropped.”
+
+He took off his hat (he was in plain clothes as usual) and wiped his
+forehead, looking blankly first at me and then at Bundy. The latter
+also took off his hat and whisked out his handkerchief, bringing with
+it a little telescope which fell to the ground and was immediately
+picked up by the sergeant. “Neat little glass, this,” he remarked,
+dusting it with his handkerchief. “It’s lucky it fell on the turf.” He
+took off the cap, and pulling out the tubes, peered vaguely through it
+up and down the river. Presently he handed it to me. “Look at those
+craft down below the dockyard,” said he.
+
+I took the little instrument from him and pointed it at the group of
+small, cutter-rigged vessels that he had indicated, of which the
+telescope, small as it was, gave a brilliantly sharp picture.
+
+“What are they?” I asked. “Oyster dredgers?”
+
+“No,” he replied. “They are bawleys with their shrimp-trawls down. But
+there are plenty of oyster-dredgers in the lower river and out in the
+estuary, and what beats me is why none of them ever brings up anything
+in the trawls or dredges--anything in our line, I mean.”
+
+“What did you expect them to bring up?” Bundy asked.
+
+“Well, there are the things that have washed ashore, and there are the
+other things that haven’t washed ashore yet. And then there is the
+body.”
+
+“Mr. Noah would have something to say if they brought that up,” said
+Bundy. “By the way, what had he got to say when you called on him?”
+
+“Old Bangs? Why he is getting a bit shirty. Wants me to pay him for
+all the time he has lost on creeping and searching. Of course, I can’t
+do that, I didn’t employ him.”
+
+“Did he find the hat-pin that you spoke of?” Bundy asked.
+
+“Yes; and he has been grubbing round the place where he found it ever
+since, as if he thought hat-pins grew there.”
+
+“Still,” said Bundy, “it is not so unreasonable. A hat-pin couldn’t
+have floated ashore. If the hat came off, the two hat-pins must have
+fallen out at pretty much the same time and place.”
+
+“Yes,” the sergeant agreed, reflectively, “that seems to be common
+sense; and, if it is, the other hat-pin ought to be lying somewhere
+close by. I must go and have a look there myself.” He again reflected
+for a few moments and then asked: “Would you like to see the place
+where Israel found the pin?”
+
+As I had seen the place already and had shown it to Thorndyke, I left
+Bundy to answer.
+
+“Why not?” he assented, rather, I suspected, to humour the sergeant
+than because he felt any particular interest in the place. Thereupon
+Cobbledick, whose enthusiasm appeared to have been revived by Bundy’s
+remark, led the way briskly towards the wilderness by the
+coal-wharves, through that desolate region and along a cart-track that
+skirted the marshes until we came out into a sort of lesser wilderness
+to the west of Gas-House Road. Here the sergeant slipped through a
+large hole in a corrugated iron fence which gave access to a wharf
+littered with the unpresentable debris resulting from the activities
+of a firm of ship-knackers. Advancing to the edge of the wharf,
+Cobbledick stood for a while looking down wistfully at the expanse of
+unspeakable mud that the receding tide had uncovered.
+
+“I suppose it is too dirty to go down,” he said in a regretful tone.
+
+Bundy’s assent to this proposition was most emphatic and unqualified,
+and the sergeant had to content himself with a bird’s-eye view. But he
+made a very thorough inspection, walking along the edge of the wharf,
+scrutinizing its base, pile by pile, and giving separate attention to
+each pot, tin, or scrap of driftwood on the slimy surface. He even
+borrowed Bundy’s telescope to enable him to examine the more distant
+parts of the mud, until the owner of the instrument was reduced to the
+necessity of standing behind him, for politeness’ sake, to get a
+comfortable yawn.
+
+“Well,” said Cobbledick, at long last, handing back the telescope, “I
+suppose we must give it up. But it’s disappointing.”
+
+“I don’t quite see why,” said Bundy. “You have found enough to prove
+that the body is in the river, and no number of further relics would
+prove any more.”
+
+“No, there’s some truth in that,” Cobbledick agreed. “But I don’t like
+the way that everything seems to have come to a stop.” He crawled
+dejectedly through the hole in the fence and walked on for a minute or
+two without speaking. Presently he halted and looked about him. “I
+suppose Black Boy-lane will be our best way,” he remarked.
+
+“Which is Black Boy-lane?” I asked.
+
+“It is the lane we came down after we left Japp and Willard that day,”
+Bundy explained.
+
+“I remember,” said I, “but I didn’t know it had a name.”
+
+“It was named after a little inn that used to stand somewhere near the
+top; but it was pulled down years ago. Here’s the lane.”
+
+We entered the little, tortuous alley that wound between the high,
+tarred fences, and as it was too narrow for us to walk abreast, Bundy
+dropped behind. A little way up the lane I noticed an old hat lying on
+the high grass at the foot of the fence. Bundy apparently noticed it,
+too, for just after we had passed it I heard the sound of a kick, and
+the hat flew over my shoulder. At the same moment, and impelled by the
+same kick, a small object, which I at first thought to be a pebble,
+hopped swiftly along the ground in front of us, then rolled a little
+way, and finally came to rest, when I saw that it was a button. I
+should probably have passed it without further notice, having no use
+for stray buttons. But the more thrifty sergeant stooped and picked it
+up; and the instant that he looked at it he stopped dead.
+
+“My God! Doctor,” he exclaimed, holding it out towards me. “Look at
+this!”
+
+I took it from him, though I had recognized it at a glance. It was a
+small bronze button with a Tudor Rose embossed on it.
+
+“This is a most amazing thing,” said Cobbledick. “There can’t be any
+doubt as to what it is.”
+
+“Not the slightest,” I agreed. “It is certainly one of the buttons
+from Mrs. Frood’s coat. The question is, how on earth did it get
+here?”
+
+“Yes,” said the sergeant, “that is the question; and a very difficult
+question, too.”
+
+“Aren’t you taking rather a lot for granted?” suggested Bundy, to whom
+I had passed the little object for inspection. “It doesn’t do to jump
+at conclusions too much. Mrs. Frood isn’t likely to have had her
+buttons made to order. She must have bought them somewhere. She might
+even have bought them in Rochester. In any case, there must be
+thousands of others like them.”
+
+“I suppose there must be,” I admitted, “though I have never seen any
+buttons like them.”
+
+“Neither have I,” said Cobbledick, “and I am going to stick to the
+obvious probabilities. The missing woman wore buttons like this, and I
+shall assume that this is one of her buttons unless someone can prove
+that it isn’t.”
+
+“But how do you account for one of her buttons being here?” Bundy
+objected.
+
+“I don’t account for it,” retorted Cobbledick. “It’s a regular puzzle.
+Of course, someone--a child, for instance--might have picked it up on
+the shore and dropped it here. But that is a mere guess, and not a
+very likely one. The obvious thing to do is to search this lane
+thoroughly and see if there are any other traces; and that is what I
+am going to do now. But don’t let me detain you two gentlemen if you
+had rather not stay.”
+
+“I shall certainly stay and help you, Sergeant,” said I; and Bundy,
+assuming the virtue of enthusiasm, if he had it not, elected also to
+stay and join in the search.
+
+“We had better go back to the bottom of the lane,” said Cobbledick,
+“and go through the grass at the foot of the fence from end to end. I
+will take the right hand side and you take the left.”
+
+We retraced our steps to the bottom of the lane and began a systematic
+search, turning over the grass and weeds and exposing the earth inch
+by inch. It was a slow process and would have appeared a singular
+proceeding had any wayfarer passed through and observed us, but
+fortunately it was an unfrequented place, and no one came to spy upon
+us. We had traversed nearly half the lane when Bundy stood up and
+stretched himself. “I don’t know what your back is made of, John,”
+said he. “Mine feels as if it was made of broken bottles. How much
+more have we got to do?”
+
+“We haven’t done half yet,” I replied, also standing up and rubbing my
+lumbar region; and at this moment the sergeant, who was a few yards
+ahead, hailed us with a triumphant shout. We both turned quickly and
+beheld him standing with one arm raised aloft and the hand grasping a
+silver-topped hat-pin.
+
+“What do you say to that, Mr. Bundy?” he demanded as we hurried
+forward to examine the new “find.” “Shall we be jumping at conclusions
+if we say that this hat-pin is Mrs. Frood’s?”
+
+“No,” Bundy admitted after a glance at the silver poppy-head. “This
+seems quite distinctive, and, of course, it confirms the button. But I
+don’t understand it in the least. How can they have come here?”
+
+“We won’t go into that,” said the sergeant, in a tone of suppressed
+excitement that showed me pretty clearly that he had already gone into
+it. “They are here. And now the question arises, what became of the
+hat? It couldn’t have dropped off down at the wharf, or this hat-pin
+wouldn’t be here; but it must have fallen off when both hat-pins were
+gone. Now what can have become of it?”
+
+“It might have been picked up and taken possession of by some woman,”
+I suggested. “It was a good hat, and if the body was brought here soon
+after the crime, as it must have been, it wouldn’t have been much
+damaged. But why trouble about the hat? Appearances suggest that the
+body was either brought up or taken down this lane. That is the new
+and astonishing fact that needs explaining.”
+
+“We don’t want to do any explaining now,” said Cobbledick. “We are
+here to collect facts. If we can find out what became of the hat, that
+may help us when we come to consider the explanations.”
+
+“Well, it obviously isn’t here,” said I.
+
+“No,” he agreed, “and it wouldn’t have been left here. A murderer
+mightn’t have noticed the button, or even the hat-pin, on a dark,
+foggy night. But he’d have noticed the hat; and he wouldn’t have left
+it where it must have been seen, and probably led to inquiries. He
+might have taken it with him, or he might have got rid of it. I should
+say he would have got rid of it. What is on the other side of these
+fences?”
+
+We all hitched ourselves up the respective fences far enough to look
+over. On the one side was a space of bare, gravelly ground with thin
+patches of grass and numerous heaps of cinder; on the other was an
+area of old waste land thickly covered with thistles, ragwort, and
+other weeds. The sergeant elected to begin with the latter, as the
+less frequented and therefore more probably undisturbed. Setting his
+foot on the buttress of a post, he went over the fence with surprising
+agility, considering his figure, and was lost to view; but we could
+hear him raking about among the herbage close to the fence, and from
+time to time I stood on the buttress and was able to witness his
+proceedings. First he went to the bottom of the lane and from that
+point returned by the fence, searching eagerly among the high weeds. I
+saw him thus proceed, apparently to the top of the lane in the
+neighbourhood of the remains of the city wall. Thence he came back,
+but now at a greater distance from the fence, and as he was still
+eagerly peering and probing amongst the weeds, it was evident that he
+had had no success. Suddenly, when he was but a few yards away, he
+uttered an exclamation and ran forward. Then I saw him stoop, and the
+next moment he fairly ran towards me holding the unmistakable brown
+straw hat with the dull green ribbon.
+
+“That tells us what we wanted to know,” he said breathlessly, handing
+the hat to me as he climbed over the fence; “at least, I think it
+does. I’ll tell you what I mean--but not now,” he added in a lower
+tone, though not unheard by Bundy, as I inferred later.
+
+“I suppose we need hardly go on with the search any further?” I
+suggested, having had enough of groping amongst the grass.
+
+“Well, no,” he replied. “I shall go over it again later on, but we’ve
+got enough to think about for the present. By the way, Mr. Bundy, I’ve
+found something belonging to you. Isn’t this your property?”
+
+He produced from his pocket a largish key, to which was attached a
+wooden label legibly inscribed “Japp and Bundy, High-street,
+Rochester.”
+
+“By Jove!” exclaimed Bundy, “it is Japp’s precious key! Where on earth
+did you find it, Sergeant?”
+
+“Right up at the top,” was the reply. “Close to the old wall.”
+
+“Now, I wonder how the deuce it got there,” said Bundy. “Some fool
+must have thrown it over the fence from pure mischief. However, here
+it is. You know there was a reward of ten shillings for finding it,
+Sergeant. I had better settle up at once. You needn’t make any
+difficulties about it,” he added, as the sergeant seemed disposed to
+decline the payment. “It won’t come out of my pocket. It is the firm’s
+business.”
+
+On this understanding Cobbledick pocketed the proffered note and we
+walked on up the lane, the sergeant slightly embarrassed, as we
+approached the town, by the palpably unconcealable hat. Very little
+was said by any of us, for these new discoveries, with the amazing
+inferences that they suggested, gave us all abundant material for
+thought. The sergeant walked with eyes bent on the ground, evidently
+cogitating profoundly; my mind surged with new speculations and
+hypotheses, while Bundy, if not similarly preoccupied, refrained from
+breaking in on our meditations.
+
+When, at length, by devious ways, we reached the High-street in the
+neighbourhood of the Corn Exchange, we halted, and the sergeant looked
+at me as if framing a question. Bundy glanced up at the quaint old
+clock, and remarked:
+
+“It is about time I got back to the office. Mustn’t leave poor old
+Japp to do all the work, though he never grumbles. So I will leave you
+here.”
+
+I realized that this was only a polite excuse to enable the sergeant
+to have a few words with me alone, and I accepted it as such.
+
+“Good-bye, then,” said I, “if you must be off, and in case I don’t see
+you before, I shall expect you to dinner on Saturday if you’ve got the
+evening free. Dr. Thorndyke is coming down for the week-end, and I
+know you enjoy ragging him.”
+
+“He is pretty difficult to get a rise out of, all the same,” said
+Bundy, brightening up perceptibly at the invitation. “But I shall turn
+up with very great pleasure.” He bestowed a mock ceremonious salute on
+me and the sergeant, and, turning away, bustled off in the direction
+of the office. As soon as he was out of earshot Cobbledick opened the
+subject of the new discoveries.
+
+“This is an extraordinary development of our case, Doctor,” said he.
+“I didn’t want to discuss it before Mr. Bundy, though he is really
+quite a discreet gentleman, and pretty much on the spot, too. But he
+isn’t a party to the case, and it is better not to talk too freely.
+You see the points that these fresh finds raise?”
+
+“I see that they put a new complexion on the affair, but to me they
+only make the mystery deeper and more incomprehensible.”
+
+“In a way they do,” Cobbledick agreed, “but, on the other hand, they
+put the case on a more satisfactory footing. For instance, we
+understand now why the body has never come to light. It was never in
+the river at all. Then as to the perpetrator; he was a local man--or,
+at least, there was a local man in it; a man who knew the town and the
+waterside neighbourhood thoroughly. No stranger would have found Black
+Boy-lane. Very few Rochester people know it.”
+
+“But,” I asked, “what does the finding of these things suggest to
+you?”
+
+“Well,” he replied, “it suggests several questions. Let me just put
+these things away in my office, and then we can talk the matter over.”
+He went into his office, and shortly returned relieved--very much
+relieved--of the conspicuous hat. We turned towards the bridge, and he
+resumed: “The first question and the most important one is, which way
+was the body travelling? It is obvious that it was carried through
+Black Boy-lane. But in which direction? Towards the town or towards
+the river? When you think of the circumstances; when you recall that
+it was a foggy night when she disappeared; it seems at first more
+probable that the crime might have been committed in, or near, the
+lane, and the body carried down to the river. But when you consider
+all the facts, that doesn’t seem possible. There is that box of
+tablets, picked up dry and clean on Chatham Hard. That seems to fix
+the locality where the crime occurred.”
+
+“And there is the brooch,” said I.
+
+“I don’t attach much importance to that,” he replied. “It might have
+been picked up anywhere. But the box of tablets couldn’t have got from
+Black Boy-lane to Chatham except by the river, and it hadn’t been in
+the river. But the hat seems to me to settle the question. You see,
+one hat-pin was found on the shore and the other in the lane near the
+hat. Now, one hat-pin might have dropped out and left the hat still
+fixed on the head. But when the hat came off, the pins must have come
+off with it. The hat came off near the top of the lane. If both the
+pins had been in it they would both have come out there. But one pin
+was found on the shore; therefore when the body was at the shore the
+hat must have been still on the head, though it had probably got
+loosened by all the dragging about in the boat and in landing the
+body. You agree to that, Doctor?”
+
+“Yes, it seems undeniable,” I answered.
+
+“Very well,” said he. “Then the body was being carried up the lane.
+The next question is: was it being carried by one person or by more
+than one? Well, I think you will agree with me, Doctor, that it could
+hardly have been done by one man. It is quite a considerable distance
+from the shore to the top of the lane. She was a good-sized woman, and
+a dead body is a mighty awkward thing to carry at the best of times. I
+should say there must have been at least two men.”
+
+“It certainly does seem probable,” I admitted.
+
+“I think so,” said he. “Then we come to another question. Was it
+really a dead body? Or might the woman have been merely insensible?”
+
+“Good God, Sergeant!” I exclaimed. “You don’t think it possible that
+it could have been a case of forcible abduction, and that Mrs. Frood
+is still alive?”
+
+“I wouldn’t say it was impossible,” he replied, “but I certainly don’t
+think it is the case. You see, nearly three months have passed and
+there is no sign of her. But in modern England you can’t hide a
+full-grown, able-bodied woman who has got all her wits about her. No,
+Doctor, I am afraid we must take the view that the woman who was
+carried up Black Boy-lane was a dead woman. All I want to point out is
+that the other view is a bare possibility, and that we mustn’t forget
+it.”
+
+“But,” I urged, “don’t you think that the fact that she was being
+carried towards the town strongly suggests that she was alive? Why on
+earth should a murderer bring a body, at great risk of discovery, from
+the river, where it could easily have been disposed of, up into the
+town? It seems incredible.”
+
+“It does,” he agreed. “It’s a regular facer. But, on the other hand,
+suppose she was alive. What could they have done with her? How could
+they have kept her out of sight all this time? And why should they
+have done it?”
+
+“As to the motive,” said I, “that is incomprehensible in any case. But
+what do you suppose actually happened?”
+
+“My theory of it is,” he replied, “that two men, at least, did the
+job. Both may have been local waterside men, or there may have been a
+stranger with a water-rat in his pay. I imagine the crime was
+committed at Chatham, somewhere near the Sun Pier, and that the body
+was put in a boat and brought up here. It was a densely foggy night,
+you remember, so there would have been no great difficulty; and there
+wouldn’t be many people about. The part of it that beats me is what
+they meant to do with the body. They seem to have brought it
+deliberately from Chatham right up into Rochester Town; and they have
+got rid of it somehow. They must have had some place ready to stow it
+in, but what that place can have been I can’t form the ghost of a
+guess. It’s a fair knock-out.”
+
+“You don’t suppose old Israel Bangs knows anything about it?” I
+suggested.
+
+The sergeant shook his head. “I’ve no reason to suppose he does,” he
+replied. “And it is a bad plan to make guesses and name names.”
+
+We walked up and down the Esplanade for nearly an hour, discussing
+various possibilities; but we could make nothing of the incredible
+thing that seemed to have happened in spite of its incredibility. At
+last we gave it up and returned to the Guildhall, where, as we parted,
+he said a little hesitatingly: “I heard you tell Mr. Bundy that Dr.
+Thorndyke was coming down for the week-end. It wouldn’t be amiss if
+you were to put the facts of the case before him. It’s quite in his
+line, and I think he would be interested to hear about it; and he
+might see something that I have missed. But, of course, it must be in
+strict confidence.”
+
+I promised to try to find an opportunity to get Thorndyke’s opinion on
+the case, and with this we separated, the sergeant retiring to his
+office and I making my way homeward to prepare a report for dispatch
+by the last post.
+
+
+
+
+ CHAPTER XIV.
+ SERGEANT COBBLEDICK IS ENLIGHTENED
+
+The custom which had grown upon my part of meeting Thorndyke at the
+station on the occasion of his visits was duly honoured on the present
+occasion, for the surprising discoveries in Black Boy-lane, which I
+had described in my report to him, made me eager to hear his comments.
+Unfortunately, on this occasion, he had come down by an unusually late
+train, and the opportunity for discussion was limited to the time
+occupied by the short walk from Rochester Station to my house. For it
+was close upon dinner time, and I rather expected to find Bundy
+awaiting us.
+
+“Your report was quite a thrilling document,” he remarked, as we came
+out of the station approach. “These new discoveries seem to launch us
+on a fresh phase of the investigation.”
+
+“Do they seem to you to offer any intelligible suggestions?” I asked.
+
+“There is no lack of suggestions,” he replied. “To a person of
+ordinary powers of imagination, a number of hypotheses must present
+themselves. But, of course, the first thing to consider is not what
+might have happened, but what did happen, and what we can safely infer
+from those happenings. We can apparently take it as proved that the
+body was carried through the lane; and everything goes to show that it
+was carried from the river towards the town. The first clear inference
+is that we can completely exclude accident, pure and simple. The
+body--living or dead--may be assumed to have been carried by some
+person or persons. We can dismiss the idea that the woman walked up
+the lane. But if someone carried the body, someone is definitely
+implicated. The affair comes unquestionably into the category of
+crime.”
+
+“That doesn’t carry us very far,” I said, with a sense of
+disappointment.
+
+“It carries us a stage farther than our previous data did, for it
+excludes accident, which they did not. Then it suggests not only
+premeditation, but arrangement. If the body was brought up from the
+river, there must have been some place known to, and probably prepared
+by, those who brought it, in which it could be deposited; and that
+place must have been more secure than the river from which it was
+brought. But the river, itself, was a very secure hiding-place,
+especially if the body had been sunk with weights. Now, this is all
+very remarkable. If you consider the extraordinary procedure; the
+seizure of the victim at Chatham; the conveyance of the body from
+thence to this considerable distance; the landing of it at the wharf;
+the conveyance of it by an apparently selected route--at enormous risk
+of discovery, in spite of the fog--to an appointed destination: I say,
+Strangeways, that if you consider this astounding procedure, you
+cannot fail to be convinced that there was some definite purpose
+behind it.”
+
+“Yes,” I agreed, “that seems to be so. But what could the purpose be?
+It appears perfectly incomprehensible. It only makes the mystery more
+unsolvable than ever.”
+
+“Not at all,” he rejoined. “There is nothing so hopeless to
+investigate as the perfectly obvious and common-place. As soon as an
+apparently incomprehensible motive appears, we are within sight of a
+solution. There may be innumerable explanations of a common-place
+action; but an outrageously unreasonable action; pursued with definite
+and considered purpose, can admit of but one or two. The action, with
+its underlying purpose, must be adjusted to some unusual conditions.
+We have only to consider to what conditions it could be adjusted, and
+which, if any, of those conditions actually exist, and the explanation
+of the apparently incomprehensible action comes into view. But here we
+are at our destination, and there is our friend, Bundy, standing on
+the doorstep. By the way, I have brought one or two photographs of
+Mrs. Frood for you to look at.”
+
+We arrived in time to intervene and put an end to a preliminary
+skirmish between the irrepressible Bundy and Mrs. Dunk, and when
+greetings had been exchanged, Thorndyke went up to his room to wash
+and deposit his luggage.
+
+“Well, John,” said Bundy, when he had hung up his hat, “it is very
+pleasant to see my old friend after this long separation. Very good of
+him, too, to invite an insignificant outsider like me to meet his
+distinguished colleague. You are a benefactor to me, John.”
+
+“Don’t talk nonsense, Peterkin,” said I. “You know we are always glad
+to see you. I invite you for my own pleasure and Thorndyke’s, not for
+yours.”
+
+Bundy gave my arm a grateful squeeze. “Good old John,” said he.
+“Nothing like doing it handsomely. But here is the great man himself,”
+he added, as Thorndyke entered the dining-room, carrying a cardboard
+box, “with instruments of magic. He’s going to do a conjuring trick.”
+
+Thorndyke opened the box and delicately picked out four photographs,
+all mounted and all of cabinet size, which he stood up in a row on the
+mantelpiece. Two of them were from the same negative, one being
+printed in red carbon, the other in sepia. The remaining two were
+ordinary silver prints of the conventional trade type.
+
+Bundy looked at the collection with not unnatural surprise.
+
+“Where did these things come from?” he asked.
+
+“They came from London,” replied Thorndyke, “where things of this kind
+grow. Strangeways asked me to get him some samples. How do you like
+them? My own preference is for the carbons, and of the two I think I
+like the red chalk print the better.”
+
+I ran my eye along the row and found myself in strong agreement with
+Thorndyke. It was not only that the carbon prints had the advantage of
+the finer medium. The treatment was altogether more artistic, and the
+likeness seemed better, in spite of a rather over-strong top-lighting.
+
+“Yes,” I said, “the carbons are infinitely superior to the silver
+prints, and of the two I think the red is the better because it
+emphasises the shadows less.”
+
+“Is the likeness as good as in the silver prints?” Thorndyke asked.
+
+“Better, I think. The expression is more natural and spontaneous. What
+do you say, Peter?”
+
+As I spoke I looked at him, not for the first time, for I had already
+been struck by the intense concentration with which he had been
+examining the two carbons. And it was not only concentration. There
+was a curious expression of surprise, as if something in the
+appearance of the portraits puzzled him.
+
+He looked up with a perplexed frown. “As to the likeness,” said he, “I
+don’t know that I am a particularly good judge. I only saw her once or
+twice. But, as far as I remember, it seems to be quite a good
+likeness, and there can be no question as to the superiority, in an
+artistic sense, of the carbons. And I agree with you that the shadows
+are less harsh in the red than in the sepia. Who is the photographer?”
+
+He picked up the red print and, turning it over, looked at the back.
+Then, finding that the back of the card was blank, he picked up the
+sepia print and inspected it in the same way, but with the same
+result. There was no photographer’s name either on the back or front.
+
+“I have an impression,” said Thorndyke, “that the carbons were done by
+a City photographer. But my man will know. He got them for me.”
+
+Bundy set the two photographs back in their places, still, as it
+seemed to me, with the air of a man who is trying vainly to remember
+something. But, at this moment, Mrs. Dunk entered with the soup
+tureen, and we forthwith took our places at the table.
+
+We had finished our soup, and I was proceeding to effect the
+dismemberment of an enormous sole, when Bundy, having fortified
+himself with a sip of Chablis, cast a malignant glance at Thorndyke.
+
+“I have got some bad news for you, Doctor,” said he.
+
+“Which doctor are you addressing?” Thorndyke asked.
+
+“There’s only one now,” replied Bundy. “T’other one has been degraded
+to the rank of John.”
+
+“That happens to be my rank, too,” observed Thorndyke.
+
+“Oh, but I couldn’t think of taking such a liberty,” Bundy protested,
+“though it is very gracious and condescending of you to suggest it.
+No, your rank and title will continue to be that of doctor.”
+
+“And what is your bad news?”
+
+“It is a case of a lost opportunity,” said Bundy. “‘Of all the sad
+words of tongue or pen,’ and so on. It might have been ten shillings.
+But it never will now. Cobbledick has got your ten bob.”
+
+“Do you mean that Cobbledick has found the missing key?”
+
+“Even so, alackaday! The chance is gone for ever.”
+
+“Where did he find it?” Thorndyke asked.
+
+“Ah!” exclaimed Bundy. “There it is again. The tragedy of it! He
+wasn’t looking for it at all. He just fell over it in a field where he
+was searching for relics of Mrs. Frood.”
+
+“Your description,” said Thorndyke, “is deficient in geographical
+exactitude. Could you bring your ideas of locality to a somewhat
+sharper focus? There are probably several fields in the neighbourhood
+of Rochester.”
+
+“So there are,” said Bundy. “Quite a lot. But this particular field
+lies on the right, or starboard, side of a small thoroughfare called
+Black Boy-lane.”
+
+“Let me see,” said Thorndyke. “Isn’t that the lane that we went down
+after leaving our friends on the day of the Great Perambulation?”
+
+“Yes,” replied Bundy, looking at him in astonishment, “but how did you
+know its name?” (He was, of course, not aware of my report to
+Thorndyke describing the discoveries and the place.)
+
+“That,” said Thorndyke, “is an irrelevant question. Now when you say
+‘the right-hand side’----”
+
+“I mean the right-hand side looking towards the town, of course. As a
+matter of fact, Cobbledick found the key among the thistles near to
+the fence, and quite close to the outside of the city wall.”
+
+“How do you suppose it got there?” Thorndyke asked.
+
+“I’ve no idea. Someone must have taken it out of the gate and thrown
+it over the fence. That is obvious. But who could have done it I can’t
+imagine. Of course, you suspect Cobbledick, but that is only
+jealousy.”
+
+The exchange of schoolboy repartee continued without a sensible pause
+on either side. But yet I seemed to detect in Thorndyke’s manner a
+certain reflectiveness underlying the levity of his verbal conflict
+with Bundy; a reflectiveness that seemed to have had its origin in the
+“news” that the latter had communicated. Of course, I had said
+nothing, in my report, about the finding of the key. Why should I?
+Those reports referred exclusively to matters connected with the
+disappearance of poor Angelina. The loss and the recovery of the key
+were items of mere local gossip with which Thorndyke could have no
+concern excepting in connexion with Bundy’s facetious fiction. And yet
+it had seemed to me that Thorndyke showed quite a serious interest in
+the announcement. However, he made no further reference to the matter,
+and the conversation drifted to other topics.
+
+It was almost inevitable that, sooner or later, some reference should
+be made to the discoveries in the lane. It was Bundy, of course, who
+introduced the subject; and I was amused by the adroit way in which
+Thorndyke conveyed the impression of complete ignorance, without
+making any statement, and the patient manner in which he listened to
+the account of the adventure, and even elicited amplified details by
+judicious questions. But he eluded all Bundy’s efforts to extract an
+opinion on the significance of the discoveries.
+
+“But,” the latter protested, “you said that if I would give you the
+facts, you would give me the explanation.”
+
+“The explanation is obvious,” said Thorndyke. “If you found these
+objects in the lane, they must have been dropped there.”
+
+“Well, of course they must,” said Bundy. “That is quite obvious.”
+
+“Exactly,” agreed Thorndyke. “That is what I am pointing out.”
+
+“But why was the body being carried up the lane? And where was it
+being carried to?”
+
+“Ah,” protested Thorndyke, “but now you are going beyond your facts.
+You haven’t proved that there was any body there at all.”
+
+“But there must have been, or the things couldn’t have dropped off
+it.”
+
+“But you haven’t proved that they did drop off it. They may have, or
+they may not. That is a question of fact; and as I impressed on you on
+a previous occasion, evidence as to fact is the function of the common
+witness. The expert witness explains the significance of facts
+furnished by others. I have explained the facts that you have
+produced, and now you ask me to explain something that isn’t a fact at
+all. But that is not my function. I am an expert.”
+
+“I see,” said Bundy; “and now I understand why judges are so down on
+expert witnesses. It is my belief that they are a parcel of impostors.
+Wasn’t Captain Bunsby an expert witness? Or was he only an oracle?”
+
+“It is a distinction without a difference,” replied Thorndyke.
+“Captain Bunsby is the classical instance of oracular safety. It was
+impossible to dispute the correctness of his pronouncements.”
+
+“Principally,” said I, “because no one could make head or tail of
+them.”
+
+“But that was the subtlety of the method,” said Thorndyke. “A
+statement cannot be contested until it is understood. From which it
+follows that if you would deliver a judgment that cannot be disputed,
+you must take proper precautions against the risk of being
+understood.”
+
+Bundy adjusted his eye-glass and fixed on Thorndyke a glare of
+counterfeit defiance. “I am going to take an early opportunity of
+seeing you in the witness-box,” said he. “It will be the treat of my
+life.”
+
+“I must try to give you that treat,” replied Thorndyke. “I am sure you
+will be highly entertained, but I don’t think you will be able to
+dispute my evidence.”
+
+“I don’t suppose I shall,” Bundy retorted with a grin, “if it is of
+the same brand as the sample that I have heard.”
+
+Here the arrival of Mrs. Dunk with the coffee ushered in a truce
+between the disputants, and when I had filled the cups Thorndyke
+changed the subject by recalling the incidents of our perambulation
+with Japp and Mr. Willard; and Bundy, apparently considering that
+enough chaff had been cut for one evening, entered into a discussion
+on the conditions of life in mediæval Rochester with a zest and
+earnestness that came as a refreshing change after so much frivolity.
+So the evening passed pleasantly away until ten o’clock, when Bundy
+rose to depart.
+
+“Shall we see him home, Thorndyke?” said I. “We can do with a walk
+after our pow-wow.”
+
+“Somebody ought to see him home,” said Thorndyke. “He looks
+comparatively sober now, but wait till he gets out into the air.”
+(Bundy’s almost ascetic abstemiousness in respect of wine, I should
+explain, had become a mild joke between us.) “But I think I won’t join
+the bacchanalian procession. I have a letter to write, and I can get
+it done and posted by the time you come back.”
+
+As we walked towards the office arm-in-arm--Bundy keeping up the
+fiction of a slight unsteadiness of gait--my guest once more expressed
+enjoyment of our little festivals.
+
+“I suppose,” said he, “Dr. Thorndyke is really quite a big bug in his
+way.”
+
+“Yes,” I replied; “he is in the very front rank; in fact, I should say
+that he is the greatest living authority on his subject.”
+
+“Yes,” said Bundy, thoughtfully, “one feels that he is a great man,
+although he is so friendly and so perfectly free from side. I hope I
+don’t cheek him too much.”
+
+“He doesn’t seem to resent it,” I answered, “and he certainly doesn’t
+object to your society. He expressly said, when he wrote last, that he
+hoped to see something of you.”
+
+“That was awfully nice of him,” Bundy said with very evident
+gratification; and he added, after a pause: “Lord! John, what a
+windfall it was for me when you came down with that letter from old
+Turcival. It has made life a different thing for me.”
+
+“I am glad to hear it, Peter,” said I; “but you haven’t got all the
+benefit. It was a bit of luck for me to strike a live bishop in my new
+habitat, and a Rumtifoozlish one at that. But here we are at the
+episcopal palace. Shall I assist your lordship up the steps?”
+
+We carried out the farce to its foolish end, staggering together up
+the steps, at the top of which I propped him securely against the door
+and rang the bell, with the comfortable certainty that there was no
+one in the house to disturb.
+
+“Good night, John, old chap,” he said cordially, as I retired.
+
+“Good night, Peter, my child,” I responded; and so took my way
+homeward to my other guest.
+
+I arrived at my house in time to meet Thorndyke returning from the
+adjacent pillar-box, and we went in together.
+
+“Well,” said he, “I suppose we had better turn in, according to what
+is, I believe, the custom of this household, and turn out betimes in
+the morning, for a visit, perhaps, to Black Boy-lane.”
+
+“Yes,” I replied, “we may as well turn in now. You are not going to
+leave these photographs there, are you?”
+
+“They are your photographs,” he replied; “that is, if you care to have
+them. I brought them down for you.”
+
+I thanked him very warmly for the gift, and gathered up the portraits
+carefully, replacing them, for the present, in their box. Then we
+turned out the lights and made our way up to our respective bedrooms.
+
+At breakfast on the following morning Thorndyke opened the subject of
+our investigation by cross-examining me on the matter of my report,
+and the more detailed account that Bundy had given.
+
+“What does Sergeant Cobbledick think of the new developments?” he
+asked, when I had given him all the detail that I could.
+
+“In a way he is encouraged. He is glad to get something more definite
+to work on. But for the present he seems to be high and dry. He gave
+me quite a learned exposition of the possibilities of the case, but he
+had to admit when he had finished that he was still in the dark so far
+as any final conclusion was concerned. He even suggested that I should
+put the facts before you--he recognized you when we met him on the
+road near Blue Boar Pier--and ask if you could make any suggestion.”
+
+“Can you recall the sergeant’s exposition of the case?”
+
+“I think so. It made rather an impression on me at the time,” and here
+I repeated, as well as I could remember them, the various inferences
+that Cobbledick had drawn from the presence in the lane of the things
+that we had found. Thorndyke listened with deep attention, nodding his
+head approvingly as each point was made.
+
+“A very admirable analysis, Strangeways,” he said when I had finished.
+“It does the sergeant great credit. So far as it goes, it is an
+excellent interpretation of the facts that are in his possession.
+There are, perhaps, one or two points that he has overlooked.”
+
+“If there are,” said I, “it would be a great kindness to draw his
+attention to them. He is naturally anxious to get on with the case,
+and he has taken endless trouble over it.”
+
+“I shall be very glad to give him a hint or two,” said Thorndyke.
+“After breakfast I should like to go over the ground with you, and
+then we might go along to the station and see if he is in his office.”
+
+I agreed to this program, and as soon as we had finished our breakfast
+we went forth, making our way by Free School-lane and The Common to
+the marshes west of Gas House-road. From there we entered Black
+Boy-lane at the lower end, and slowly followed its windings, Thorndyke
+looking about him attentively, and occasionally peering over the
+fences, which his stature enabled him to do without climbing. At the
+top of the lane, where it opened into a paved thoroughfare, we
+observed no less a personage than Sergeant Cobbledick, standing on the
+pavement and looking at the few adjacent houses with an expression of
+profound speculation. His speculative attitude changed suddenly to one
+of eager interest when he saw us; and on my presenting him to
+Thorndyke, he stood stiffly at “attention” and raised his hat with an
+air that I can only describe as reverent.
+
+“Dr. Strangeways was telling me, just now,” said Thorndyke, “of your
+very interesting observations on these new developments. He also said
+that you would like to talk the matter over with me.”
+
+“I should, indeed, sir,” the sergeant said, earnestly; “and if I might
+suggest it, my office will be very quiet, being Sunday, and I could
+show you the things that have been found, if you would like to see
+them.”
+
+“As to the things that have been found,” said Thorndyke, “I am
+prepared to take them as read. They have been properly identified. But
+we could certainly talk more conveniently in your office.”
+
+In a few minutes we turned into a narrow street which brought us to
+the side of the Guildhall, and the sergeant, having shown us into his
+office and given some instructions to a constable, entered and locked
+the door.
+
+“Now, Sergeant,” said Thorndyke, “tell us what your difficulty is.”
+
+“I’ve got several difficulties, Sir,” replied Cobbledick. “In the
+first place, here is a body being carried up the lane. You agree with
+me, Sir, that it was going up and not down?”
+
+“Yes; your reasons seem quite conclusive.”
+
+“Well, then, Sir, the next question is, was this a dead body, or was
+the woman drugged or insensible? The fact that she was being taken
+from the river towards the town suggests that she was alive and being
+taken to some house where she could be hidden; but, of course, a dead
+body might be taken to a house to be destroyed by burning or to be
+dismembered or even buried, say under the cellar. I must say my own
+feeling is that it was a dead body.”
+
+“The reasons you gave Dr. Strangeways for thinking so seem to be quite
+sound. Let us proceed on the assumption that it was a dead body.”
+
+“Well, Sir,” said Cobbledick, gloomily, “there you are. That’s all. We
+have got a body brought up from the river. We can trace it up to near
+the top of the lane. But there we lose it. It seems to have vanished
+into smoke. It was being taken up into the town; but where? There’s
+nothing to show. We come out into the paved streets, and, of course,
+there isn’t a trace. We seem to have come to the end of our clues; and
+I am very much afraid that we shan’t get any more.”
+
+“There,” said Thorndyke, “I am inclined to agree with you, Sergeant.
+You won’t get any more clues for the simple reason that you have got
+them all.”
+
+“Got them all!” exclaimed Cobbledick, staring in amazement at
+Thorndyke.
+
+“Yes,” was the calm reply; “at least, that is how it appears to me.
+Your business now is not to search for more clues but to extract the
+meaning from the facts that you possess. Come, now, Sergeant,” he
+continued, “let us take a bird’s-eye view of the case, as it were,
+reconstructing the investigation in a sort of synopsis. I will read
+the entries from my note-book.”
+
+“On Saturday, the 26th of April, Mrs. Frood disappeared. On the 1st of
+May the brooch was found at the pawn-brokers. On the 7th of May the
+box of tablets and the bag were found on the shore at Chatham,
+apparently fixing the place of the crime. On the 9th of May the scarf
+was found at Blue Boar Head. On the 15th of May a shoe was found in
+the creek between Blue Boar Head and Gas House Point. On the 25th of
+May the second shoe was found on the gridiron near Gas House Point. On
+the 20th of June a hat-pin was found on the shore a little west of the
+last spot; always creeping steadily up the river, you notice.”
+
+“Yes,” said Cobbledick, “I noticed that, and I’m hanged if I can
+account for it in any way.”
+
+“Never mind,” said Thorndyke. “Just note the fact. Then on the 14th of
+July four articles were found; near the bottom of the lane a button;
+near the middle of the lane a hat-pin, and, abreast of it in the
+field, the hat, itself. Finally, at the top of the lane, in the field,
+you found the missing key.”
+
+“I don’t see what the key has got to do with it,” said the sergeant.
+“It don’t seem to me to be in the picture.”
+
+“Doesn’t it?” said Thorndyke. “Just consider a moment, Sergeant. But
+perhaps you have forgotten the date on which the key disappeared?”
+
+“I don’t know that I ever noticed when it was lost.”
+
+“It wasn’t lost,” said Thorndyke. “It was taken away--probably out of
+the gate--and afterwards thrown over the fence. But I daresay Dr.
+Strangeways can give you the date.”
+
+I reflected for a few moments. “Let me see,” said I. “It was a good
+while ago, and I remember that it was a Saturday, because the men who
+were filling the holes in the city wall had knocked off at noon for a
+week-end. Now when was it? I went to the wine merchant’s that day,
+and--” I paused with a sudden shock of recollection. “Why!” I
+exclaimed. “It was _the_ Saturday; the day Mrs. Frood disappeared!”
+
+Cobbledick seemed to stiffen in his chair as he suddenly turned a
+startled look at Thorndyke.
+
+“Yes,” agreed the latter; “the key disappeared during the morning of
+the 26th of April and Mrs. Frood disappeared on the evening of the
+same day. That is a coincidence in time. And if you consider what gate
+it was that this key unlocked; that it gave entrance--and also
+excluded entrance--to an isolated, enclosed area of waste land in
+which excavations and fillings-in were actually taking place; I think
+you will agree that there is matter for investigation.”
+
+As Thorndyke was speaking Cobbledick’s eyes opened wider and wider,
+and his mouth exhibited a like change.
+
+“Good Lord, Sir!” he exclaimed at length, “you mean to say----”
+
+“No, I don’t,” Thorndyke interrupted with a smile. “I am merely
+drawing your attention to certain facts which seem to have escaped it.
+You said that there was no hint of a place to which the body could
+have been conveyed. I point out a hint which you have overlooked. That
+is all.”
+
+“It is a pretty broad hint, too,” said Cobbledick, “and I am going to
+lose no time in acting on it. Do you happen to know, Doctor, who
+employed the workmen?”
+
+“I gathered that Japp and Bundy had the contract to repair the wall.
+At any rate, they were supervising the work, and they will be able to
+tell you where to find the foreman. Probably they have a complete
+record of the progress of the work. You know Mr. Japp’s address on
+Boley Hill, I suppose, and Mr. Bundy lives over the office.”
+
+“I’ll call on him at once,” said Cobbledick, “and see if he can give
+me the particulars, and I’ll get him to lend me the key. I suppose you
+two gentlemen wouldn’t care to come and have a look at the place with
+me?”
+
+“I don’t see why not,” said Thorndyke. “But I particularly wish not to
+appear in connexion with the case, so I will ask you to say nothing to
+anyone of your having spoken to me about it, and, of course, we go to
+the place alone.”
+
+“Certainly,” the sergeant agreed emphatically. “We don’t want any
+outsiders with us. Then if you will wait for me here I will get back
+as quickly as I can. I hope Mr. Bundy is at home.”
+
+He snatched up his hat and darted out of the office, full of hope and
+high spirits. Thorndyke’s suggestion had rejuvenated him.
+
+“It seems to me,” I said, when he had gone, “a rather remarkable thing
+that you should have remembered all the circumstances of the loss of
+this key.”
+
+“It isn’t really remarkable at all,” he replied. “I heard of it after
+the woman had disappeared. But as soon as she had disappeared, the
+loss of this particular key at this particular time became a fact of
+possible evidential importance. It was a fact that had to be noted and
+remembered. The connexion of the tragedy with the river seemed to
+exclude it for a time; but the discoveries in the lane at once revived
+its importance. The fundamental rule, Strangeways, of all criminal
+investigation is to note everything, relevant or irrelevant, and
+forget nothing.”
+
+“It is an excellent rule,” said I, “but it must be a mighty difficult
+one to carry out”; and for a while we sat, each immersed in his own
+reflections.
+
+The sergeant returned in an incredibly short space of time, and he
+burst into the office with a beaming face, flourishing the key. “I
+found him at home,” said he, “and I’ve got all the necessary
+particulars, so we can take a preliminary look round.” He held the
+door open, and when we had passed out, he led the way down the little
+street at a pace that would have done credit to a sporting
+lamp-lighter. A very few minutes brought us to the gate, and when he
+had opened it and locked it behind us, he stood looking round the
+weed-grown enclosure as if doubtful where to begin.
+
+“Which patch in the wall is the one they were working at when the key
+disappeared?” Thorndyke asked.
+
+“The last but one to the left,” was the reply.
+
+“Then we had better have a look at that, first,” said Thorndyke. “It
+was a ready-made excavation.”
+
+We advanced towards the ragged patch in the wall, and as we drew near
+I looked at it with a tumult of emotions that swamped mere anxiety and
+expectation. I could see what Thorndyke thought, and that perception
+amounted almost to conviction. Meanwhile, my colleague and the
+sergeant stepped close up to the patch and minutely examined the rough
+and slovenly joints of the stonework.
+
+“There is no trace of its having been opened,” said Thorndyke. “But
+there wouldn’t be. I think we had better scrape up the earth at the
+foot of the wall. Something might easily have been dropped and trodden
+in in the darkness.” He looked towards the shed, in which a couple of
+empty lime barrels still remained, and, perceiving there a decrepit
+shovel, he went and fetched it. Returning with it, he proceeded to
+turn up the surface of the ground at the foot of the wall, depositing
+each shovelful of earth on a bare spot, and spreading it out
+carefully. For some time there was no result, but he continued
+methodically, working from one end of the patch towards the other.
+Suddenly Cobbledick uttered an exclamation and stooped over a freshly
+deposited shovelful.
+
+“By the Lord!” he ejaculated, “it is a true bill! You were quite
+right, sir.” He stood up, holding out between his finger and thumb a
+small bronze button bearing an embossed Tudor Rose. Thorndyke glanced
+at me as I took the button from the sergeant and examined it.
+
+“Yes,” I said, “it is unquestionably one of her buttons.”
+
+“Then,” said he, “we have got our answer. The solution of the mystery
+is contained in that patch of new rubble.”
+
+The sergeant’s delight and gratitude were quite pathetic. Again and
+again he reiterated his thanks, regardless of Thorndyke’s disclaimers
+and commendations of the officer’s own skilful and patient
+investigation.
+
+“All the same,” said Cobbledick, as he locked the gate and pocketed
+the key, “we haven’t solved the whole problem. We may say that we have
+found the body; but the problem of the crime and the criminal remains.
+I suppose, sir, you don’t see any glimmer of light in that direction?”
+
+“A glimmer, perhaps,” replied Thorndyke, “but it may turn out to be
+but a mirage. Let us see the body. It may have a clearer message for
+us than we expect.”
+
+Beyond this rather cryptic suggestion he refused to commit himself;
+nor, when we had parted from the sergeant, could I get anything more
+definite out of him.
+
+“It is useless to speculate,” he said, by way of closing the subject.
+“We think that we know what is inside that wall. We may be right, but
+we may possibly be wrong. A few hours will settle our doubts. If the
+body is there, it may tell us all that we want to know.”
+
+This last observation left me more puzzled than ever. The condition of
+the body might, and probably would, reveal the cause of death and the
+nature of the crime; but it was difficult to see how it could point
+out the identity of the murderer. However, the subject was closed for
+the time being, and Thorndyke resolutely refused to reopen it until
+the fresh data were available.
+
+
+
+
+ CHAPTER XV.
+ THE END OF THE TRAIL
+
+Shortly after breakfast on the following morning Sergeant Cobbledick
+made his appearance at my house. I found him in the consulting-room,
+walking about on tip-toe with his hat balanced in his hands, and
+evidently in a state of extreme nervous tension.
+
+“I have got everything in train, Doctor,” said he, declining a seat.
+“I dug up the foreman yesterday evening and he dug up one of his mates
+to give him a hand, if necessary; and I have the authority to open the
+wall. So we are all ready to begin. The two men have gone down to the
+place with their tools, and Mr. Bundy has gone with them to let them
+in. He didn’t much want to go, but I thought it best that either he or
+Mr. Japp should be present. It is their wall, so to speak. I suppose
+you are coming to see the job done.”
+
+“Is there any need for me to be there?” I asked.
+
+Cobbledick looked at me in surprise. He had evidently assumed that I
+should be eager to see what happened. “Well,” he replied, “you are the
+principal witness to the identity of the remains. You saw her last,
+you know. What is your objection, Doctor?”
+
+I was not in a position to answer this question. I could not tell him
+what this last and most horrible search meant to me; and apart from my
+personal feelings in regard to poor Angelina, there was no objection
+at all, but, on the contrary, every reason why I should be present.
+
+“It isn’t a very pleasant affair,” I replied, “seeing that I knew the
+lady rather well. However, if you think I had better be there, I will
+come down with you.”
+
+“I certainly think your presence would be a help,” said he. “We don’t
+know what may turn up, and you know more about her than anybody else.”
+
+Accordingly, I walked down with him, and when he had admitted me with
+his key--Bundy had presumably used the duplicate--he closed the gate
+and locked it from within. The actual operations had not yet
+commenced, but the foreman and his mate were standing by the wall,
+conversing affably with Bundy, who looked nervous and uncomfortable,
+evidently relishing his position no more than I did mine.
+
+“This is a gruesome affair, John, isn’t it?” he said in a low voice.
+“I don’t see why old Cobbledick wanted to drag us into it. It will be
+an awful moment when they uncover her, if she is really there. I’m
+frightfully sorry for you, old chap.”
+
+“I should have had to see the body in any case,” said I; “and this is
+less horrible than the river.”
+
+Here my attention was attracted by the foreman, who had just drawn a
+long, horizontal chalk line across the patch of new rubble, a little
+below the middle.
+
+“That’s about the place where we left off that Saturday, so far as I
+remember,” he said. “We had built up the outer case, and we filled in
+the hollow with loose bricks and stones, but we didn’t put any mortar
+to them until Monday morning. Then we mixed up a lot of mortar, quite
+thin, so that it would run, and poured it on top of the loose stuff.”
+
+“Rum way of building a wall, isn’t it?” observed Cobbledick.
+
+The foreman grinned. “It ain’t what you’d call the highest class of
+masonry,” he admitted. “But what can you expect to do with a gang of
+corner-boys who’ve never done a job of real work in their lives?”
+
+“No, that’s true,” said the Sergeant. “But you made a soft job for the
+grave-diggers, didn’t you? Why they’d only got to pick out the loose
+stuff and then dump it back on top when they’d put the body in. Then
+you came along on Monday morning and finished the job for them with
+one or two bucketsful of liquid mortar. How long would it have taken
+to pick out that loose stuff?”
+
+“Lord bless yer,” was the answer, “one man who meant business could
+have picked the whole lot out by hand in an hour; and he could have
+chucked it back in less. As you say, Sergeant, it was a soft job.”
+
+While they had been talking, the foreman’s familiar demon had been
+making a tentative attack on the outer casing with a great,
+chisel-ended steel bar and a mason’s hammer. The foreman now came to
+his aid with a sledge hammer, the first stroke of which caused the
+shoddy masonry to crack in all directions like pie-crust. Then the
+fractured pieces of the outer shell were prised off, revealing the
+“loose stuff” within. And uncommonly loose it was; so loose that the
+unjoined bricks and stones, with their adherent gouts of mortar, came
+away at the lightest touch of the great crow-bar.
+
+As soon as a breach had been made at the top of the patch, the
+labourer climbed up and began flinging out the separated bricks and
+stones. Then he attacked a fresh course of the outer shell with a
+pick, and so exposed a fresh layer of the loose filling.
+
+“There’ll be a fresh job for the unemployed to build this up again,”
+the sergeant observed with a sardonic smile.
+
+“Ah,” replied the foreman, “there generally is a fresh job when you
+take on a crowd of casuals. Wonderful provident men are casuals. Don’t
+they take no thought for the morrow? What O!”
+
+At this moment the labourer stood upright on his perch and laid down
+his pick. “Well, I’m blowed!” he exclaimed. “This is a rum go, this
+is.”
+
+“What’s a rum go?” demanded the foreman.
+
+“Why, here’s a whole bed of dry quick-lime,” was the reply.
+
+“Ha!” exclaimed the sergeant, knitting his brows anxiously.
+
+The foreman scrambled up, and after a brief inspection confirmed the
+man’s statement. “Quick-lime it is, sure enough. Just hand me up that
+shovel, Sergeant.”
+
+“Be careful,” Cobbledick admonished, as he passed the shovel up.
+“Don’t forget what there probably is underneath.”
+
+The foreman took the shovel and began very cautiously to scrape away
+the surface, flinging the scrapings of lime out on to the ground,
+where they were eagerly scrutinized by the sergeant, while the
+labourer picked out the larger lumps and cast them down. Thus the work
+went on for about a quarter of an hour, without any result beyond the
+accumulation on the ground below of a small heap of lime. At length I
+noticed the foreman pause and look attentively at the lime that he had
+just scraped up in his shovel.
+
+“Here’s something that I don’t fancy any of our men put in,” he said,
+picking the object out and handing it down to the Sergeant. The latter
+took it from him and held it out for me to see. It was another of
+Angelina’s coat buttons.
+
+In the course of the next few minutes two more buttons came to light,
+and almost immediately afterwards I saw the labourer stoop suddenly
+and stare down at the lime with an expression that made my flesh
+creep, as he pointed something out to the foreman.
+
+“Ah!” the latter exclaimed. “Here she is! But, my word! There ain’t
+much left of her. Look at this, Sergeant.”
+
+Very gingerly, and with an air of shuddering distaste, he picked
+something out of the lime and held it up; and even at that distance I
+could see that it was a human ulna. Cobbledick took it from him with
+the same distasteful and almost fearful manner, and held it towards me
+for inspection. I glanced at it and looked away. “Yes,” I said. “It is
+a human arm bone.”
+
+On this, Cobbledick beckoned for the labourer to come down, and,
+taking out his official note-book, wrote something in pencil and tore
+out the leaf.
+
+“Take this down to the station and give it to Sergeant Brown. He will
+tell you what else to do.” He gave the paper to the man, and having
+let him out of the gate, came back and climbed up to the exposed
+surface of the excavation, where I saw him draw on a pair of gloves
+and then stoop and begin to pick over the lime.
+
+“This is a horrid business, isn’t it?” said Bundy. “Why the deuce
+couldn’t Cobbledick carry on by himself? I don’t see that it is our
+affair. Do you think we need stay?”
+
+“I don’t see why you need. You have finished your part of the
+business. You have seen the wall opened. I am afraid I must stay a
+little longer, as Cobbledick may want me to identify some of the other
+objects that may be found. But I shan’t stay very long. There is
+really no question of the identity of the body, and there is no doubt
+now that the body is there. Detailed identification is a matter for
+the coroner.”
+
+As we were speaking, we walked slowly away from the wall among the
+mounds of rubbish, now beginning to be hidden under a dense growth of
+nettles, rag-wort and thistles. It was a desolate, neglected place,
+sordid of aspect and contrasting unpleasantly in its modern squalor
+with the dignified decay of the ancient wall. We had reached the
+further fence and were just turning about, when the sergeant hailed me
+with a note of excitement in his voice. I hurried across and found him
+standing up with his eyes fixed on something that lay in the palm of
+his gloved hand.
+
+“This seems to be the ring that you described to me, Doctor,” said he.
+“Will you just take a look at it?”
+
+He reached down and I received in my hand the little trinket of
+deep-toned, yellow gold that I remembered so well. I turned it over in
+my palm, and as I looked on its mystical signs, its crude, barbaric
+workmanship and the initials “A. C.” scratched inside, the scene in
+that dimly-lighted room--years ago, it seemed to me now--rose before
+me like a vision. I saw the gracious figure in the red glow of the
+lamp and heard the voice that was never again to sound in my ears,
+telling the story of the little bauble, and for a few moments, the
+dreadful present faded into the irredeemable past.
+
+“There isn’t any doubt about it, is there, Doctor?” the sergeant asked
+anxiously.
+
+“None, whatever,” I replied. “It is unquestionably Mrs. Frood’s ring.”
+
+“That’s a mercy,” said Cobbledick; “because we shall want every atom
+of identification that we can get. The body isn’t going to help us
+much. This lime has done its work to a finish. There’s nothing left,
+so far as I can see, but the skeleton and the bits of metal belonging
+to the clothing. Would you like to come up and have a look, Doctor?
+There isn’t much to see yet, but I have uncovered some of the bones.”
+
+“I don’t think I will come up, Sergeant, thank you,” said I. “When you
+have finished, I shall have to look over what has been found, as I
+shall have to give evidence at the inquest. And I think I need hardly
+stay any longer. There is no doubt now about the identity, so far as
+we are concerned, at any rate.”
+
+“No,” he agreed. “There is no doubt in my mind, so I need not keep you
+any longer if you want to be off. But, before you go, there is one
+little matter that I should like to speak to you about.” He climbed
+down to the ground, and, walking away with me a little distance,
+continued: “You see, Doctor, some medical man will have to examine the
+remains, so as to give evidence before the coroner. If it is
+impossible to identify them as the remains of Mrs. Frood, it will have
+to be given in evidence that they are the remains of a person who
+might have been Mrs. Frood; that they are the remains of a woman of
+about her size and age, I mean. Of course, the choice of the medical
+witness doesn’t rest with the police, but if you would care to take on
+the job, our recommendation would have weight with the coroner. You
+see, you are the most suitable person to make the examination, as you
+actually knew her.”
+
+I shook my head emphatically. “For that very reason, Sergeant, I
+couldn’t possibly undertake the duty. Even doctors have feelings, you
+know. Just imagine how you would feel, yourself, pawing over the bones
+of a woman who had once been your friend.”
+
+Cobbledick looked disappointed. “Yes,” he admitted, “I suppose there
+is something in what you say. But I didn’t think doctors troubled
+about such things very much; and you have got such an eye for
+detail--and such a memory. However, if you’d rather not, there is an
+end of the matter.”
+
+He climbed back regretfully to the opening in the wall, and I rejoined
+Bundy. “I have finished here now,” said I. “That was a ring of hers
+that Cobbledick had found. Are you staying any longer?”
+
+“Not if you are going away,” he replied. “I am not wanted now, and I
+can’t stick this charnel-house atmosphere; it is getting on my nerves.
+Let us clear out.”
+
+We walked towards the entrance with a feeling of relief at escaping
+from the gruesome place, and had arrived within a few yards of it when
+there came a loud knocking at the gate, at which Bundy started
+visibly.
+
+“Good Lord!” he exclaimed, “it’s like Macbeth. Here, take my key and
+let the beggars in, whoever they are.”
+
+I unlocked the gate and threw it open, when I saw, standing in the
+lane, two men, bearing on their shoulders a rough, unpainted coffin,
+and accompanied by the labourer, who carried a large sieve. I stood
+aside to let them pass in, and when they had entered, Bundy and I
+walked out, shutting and locking the gate after us. We made our way up
+the lane in silence, for there was little to say but much to think
+about; indeed, I would sooner have been alone, but the gruesome
+atmosphere of the place we had come from seemed to have affected
+Bundy’s spirits so much that I thought it only kind to ask him to come
+back to lunch with me; an invitation that he accepted with avidity.
+
+During lunch we discussed the tragic discovery, and Bundy, now that he
+had escaped from physical contact with the relics of mortality, showed
+his usual shrewd common sense.
+
+“Well,” he said, “the mystery of poor Angelina Frood is solved at
+last--at least, so far as it is ever likely to be.”
+
+“I hope not,” I replied, “for the essential point of the mystery is
+not solved at all. It has only just been completely propounded. We now
+know beyond a doubt that she was murdered, and that the murder was a
+deliberate crime, planned in advance. What we want to know--at least,
+what I want to know, and shall never rest until I do know--is, who
+committed this diabolical crime?”
+
+“I am afraid you never will know, John,” said he. “There doesn’t seem
+to be the faintest clue.”
+
+“What do you mean?” I demanded. “You seem to have forgotten Nicholas
+Frood.”
+
+Bundy shook his head. “You are deluding yourself, John. Nicholas
+seems, from your account of him, to be quite capable of having
+murdered his wife. But is there anything to connect him with the
+crime? If there is, you have never told me of it. And the law demands
+positive evidence. You can’t charge a man with murder because he seems
+a likely person and you don’t know of anybody else. What have you got
+against him in connexion with this present affair?”
+
+“Well, for instance, I know that he was prowling about this town, and
+that he was trying to find out where she lived.”
+
+“But why not?” demanded Bundy. “She was a runaway wife, and he was her
+husband.”
+
+“Then I happen to have noticed that he carried a sheath-knife.”
+
+“But do you know that she was killed with a sheath-knife?”
+
+“No, I don’t,” I answered savagely. “But I say again that I shall
+never rest until the price of her death has been paid. There must be
+some clue. The murder could not have been committed without a motive,
+and it must be possible to discover what that motive was. Somebody
+must have stood to benefit in some way by her death; and I am going to
+find that person, or those persons, if I give up the rest of my life
+to the search.”
+
+“I am sorry to hear you say that, John,” he said as he rose to depart.
+“It sounds as if you were prepared to spend the rest of your life
+chasing a will-o’-the-wisp. But we are premature. The inquest may
+bring to light some new evidence that will put the police on the
+murderer’s track. You must remember that they have been engaged in
+tracing the body up to now. When the inquest has been held and the
+facts are known they will be able to begin the search for the
+murderers. And I wish them and you good luck.”
+
+I was rather glad when he was gone, for his dispassionate estimate of
+the difficulties of the case only served to confirm my own secret
+hopelessness. For I could not deny that these wretches seemed to have
+covered up their tracks completely. In the three months that had
+passed no whisper of any suspicious circumstance had been heard. From
+the moment when poor Angelina had faded from my sight into the fog to
+that of her dreadful reappearance in the old wall, no human eye seemed
+to have seen her. And now that she had come back, what had she to tell
+us of the events of that awful night? The very body, on which
+Thorndyke had relied for evidence, at least, of the manner of the
+crime, had dwindled to a mere skeleton such as might have been exhumed
+from some ancient tomb. The cunning of the murderers had outwitted
+even Thorndyke.
+
+The thought of my friend reminded me that I had to report to him the
+results of the opening of the wall; results very different from what
+he had anticipated when he had given the sergeant the too-fruitful
+hint. I accordingly wrote out a detailed report, so far as my
+information went; but I held it back until the last post in case
+anything further should come to my knowledge. And it was just as well
+that I did; for about eight o’clock, Cobbledick called to give me the
+latest tidings.
+
+“Well, Doctor,” he said, with a smile of concentrated benevolence, “I
+have got everything in going order. I have seen the coroner and made
+out a list of witnesses. You are one of them, of course; in fact, you
+are the star-witness. You were the last person to see her alive, and
+you were present at the exhumation. Dr. Baines--he’s rather a
+scientific gentleman--is to make the post-mortem examination, and tell
+us the cause of death, if he can. He won’t have much to go on. The
+lime has eaten up everything--it would, naturally, after three
+months--but the bones look quite uninjured, so far as I could judge.”
+
+“When does the inquest open?” I asked.
+
+“The day after to-morrow. I’ve got your summons with me, and I may as
+well give it to you now.”
+
+I looked at the little blue paper and put it in my pocket-book. “Do
+you think the coroner will get through the case in one day?” I asked.
+
+“No, I am sure he won’t,” replied Cobbledick. “It is an important
+case, and there will be a lot of witnesses. There will be the evidence
+as to the building of the wall; then the opening of it and the
+description of what we found in it; then the identification of the
+remains--that is you, principally; and then there will be all the
+other evidence, the pawnbroker, Israel Bangs, Hooper, and the others.
+And then, of course, there will be the question as to the guilty
+parties. That is the most important of all.”
+
+“I didn’t know you had any evidence on that subject,” said I.
+
+“I haven’t much,” he replied. “From the time when she disappeared
+nobody saw her alive or dead, and, of course, nothing has ever been
+heard of any occurrence that might indicate a crime. All we have to go
+on--and it is mighty little--is the fact that she was hiding from her
+husband, and that he was trying to find her. Also that he had made one
+attempt on her life. That is where your evidence will come in, and
+that of the matron at the ‘Poor Travellers.’ I’ve had a talk with
+her.”
+
+“Do you know anything of Frood’s movements about the time of the
+disappearance?”
+
+“Practically nothing, excepting that he went away from his lodgings
+the day before. You see, we were not in a position to start tracing
+possible criminals. We had no real evidence of any crime. We knew that
+the woman had disappeared, and she appeared to have got into the
+river. But there was nothing to show how. It looked suspicious, but it
+wasn’t a case. So long as no body was forthcoming there was no
+evidence of death, and nobody could have been charged. Even if we had
+found the body in the river, unless there had been distinct traces of
+violence, it would have been merely a case of ‘found dead,’ or ‘found
+drowned.’ But now the affair is on a different footing entirely. The
+body has been discovered under conditions which furnish prima facie
+evidence of murder, whatever the cause of death may turn out to have
+been. There is sure to be a verdict of wilful murder--not that the
+police are dependent on the coroner’s verdict. So now we can get a
+move on and look for the murderer.”
+
+“What chance do you think there is of finding him?” I asked.
+
+“Well,” said Cobbledick with a benevolent smile, “we mustn’t be too
+cock-sure. But, leaving the husband out of the question and taking the
+broad facts, it doesn’t look so unpromising. This wasn’t a casual
+crime--fortunately. There’s nothing so hopeless as a casual crime,
+done for mere petty robbery. But this crime was thought out. The place
+of burial was selected in advance. The key of the place was obtained,
+so that the murderer could not only get in but could lock himself--or
+more probably themselves--in and work secure from chance disturbance.
+And the time seems to have been selected; a week-end, with two whole
+nights to do the job in. All this points to very definite
+premeditation; and that points to a very definite motive. The person
+who planned this crime had something considerable to gain by Mrs.
+Frood’s death; it may have been profit or it may have been the
+satisfaction of revenge.
+
+“Well, that is a pretty good start. When we know what property she
+had, who comes into it at her death, if any of it is missing, and if
+so, what has become of it; we can judge concerning the first case. And
+if we find that she had any enemies besides her husband; anyone whom
+she had injured or who owed her a grudge; then we can judge of the
+second case.
+
+“Then there is another set of facts. This murderer couldn’t have been
+a complete stranger to the place. He knew about the wall and what was
+going on there. He knew the river and he possessed, or had command of,
+a boat. He knew the waterside premises and he knew his way--or had
+someone to show him the way--across the marshes and up Black Boy-lane.
+One, at least, of the persons concerned in this affair was a local man
+who knew the place well. So you see, Doctor, we have got something to
+go on, after all.”
+
+I listened to the sergeant’s exposition with deep interest and no
+little revival of my drooping hopes. It was a most able summary of the
+case, and I felt that I should have liked Thorndyke to hear it; in
+fact, I determined to embody it in the amplification of my report.
+With the facts thus fully and lucidly collated, it did really seem as
+though the perpetrator of this foul crime must inevitably fall into
+our hands. Having refreshed the sergeant with a couple of glasses of
+port, I shook his hand warmly and wished him the best of success in
+the investigation that he was conducting with so much ability.
+
+When he had gone I wrote a full account of our interview to add to my
+previous report, and expressed the hope that Thorndyke would be able
+to be present at the inquest, when I myself should “be and appear” at
+the appointed place to give evidence on the day after the morrow.
+
+
+
+
+ CHAPTER XVI.
+ THE INQUIRY AND A SURPRISE
+
+On the morning of the inquest I started from my house well in
+advance of time, and in a distinctly uncomfortable frame of mind.
+Perhaps it was that the formal inquiry brought home to me with extra
+vividness the certainty that my beloved friend was gone from me for
+ever, and that she had died in circumstances of tragedy and horror.
+Not that I had ever had any doubt, but now the realization was more
+intense. Again, I should have to give evidence. I should have to
+reconstitute for the information of strangers scenes and events that
+had for me a certain sacred intimacy. And then, above all, I should
+have to view--and that not cursorily--the decayed remains of the woman
+who had been so much to me. That would be naturally expected from a
+medical man and no one would guess at what it would cost me to bring
+myself to this last dreadful meeting.
+
+Walking down the High-street thus wrapped in gloomy reflections, it
+was with mixed feelings that I observed Bundy advancing slowly towards
+me, having evidently awaited my arrival. In some respects I would
+sooner have been alone, and yet his kindly, sympathetic companionship
+was not altogether unwelcome.
+
+“Good morning, John,” said he. “I hope I am not _de trop_. It is a
+melancholy errand for you, poor old chap, and I can’t do much to make
+it less so, but I thought we might walk down together. You know how
+sorry I am for you, John.”
+
+“Yes, I know and appreciate, and I am always glad to see you, Peter.
+But why are you going there? Have you had a summons?”
+
+“No, I have no information to give. But I am interested in the case,
+of course, so I am going to attend as a spectator. So is Japp, though
+he is really a legitimately interested party. In fact, I am rather
+surprised they didn’t summon him as a witness.”
+
+“So am I. He really knows more about the poor girl than I do. But, of
+course, he knows nothing of the circumstances of her death.”
+
+By this time we had arrived at the Guildhall, and here we encountered
+Sergeant Cobbledick, who was evidently on the look-out for me.
+
+“I am glad you came early, Doctor,” said he. “I want you just to pop
+round to the mortuary. You know the way. There’s a tray by the side of
+the coffin with all her belongings on it. I’ll get you to take a
+careful look at them, so that you can tell the jury that they are
+really her things. And you had better run your eye over the remains.
+You might be able to spot something of importance. At any rate, they
+will expect you to have viewed the body, as you are the principal
+witness to its identity. I’ve told the constable on duty to let you
+in. And, of course, you can go in, too, Mr. Bundy, if you want to.”
+
+“I don’t think I do, thank you,” replied Bundy. But he walked round
+with me to the mortuary, where the constable unlocked the door as he
+saw us approaching. I mentioned my name to the officer, but he knew me
+by sight, and now held the door open and followed me in, while Bundy
+halted at the threshold, and stood, rather pale and awe-stricken,
+looking in at the long table and its gruesome burden.
+
+The tray of which Cobbledick had spoken was covered with a white
+table-cloth, and on this the various objects were arranged
+symmetrically like the exhibits in a museum. At the top was the hat,
+flanked on either side by a silver-headed hat-pin. The carefully
+smoothed scarf was spread across horizontally, the six coat-buttons
+were arranged in a straight vertical line, and the two shoes were
+placed at the bottom centre. At one side was the hand-bag, and at the
+other, to balance it, the handkerchief with its neatly-embroidered
+initials; and on this were placed the Zodiac ring, the wedding ring,
+the box of tablets, and the brooch. On the lateral spaces the various
+other objects were arranged with the same meticulous care for
+symmetrical effect: a neat row of hair pins, a row of hooks and eyes,
+one or two rows of buttons from the dress and under-garments, the
+little metal jaws of the purse, two rows of coins, silver and bronze,
+a pair of glove-fasteners with scorched fragments of leather adhering,
+a little pearl-handled knife, a number of metal clasps and fastenings
+and other small metallic objects derived from the various garments,
+and a few fragments of textiles, scorched as if by fire; a couple of
+brown shreds, apparently from the stockings, a cindery fragment of the
+brown coat, and a few charred and brittle tatters of linen.
+
+I looked over the pitiful collection while the constable stood near
+the door and probably watched me. There was something unspeakably
+pathetic in the spectacle of these poor fragments of wreckage, thus
+laid out, and seeming, in the almost grotesque symmetry of their
+disposal, to make a mute appeal for remembrance and justice. This was
+all that was left of her; this and what was in the coffin.
+
+So moved was I by the sight of these relics, thus assembled and
+presented in a sort of tragic synopsis, that it was some time before I
+could summon the resolution to look upon her very self, or at least
+upon such vestiges of her as had survived the touch of “decay’s
+effacing fingers.” But the time was passing, and it had to be. At last
+I turned to the coffin, and, lifting the unfastened lid, looked in.
+
+It could have been no different from what I had expected; but yet the
+shock of its appearance seemed to strike me a palpable blow. Someone
+had arranged the bones in their anatomical order; and there the
+skeleton lay on the bottom of the coffin, dry, dusty, whitened with
+the powder of lime, such a relic as might have been brought to light
+by the spade of some excavator in an ancient barrow or prehistoric
+tomb. And yet this thing was she--Angelina! That grisly skull had once
+been clothed by her rich, abundant hair! That grinning range of long
+white teeth had once sustained the sweet, pensive mouth that I
+remembered so well. It was incredible. It was horrible. And yet it was
+true.
+
+For some moments I stood as if petrified, holding up the coffin lid
+and gazing at the fearful shape in a trance of horror. And then
+suddenly I felt, as it were, a clutching at my throat and the vision
+faded into a blur as my eyes filled. Hastily I clapped down the coffin
+lid and strode towards the door with the tears streaming down my face.
+
+Vaguely I was aware of Bundy taking my arm and pressing it to his
+side, of his voice as he murmured shakily, “Poor old John!” Passively
+I allowed him to lead me to a quiet corner above a flight of steps
+leading down to the river, where I halted to wipe my eyes, faintly
+surprised to note that he was wiping his eyes too; and that his face
+was pale and troubled. But if I was surprised, I was grateful, too;
+and never had my heart inclined more affectionately towards him than
+in this moment of trial that had been lightened by his unobtrusive
+sympathy and perfect understanding.
+
+We stayed for a few minutes, looking down on the river and talking of
+the dead woman and the sad and troubled life from which this hideous
+crime had snatched her; then, as the appointed time approached, we
+made our way to the room in which the inquiry was to be held. As we
+entered, a pleasant-looking, shrewd-faced man, who looked like a
+barrister and who had been standing by a constable, approached and
+accosted me.
+
+“Dr. Strangeways? My name is Anstey. I do most of the court work in
+connexion with Thorndyke’s cases, and I am representing him here
+to-day. He had hoped to come down, himself, but he had to go into the
+country on some important business, so I have to come to keep the nest
+warm--to watch the proceedings and make a summary of the evidence. You
+mentioned to him that the case would take more than one day.”
+
+“Yes,” I answered, “that is what I understand. Will Dr. Thorndyke be
+here to-morrow?”
+
+“Yes; he has arranged definitely to attend to-morrow. And I think he
+expects by then to have some information of importance to
+communicate.”
+
+“Indeed!” I said eagerly. “Do you happen to know the nature of it?”
+
+Anstey laughed. “My dear Doctor,” said he, “you have met Thorndyke,
+and you must know by now that he is about as communicative as a
+Whitstable native. No one ever knows what cards he holds.”
+
+“Yes,” I agreed, “he is extraordinarily secretive. Unnecessarily so,
+it has seemed to me.”
+
+Anstey shook his head. “He is perfectly right, Doctor. He knows his
+own peculiar job to a finish. He is, in a way, like some
+highly-specialized animal, such as the three-toed sloth, for instance;
+which seems an abnormal sort of beast until you see it doing, with
+unapproachable perfection, the thing that nature intended it to do.
+Thorndyke is a case of perfect adaptation to a special environment.”
+
+“Still,” I objected, “I don’t see the use of such extreme secrecy.”
+
+“You would if you followed his cases. A secret move is a move against
+which the other player--if there is one--can make no provision or
+defence or counter-move. Thorndyke plays with a wooden face and
+without speaking. No one knows what his next move will be. But when it
+comes, he puts down his piece and says ‘check’; and you’ll find it is
+mate.”
+
+“But,” I still objected, “you are talking of an adversary and of
+counter-moves. Is there any adversary in this case?”
+
+“Well, isn’t there?” said he. “There has been a crime committed.
+Someone has committed it; and that someone is not advertising his
+identity. But you can take it that he has been keeping a watchful eye
+on his pursuers, ready, if necessary, to give them a lead in the wrong
+direction. But it is time for us to take our places. I see the jury
+have come back from viewing the body.”
+
+We took our places at the long table, one side of which was allocated
+to the jury and the other to witnesses in waiting, the police
+officers, the press-men, and other persons interested in the case. A
+few minutes later, the coroner opened the proceedings by giving a very
+brief statement of the circumstances which had occasioned the inquiry,
+and then proceeded to call the witnesses.
+
+The first witness was Sergeant Cobbledick, whose evidence took the
+form of a statement covering the whole history of the case, beginning
+with Mr. Japp’s notification of the disappearance of Mrs. Frood and
+ending with the opening of the wall and the discovery of the remains.
+The latter part of the evidence was given in minute detail and
+included a complete list of the objects found with the remains.
+
+“Does any juryman wish to ask the witness any questions?” the Coroner
+inquired when the lengthy statement was concluded. He looked from one
+to the other, and when nobody answered he called the next witness.
+This was Dr. Baines, a somewhat dry-looking gentleman, who gave his
+evidence clearly, concisely, and with due scientific caution.
+
+“You have examined the remains which form the subject of this
+inquiry?” the coroner asked.
+
+“Yes. I have examined the skeleton which is now lying in the mortuary.
+It is that of a rather strongly-built woman, five feet seven inches in
+height, and about thirty years of age.”
+
+“Were you able to form any opinion as to the cause of death?”
+
+“No; there were no signs of any injury nor of disease.”
+
+“Are we to understand,” asked one of the jurymen, “that you consider
+deceased to have died a natural death?”
+
+“I have no means of forming any opinion on the subject.”
+
+“But if she died from violence, wouldn’t there be some signs of it?”
+
+“That would depend on the nature of the violence.”
+
+“Supposing she had been shot with a revolver?”
+
+“In that case there might be a fracture of one or more bones, but
+there might be no fracture at all. Of course, there would be a
+bullet.”
+
+“Did you find a bullet?”
+
+“No. I did not see the bones until they had been brought to the
+mortuary.”
+
+“There has been no mention of a bullet having been found,” the coroner
+interposed, “and you heard Sergeant Cobbledick say that the lime had
+all been sifted through a fine sieve. We must take it that there was
+no bullet. But,” he continued, addressing the witness, “the conditions
+that you found would not exclude violence, I presume?”
+
+“Not at all. Only violence that would cause injury to the bones.”
+
+“What kinds of violence would be unaccompanied by injury to the
+bones?”
+
+“Drowning, hanging, strangling, suffocation, stabbing; and, of course,
+poisoning usually leaves no traces on the bones.”
+
+“Can you give us no suggestion as to the cause of death?”
+
+“None whatever,” was the firm reply.
+
+“You have heard the description of the missing woman, Mrs. Frood. Do
+these remains correspond with that description?”
+
+“They are the remains of a woman of similar stature and age to Mrs.
+Frood, so far as I can judge. I can’t say more than that. The
+description of Mrs. Frood was only approximate; and the estimate of
+the stature, and especially the age, of a skeleton can only be
+approximate.”
+
+This being all that could be got out of the witness, who was concerned
+only with the skeleton, and naturally refused to budge from that
+position, the coroner glanced at his list and then called my name. I
+rose and took my place at the top corner of the table, when I was duly
+sworn, and gave my name and description.
+
+“You heard Sergeant Cobbledick’s description of the articles which
+have been found, and which are now lying in the mortuary?” the coroner
+began.
+
+I replied “Yes,” and he continued: “Have you examined those articles,
+and, if so, can you tell us anything about them?”
+
+“I have examined the articles in the mortuary, and I recognized them
+as things I know to have been the property of Mrs. Angelina Frood.”
+
+Here I described the articles in detail, and stated when and where I
+had seen them in her possession.
+
+“You have inspected the remains of deceased in the mortuary. Can you
+identify them as the remains of any particular person?”
+
+“No. They are quite unrecognizable.”
+
+“Have you any doubt as to whose remains they are?” asked the juryman
+who had spoken before.
+
+“That question, Mr. Pilley,” said the coroner, “is not quite in order.
+The witness has said that he was not able to identify the remains.
+Inferences as to the identity of deceased, drawn from the evidence,
+are for the jury. We must not ask witnesses to interpret the evidence.
+When did you last see Mrs. Frood alive, Doctor?”
+
+“On the 26th of April,” I replied; and here I described that last
+interview, recalling our conversation almost verbatim. When I came to
+her expressions of uneasiness and foreboding, the attention of the
+listeners became more and more intense, and it was evident that they
+were deeply impressed. Particularly attentive was the foreman of the
+jury, a keen-faced, alert-looking man, who kept his eyes riveted on
+me, and, when I had finished this part of my evidence, asked: “So far
+as you know, Doctor, had Mrs. Frood any enemies? Was there anyone whom
+she had reason to be afraid of?”
+
+This was a rather awkward question. It is one thing to entertain a
+suspicion privately, but quite another thing to give public expression
+to it. Besides, I was giving sworn evidence as to facts actually
+within my knowledge.
+
+“I can’t say, positively,” I replied after some hesitation, “that I
+know of any enemy or anyone whom she had reason to fear.”
+
+The coroner saw the difficulty, and interposed with a discreet
+question.
+
+“What do you know of her domestic affairs, of her relations with her
+husband, for instance?”
+
+This put the matter on the basis of fact, and I was able to state what
+I knew of her unhappy married life in Rochester and previously in
+London; and further questions elicited my personal observations as to
+the character and personality of her husband. My meeting with him at
+Dartford Station, the incidents in the Poor Travellers’ rest-house,
+the meeting with him on the bridge; all were given in full detail and
+devoured eagerly by the jury. And from their questions and their
+demeanour it became clear to me that they were in full cry after
+Nicholas Frood.
+
+The conclusion of my evidence brought us to the luncheon hour. I had,
+of course, to take Mr. Anstey back to lunch with me, and a certain
+wistfulness in Bundy’s face made me feel that I ought to ask him, too.
+I accordingly presented them to one another and issued the invitation.
+
+“I am delighted to meet you, Mr. Bundy,” Anstey said heartily. “I have
+heard of you from my friend Thorndyke, who regards you with respectful
+admiration.”
+
+“Does he?” said Bundy, blushing with pleasure, but looking somewhat
+surprised. “I can’t imagine why. But are you an expert, too?”
+
+“Bless you, no,” laughed Anstey. “I am a mere lawyer, and, on this
+occasion, what is known technically as a devil--technically, you
+understand. I am watching this case for Thorndyke.”
+
+“But I didn’t know that Dr. Thorndyke was interested in the case,”
+said Bundy, in evident perplexity.
+
+“He is interested in everything of a criminal and horrid nature,”
+replied Anstey. “He never lets a really juicy crime mystery pass
+without getting all the details, if possible. You see, they are his
+stock in trade.”
+
+“But he never would discuss this case--not seriously,” objected Bundy.
+
+“Probably not,” said Anstey. “Perhaps there wasn’t much to discuss.
+But wait till the case is finished. Then he will tell you all about
+it.”
+
+“I see,” said Bundy. “He is one of those prophets who predict after
+the event.”
+
+“And the proper time, too,” retorted Anstey. “It is no use being
+premature.”
+
+The conversation proceeded on this plane of playful repartee until we
+arrived at my house, where Mrs. Dunk, having bestowed a wooden glance
+of curiosity at Anstey and a glare of defiance at Bundy, handed me a
+telegram addressed to R. Anstey, K.C., care of Dr. Strangeways. I
+passed it to Anstey, who opened it and glanced through it.
+
+“What shall I say in answer?” he asked, placing it in my hand.
+
+I read the message and was not a little puzzled by it. “Ask
+Strangeways come back with you to-night. Very urgent. Reply time and
+place.”
+
+“What do you suppose he wants me for?” I asked.
+
+“I never suppose in regard to Thorndyke,” he replied. “But if he says
+it is urgent, it is urgent. Can you come up with me?”
+
+“Yes, if it is necessary.”
+
+“It is. Then I’ll say yes. And you had better arrange to stay the
+night--there is a spare bedroom at his chambers--and come down with
+him in the morning. Can you manage that?”
+
+“Yes,” I replied; “and you can say that we shall be at Charing Cross
+by seven-fifteen.”
+
+I could see that this transaction was as surprising to Bundy as it was
+to me. But, of course, he asked no questions, nor could I have
+answered them if he had. Moreover, there was not much time for
+discussion as we had to be back in the court room by two o’clock, and
+what talk there was consisted mainly of humorous comments by Anstey on
+the witnesses and the jury.
+
+Having sent off the telegram on our way down, we took our places once
+more, and the proceedings were resumed punctually by the calling of
+the foreman of the repairing gang; who deposed to the date on which
+the particular patch of rubble was commenced and finished and its
+condition when the men knocked off work on Saturday, the 26th of
+April. He also mentioned the loss of the key, but could give no
+particulars. The cross-examination elicited the facts that he had
+communicated to Cobbledick and me as to the state of the loose
+filling.
+
+“How many men,” the coroner asked, “would it have taken to bury the
+body in the way in which it was buried; and how long?”
+
+“One man could have done it easily in one night, if he could have got
+the body there. The stuff in the wall was all loose, and it was small
+stuff, easy to handle. No building had to be done. It was just a
+matter of shovelling the lime in and then chucking the loose stuff in
+on top. And the lime was handy to get at in the shed, and one of the
+barrels was open.”
+
+“Can you say certainly when the body was buried?”
+
+“It must have been buried on the night of the 26th of April or on the
+27th, because on Monday morning, the 28th, we ran the mortar in, and
+by that evening we had got the patch finished.”
+
+The next witness was the labourer, Thomas Evans, who had lost the key.
+His account of the affair was as follows:
+
+“On the morning of Saturday, the 26th of April, the foreman gave me
+the key, because he had to go to the office. I took the key and opened
+the gate, and I left the key in the lock for him to take when he came.
+Then I forgot all about it, and I suppose he did, too, because he
+didn’t say anything about it until we had knocked off work and were
+going out. Then he asks me where the key was, and I said it was in the
+gate. Then he went and looked but it wasn’t there. So we searched
+about a bit in the grounds and out in the lane; but we couldn’t see
+nothing of it nowhere.”
+
+“When you let yourself in, did you leave the gate open or shut it?”
+
+“I shut the gate, but, of course, it was unlocked. The key was
+outside.”
+
+“So that anyone passing up the lane could have taken it out without
+your noticing?”
+
+“Yes. We was working the other side of the grounds, so we shouldn’t
+have heard anything if anybody had took it.”
+
+That completed the evidence as to the key, and when Evans was
+dismissed the matron of the Poor Travellers was called. As she took
+her place, a general straightening of backs and air of expectancy on
+the part of the jury suggested that her evidence was looked forward to
+with more than common interest. And so it turned out to be. Her
+admirably clear and vivid presentment of the man, Nicholas Frood; his
+quarrelsome, emotional temperament, his shabby condition, his abnormal
+appearance, the evidences of his addiction to drink and drugs, his
+apparently destitute state, and, above all, the formidable
+sheath-knife that he wore under his coat; were listened to with
+breathless attention, and followed by a fusilade of eager, and often
+highly improper, questions. But the coroner was a wise and tactful
+man, and he unobtrusively intervened to prevent any irregularities;
+as, for instance, “It is not permissible,” he observed, blandly, “to
+ask a witness if a certain individual seemed to be a likely person to
+commit a crime. And a coroner’s court is not a criminal court. It is
+not our function to establish any person’s guilt, but to ascertain how
+deceased met with her death. If the evidence shows that she was
+murdered, we shall say so in our verdict. If the evidence points
+clearly to a particular person as the murderer, we shall name that
+person in the verdict. But we are not primarily investigating a crime;
+we are investigating a death. The criminal investigation is for the
+police.”
+
+This reminder cooled the ardour of the criminal investigators
+somewhat, but there were signs of a fresh outbreak when Mrs. Gillow
+gave her evidence, for that lady having a somewhat more lively
+imagination than the matron, tended to lure enterprising jurymen on to
+fresh indiscretions. She certainly enjoyed herself amazingly, and
+occupied a most unnecessary amount of time before she at length
+retired, dejected but triumphant, to the manifest relief of the
+coroner.
+
+This brought the day’s proceedings to a close. There were a few more
+witnesses on the list, and the coroner hoped to take their evidence
+and complete the inquiry on the following day. As soon as the court
+rose, Anstey and I with Bundy proceeded to a tea-shop hard by and,
+having refreshed ourselves with a light tea, set forth to catch our
+train at Strood Station. Thither Bundy accompanied us at my
+invitation, but though I suspected that he was bursting with curiosity
+as to the object of my mysterious journey, he made no reference to it,
+nor did I or Anstey.
+
+At the barrier at Charing Cross we found Thorndyke awaiting us, and
+Anstey, having delivered me into his custody and seen us into a
+taxi-cab that had already been chartered, wished us success and took
+his leave. Then the driver, who apparently had his instructions,
+started and moved out of the station.
+
+“I don’t know,” said I, “whether I may now ask what I am wanted for.”
+
+“I should rather not go into particulars,” he replied. “I want your
+opinion on something that I am going to show you, and I especially
+want it to be an impromptu opinion. Previous consideration might
+create a bias which would detract from the conclusiveness of your
+decision. However, you have only a few minutes to wait.”
+
+In those few minutes I could not refrain from cudgelling my brains,
+even at the risk of creating a bias, and was still doing so--quite
+unproductively--when the cab approached the hospital of St. Barnabas
+and gave me a hint. But it swept past the main entrance, and, turning
+up a side street, slowed down and stopped opposite the entrance of the
+medical school. Here we got out, and, leaving the cab waiting, entered
+the hall, where Thorndyke inquired for a person of the name of Farrow.
+In a minute or two this individual made his appearance in the form of
+a somewhat frowsy, elderly man, whom, from the multitude of warts on
+his hands, I inferred to be the post-mortem porter or dissecting-room
+attendant. He appeared to be a taciturn man, and he, too, evidently
+had his instructions, for he merely looked at us and then walked away
+slowly, leaving us to follow. Thus silently he conducted us down a
+long corridor, across a quadrangle beyond which rose the conical roof
+of a theatre, along a curved passage which followed the wall of the
+circular building and down a flight of stone steps which let into a
+dim, cement-floored basement, lighted by sparse electric bulbs and
+pervaded by a faint, distinctive odour that memory associated with the
+science of anatomy. From the main basement room Farrow turned into a
+short passage, where he stopped at a door, and, having unlocked it,
+threw it open and switched on the light, when we entered and I looked
+around. It was a large, cellar-like room, lighted by a single powerful
+electric bulb fitted with a basin-like metal reflector and attached to
+a long, movable arm. The activities usually carried on in it were
+evident from the great tins of red lead on the shelves, from a large
+brass syringe fitted with a stop-cock and smeared with red paint, and
+from a range of oblong slate tanks or coffers furnished with massive
+wooden lids.
+
+Still without uttering a word, the taciturn Farrow swung the powerful
+lamp over one of the coffers, and then drew off the lid. I stepped
+forward and looked in. The coffer was occupied by the body of a man,
+evidently--from the shaven head and the traces of red paint--prepared
+as an anatomical “subject.” I looked at it curiously, thinking how
+unhuman, how artificial it seemed; how like to a somewhat dingy
+waxwork figure. But as I looked I was dimly conscious of some sense of
+familiarity stealing into my mind. Some chord of memory seemed to be
+touched. I stooped and looked more closely; and then, suddenly, I
+started up.
+
+“Good God!” I exclaimed. “It is Nicholas Frood!”
+
+“Are you sure?” asked Thorndyke.
+
+“Yes, quite,” I answered. “It was the shaved head that put me off: the
+absence of that mop of hair. I have no doubt at all. Still--let us
+have a look at the hands.”
+
+Farrow lifted up the hands one after the other; and then, if there
+could have been any doubt, it was set at rest. The mahogany-coloured
+stain was still visible; but much more conclusive were the bulbous
+finger-tips and the mis-shapen, nutshell-like nails. There could be no
+possible doubt.
+
+“This is certainly the man I saw at Rochester,” said I. “I am fully
+prepared to swear to that. But oughtn’t he to have been identified by
+somebody who knew him better?”
+
+“The body has been identified this afternoon by his late landlady,”
+replied Thorndyke, “but I wanted your confirmation, and I wanted you
+as a witness at the inquest. The identification is important in
+relation to the inquiry and the possible verdict.”
+
+“Yes, by Jove!” I agreed, with a vivid recollection of the questions
+put to Mrs. Gillow. “This will come as a thunder-bolt to the jury. But
+how, in the name of Fortune, did he come here?”
+
+“I’ll tell you about that presently,” replied Thorndyke. He tendered a
+fee to the exhibitor, and when the latter had replaced the lid of the
+coffer, he conducted us back to our starting-point, and saw us into
+the waiting cab.
+
+“5a, King’s Bench Walk,” Thorndyke instructed the driver, and as the
+cab started, he began his explanation.
+
+“This has been a long and weary search, with a stroke of unexpected
+good luck at the end. We have had to go through endless records of
+hospitals, police-courts, poor-houses, infirmaries, and inquests. It
+was the records of an inquest that put us at last on the track; an
+inquest on an unknown man, supposed to be a tramp. Roughly, the
+history of the affair is this:
+
+“Frood seems to have started for Brighton on the 25th of April, but
+for some unexplained reason, he broke his journey and got out at
+Horwell. What happened to him there is not clear. He may have
+over-dosed himself with cocaine; but at any rate, he was found dead in
+a meadow, close to a hedge, on the morning of the 26th. He was
+therefore dead before his wife disappeared. The body was taken to the
+mortuary and there carefully examined. But there was not the faintest
+clue to his identity. His pockets were searched, but there was not a
+vestige of property of any kind about him, not even the knife of which
+you have spoken. The probability is that he had been robbed by some
+tramp of everything that he had about him, either while he was
+insensible or after he was dead. In any case he appeared to be
+completely destitute, and this fact, together with his decidedly dirty
+and neglected condition, led naturally to the conclusion that he was a
+tramp. An inquest was held, but of course, no expensive and
+troublesome measures were taken to trace his identity. Examinations
+showed that he had not died from the effects of violence, so it was
+assumed that he had died from exposure, and a verdict to that effect
+was returned. He was about to be given a pauper’s funeral when
+Providence intervened on our behalf. It happened that the Demonstrator
+of Anatomy at St. Barnabas resides at Horwell; and it happened that
+the presence of an unclaimed body in the mortuary came to his
+knowledge. Thereupon he applied to the authorities, on behalf of his
+school, for the use of it as an anatomical subject. His application
+was granted and the body was conveyed to St. Barnabas, where it was at
+once embalmed and prepared and then put aside for use during the next
+winter session.”
+
+“Was that quite in order--legally, I mean?”
+
+“That is not for us to ask,” he replied. “It was not in any way
+contrary to public policy, and it has been our salvation in respect of
+our particular inquiry.”
+
+“I suppose it has,” I said, not, however, quite seeing it in that
+light. “Of course, it disposes of the question of his guilt.”
+
+“It does a good deal more than that as matters have turned out,” said
+he. “However, here we are in the precincts of the Temple. Let us
+dismiss Nicholas Frood from our minds for the time being, and turn our
+attention to the more attractive subject of dinner.”
+
+The cab stopped opposite a tall house with a fine carved-brick
+portico, and, when Thorndyke had paid the driver, we ascended the
+steps and made our way up a couple of flights of oaken stairs to the
+first floor. Here, at the door of my friend’s chambers, we encountered
+a small, clerical-looking gentleman with an extremely wrinkly, smiling
+face, who reminded me somewhat of Mr. Japp.
+
+“This is Mr. Polton, Strangeways,” said Thorndyke, presenting him to
+me, “who relieves me of all the physical labour of laboratory work. He
+is a specialist in everything, including cookery, and if my nose does
+not mislead me--ha! Does it, Polton?”
+
+“That depends, sir, on which way you follow it,” replied Polton, with
+a smile of labyrinthine wrinkliness. “But you will want to wash, and
+Dr. Strangeways’s room is ready for him.”
+
+On this hint, Thorndyke conducted me to an upper floor, and to a
+pleasant bedroom with an outlook on plane trees and ancient, red-tiled
+roofs, where I washed and brushed up, and from whence I presently
+descended to the sitting-room, whither Thorndyke’s nose had already
+led him--and to good purpose, too.
+
+“Mr. Polton has missed his vocation,” I remarked, as I attacked his
+productions with appreciative gusto. “He ought to have been the
+manager of a West End club or a high-class restaurant.”
+
+Thorndyke regarded me severely. “I am shocked at you, Strangeways,” he
+said. “Do you suggest that a man who can make anything from an
+astronomical clock to a microscope objective, who is an expert in
+every branch of photographic technique, a fair analytical chemist, a
+microscopist, and general handicraftsman, should be degraded to the
+office of a mere superintendent cook? It is a dreadful thought!”
+
+“I didn’t understand that he was a man of so many talents and
+accomplishments,” I said apologetically.
+
+“He is a most remarkable man,” said Thorndyke, “and I take it as a
+great condescension that he is willing to prepare my meals. It is his
+own choice--an expression of personal devotion. He doesn’t like me to
+take my food at restaurants or clubs. And, of course, he does it well
+because he is incapable of doing anything otherwise than well. You
+must come up and see the laboratories and workshop after dinner.”
+
+We went up when we had finished our meal and discovered Polton in the
+act of cutting transverse sections of hairs and mounting them to add
+to the great collection of microscopic objects that Thorndyke had
+accumulated. He left this occupation to show me the great standing
+camera for copying, enlarging, reducing and microphotography, to
+demonstrate the capabilities of a fine back-geared lathe and to
+exhibit the elaborate outfit for analysis and assay work.
+
+“I had no idea,” said I, as we returned to the sitting-room, “that
+medico-legal practice involved the use of all these complicated
+appliances.”
+
+“The truth is,” Thorndyke replied, “that Medical Jurisprudence is not
+a single subject, concerned with one order of knowledge. It represents
+the application of every kind of knowledge to the solution of an
+infinite variety of legal problems. And that reminds me that I haven’t
+yet looked through Anstey’s abstract of the evidence at the inquest,
+which I saw that he had left for me. Shall we go through it now? It
+won’t take us very long. Then we can have a stroll round the Temple or
+on the Embankment before we turn in.”
+
+“You are coming down to Rochester to-morrow?” I asked.
+
+“Yes,” he replied. “The facts concerning Nicholas Frood will have to
+be communicated to the coroner; and it is possible that some other
+points may arise.”
+
+“Now that Frood is definitely out of the picture,” said I, “do you see
+any possibility of solving the mystery of this crime? I mean as to the
+identity of the guilty parties?”
+
+He reflected awhile. “I am inclined to think,” he replied, at length,
+“that I may be able to offer a suggestion. But, of course, I have not
+yet seen the remains.”
+
+“There isn’t much to be gleaned from them, I am afraid,” said I.
+
+“Perhaps not,” he answered. “But we shall be able to judge better when
+we have read the evidence of the medical witness.”
+
+“He wasn’t able to offer any opinion as to the cause of death,” I
+said.
+
+“Then,” he replied, “we may take it that there are no obvious signs.
+However, it is useless to speculate. We must suspend our judgment
+until to-morrow”; and with this he opened Anstey’s summary, and read
+through it rapidly, asking me a question now and again to amplify some
+point. When he had finished the abstract--which appeared to be very
+brief and condensed--he put it in his pocket and suggested that we
+should start for our proposed walk; and, though I made one or two
+attempts to reopen the subject of the inquiry, he was not to be drawn
+into any further statements. Apparently there was some point that he
+hoped to clear up by personal observation, and meanwhile he held his
+judgment in suspense.
+
+
+
+
+ CHAPTER XVII.
+ THORNDYKE PUTS DOWN HIS PIECE
+
+The journey down to Rochester would have been more agreeable and
+interesting under different circumstances. Thorndyke kept up a flow of
+lively conversation to which I should ordinarily have listened with
+the keenest pleasure. But he persistently avoided any reference to the
+object of our journey; and as this was the subject that engrossed my
+thoughts and from which I was unable to detach them, his
+conversational efforts were expended on somewhat inattentive ears. In
+common politeness I tried to make a show of listening and even of some
+sort of response; but the instant a pause occurred, my thoughts flew
+back to the engrossing subject and the round of fruitless speculation
+begun again.
+
+What was it that Thorndyke had in his mind? He was not making this
+journey to inform the coroner of Frood’s death. That could have been
+done by letter; and, moreover, I was the actual witness to the dead
+man’s identity. There was some point that he expected to be able to
+elucidate; some evidence that had been overlooked. And that evidence
+seemed to be connected with that dreadful, pitiful thing that lay in
+the coffin--crying out, indeed, to Heaven for retribution, but crying
+in a voice all inarticulate. But would it be inarticulate to him? He
+had seemed to imply an expectation of being able to infer from the
+appearance of those mouldering bones the cause and manner of death,
+and even--so it had appeared to me--the very identity of the murderer.
+But how could this be possible? Dr. Baines had said that the bones
+showed no signs of injury. The soft structures of the body had
+disappeared utterly. What suggestion as to the cause of death could
+the bones offer? Chronic mineral poisoning might be ascertainable from
+examination of the skeleton, but not from a mere ocular inspection;
+and the question of chronic poisoning did not arise. Angelina was
+alive on the Saturday evening; before the Monday morning her body was
+in the wall. Again and again I dismissed the problem as an
+impenetrable mystery; and still it presented itself afresh for
+consideration.
+
+A few words of explanation to the constable on duty at the mortuary
+secured our admission, or, rather Thorndyke’s; for I did not go in,
+but stood in the doorway, watching him inquisitively. He looked over
+the objects set out on the tray and seemed to be mentally checking
+them. Then he put on a pair of pince-nez and examined some of them
+more closely. From the tray he presently turned to the coffin, and,
+lifting off the lid, stood for a while, with his pince-nez in his
+hand, looking intently at the awful relics of the dead woman. From his
+face I could gather nothing. It was at all times a rather immobile
+face, in accordance with his calm, even temperament. Now it expressed
+nothing but interest and close attention. He inspected the whole
+skeleton methodically, as I could see by the way his eyes travelled
+slowly from the head to the foot of the coffin. Then, once more, he
+put on his reading-glasses, and stooped to examine more closely
+something in the upper part of the coffin--I judged it to be the
+skull. At length he stood up, put away his glasses, replaced the
+coffin-lid, and rejoined me.
+
+“Has the sitting of the Court begun yet?” he asked the constable.
+
+“They began about five minutes ago, sir,” was the reply; on which we
+made our way to the court-room, where Thorndyke, having secured a
+place at the table, beckoned to the coroner’s officer.
+
+“Will you hand that to the coroner, please?” said he, producing from
+his pocket a note in an official-looking blue envelope. The officer
+took the note and laid it down before the coroner, who glanced at it
+and nodded and then looked with sudden interest at Thorndyke. The
+witness who was being examined at the moment was the pawnbroker’s
+daughter, and her account of the mysterious man with the mole on his
+nose was engaging the attention of the jury. While the examination was
+proceeding, the coroner glanced from time to time at the note.
+Presently he took it up and opened the envelope, and in a pause in the
+evidence, took out the note and turned it over to look at the
+signature. Then he ran his eyes over the contents, and I saw his
+eyebrows go up. But at that moment one of the jurymen asked a
+question, and the note was laid down while the answer was entered in
+the depositions. At length the evidence of this witness was completed,
+and the witness dismissed, when the coroner took up the note and read
+it through carefully.
+
+“Before we take the evidence of Israel Bangs, gentlemen,” said he, “we
+had better consider some new facts which I think you will regard as
+highly important. I have just received a communication from Dr. John
+Thorndyke, who is a very eminent authority on medico-legal evidence.
+He informs me that the husband of the deceased, Nicholas Frood, is
+dead. It appears that he died about three months ago, but his body was
+not identified until yesterday, when it was seen by Frood’s landlady
+and by Dr. Strangeways, who is here and can give evidence as to the
+identity. I propose that we first recall Dr. Strangeways and then ask
+Dr. Thorndyke, who is also present, to give us the further
+particulars.”
+
+The jury agreed warmly to the suggestion, and I was at once recalled,
+and as I took my place at the coroner’s left hand I felt that I was
+fully justifying Cobbledick’s description of me as the “star witness,”
+for not only was I the object of eager interest on the part of the
+jury and the sergeant himself, but also of Bundy, whose eyes were
+riveted on me with devouring curiosity.
+
+There is no need for me to repeat my evidence. It was quite short. I
+just briefly described the body and its situation. As to how it came
+to the hospital, I had no personal knowledge, but I affirmed that it
+was undoubtedly the body of Nicholas Frood. Of that I was quite
+certain.
+
+No questions were asked. There was a good deal of whispered comment,
+and one indiscreet juryman remarked audibly that “this fellow seemed
+to have cheated the hangman.” Then the coroner deferentially requested
+Thorndyke to give the Court any information that was available, and my
+friend advanced to the head of the table, where the coroner’s officer
+placed a chair for him, and took the oath.
+
+“What a perfectly awful thing this is about poor old Nicholas!”
+whispered Bundy, who had crept into the chair that Thorndyke had just
+vacated. “It makes one’s flesh creep to think of it.”
+
+“It _was_ rather horrible,” I agreed, noting that my description of
+the scene had evidently made _his_ flesh creep, for he was as pale as
+a ghost. But there was no time to discuss the matter further, for
+Thorndyke, having been sworn, and started by a general question from
+the coroner, now began to give his evidence, in the form of a
+narrative similar to that which I had heard from him, and accompanied
+by the production of documents relating to the inquest and the
+transfer of the body of the unknown deceased to the medical school.
+
+“There is no doubt, I suppose, as to the date of this man’s death?”
+the coroner asked.
+
+“Practically none. He was seen alive on the 25th of April, and he was
+found dead on the morning of the 26th. I have put in a copy of the
+depositions at the inquest, which give the date and time of the
+finding of the body.”
+
+“Then, as his death occurred before the disappearance of his wife,
+this inquiry is not concerned with him any further.”
+
+Here the foreman of the jury interposed with a question. “It seems
+that Dr. Thorndyke took a great deal of trouble to trace this man,
+Frood. Was he acting for the police?”
+
+“I don’t know that that is strictly our concern,” said the coroner,
+looking at Thorndyke, nevertheless, with a somewhat inquiring
+expression.
+
+“I was acting,” said Thorndyke, “in pursuance of instructions from a
+private client to investigate the circumstances of Mrs. Frood’s
+disappearance, to ascertain whether a crime had been committed and, if
+so, to endeavour to find the guilty party or parties.”
+
+“He never told us that,” murmured Bundy; “at least--did you know,
+John?”
+
+“I did, as a matter of fact, but I was sworn to secrecy.”
+
+Bundy looked at me a little reproachfully, I thought, and I caught a
+queer glance from Cobbledick. But just then the coroner spoke again.
+
+“Have you seen the evidence that was given yesterday?”
+
+“Yes, I have a summary of it, which I have read.”
+
+“Can you, from your investigations, tell us anything that was not
+disclosed by that evidence?”
+
+“Yes. I have just examined the remains of the deceased and the
+articles which have been found from time to time. I think I can give
+some additional information concerning them.”
+
+“From your examination of the remains,” the coroner said somewhat
+eagerly, “can you give any opinion as to the cause of death?”
+
+“No,” replied Thorndyke. “My examination had reference chiefly to the
+identity of the remains.”
+
+The coroner looked disappointed. “The identity of the remains,” said
+he, “is not in question. They have been clearly identified as those of
+Angelina Frood.”
+
+“Then,” said Thorndyke, “they have been wrongly identified. I can
+swear positively that they are not the remains of Angelina Frood.”
+
+At this statement a sudden hush fell on the Court, broken
+incongruously by an audible whistle from Sergeant Cobbledick. On me
+the declaration fell like a thunder-bolt, and, on looking round at
+Bundy, I could see that he was petrified with astonishment. There was
+a silence of some seconds’ duration. Then the coroner said, with a
+distinctly puzzled air: “This is a very remarkable statement, Dr.
+Thorndyke. It seems to be quite at variance with all the facts: and it
+appears almost incredible that you should be able to speak with such
+certainty, having regard to the condition of the remains and in spite
+of the extraordinary effect of the lime.”
+
+“It is on account of the effect of the lime that I am able to speak
+with so much certainty and confidence,” Thorndyke replied.
+
+“I don’t quite follow that,” said the coroner. “Would you kindly tell
+us how you were able to determine that these remains are not those of
+Angelina Frood?”
+
+“It is a matter of simple inference,” replied Thorndyke. “On the 26th
+of April last Mrs. Frood is known to have been alive. It has been
+assumed that on that night or the next her body was built up in the
+wall. If that had really happened, when the wall was opened on the
+20th of July, the body would have been found intact and perfectly
+recognizable!”
+
+“You are not overlooking the circumstance that it was buried in a bed
+of quick-lime?” said the coroner.
+
+“No,” replied Thorndyke; “in fact that is the circumstance that makes
+it quite certain that these remains are not those of Angelina Frood.
+There is,” he continued, “a widely prevalent belief that quick-lime
+has the property of completely consuming and destroying organic
+substances such as a dead human body. But that belief is quite
+erroneous. Quick-lime has no such properties. On the contrary, it has
+a strongly preservative effect on organic matter. Putrefaction is a
+change in organic matter which occurs only when that matter is more or
+less moist. If such matter is completely dried, putrefaction is
+prevented or arrested, and such dried, or mummified, matter will
+remain undecomposed almost indefinitely, as we see in the case of
+Egyptian mummies. But quick-lime has the property of abstracting the
+water from organic substances with which it is in contact; of
+rendering them completely dry. It thus acts as a very efficient
+preservative. If Mrs. Frood’s body had been buried, when recently
+dead, three months ago in fresh quick-lime, it would by now have been
+reduced more or less to the condition of a mummy. It would not have
+been even partially destroyed, and it would have been easily
+recognizable.”
+
+To this statement everyone present listened with profound attention
+and equally profound surprise; and a glance at the faces of the
+jurymen was sufficient to show that it had failed utterly to produce
+conviction. Even the coroner was evidently not satisfied, and, after a
+few moments’ reflection with knitted brows, he stated his objection.
+
+“The belief in the destructive properties of lime,” he said, “can
+hardly be accepted as a mere popular error. In the Crippen trial, you
+may remember that the question was raised, and one of the expert
+witnesses--no less an authority than Professor Pepper--gave it as his
+considered opinion that quick-lime has these destructive properties,
+and that if a body were buried in a sufficient quantity of quick-lime,
+that body would be entirely destroyed. You will agree, I think, that
+great weight attaches to the opinion of a man of Professor Pepper’s
+great reputation.”
+
+“Undoubtedly,” Thorndyke agreed. “He was one of our greatest
+medico-legal authorities, though, on this subject, I think, his views
+differed from those generally held by medical jurists. But the point
+is that this was an opinion, and that no undeniable facts were then
+available. But since that time, the matter has been put to the test of
+actual experiment, and the results of those experiments are definite
+facts. It is no longer a matter of opinion but one of incontestable
+fact.”
+
+“What are the experiments that you refer to?”
+
+“The first practical investigation was carried out by Mr. A. Lucas,
+the Director of the Government Analytical Laboratory and Assay Office
+at Cairo. He felt that the question was one of great medico-legal
+importance, and that it ought to be settled definitely. He accordingly
+carried out a number of experiments, of which he published the
+particulars in his treatise on ‘Forensic Chemistry.’ I produce a copy
+of this book, with your permission.”
+
+“Is this evidence admissible?” the foreman asked. “The witness can’t
+swear to another man’s experiments.”
+
+“It is admissible in a coroner’s court,” was the reply. “We are not
+bound as rigidly by the rules of evidence as a criminal court, for
+instance. It is relevant to the inquiry, and I think we had better
+hear it.”
+
+“I may say,” said Thorndyke, “that I have repeated and confirmed these
+experiments; but I suggest that, as the published cases are the
+recognized authority, I be allowed to quote them before describing my
+confirmatory experiments.”
+
+The coroner having agreed to this course, he continued: “The tests
+were made with the fresh bodies of young pigeons, which were plucked
+but not opened, and which were buried in boxes with loosely-fitted
+covers, filled respectively with dry earth, slaked lime, chlorinated
+lime, quick-lime, and quick-lime suddenly slaked with water. These
+bodies were left thus buried for six months, the boxes being placed on
+the laboratory roof at Cairo. At the end of that period the bodies
+were disinterred and examined with the following results: The body
+which had been buried in dry earth was found to be in a very bad
+condition. There was a considerable smell of putrefaction and a large
+part of the flesh had disappeared. The body which had been buried in
+quick-lime was found to be in good condition; it was dry and hard, the
+skin was unbroken, but the body was naturally shrunken. The other
+three bodies do not concern us, but I may say that none of them was as
+completely preserved as the one that was buried in quick-lime.
+
+“On reading the account of these experiments I decided to repeat them,
+partly for confirmation and partly to enable me to give direct
+evidence as to the effect of lime on dead bodies. I used
+freshly-killed rabbits from which the fur was removed by shaving, and
+buried them in roomy boxes in the same materials as were used in the
+published experiments. They were left undisturbed during the six
+summer months, and were then exhumed and examined. The rabbit which
+had been buried in dry earth was in an advanced stage of putrefaction;
+the one which had been buried in quick-lime was free from any odour of
+decomposition, the skin was intact, and the body unaltered excepting
+that it was dry and rather shrivelled--mummified, in fact. It was more
+completely preserved than any of the others.”
+
+The conclusion of this statement was followed by a slightly
+uncomfortable silence. The coroner stroked his chin reflectively, and
+the jurymen looked at one another with obvious doubt and distrust. At
+length Mr. Pilley gave voice to the collective sentiments.
+
+“It’s all very well, sir, for this learned gentleman to explain to us
+that the lime couldn’t have eaten up the body of the deceased. But it
+has. We’ve seen the bare bones with our own eyes. What’s the use of
+saying a thing is impossible when it has happened?”
+
+Here Thorndyke produced from his pocket a sheet of notepaper and a
+fountain pen, and began to write rapidly, noting down, as I supposed,
+the jurymen’s objections; which, however, the coroner proceeded to
+answer.
+
+“Dr. Thorndyke’s statement was that these bones are not the bones of
+Angelina Frood. That the body was not her body.”
+
+“Still,” said the foreman, “it was somebody’s body, you know. And the
+lime seems to have eaten it up pretty clean, possible or impossible.”
+
+“Exactly,” said the coroner. “The destruction of this particular body
+appears to be an undeniable fact; and we may assume that one body is
+very much like another--in a chemical sense, at least. What do you
+say, Doctor?”
+
+“My statement,” replied Thorndyke, “had reference to Angelina Frood,
+who is known to have been alive on a certain date. Of the condition of
+the unknown body that was buried in the wall, I can give no opinion.”
+
+Again there was an uncomfortable silence, during which Thorndyke,
+having finished writing, folded the sheet of notepaper, tucked the end
+in securely, and wrote an address on the back. Then he handed it to
+his neighbour, who passed it on until it reached me. I was on the
+point of opening it when I observed with astonishment that it was
+addressed to Peter Bundy, Esq., to whom I immediately handed it. But
+my astonishment was nothing to Bundy’s. He seemed positively
+thunderstruck. Indeed, his aspect was so extraordinary as he sat
+gazing wildly at the opened note, that I forgot my manners and frankly
+stared at him. First he turned scarlet; then he grew deathly pale; and
+then he turned scarlet again. And, for the first and only time in my
+life, I saw him look really angry. But this was only a passing
+manifestation. For a few moments his eyes flashed and his mouth set
+hard. Then, quite suddenly, the wrath faded from his face and gave
+place to a whimsical smile. He tore off the fly-leaf of the note, and,
+scribbling a few words on it, folded it up small, addressed it to Dr.
+Thorndyke, and handed it to me for transmission by the return route.
+
+When it reached Thorndyke, he opened it, and, having read the brief
+message, nodded gravely to Bundy, and once more turned his attention
+to the foreman, who was addressing the coroner at greater length.
+
+“The jury wish to say, sir, that this evidence is not satisfactory. It
+can’t be reconciled with the other evidence. The facts before the jury
+are these: On the 26th of April Angelina Frood disappeared, and was
+never afterwards seen alive. On the night that she disappeared, or on
+the next night, a dead body was buried in the wall. Three months later
+that body was found in the wall, packed in quick-lime, and eaten away
+to a skeleton. That skeleton has been examined by an expert, and found
+to be that of a woman of similar size and age to Angelina Frood. With
+that skeleton were found articles of clothing, jewellery, and
+ornaments which have been proved to have been the clothing and
+property of Angelina Frood. Other articles of clothing have been
+recovered from the river; and those articles were missing from the
+body when it was found in the wall. On these facts, the jury feel that
+it is impossible to doubt that the remains found in the wall are the
+remains of Angelina Frood.”
+
+As the foreman concluded the coroner turned to Thorndyke with a
+slightly puzzled smile. “Of course, Doctor,” said he, “you have
+considered those facts that the foreman has summarized so admirably.
+What do you say to his conclusion?”
+
+“I must still contest it,” replied Thorndyke. “The foreman’s summary
+of the evidence, masterly as it was, furnishes no answer to the
+objection--based on established chemical facts--that the condition of
+the remains when found is irreconcilable with the alleged
+circumstances of the burial.”
+
+The coroner raised his eyebrows and pursed up his lips. “I appreciate
+your point, Doctor,” said he. “But we are on the horns of a dilemma.
+We are between the Devil of observed fact and the Deep Sea of
+scientific demonstration. Can you suggest any way out of the
+difficulty?”
+
+“I think,” said Thorndyke, “that if you were to call Mr. Bundy, he
+might be able to help you out of your dilemma.”
+
+“Mr. Bundy!” exclaimed the coroner. “I didn’t know he was concerned in
+the case. Can you give us any information, Mr. Bundy?”
+
+“Yes,” replied Bundy, looking somewhat shy and nervous. “I think I
+could throw a little light on the case.”
+
+“I wish to goodness you had said so before. However, better late than
+never. We will take your evidence at once.”
+
+On this Thorndyke returned to his seat at the table and Bundy took his
+place, standing by the chair which Thorndyke had resigned.
+
+“Let me see, Mr. Bundy,” said the coroner, “your Christian name
+is----”
+
+“The witness has not been sworn,” interrupted Thorndyke.
+
+The coroner smiled. “We are in the hands of the regular
+practitioners,” he chuckled. “We must mind our p’s and q’s. Still you
+are quite right, Doctor. The name is part of the evidence.”
+
+The witness was accordingly sworn, and the coroner then proceeded,
+smilingly: “Now, Mr. Bundy, be very careful. You are making a sworn
+statement, remember. What is your Christian name?”
+
+“Angelina,” was the astounding reply.
+
+“Angelina!” bawled Pilley. “It can’t be. Why, it’s a woman’s name.”
+
+“We must presume that the witness knows his own name,” said the
+coroner, writing it down. “Angelina Bundy.”
+
+“No, Sir,” said the witness. “Angelina Frood.”
+
+The coroner suddenly stiffened with the upraised pen poised in the
+air; and so everyone in the room, including myself, underwent an
+instantaneous arrest of movement as if we had been turned into stone;
+and I noticed that the process of petrifaction had caught us all with
+our mouths open. But whereas the fixed faces on which I looked,
+expressed amazement qualified by incredulity, my own astonishment was
+coupled with conviction. Astounding as the statement was, the moment
+that it was made I knew that it was true. In spite of the
+discrepancies of appearance, I realized in a flash of enlightenment,
+the nature of that subtle influence that had drawn me to Bundy with a
+tenderness hardly congruous with mere male friendship. Outwardly I had
+been deceived, but my sub-conscious self had recognized Angelina all
+the time.
+
+The interval of breathless silence, during which the witness calmly
+surveyed the court through his--or rather her--eyeglass, was at length
+broken by the coroner, who asked gravely: “This is not a joke? You
+affirm seriously that you are Angelina Frood?”
+
+“Yes; I am Angelina Frood,” was the reply.
+
+Here Mr. Pilley recovered himself and demanded excitedly: “Do we
+understand this gentleman to say that he is the deceased?”
+
+“Well,” replied the coroner, “he is obviously not deceased, and he
+states that he is not a gentleman. He has declared that he is a lady.”
+
+“But,” protested Pilley, “he says that she--at least she says that
+he----”
+
+“You are getting mixed, Pilley,” interrupted the foreman. “This
+appears to be a woman masquerading as a man and playing practical
+jokes on a coroner’s jury. I suggest, sir, that we ought to have
+evidence of identity.”
+
+“I agree with you, emphatically,” said the coroner. “The
+identification is indispensable. Is there anyone present who can swear
+to the identity of this--er--person? Mr. Japp, for instance?”
+
+“I’d rather you didn’t bring Mr. Japp into it,” said Angelina,
+hastily. “It isn’t really necessary. If you will allow me to run home
+and change my clothes, Mrs. Gillow and Dr. Strangeways will be able to
+identify me. And I can bring some photographs to show the jury.”
+
+“That seems quite a good suggestion,” said the coroner. “Don’t you
+think so, gentlemen?”
+
+“It is a very proper suggestion,” said the foreman, severely. “Let her
+go away and clothe herself decently. How long will she be gone?”
+
+“I shall be back in less than half an hour,” said Angelina; and on
+this understanding she was given permission to retire. I watched her
+with a tumult of mixed emotions as she took up her hat, gloves, and
+stick, and strolled jauntily towards the door. There she paused for an
+instant and shot at me a single, swift, whimsical glance through her
+monocle. Then she went out; and with her disappeared for ever the
+familiar figure of Peter Bundy.
+
+
+
+
+ CHAPTER XVIII.
+ THE UNCONTRITE PENITENT
+
+As the door closed on Angelina, a buzz of excited talk broke out.
+The astonished jurymen put their heads together and eagerly discussed
+the new turn of events, while the coroner sat with a deeply cogitative
+expression, evidently thinking hard and casting an occasional
+speculative glance in Thorndyke’s direction. Meanwhile Cobbledick
+edged up to my side and presented his views in a soft undertone.
+
+“This is a facer, Doctor, isn’t it? Regular do. My word! Just think of
+the artfulness of that young woman, toting us round and helping us to
+find the things that she had just popped down for us to find. I call
+it a masterpiece.” He chuckled admiringly, and added in a lower tone,
+“I hope she hasn’t got herself into any kind of mess.”
+
+I looked at Cobbledick with renewed appreciation. I had always liked
+the sergeant. He was a capable man and a kindly one; and now he was
+showing a largeness of soul that won my respect and my gratitude, too.
+A small man would have been furious with Angelina, but Cobbledick took
+her performances in a proper sporting spirit. He was only amused and
+admiring. Not for nothing had Nature imprinted on his face that
+benevolent smile.
+
+Presently Mr. Pilley, who seemed to have a special gift for the
+expression of erroneous opinions, addressed himself to the coroner.
+
+“Well, Mr. Chairman,” he said cheerfully, “I suppose we can consider
+the inquest practically over.”
+
+“Over!” exclaimed the astonished coroner.
+
+“Yes. We were inquiring into the death of Angelina Frood. But if Mrs.
+Frood is alive after all, why, there’s an end to the matter.”
+
+“What about the body in the mortuary?” demanded the foreman.
+
+“Oh, ah,” said Pilley. “I had forgotten about that.”
+
+He looked owlishly at the coroner and then exclaimed: “But that is the
+body of Mrs. Frood!”
+
+“It can’t be if Mrs. Frood is alive,” the coroner reminded him.
+
+“But it must be,” persisted Pilley. “It has been identified as her,
+and it had her clothes and ring on. Mr. Bundy must have been pulling
+our legs.”
+
+“There is certainly something very mysterious about that body,” said
+the coroner. “It was dressed in Mrs. Frood’s clothes, as Mr. Pilley
+points out, and it appears that Mrs. Frood must be in some way
+connected with it.”
+
+“There’s no doubt about that,” agreed the foreman. “She must know who
+that dead person is and how the body came to be in the place where it
+was found, and she will have to give an account of it.”
+
+“Yes,” said the coroner. “But it is a mysterious affair. I wonder if
+Dr. Thorndyke could enlighten us. He seems to know more about the
+matter than anybody else.”
+
+But Thorndyke was not to be drawn into any statement. “It would be
+merely a conjecture on my part,” he said. “Presumably Mrs. Frood knows
+how the remains got into the wall, and I must leave her to give the
+necessary explanations.”
+
+“I don’t see what explanations she can give,” said the foreman. “It
+looks like a clear case of wilful murder. And it is against her.”
+
+To this view the coroner gave a guarded assent; and indeed it was the
+obvious view. There was the body, in Angelina’s clothing, and
+everything pointed clearly to Angelina’s complicity in the crime, if
+there had really been a crime committed. And what other explanation
+was possible?
+
+As I reflected on the foreman’s ominous words, I was sensible of a
+growing alarm. What if Angelina had been, as it were, snatched from
+the grave only to be placed in the dock on a charge of murder? That
+she could possibly be guilty of a crime did not enter my mind. But
+there was evidently some sort of criminal entanglement from which she
+might find it hard to escape. The appearances were sinister in the
+extreme; her simulated disappearance, her disguise, her suspicious
+silence during the inquiry; to any eye but mine they were conclusive
+evidence of her guilt. And the more I thought about it, the more
+deadly did the sum of that evidence appear, until, as the time ran on,
+I became positively sick with terror.
+
+The opening of a door and a sudden murmur of surprise caused me to
+turn; and there was Angelina herself. But not quite the Angelina that
+I remembered. Gone were the pallid complexion, the weary, dark-circled
+eyes, the down-cast mouth, the sad and pensive countenance, the dark,
+strong eye-brows. Rosy-cheeked, smiling, confident, and looking
+strangely tall and imposing, she stepped composedly over to the head
+of the table, and stood there gazing with calm self-possession, and
+the trace of a smile at the stupefied jurymen.
+
+“Your name is--?” said the coroner, gazing at her in astonishment.
+
+“Angelina Frood,” was the quiet reply; and the voice was Bundy’s
+voice.
+
+Here Pilley rose, bubbling with excitement. “This isn’t the same
+person!” he exclaimed. “Why, he was a little man, and she’s a tall
+woman. And his hair was short, and just look at hers! You can’t grow a
+head of hair like that in twenty minutes.”
+
+“No,” Angelina agreed, suavely. “I wish you could.”
+
+“The objection is not relevant, Mr. Pilley,” said the coroner,
+suppressing a smile. “We are not concerned with the identity of Mr.
+Bundy but with that of Angelina Frood. Can anyone identify this lady?”
+
+“I can,” said I. “I swear that she is Angelina Frood.”
+
+“And Mrs. Gillow?”
+
+Mrs. Gillow could and did identify her late lodger, and furthermore,
+burst into tears and filled the court-room with “yoops” of hysterical
+joy. When she had been pacified and gently restrained by the coroner’s
+officer from an attempt to embrace the witness, the coroner proceeded:
+
+“Now, Mrs. Frood, the jury require certain explanations from you, in
+regard to the body of a woman which is at present lying in the
+mortuary and which was found buried in the city wall with certain
+articles of clothing and jewellery which have been identified as your
+property. Did you know that that body had been buried in the wall?”
+
+“Yes,” replied Angelina.
+
+“Do you know how it came to be in the wall?”
+
+“Yes. I put it there.”
+
+“You put it there!” roared Pilley, amidst a chorus of exclamations
+from the jurymen. The coroner held up his hand to enjoin silence and
+asked, as he gazed in astonishment at Angelina.
+
+“Can you tell us who this deceased person was?”
+
+“I’m afraid I can’t,” Angelina replied, apologetically. “I don’t think
+her name was known.”
+
+“But--er--” the astounded coroner inquired, “how did she come by her
+death?”
+
+“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that either,” replied Angelina. “The fact
+is, I never asked.”
+
+“You never asked!” the coroner repeated, in a tone of bewilderment.
+“But--er--are we to understand that--in short, did you or did you not
+cause the death of this person by your own act? Of course,” he added
+hastily, “you are not bound to answer that question.”
+
+Angelina smiled at him engagingly. “I will answer with pleasure. I did
+not cause the death of this person.”
+
+“Then are we to understand that she was already dead when you found
+her?”
+
+“I didn’t find her. I bought her; at a shop in Great St.
+Andrew-street. I gave four pounds, fourteen and three-pence for her,
+including two and three-pence to Carter Paterson’s. I’ve brought the
+bill with me.”
+
+She produced the bill from her pocket and handed it to the coroner,
+who read it with a portentous frown and a perceptible twitching at the
+corners of his mouth.
+
+“I will read this document to you, gentlemen,” he said in a slightly
+unsteady voice. “It is dated the 19th of April, and reads: ‘Bought of
+Oscar Hammerstein, Dealer in Human and Comparative Osteology, Great
+St. Andrew-street, London, W.C., one complete set superfine human
+osteology, disarticulated and unbleached (female), as selected by
+purchaser, four pounds eight shillings and sixpence. Replacing and
+cementing missing teeth, one shilling and sixpence. Packing case, two
+shillings. Carriage, two and three pence. Total, four pounds, fourteen
+and three-pence. Received with thanks, O. Hammerstein.’ Perhaps you
+would like to see the bill, yourselves, gentlemen.”
+
+He passed it to the foreman, taking a quick glance out of the corners
+of his eyes at the bland and impassive Angelina, and the jury studied
+it in a deep silence, which was broken only by a soft, gurgling sound,
+from somewhere behind me, which, I discovered, on looking round, to
+proceed from Sergeant Cobbledick, whose crimsoned face was partly
+hidden by a large handkerchief and whose shoulders moved convulsively.
+
+Presently the coroner addressed Thorndyke. “In continuation of your
+evidence, Doctor, does Mrs. Frood’s explanation agree with any
+conclusions that you had arrived at from your inspection of the
+remains?”
+
+“It agrees with them completely,” Thorndyke replied with a grim smile.
+
+The coroner entered the answer in the depositions, and then turned
+once more to Angelina.
+
+“With regard to the objects that were found with the skeleton; did you
+put them there?”
+
+“Yes. I put in the metal things and a few pieces of scorched rag to
+give a realistic effect--on account of the lime, you know.”
+
+“And the articles that were recovered from the river, too, I suppose?”
+
+“Yes, I put them down--with proper precautions, of course.”
+
+“What do you mean by proper precautions?”
+
+“Well, I couldn’t afford to waste any of the things, so I used to keep
+a lookout with a telescope, and then, when I saw a likely person
+coming along, I put one of the things down where it could be seen.”
+
+“And were they always seen?”
+
+“No. Some people are very unobservant. In that case I picked it up
+when the coast was clear and saved it for another time.”
+
+The coroner chuckled. “It was all very ingenious and complete. But
+now, Mrs. Frood, we have to ask you what was the object of these
+extraordinary proceedings. It was not a joke, I presume?”
+
+“Oh, not at all,” replied Angelina. “It was a perfectly serious
+affair. You have heard what sort of husband I had. I couldn’t possibly
+live with him. I made several attempts to get away and live by myself,
+but he always followed me and found me out. So I determined to
+disappear altogether.”
+
+“You could have applied for a separation,” said the coroner.
+
+“I shouldn’t have got it,” replied Angelina, “and even if I had, of
+what use would it have been? I should have been bound to him for life.
+I couldn’t have married anyone else. My whole life would have been
+spoilt. So I decided to disappear completely and for good, and start
+life afresh in a new place and under a new name. And in order that
+there should be no mistake about it, I thought I would leave
+the--er--the material for a coroner’s inquest and a will directing
+that a suitable monument should be put up over my grave. Then, if I
+had ever married again, there would have been no danger of a charge of
+bigamy. If anyone had made any such suggestion, I could have referred
+them to the registrar of deaths and to the tombstone of Angelina Frood
+in Rochester churchyard.”
+
+“And as to a birth certificate under your new name?” the coroner asked
+with a twinkle of his eye.
+
+Angelina smiled a prim little smile. “I think that could have been
+managed,” she said.
+
+“Well,” said the coroner, “it was an ingenious scheme. But apparently
+Dr. Thorndyke knew who Mr. Bundy was. How do you suppose he discovered
+your identity?”
+
+“That is just what I should like to know,” she replied.
+
+“So should I,” said the coroner, with a broad smile; “but, of course,
+it isn’t my affair or that of the jury. We are concerned with this
+skeleton that you have planted on us. I suppose you can give us no
+idea as to where it came from originally?”
+
+“The dealer said it had been found in a barrow--not a wheel-barrow,
+you know; an ancient burial-place. Of course, I don’t know whether he
+was speaking the truth.”
+
+“What do you think, Dr. Thorndyke?” the coroner asked.
+
+“I think it is an ancient skeleton, though very well preserved. Some
+of the teeth--the original ones--show more wear than one expects to
+find in a modern skull. But I only made a cursory inspection.”
+
+“I think the evidence is sufficient for our purpose,” said the
+coroner; “and that really concludes the case, so we need not detain
+you any longer, Mrs. Frood. I don’t know exactly what your legal
+position is; whether you have committed any legal offence. If you
+have, it is not our business; and I think I am expressing the
+sentiments of the jury if I say that I hope that the authorities will
+not make it their business. No one has been injured, and no action
+seems to be called for.”
+
+With these sentiments the jury concurred warmly, as also did Sergeant
+Cobbledick, who was heard, very audibly and regardless of the
+proprieties, to murmur “Hear, hear.” We waited to learn the nature of
+the verdict, and when this had been pronounced (to the effect that the
+skeleton was that of an unknown woman, concerning the circumstances of
+whose death no evidence was available), the court rose and we prepared
+to depart.
+
+“You are coming back to lunch with us, Angelina?” said I.
+
+“I should love to,” she replied, “but there is Mr. Japp. Do you think
+you could ask him, too?”
+
+“Of course,” I replied, with a sudden perception of the advantage of
+even numbers. “We shouldn’t be complete without him.”
+
+Japp accepted with enthusiasm, and, after a hasty farewell to
+Cobbledick, we went forth into the High Street, by no means unobserved
+of the populace. As we approached the neighbourhood of the office
+Angelina said: “I must run into my rooms for a few moments just to
+tidy myself up a little. It was such a very hurried toilette. I won’t
+be more than a few minutes. You needn’t wait for me.”
+
+“I suggest,” said Thorndyke, “that Mr. Japp and I go on and break the
+news to Mrs. Dunk that there is a lady guest, and that Strangeways
+remains behind to escort the prisoner.”
+
+I fell in readily with this admirable suggestion, and as the two men
+walked on, I followed Angelina up the steps and waited while she plied
+her latch-key. We entered the hall together and then went into the
+sitting-room, where she stood for a moment, looking round with deep
+satisfaction.
+
+“It’s nice to be home again,” she said, “and to feel that all that
+fuss is over.”
+
+“I daresay it is,” said I. “But now that you are home, what have you
+got to say for yourself? You are a nice little baggage, aren’t you?”
+
+“I am a little beast, John,” she replied. “I’ve been a perfect pig to
+you. But I didn’t mean to be, and I really couldn’t help it. You’ll
+try to forgive me, won’t you?”
+
+“The fact is, Angelina,” I said, “I am afraid I am in love with you.”
+
+“Oh, I hope to goodness you are, John,” she exclaimed. “If I thought
+you weren’t I should wish myself a skeleton again. Do you think you
+really are?”
+
+She crept closer to me with such a sweet, wheedlesome air that I
+suddenly caught her in my arms and kissed her.
+
+“It does seem as if you were,” she admitted with a roguish smile; and
+then--such unaccountable creatures are women--she laid her head on my
+shoulder and began to sob. But this was only a passing shower. Another
+kiss brought back the sunshine and then she tripped away to spread
+fresh entanglements for the masculine heart.
+
+In a few minutes she returned, further adorned and looking to my eyes
+the very picture of womanly sweetness and grace. When I had given
+confirmatory evidence of my sentiments towards her, we went out, just
+in time to encounter Mrs. Gillow and acquaint her with the program.
+
+“I suppose,” said Angelina, glancing furtively at a little party of
+women who were glancing, not at all furtively, at her, “one should be
+gratified at the interest shown by one’s fellow towns-people; but
+don’t you think the back streets would be preferable to the
+High-street?”
+
+“It is no use, my dear,” I replied. “We’ve got to face it. Take no
+notice. Regard these bipeds that infest the footways as mere samples
+of the local fauna. Let them stare and ignore them. For my part, I
+rather like them. They impress on me the admirable bargain that I have
+made in swapping Peter Bundy for a beautiful lady.”
+
+“Poor Peter,” she said, pensively. “He was a sad boy sometimes when he
+looked at his big, handsome John and thought that mere friendship was
+all that he could hope for when his poor little heart was starving for
+love. Your deal isn’t the only successful one, John, so you needn’t be
+so conceited. But here we are home--really home, this time, for this
+has been my real home, John, dear. And there--Oh! Moses!--there is
+Mrs. Dunk, waiting to receive us!”
+
+“What used you to do to Mrs. Dunk,” I asked, “to make her so furious?”
+
+“I only used to inquire after her health,” Angelina replied
+plaintively. “But mum’s the word. She’ll spot my voice as soon as I
+speak.”
+
+Mrs. Dunk held the door open ceremoniously and curtsied as we entered.
+She was a gruff old woman, but she had a deep respect for
+“gentlefolk,” as is apt to be the way with old servants. Angelina
+acknowledged her salutation with a gracious smile and followed her
+meekly up the stairs to the room that Mrs. Dunk had allotted to her.
+
+I found Thorndyke and Japp established in the library--Dr. Partridge
+had dispensed with a drawing-room and I followed his excellent
+example--and here presently Angelina joined us, sailing majestically
+into the room and marching up to Thorndyke with an air at once hostile
+and defiant.
+
+“Serpent,” said Angelina.
+
+“Not at all,” Thorndyke dissented with a smile. “You should be
+grateful to me for having rescued you from your own barbed-wire
+entanglements.”
+
+“Serpent, I repeat,” persisted Angelina. “To let me sit in that
+court-room watching all the innocents walking into my trap one after
+another, and then, just as I thought they were all inside, to hand me
+a thing like that!” and she produced, dramatically, a small sheet of
+paper, which I recognized as the remainder of Thorndyke’s note. I took
+it from her, and read: “You see whither the evidence is leading. The
+deception cannot be maintained, nor is there any need, now that your
+husband is dead. Explanations must be given either by you or by me.
+For your own sake I urge you to explain everything and clear yourself.
+Let me know what you will do.”
+
+“This is an extraordinary document,” I said, passing it to Japp. “How
+in the name of Fortune did you know that Bundy was Angelina?”
+
+“Yes, how did you?” the latter demanded. “It is for you to give an
+explanation now.”
+
+“We will have the explanations after lunch,” said he; “mutual
+explanations. I want to hear how far I was correct in details.”
+
+“Very well,” agreed Angelina, “we will both explain. But you will have
+the first innings. You are not going to listen to my explanation and
+then say you knew all about it. And that reminds me, John, that you
+had better tell Mrs. Dunk. She is sure to recognize my voice.”
+
+I quite agreed with Angelina and hurried away to intercept Mrs. Dunk
+and let her know the position. She was at first decidedly shocked, but
+a vivid and detailed description of the late Mr. Frood produced a
+complete revulsion; so complete, in fact, as to lead me to speculate
+on the personal characteristics of the late Mr. Dunk. But her
+curiosity was aroused to such an extent that, while waiting at table,
+she hardly removed her eyes from Angelina, until the latter, finding
+the scrutiny unbearable, suddenly produced the hated eye-glass, and,
+sticking it in her eye, directed a stern glance at the old woman, who
+instantly backed towards the door with a growl of alarm, and then
+sniggered hoarsely.
+
+It was a festive occasion, for we were all in exuberant spirits,
+including Mr. Japp, who, if he said little, made up the deficiency in
+smiles of forty-wrinkle power, which, together with his upstanding
+tuft of white hair, made him look like a convivial cockatoo.
+
+“Do you remember our last meeting at this table?” said Angelina, “when
+I jeered at the famous expert and pulled his reverend leg, thinking
+what a smart young fellow I was, and how beautifully I was bamboozling
+him? And all the while he knew! He knew! And ‘Not a word said the
+hard-boiled egg.’ Oh, serpent! serpent!”
+
+Thorndyke chuckled. “You didn’t leave the hard-boiled egg much to
+say,” he observed.
+
+“No. But why were you so secret? Why didn’t you let on, just a little,
+to give poor Bundy a hint as to where he was plunging?”
+
+“My dear Mrs. Frood----”
+
+“Oh, call me Angelina,” she interrupted.
+
+“Thank you,” said he. “Well, my dear Angelina, you are forgetting that
+I didn’t know what was in the wall.”
+
+“My goodness!” she exclaimed. “I had overlooked that. Of course, it
+might have been-- Good gracious! How awful!” She paused with her eyes
+fixed on Thorndyke, and then asked: “Supposing it had been?”
+
+“I refuse to suppose anything of the kind,” he replied. “My
+explanations will deal with the actual, not with the hypothetical.”
+
+There was silence for a minute or two. Like Angelina, I was
+speculating on what Thorndyke would have done if the remains had been
+real remains--and those of a man. He had evidently sympathized warmly
+with the hunted wife; but if her defence had taken the form of a
+crime, would he have exposed her? It was useless to ask him. I have
+often thought about it since, but have never reached a conclusion.
+
+“You will have to answer questions better than that presently,” said
+Angelina; “but I won’t ask you any more now. You shall finish your
+lunch in peace, and then--into the witness-box you go. I am going to
+have satisfaction for that note.”
+
+The little festival went on, unhurried, with an abundance of cheerful
+and rather frivolous talk. But at last, like all fugitive things, it
+came to an end. The table was cleared, and garnished with the port
+decanter and the coffee service, and Mrs. Dunk, with a final glower,
+half-defiant and half-admiring, at Angelina, took her departure.
+
+“Now,” said Angelina, as I poured out the coffee, “the time has come
+to talk of many things, but especially of expert investigations into
+the identity of Peter Bundy. Your lead, Sir.”
+
+
+
+
+ CHAPTER XIX.
+ EXPLANATIONS
+
+“The investigation of this case,” Thorndyke began, “falls naturally
+into two separate inquiries: that relating to the crime and that which
+is concerned with what we may conveniently call the personation. They
+make certain contacts, but they are best considered separately. Let us
+begin with the crime.
+
+“Now, to a person having experience of real crime, there was, in this
+case, from the very beginning, something rather abnormal. A woman of
+good social position had disappeared. There was a suggestion that she
+had been murdered; and the murder had apparently been committed in
+some public place, that is to say, not in a house. But in such cases,
+normally, the first evidence of the crime is furnished by the
+discovery of the body. It is true that, in this case, there was a
+suggestion that the body had been flung into the river, and this, at
+first, masked the abnormality to some extent. But even then there was
+the discrepancy that the brooch, which was attached to the person,
+appeared to have been found on land, while the bag, which was not
+attached to the person, was picked up at the water’s edge. The bag
+itself, and the box which had been in it, presented several
+inconsistencies.
+
+“They had apparently been lying unnoticed for eleven days on a piece
+of shore that was crowded with small craft and frequently by numbers
+of seamen and labourers, and that formed a play-ground for the
+waterside children. The clean state of the box when found showed that
+it had neither been handled nor immersed, and as the wrapping-paper
+was intact, the person who had taken it out of the bag must have
+thrown it away without opening it to see what it contained. The bag
+was found under some light rubbish. That rubbish had not been thrown
+on it by the water, or the bag would have been soaked; and no one
+could have thrown the rubbish on it without seeing the bag, which was
+an article of some value. Again, the bag had not been carried to this
+place by the water, as was proved by its condition.
+
+“Therefore, either this was the place where the crime had been
+committed, or someone had brought the bag to this place and thrown it
+away. But neither supposition was reasonably probable. It was
+inconceivable that a person like Mrs. Frood should have been in this
+remote, inaccessible, disreputable place at such an hour. The bag
+could not have been brought here by an innocent person, for no such
+person would have thrown it away. It was quite a valuable bag. And a
+guilty person would have thrown it in the river, and probably put a
+stone in it to sink it. So you see that these first clues were
+strikingly abnormal. They prepared one to consider the possibility of
+false tracks. Even the brooch incident had a faint suggestion of the
+same kind when considered with the other clues. The man who pawned the
+brooch had a mole on his nose. Such an adornment can be easily
+produced artificially. It is highly distinctive of the person who
+possesses it, and it is equally distinctive--negatively--of the person
+who does not possess it. Then there was the character of the person
+who had disappeared. She was a woman who was seeking to escape from
+her husband; and hitherto she had not succeeded because she had not
+hidden herself securely enough. She was a person of a somewhat
+disappearing tendency. She had an understandable motive for
+disappearing.
+
+“From the very beginning, therefore, the possibility of voluntary
+disappearance had to be borne in mind. And when it was, each new clue
+seemed to support it. There was the scarf, for instance. It was found
+under a fish-trunk; an unlikely place for it to have got by chance,
+but an excellent one for a ‘plant.’ The scarf was not baldly exposed,
+but someone was sure to turn the trunk over and find it. And at this
+point another peculiarity began to develop. There was a noticeable
+tendency for the successive ‘finds’ to creep up the river from Chatham
+towards Rochester Bridge. It was not yet very remarkable, but I
+noticed it, as I entered each find on my map. The brooch was
+associated with Chatham, the bag and box with the Chatham shore a
+little farther up, the scarf with the Rochester shore at Blue Boar
+Head. As I say, it attracted my attention; and when the first shoe was
+found above Blue Boar Head, the second shoe farther up still, and the
+hat-pin yet farther up towards the bridge, it became impossible to
+ignore it. There was no natural explanation. Whether the body were
+floating or stationary, the constancy of direction was inexplicable;
+for the tide sweeps up and down twice daily, and objects detached from
+the body would be carried up or down stream, according to the
+direction of the tide when they became detached. This regular order
+was a most suspicious circumstance. Later, when the objects were found
+in Black Boy-lane, it became absurd. It was a mere paper-chase. Just
+look at my map.”
+
+He exhibited the large-scale map, on which each “find” was marked by a
+small circle. The series of circles, joined by a connecting line,
+proceeded directly from near Sun Pier, Chatham, along the shore, and
+up Black Boy-lane to the gate of the waste ground, and across it to
+the wall.
+
+Angelina giggled. “You can’t say I didn’t make it as easy as I could
+for poor old Cobbledick,” she said. “Of course, I never reckoned on
+anyone bringing up the heavy guns. By the way, I wonder who your
+private client was. Do you know, John?” she added, with a sudden
+glance of suspicion; and, as I grinned sheepishly, she exclaimed:
+“Well! I wouldn’t have believed it. It was a regular conspiracy. But I
+am interrupting the expert. Proceed, my lord.”
+
+“Well,” Thorndyke resumed, “we have considered the aspect of the crime
+problem taken by itself, as it appeared to an experienced
+investigator. From the first there was a suspicion that the clues were
+counterfeit, and with each new clue this suspicion deepened. And you
+will notice an important corollary. If the case was a fraud, that
+fraud was being worked by someone on the spot. Keep that point in
+mind, for it has a most significant bearing on the other problem, that
+of the personation, to which we will now turn our attention. But
+before we go into details, there are certain general considerations
+that we ought to note, in order that we may understand more clearly
+how the deception became possible.
+
+“The subject of personation and disguise is often misunderstood. It is
+apt to be supposed that a disguise effects a complete transformation
+resulting in a complete resemblance to the individual personated--or,
+as in this case, a complete disappearance of the identity of the
+disguised person. But no such transformation is possible. All disguise
+is a form of bluff. It acts by suggestion. And the suggestion is
+effected by a set of misleading circumstances which produce in the
+dupe a state of mind in which a very imperfect disguise serves to
+produce conviction. That is the psychology of personation, and I can
+only express my admiration of the way in which Angelina had grasped
+it. Her conduct of this delicate deception was really masterly. Let us
+consider it in more detail.
+
+“Mr. Bundy was ostensibly a man. But if he had been put in a room with
+a dozen moderately intelligent persons, and those persons had been
+asked, ‘Is this individual a man? or is he a woman with short hair and
+dressed in man’s clothing?’ they would probably have decided
+unanimously that he was a woman. But the question never was asked. The
+issue was never raised. He was Mr. Bundy. One doesn’t look at young
+men to see if they are women in disguise.
+
+“Then consider the position of Strangeways--the chosen victim. He
+comes to a strange town to transact business with a firm of land
+agents. He goes into the office, and finds the partners--whose names
+are on the plate outside, and to whom he has been sent by his London
+agent--engaged in their normal avocations. He transacts his business
+with them in a normal way, and Mr. Bundy seems to be an ordinary,
+capable young man. He goes back later and interviews Mr. Bundy, who is
+just on the point of taking him to introduce him to Mrs. Frood, when
+he is called away. Then, within a few minutes, he is taken to Mrs.
+Frood’s house, where he finds that lady calmly engaged in needlework.
+Supposing Mrs. Frood had been extremely like Bundy, could it possibly
+have entered Strangeways’s head that they might be one and the same
+person? Remember that he had left Bundy in another place only a few
+minutes before; and here was Mrs. Frood in her own apartments, with
+the appearance of having been there for hours. Obviously no such
+thought could have occurred to any man. There was nothing to suggest
+it.
+
+“But, in fact, Angelina was not perceptibly like Bundy on cursory
+inspection. They were markedly different in size. A woman always looks
+bigger than a man of the same height. Bundy was a little man and
+looked smaller than he was by reason of his very low heels; Angelina
+was a biggish woman and looked taller than she was by reason of her
+high heels and her hair. Disregarding her hair, she was fully two
+inches taller than Bundy.
+
+“Then the facial resemblance must have been slight. Angelina had a
+mass of hair and wore it low down on her brows and temples; Bundy’s
+hair was short and was brushed back from his forehead. Angelina had
+strong, black eyebrows; Bundy’s eyebrows were thin, or rather, cut off
+short. Angelina was pale, careworn, dark under the eyes, with drooping
+mouth, melancholy expression and depressed in manner; Bundy was
+fresh-coloured, smiling, gay and sprightly in manner and he wore an
+eye-glass--which has a surprising effect on facial expression. Their
+voices and intonation were strikingly different. Finally, Strangeways
+never saw Angelina excepting in a very subdued light in which any
+small resemblances in features would be unnoticeable.
+
+“And now observe another effect of suggestion. Strangeways had made
+the acquaintance of Mr. Bundy. Then he had made the acquaintance of
+Mrs. Frood. They were two separate persons; they were practically
+strangers to one another; they belonged to different sets of
+surroundings. He would never think of them in connexion with one
+another. They were two of his friends, mutually unacquainted. In this
+condition of separateness they would become established in his mind,
+and the conception of them as different persons would become confirmed
+by habit. It would be a permanent suggestion that would offer an
+obstacle to any future suggestion that they were the same. That was
+the advantage of introducing Bundy first, for if he had appeared only
+after Angelina had disappeared, there would have been no such opposing
+suggestion. The resemblances might have been noticed, and he might
+have been detected.
+
+“In passing I may remark upon the tact and judgment that were shown in
+the disguise. The troublesome make-up, the wig, the false eyebrows,
+the grease-paint, the false voice, all were concentrated on the
+temporary Mrs. Frood, who was to disappear. Bundy was not disguised at
+all, excepting for the eye-glass. He was simply Angelina with her hair
+cut short and dressed as a man. He hadn’t even an assumed voice; for
+as Angelina is a contralto, and habitually speaks in the lower
+register, her voice would pass quite well as a light tenor, so long as
+she kept off the ‘head notes.’
+
+“So much for the general aspects of the case. And now as to my own
+position. As I had never seen Angelina, I naturally should not
+perceive any resemblance to her in Bundy; but, equally with
+Strangeways, I was subject to the suggestion that Bundy was a man. The
+personal equation, however, was different. It is my professional habit
+to reject all mental suggestion so far as is possible; to sift out the
+facts and consider them with an open mind regardless of what they
+appear to suggest. And then you are to remember that when I first met
+Mr. Bundy, there was already in my mind a faint suspicion that this
+was not a genuine crime; that things were not quite what they
+appeared; and that if this were the case, the clues were being
+manipulated by somebody on the spot.
+
+“When I met Mr. Bundy, I looked him over as I look over every person
+whom I meet for the first time; and that inspection yielded one or two
+rather remarkable facts. I noticed that he wore exceptionally low
+heels and that he had several physical characteristics that were
+distinctively feminine. The very low heels puzzled me somewhat. If
+they had been exceptionally high there would have been nothing in it.
+But why should a noticeably short man wear almost abnormally low
+heels? I could think of no reason, unless he wore them for greater
+comfort, but I noted the fact and reserved it for further
+consideration.
+
+“Of his physical peculiarities, the first that attracted my attention
+was the shape of his hands. They were quite of the feminine type. Of
+course, hands vary, but still it was a fact to be noted, and the
+observation caused me to look him over a little more critically; and
+then I discovered a number of other feminine characteristics.
+
+“Perhaps it may be useful to consider briefly the less obvious
+differences between the sexes--the more obvious ones would, of course,
+be provided for by the disguise. There are two principal groups of
+such differences; the one has reference to the distribution of bulk,
+the other to the direction of certain lines. Let us take the
+distribution of bulk. This exhibits opposite tendencies in the two
+sexes. In the female, the great mass is central--the hip region; and
+from this the form diminishes in both directions. The whole figure,
+including the arms, is contained in an elongated ellipse. And the
+tendency affects the individual members. The limbs are bulky where
+they join the trunk, they taper pretty regularly towards the
+extremities, and they terminate in relatively small hands and feet.
+The hands themselves taper as a whole, and the individual fingers
+taper markedly from a comparatively thick base to a pointed tip.
+
+“In the male figure the opposite condition prevails; it tends to be
+acromegalous. The central mass is relatively small, the peripheral
+masses is relatively large. The hip region is narrow, and there is a
+great widening towards the shoulders. The limbs taper much less
+towards the extremities, and they terminate in relatively large hands
+and feet. So, too, with the hands; they tend to be square in shape,
+and the individual fingers--excepting the index finger--are nearly as
+broad at the tips as at the base.
+
+“Of the second group of differences we need consider only one or two
+instances. The general rule is that certain contour lines tend in the
+male to be vertical or horizontal in direction and in the female to be
+oblique. A man’s neck, at the back, is nearly straight and vertical; a
+woman’s shows a sweeping oblique curve. The angle of a man’s lower jaw
+is nearly a right angle; there is a vertical and a horizontal ramus. A
+woman’s lower jaw has an open angle and its contour forms an oblique
+line from the ear to the chin. But the most distinctive difference is
+in the ear itself. A man’s ear has its long diameter vertical; a
+woman’s has the long diameter oblique; and the obliquity is usually
+very marked.
+
+“Bearing these differences in mind, and remembering that they are
+subject to variation in individual cases, let us now return to Mr.
+Bundy. His hands, as I have said, had the feminine character. His feet
+were small even for a small man; his ears were set obliquely and the
+line of his jaw was oblique with an open angle. His shoulders had
+evidently been made up by the tailor, and he seemed rather wide across
+the hips for a man. In short, all those bodily characteristics which
+were not concealed or disguised by the clothing were feminine. It was
+a rather remarkable fact; so much so that I began to ask myself if it
+were possible that he might actually be a woman in disguise.
+
+“I watched him narrowly. There was nothing distinctive in his walk,
+but there was in the movements of the arms. He flourished his stick
+jauntily enough, but he had not that ‘nice conduct of a clouded cane’
+that is as much a social cachet in our day as it was in the days of
+good Queen Anne. It needs a skill born of years of practice to manage
+a stick properly, as one realizes when one sees the working man taking
+his Malacca for its Sunday morning walk. Mr. Bundy had not that skill.
+His stick was a thing consciously carried; it was not a part of
+himself. Then the movement of the free arm was feminine. When a woman
+swings her arm she swings it through a large arc, especially in the
+backward direction--probably to avoid her hip--and the palm of the
+hand tends to be turned backward. A man’s free arm either hangs
+motionless or swings slightly, unless he is walking very fast; it
+swings principally forward, and the palm of his hand inclines inwards.
+These are small matters, but their cumulative significance is great.
+
+“Further, there was the mental habit. Bundy was jocose and playfully
+ironic. But a gentleman of twenty-five doesn’t ‘pull the leg’ of a
+gentleman of fifty whom he knows but slightly; whereas a lady of
+twenty-five does. And very properly,” he added, seeing that Angelina
+had turned rather pink. “That is a compliment in a young lady which
+would be an impertinence in a young man. No doubt, when the equality
+of the sexes is an accomplished fact, things will be different.”
+
+“It will never be an accomplished fact,” said Angelina. “The equality
+of the sexes is like the equality of the classes. The people who roar
+for social equality are the under-dogs; and the women who shout for
+sex equality are the under-cats. Normal women are satisfied with
+things as they are.”
+
+“Hearken unto the wisdom of Angelina,” said Thorndyke, with a smile.
+“But perhaps she is right. It may be that the women who are so eager
+to compete with men are those who can’t compete with women. I can’t
+say. I have never been a woman: whereas Angelina has the advantage of
+being able to view the question from both sides.
+
+“The _prima facie_ evidence, then, suggested that Mr. Bundy was a
+woman. But as this was a _prima facie_ improbability, the matter had
+to be gone into further. On Mr. Bundy’s cheeks and chin was a faint
+blue colouration, suggestive of such a growth of whiskers and beard as
+would be appropriate to his age. Now if those whiskers and that beard
+were genuine, the other signs were fallacious. Mr. Bundy must be a
+man. But his cheeks looked perfectly smooth and clean; and it was
+about seven o’clock in the evening. My own cheeks and Strangeways’
+were by this time visibly prickly; and as he had been with us all day,
+Mr. Bundy could not have shaved since the morning. I tried vainly to
+get a closer view, and was considering how it could be managed when
+Providence intervened.”
+
+“I know,” said Angelina. “It was that beastly mosquito.”
+
+“Yes,” agreed Thorndyke. “But even then I could not get a chance to
+look at the skin closely. But when we got Mr. Bundy into the surgery,
+and examined the bite through a lens, the murder was out.”
+
+“You could see there were no whiskers?” said Angelina.
+
+“It wasn’t that,” replied Thorndyke. “It was something much more
+conclusive. You may know that the whole of the human body excepting
+the palms of the hands, the soles of the feet, and the eyelids, is
+covered with a fine down, technically called the lanugo. It consists
+of minute, nearly colourless hairs set quite closely together, and may
+be seen as a sort of halo on the face of a woman or child when the
+edge of the contour is against the light. On the face of a
+clean-shaved man it is, of course, absent, as it is shaved off with
+the whiskers. Now on Mr. Bundy’s face the lanugo was intact all over
+the blue area. It followed that he had never been shaved. It further
+followed that the blue colouration was an artificial stain. But this
+made it practically a certainty that Mr. Bundy was a woman.
+
+“The question now was: If Mr. Bundy was a woman, what woman was he?
+The obvious answer seemed to be, Angelina Frood. She was missing; but
+if the disappearance was an imposture, someone on the spot was
+planting the clues. That someone would most probably be Mrs. Frood,
+herself. But if she were lurking in the neighbourhood, she must be
+disguised; and here was a disguised woman. Nevertheless, obvious as
+the suggestion was, the thing suggested seemed to be impossible.
+Strangeways knew both Angelina and Bundy and he had not recognized the
+latter; and I had a vague impression that he had seen them together,
+which, of course, would absolutely exclude their identity. A little
+judicious conversation with him, however, showed that neither
+objection had any weight. He had never seen them both at one time; and
+his description of Mrs. Frood made it clear that she had appeared to
+him totally unlike Bundy.
+
+“The next thing was to ascertain definitely if this woman really was
+Mrs. Frood, and fortunately I had the means of making a very simple
+test. Strangeways had given me a photograph of Angelina bearing the
+address of a theatrical photographer, and from him I obtained seven
+different photographs in various poses. Then I received from
+Strangeways the group-photograph that was taken of us by the city
+wall, which contained an excellent portrait of Mr. Bundy. Out of this
+photograph I cut a small square containing Bundy’s head, soaked it in
+oil of bergamot, and mounted it in Canada balsam on a glass plate.
+This made the paper quite transparent, so I now had a transparent
+positive. I selected from the photographs of Angelina one that was in
+a pose exactly similar to the portrait of Bundy--practically full
+face--and treated it in the same way. Then I handed the two
+transparencies to my assistant, and he, by means of our big copying
+camera, produced two life-sized negatives, exactly alike in
+dimensions. With prints from these negatives we were able to perform
+some experiments. From Angelina’s portrait I carefully cut out the
+face, leaving the hair and neck, and slipped Bundy’s portrait behind
+it, so that his face appeared through the hole. We could now see how
+Bundy looked with Angelina’s hair, and, on putting it beside an
+untouched portrait of Angelina, it was obvious, in spite of the
+eye-glass, that it was the same face. For you must remember that the
+Angelina that we had was the real person, not the made-up Angelina
+whom Strangeways had seen.
+
+“This success encouraged us to take a little more trouble. My man,
+Polton, made some black paper masks, with the aid of which he produced
+two composite photographs, one of which had Bundy’s face and
+Angelina’s hair, neck, and bust, while the other had Angelina’s face
+and Bundy’s hair, forehead, neck, and bust. The eye-glass was the
+disturbing factor, though it showed very little, and Bundy managed it
+so skilfully that it hardly affected the shape of the eye and the set
+of the brow. Still, it was necessary to eliminate it, and as painting
+was out of our province, we invoked the aid of Mrs. Anstey, who is a
+very talented portrait painter and miniaturist. She touched out the
+joins in the composites, painted out the eye-glass in the one and
+painted an eye-glass into the other. And now the identity was
+complete. The Bundy-Angelina portrait was identical with the
+photographer’s portrait, and the Angelina-Bundy photograph was Mr.
+Bundy to the life.
+
+“However, we made a final test. Polton reduced the Bundy-Angelina
+portrait to cabinet size, and made a couple of carbon prints, which I
+brought down here and exhibited; and as Strangeways accepted them as
+portraits of Angelina, I considered the proof complete.”
+
+Here Angelina interrupted: “But what about that brooch? I never had a
+brooch like that.”
+
+Thorndyke smiled a grim smile. “I asked Mrs. Anstey to paint in a
+brooch of a characteristic design.”
+
+“What for?” asked Angelina.
+
+“Ah!” said Thorndyke, “thereby hangs a tale.”
+
+“Oh! a serpent’s tail, I suppose,” said Angelina.
+
+“You will be able to judge presently,” he replied. “The brooch had its
+uses. Well, to continue: The identity of Mr. Bundy was now established
+as a moral certainty. But it was not certain enough for legal
+purposes. I wanted conclusive evidence; and I wanted to ascertain
+exactly how the transformation effects were worked. I had noted that
+Bundy and Angelina occupied adjoining houses which were virtually the
+two moieties of a double house with a common covered passageway. I
+assumed that the two houses communicated, but it was necessary to
+ascertain if they really did. The only way to establish the facts was
+to inspect the house in which Angelina had lived, and this I
+determined to do, in the very faint hope that I might be able, at the
+same time, to get one or more of Angelina’s finger-prints. I made a
+pretext for visiting the house with Strangeways, and we had the
+extraordinary good luck to find Mrs. Gillow just going out, so we had
+the house to ourselves. But this was not the only piece of luck, for
+we found that Angelina had taken a drink from the bedroom tumbler and
+water-bottle before going out, and had left on them a complete set of
+beautiful finger-prints, of which I secured a number of admirable
+photographs.
+
+“Examination of the basement showed that I was right as to the
+communication. Both houses had a side door opening into the
+passage-way, and both doors were fitted with Yale latches which looked
+as if they were opened with the same key. The passage was little used,
+but the gravel between the two doors was a good deal trodden, and
+there were numerous finger-prints on Angelina’s side-door. In the
+kitchen was a large cupboard fitted with a Yale lock on the door and
+pegs inside. I assumed that when Angelina was at home that cupboard
+contained a suit of Mr. Bundy’s clothes, and that when Mr. Bundy was
+in the office it contained a wig and a dress and a pair of lady’s
+shoes.
+
+“Well, that made the evidence fairly complete with one exception. We
+had to get a set of Bundy’s finger-prints to compare with Angelina’s.
+That was where the brooch came in. I knew that when Mr. Bundy saw a
+portrait of his former self with a brooch that he had never possessed,
+his curiosity would be aroused, and he would examine that portrait
+closely. And so he did. And on my asking him to compare the two
+prints, he took the opportunity to pick them both up, one in each
+hand, to scrutinize them more minutely, and find out who the
+photographer was. When he put them down, they bore a complete, though
+invisible, set of his finger-prints. Later, Mr. Bundy went home,
+escorted by Strangeways. As soon as they were gone, I took the
+photographs up to my room, developed up the finger-prints with powder,
+and compared them minutely, line by line, with the photographs of
+those on the tumbler and bottle. They were identical. The
+finger-prints of Bundy were the finger-prints of Angelina Frood.
+
+“That completed the case; and if I had known what Angelina’s
+intentions were I should have notified Bundy that ‘the game was up.’
+But I was in the dark. I could do nothing until I knew whether she was
+going to produce a body, and if so, whose body it would be. The city
+wall was in my mind as a possibility, since I had noted the curious
+disappearance of the gate-key on that significant date and I had heard
+of the story of Bill the bargee and knew that Bundy had heard it, and
+apparently taken it seriously. But one can’t act on conjecture. I
+could only watch Angelina play her game and try to follow the moves.
+When the paper-chase turned up Black Boy-lane, I knew that the
+wall-burial was intended to be discovered. But I didn’t know what was
+in the wall, and I may say that I was rather alarmed. For if Angelina
+had taken the story of Bill as a reliable precedent and had buried a
+real body in quicklime, there was going to be a catastrophe. It was an
+immense relief to me when I got Strangeways’ report that only a
+skeleton had been found; for I knew then that only a skeleton had been
+buried and that no crime had been committed. That is all I have to
+tell; and now it is Angelina’s turn to enter the confessional.”
+
+“You haven’t left me much to tell,” said Angelina. “I feel as if I had
+been doing the thimble and pea trick with glass thimbles. However, I
+will fill in a few details. This scheme first occurred to me when I
+came down here to take over the property that had been left to me. I
+put it confidentially to Uncle Japp, but he was so shocked that he has
+never been able to get his hair to lie down since. He wouldn’t hear of
+it. So I asked him to lunch with poor Nicholas; and after that he was
+ready to agree to anything. Accordingly I made my preparations. I got
+a theatrical wig-maker to cut off my hair and make it into a wig (I
+told him I had a man’s part and it was expected to be a long run), got
+a suit made by a theatrical costumier, and down I came as Mr. Bundy.
+Uncle J. had already had the new plate put up. The next door offices
+and basement were empty, so we got them furnished for Angelina, and as
+soon as the wig was ready, down she came and took possession.
+
+“Up to this time the third act was a bit sketchy. I had arranged the
+disappearance, and the recovery of the clues from the river, and I had
+a plan of buying a mummy, dressing it in my clothes, and burying it in
+the marshes close to the shore, where I could discover it when it had
+matured sufficiently. But I didn’t much like the plan. I didn’t know
+enough about mummies, and some other people might know too much. It
+looked as if I should have to do without a body, and leave my death to
+mere rumour; which would be unsatisfactory. I did want a tombstone.
+
+“About this time an angel of the name of Turcival--he lives in Adam
+and Eve-street, Adelphi, bless him!--sent a Dr. Strangeways down here.
+He was a regular windfall--a new doctor--and I gave him my entire
+attention. I took him to his own proposed premises, and kept him in
+conversation, to let my personality soak well in. That evening I
+interviewed him in the office, and let him suppose that I was going to
+take him to Mrs. Frood’s house and introduce him to her. Then, when I
+suddenly remembered an engagement elsewhere, I went out, and as soon
+as the office door was shut, down I darted into our basement, out at
+the side door, in at the other side door, and into Mrs. Frood’s
+kitchen. There I did a lightning change; slipped on my dress and wig,
+stuck on my eyebrows, and made up my complexion; flew up the stairs,
+lighted the lamp in the sitting-room, and spread myself out with my
+needle-work. But I hadn’t been settled more than two or three minutes
+when Uncle Japp arrived, leading the lamb to the slaughter.
+
+“Then it turned out that I had struck a bit of luck that I hadn’t
+bargained for. John had attended me in London and knew something of my
+affairs; so I appointed him my physician in ordinary on the spot. It
+was rare sport. The concern poor old John showed for my grease-paint
+was quite touching. I sat there squeaking complaints to him and
+receiving his sympathy until I was ready to screech with laughter. But
+I felt rather a pig all the same, for John was so sweet, and he was
+such a man and such a gentleman. However, I had to go on when once I
+had begun.
+
+“But it was a troublesome business, worse than any stage job I ever
+had, to keep these two people going. I had to rush through from the
+office into the kitchen and cook things that I didn’t want, just to
+make a noise and a smell of cooking, and listen to Mrs. Gillow so that
+I could pop up the stairs at the psychological moment and remind her
+that I lived there; and then to fly down and change and dart through
+into the office, so that people could see that I was occupied there.
+It was frightfully hard work, and anxious, too. I can tell you, it was
+a relief when I heard from Miss Cumbers that Nicholas was starting for
+Brighton, and that I could disappear without implicating him. However,
+there is no need for me to go into any more details. Your imaginations
+can fill those in.”
+
+“The man with the mole, I take it,” said Thorndyke, “was----”
+
+“Yes. I got a suit of slops in the Minories. The mole, of course, was
+built up, with toupee-paste.”
+
+“By the way,” said Thorndyke, “was there any necessity for Bundy at
+all?”
+
+“Well, I had to be somebody, you know, and I had to stay on the spot
+to work the clues and keep an eye on the developments. I couldn’t be a
+woman because that would have required a heavy make-up that would
+almost certainly have been spotted, and would have been an intolerable
+bore; whereas Bundy, as you have pointed out, was not a disguise at
+all. When once I had got my hair cut and had provided myself with the
+clothes and eye-glass, there was no further trouble. I could have
+lived comfortably as Bundy for the rest of my life.
+
+“So that is my story,” Angelina concluded; “and,” she added, with a
+sudden change of manner, “I am your grateful debtor for ever. You have
+done far more for me even than you know. Only this morning, poor Peter
+Bundy was a forlorn little wretch, miserably anxious about the present
+and looking to a future that had nothing but empty freedom to offer.
+And now I am the happiest of women--for I should be a hypocrite if I
+pretended to have any regrets for poor Nicholas. I will say good-bye
+to him in his coffin and give him a decent funeral, and try to think
+of him as he was before he sank into the depths. But I am frankly glad
+that he is gone; out of his own miserable life and out of mine. And
+his going, which would never have been known but for the wisdom of the
+benevolent serpent, has left me free, with a promise of a happiness
+that even he does not guess.”
+
+“I am not so sure of that,” said Thorndyke, with a sly smile.
+
+“Well, neither am I, now you come to mention it,” said she, smiling at
+him in return. “He is an inquiring and observant serpent, with a way
+of nosing out all sorts of things that he is not supposed to be aware
+of. And after all, perhaps he has a right to know. It is proper that
+the giver should have the satisfaction of realizing the preciousness
+of that which he has given.”
+
+
+
+Here endeth the Mystery of Angelina Frood. And yet it is not quite the
+end. Indeed, the end is not yet; for the blessed consequences still
+continue to develop like the growth of a fair tree. The story has
+dwindled to a legend whose harmless whispers call but a mischievous
+smile to that face that, like the dial in our garden, acknowledges
+only the sunshine. Mrs. Dunk, it is true, still wages public war, but
+it is tempered by private adoration; and almost daily baskets of
+flowers, and even tomatoes and summer cabbages, arrive at our house,
+accompanied by the beaming smile and portly person of Inspector
+Cobbledick.
+
+ [The End]
+
+
+
+
+ TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
+
+Minor spelling inconsistencies (_e.g._ footfalls/foot-falls,
+north-east/southwest, quicklime/quick-lime/quick lime, etc.) have
+been preserved.
+
+Alterations to the text:
+
+Abandon the use of drop-caps.
+
+Adjust some quotation mark pairings and nestings.
+
+Capitalize five instances of _doctor_ when used in direct addresses.
+
+[Chapter II]
+
+“threw a fresh light, if any were needed on the sinister events” add
+comma after _needed_.
+
+[Chapter III]
+
+Change (“By _jove_!” he exclaimed, “I’m afraid I can’t.) to _Jove_.
+
+[Chapter IV]
+
+“and he began to chant in an _absurb_, Punch-like voice” to _absurd_.
+
+[Chapter V]
+
+“he had taken temporary charge of my uncle’s _practise_” to
+_practice_.
+
+[Chapter VIII]
+
+“throw at least a glimmer of light on _his_ dreadful and baffling
+mystery” to _this_.
+
+[Chapter IX]
+
+“We followed him, picking our way _daintly_, and, having” to
+_daintily_.
+
+[Chapter X]
+
+(“that it seems perfectly _conceivable_ that Mrs. Frood could have”)
+to _inconceivable_.
+
+(“Don’t rub it.” said Thorndyke, as Bundy clapped his hand) change
+the period to a comma.
+
+[Chapter XI]
+
+“The _sergant_ turned away with a sort of benevolent contempt” to
+_sergeant_.
+
+[Chapter XIII]
+
+(“Yes, it _seem_ undeniable,” I answered.) to _seems_.
+
+[Chapter XIV]
+
+(“Let me see,” said _Thondyke_. “Isn’t that the lane that) to
+_Thorndyke_.
+
+[Chapter XVI]
+
+“replied Polton, with a smile of _ladyrinthine_ wrinkliness” to
+_labyrinthine_.
+
+“It is a dreadful thought?” change question mark to an exclamation
+mark.
+
+[Chapter XVII]
+
+“after a few _moment’s_ reflection with knitted brows, he stated” to
+_moments’_.
+
+ [End of text]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76072 ***