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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/76796-0.txt b/76796-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..02a3971 --- /dev/null +++ b/76796-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12096 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76796 *** + + + + + + A SILENT + WITNESS + + BY R. AUSTIN FREEMAN + _Author of_ The Red Thumb Mark, + The Eye of Osiris, _etc._ + + + + + _New York_ + DODD, MEAD & COMPANY + 1929 + + + + + [COPYRIGHT] + + Published in U.S.A., 1929 + By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, Inc. + + + + + CONTENTS + + I. The Beginning of the Mystery + II. The Finding of the Reliquary + III. “Who is Sylvia?” + IV. Septimus Maddock, Deceased + V. The Lethal Chamber + VI. A Council of War + VII. An Unseen Enemy + VIII. “It’s an Ill Wind--” + IX. Thorndyke Takes up the Scent + X. The Unheeded Warning + XI. A Chapter of Accidents + XII. Miss Vyne + XIII. A Mysterious Stranger + XIV. A Lonely Woman + XV. Exit Dr. Jardine + XVI. Enter Father Humperdinck + XVII. The Palimpsest + XVIII. A Visitor from the States + XIX. Tenebrae + XX. The Hue and Cry + XXI. The Final Problem + XXII. Thorndyke Reviews the Case + + + + + A SILENT WITNESS + + CHAPTER I. + THE BEGINNING OF THE MYSTERY + +The history upon which I am now embarking abounds in incidents so +amazing that, as I look back on them, a something approaching to +scepticism contends with my vivid recollections and makes me feel +almost apologetic in laying them before the reader. Some of them +indeed are so out of character with the workaday life in which they +happened that they will appear almost incredible; but none is more +fraught with mystery than the experience that befell me on a certain +September night in the last year of my studentship and ushered in the +rest of the astounding sequence. + +It was past eleven o’clock when I let myself out of my lodgings at +Gospel Oak; a dark night, cloudy and warm and rather inclined to rain. +But, despite the rather unfavourable aspect of the weather, I turned +my steps away from the town, and walking briskly up the Highgate Road, +presently turned into Millfield Lane. This was my favourite walk and +the pretty winding lane, meandering so pleasantly from Lower Highgate +to the heights of Hampstead, was familiar to me under all its aspects. + +On sweet summer mornings when the cuckoos called from the depths of +Ken Wood, when the path was spangled with golden sunlight, and saucy +squirrels played hide and seek in the shadows under the elms (though +the place was within earshot of Westminster and within sight of the +dome of St. Paul’s); on winter days when the Heath wore its mantle of +white and “the ring of gliding steel” came up from the skaters on the +pond below; on August evenings, when I would come suddenly on +sequestered lovers (to our mutual embarrassment) and hurry by with +ill-feigned unconsciousness. I knew all its phases and loved them all. +Even its name was delightful, carrying the mind back to those more +rustic days when the wits foregathered at the Old Flask Tavern and +John Constable tramped through this very lane with his colour-box +slung over his shoulder. + +It was very dark after I had passed the lamp at the entrance to the +lane. Very silent and solitary too. Not a soul was stirring at this +hour, for the last of the lovers had long since gone home and the +place was little frequented even in the daytime. The elms brooded over +the road, shrouding it in shadows of palpable black, and their leaves +whispered secretly in the soft night breeze. But the darkness, the +quiet and the solitude were restful after the long hours of study and +the glare of the printed page, and I strolled on past the ghostly pond +and the little thatched cottage, now wrapped in silence and darkness, +with a certain wistful regret that I must soon look my last on them. +For I had now passed all my examinations but the final “Fellowship,” +and must soon be starting my professional career in earnest. + +Presently a light rain began to fall. Foreseeing that I should have to +curtail my walk, I stepped forward more briskly, and, passing between +the posts, entered the narrowest and most secluded part of the lane. +But now the rain suddenly increased, and a squall of wind drove it +athwart the path. I drew up in the shelter of one of the tall oak +fences by which the lane is here inclosed, and waited for the shower +to pass. And as I stood with my back to the fence, pensively filling +my pipe, I became for the first time sensible of the utter solitude of +the place. + +I looked about me and listened. The lane was darker here than +elsewhere; a mere trench between the high fences. I could dimly see +the posts at the entrance and a group of large elms over-shadowing +them. In the other direction, where the lane doubled sharply upon +itself, was absolute, inky blackness, save where a faint glimmer from +the wet ground showed the corner of the fence and a projecting stump +or tree-root jutting out from the corner and looking curiously like a +human foot with the toes pointed upward. + +The rain fell steadily with a soft, continuous murmur; the leaves of +the elm-trees whispered together and answered the falling rain. The +Scotch pines above my head stirred in the breeze with a sound like the +surge of the distant sea. The voices of Nature, hushed and solemn, +oblivious of man like the voices of the wilderness; and over all and +through all, a profound, enveloping silence. + +I drew up closer to the fence and shivered slightly, for the night was +growing chill. It seemed a little lighter now in the narrow, +trench-like lane; not that the sky was less murky but because the +ground was now flooded with water. The posts stood out less vaguely +against the back-ground of wet road, and the odd-looking stump by the +corner was almost distinct. And again it struck me as looking +curiously like a foot--a booted foot with the toe pointing upwards. + +The chime of a church clock sounded across the Heath, a human voice, +this, penetrating the desolate silence. Then, after an interval, the +solemn boom of Big Ben came up faintly from the sleeping city. + +Midnight! and time for me to go home. It was of no use to wait for the +rain to cease. This was no passing shower, but a steady drizzle that +might last till morning. I re-lit my pipe, turned up my collar, and +prepared to plunge into the rain. And as I stepped out, the +queer-looking stump caught my eye once more. It was singularly like a +foot; and it was odd, too, that I had never noticed it before in my +many rambles through the lane. + +A sudden, childish curiosity impelled me to see what it really was +before I went, and the next moment I was striding sharply up the +sodden path. Of course, I expected the illusion to vanish as I +approached. But it did not. The resemblance increased as I drew +nearer, and I hurried forward with something more than curiosity. + +It _was_ a foot! I realized it with a shock while I was some paces +away; and, as I reached the corner, I came upon the body of a man +lying in the sharp turn of the path; and the limp, sprawling posture, +with one leg doubled under, told its tale at a glance. + +I laid my finger on his wrist. It was clammy and cold, and not a +vestige of a pulse could I detect. I struck a wax match and held it to +his face. The eyes were wide-open and filmy, staring straight up into +the reeking sky. The dilated pupils were insensitive to the glare of +the match, the eyeballs insensitive to the touch of my finger. + +Beyond all doubt the man was dead. + +But how had he died? Had he simply fallen dead from some natural +cause, or had he been murdered? There was no obvious injury, and no +sign of blood. All that the momentary glimmer of the match showed was +that his clothes were shiny with the wet; a condition that might +easily, in the weak light, mask a considerable amount of bleeding. + +When the match went out, I stood for some moments looking down on the +prostrate figure as it lay with the rain beating down on the upturned +face, professional interest contending with natural awe of the tragic +presence. The former prompted me to ascertain without delay the cause +of death; and, indeed, I was about to make a more thorough search for +some injury or wound when something whispered to me that it is not +well to be alone at midnight in a solitary place with a dead +man,--perchance a murdered man. Had there been any sign of life, my +duty would have been clear. As it was, I must act for the best with a +due regard to my own safety. And, reaching this conclusion, I turned +away, with a last glance at the motionless figure and set forth +homeward at a rapid pace. + +As I turned out of Millfield Lane into Highgate Rise I perceived a +policeman on the opposite side of the road standing under a tree, +where the light from a lamp fell on his shining tarpaulin cape. I +crossed the road, and, as he civilly touched his helmet, I said: “I am +afraid there is something wrong up the lane, Constable; I have just +seen the body of a man lying on the pathway.” + +The constable woke up very completely. “Do you mean a dead man, sir?” +he asked. + +“Yes, he is undoubtedly dead,” I replied. + +“Whereabouts did you see the body?” enquired the constable. + +“In the narrow part of the lane, just by the stables of Mansfield +House.” + +“That’s some distance from here,” said the constable. “You had better +come with me and report at the station. You’re sure the man was dead, +sir?” + +“Yes, I have no doubt about it. I am a medical man,” I added, with +some pride (I had been a medical man about three months, and the +sensation was still a novel one). + +“Oh, are you, sir?” said the officer, with a glance at my half-fledged +countenance; “then, I suppose you examined the body?” + +“Sufficiently to make sure that the man was dead, but I did not stay +to ascertain the cause of death.” + +“No, sir; quite so. We can find that out later.” + +As we talked, the constable swung along down the hill, without hurry, +but at a pace that gave me very ample exercise, and I caught his eye +from time to time, travelling over my person with obvious professional +interest. When we had nearly reached the bottom of the hill, there +appeared suddenly on the wet road ahead, a couple of figures in +waterproof capes. + +“Ha!” said the constable, “this is fortunate. Here is the inspector +and the sergeant. That will save us the walk to the station.” + +He accosted the officers as they approached and briefly related what I +had told him. + +“You are sure the man was dead, sir?” said the inspector, scrutinizing +me narrowly; “but, there, we needn’t stay here to discuss that. You +run down, sergeant and get a stretcher and bring it along as quickly +as you can. I must trouble you, sir, to come with me and show me where +the body is. Lend the gentleman your cape, sergeant; you can get +another at the station.” + +I accepted the stout cape thankfully, for the rain still fell with +steady persistency, and set forth with the inspector to retrace my +steps. And as we splashed along through the deep gloom of the lane, +the officer plied me with judicious questions. + +“How long did you think the man had been dead?” he asked. + +“Not long, I should think. The body was still quite limp.” + +“You didn’t see any marks of violence?” + +“No. There were no obvious injuries.” + +“Which way were you going when you came on the body?” + +“The way we are going now, and, of course, I came straight back.” + +“Did you meet or see anyone in the lane?” + +“Not a soul,” I answered. + +He considered my answers for some time, and then came the question +that I had been expecting. + +“How came you to be in the lane at this time of night?” + +“I was taking a walk,” I replied, “as I do nearly every night. I +usually finish my evening’s reading about eleven, and then I have some +supper and take a walk before going to bed, and I take my walk most +commonly in Millfield Lane. Some of your men must remember having met +me.” + +This explanation seemed to satisfy him for he pursued the subject no +farther, and we trudged on for awhile in silence. At length, as we +passed through the posts into the narrow part of the lane, the +inspector asked: “We’re nearly there, aren’t we?” + +“Yes,” I replied: “the body is lying in the bend just ahead.” + +I peered into the darkness in search of the foot that had first +attracted my notice, but was not yet able to distinguish it. Nor, to +my surprise, could I make it out as we approached more nearly; and +when we reached the corner, I stopped short in utter amazement. + +The body had vanished! + +“What’s the matter?” asked the inspector. “I thought this was the +place you meant.” + +“So it is,” I answered. “This is the place where the body was lying; +here, across the path, with one foot projecting round the corner. +Someone must have carried it away.” + +The inspector looked at me sharply for a moment. “Well, it isn’t here +now,” said he, “and if it has been taken away, it must have been taken +along towards Hampstead Lane. We’d better go and see.” Without waiting +for a reply, he started off along the lane at a smart double and I +followed. + +We pursued the windings of the lane until we emerged into the road by +the lodge gates, without discovering any traces of the missing corpse +or meeting any person, and then we turned back and retraced our steps; +and as we, once more, approached the crook in the lane where I had +seen the body, we heard a quick, measured tramp. + +“Here comes the sergeant with the stretcher,” observed the inspector; +“and he might have saved himself the trouble.” Once more the officer +glanced at me sharply, and this time with unmistakable suspicion. + +“There’s no body here, Robson,” he said, as the sergeant came up, +accompanied by two constables carrying a stretcher. “It seems to have +disappeared.” + +“Disappeared!” exclaimed the sergeant, bestowing on me a look of +extreme disfavour; “that’s a rum go, sir. How could it have +disappeared?” + +“Ah! that’s the question!” said the inspector. “And another question +is, was it ever here? Are you prepared to make a sworn statement on +the subject, sir?” + +“Certainly I am,” I replied. + +“Then,” said the inspector, “we will take it that there was a body +here. Put down that stretcher. There is a gap in the fence farther +along. We will get through there and search the meadow.” + +The bearers stood the stretcher up against a tree and we all proceeded +up the lane to the place where the observant inspector had noticed the +opening in the fence. The gravel, though sodden with the wet, took but +the faintest impressions of the feet that trod it, and, though the +sergeant and the two constables threw the combined light of their +lanterns on the ground, we were only able to make out very faintly the +occasional traces of our own footsteps. + +We scrutinized the break in the fence and the earth around with the +utmost minuteness, but could detect no sign of anyone having passed +through. The short turf of the meadow, on which I had seen sheep +grazing in the daytime, was not calculated to yield traces of anyone +passing over it, and no traces of any kind were discoverable. When we +had searched the meadow thoroughly and without result, we came back +into the lane and followed its devious course to the “kissing-gate” at +the Hampstead Lane entrance. And still there was no sign of anything +unusual. True, there were obscure footprints in the soft gravel by the +turnstile, but they told us nothing; we could not even be sure that +they had not been made by ourselves on our previous visit. In short, +the net result of our investigations was that the body had vanished +and left no trace. + +“It’s a very extraordinary affair,” said the inspector, in a tone of +deep discontent, as we walked back. “The body of a full-grown man +isn’t the sort of thing you can put in your pocket and stroll off with +without being noticed, even at midnight. Are you perfectly sure the +man was really dead and not in a faint?” + +“I feel no doubt whatever that he was dead,” I replied. + +“With all respect to you, sir,” said the sergeant, “I think you must +be mistaken. I think the man must have been in a dead faint, and after +you came away, the rain must have revived him so that he was able to +get up and walk away.” + +“I don’t think so,” said I, though with less conviction; for, after +all it was not absolutely impossible that I should have been mistaken, +since I had discovered no mortal injury, and the sergeant’s suggestion +was an eminently reasonable one. + +“What sized man was he?” the inspector asked. + +“That I couldn’t say,” I answered. “It is not easy to judge the height +of a man when he is lying down and the light was excessively dim. But +I should say he was not a tall man and rather slight in build.” + +“Could you give us any description of him?” + +“He was an elderly man, about sixty, I should think, and he appeared +to be a clergyman or a priest, for he wore a Roman collar with a +narrow, dark stripe up the front. He was clean shaven, and, I think, +wore a clerical suit of black. A tall hat was lying on the ground +close by and a walking-stick which looked like a malacca, but I +couldn’t see it very well as he had fallen on it and most of it was +hidden.” + +“And you saw all this by the light of one wax match,” said the +inspector. “You made pretty good use of your eyes, sir.” + +“A man isn’t much use in my profession if he doesn’t,” I replied, +rather stiffly. + +“No, that’s true,” the inspector agreed. “Well, I must ask you to give +us the full particulars at the station, and we shall see if anything +fresh turns up. I’m sorry to keep you hanging about in the wet, but it +can’t be helped.” + +“Of course it can’t,” said I, and we trudged on in silence until we +reached the station, which looked quite cheerful and homelike despite +the grim blue lamp above the doorway. + +“Well, Doctor,” said the inspector, when he had read over my statement +and I had affixed my signature, “if anything turns up, you’ll hear +from us. But I doubt if we shall hear anything more of this. Dead or +alive, the man seems to have vanished completely. Perhaps the +sergeant’s right after all, and your dead man is at this moment +comfortably tucked up in bed. Good-night, Doctor, and thank you for +all the trouble you have taken.” + +By the time that I reached my lodgings I was tired out and miserably +cold; so cold that I was fain to brew myself a jorum of hot grog in my +shaving pot. As a natural result, I fell fast asleep as soon as I got +to bed and slept on until the autumn sunshine poured in through the +slats of the Venetian blind. + + + + + CHAPTER II. + THE FINDING OF THE RELIQUARY + +I awoke on the following morning to a dim consciousness of something +unusual, and, as my wits returned with the rapidity that is natural to +the young and healthy, the surprising events of the previous night +reconstituted themselves and once more set a-going the train of +speculation. Vividly I saw with my mind’s eye the motionless figure +lying limp and inert with the pitiless rain beating down on it; the +fixed pupils, the insensitive eyeballs, the pulseless wrist and the +sprawling posture. And again I saw the streaming path, void of its +dreadful burden, the suspicious inspector, the incredulous sergeant; +and the unanswerable questions formulated themselves anew. + +Had I, after all, mistaken a living man for a dead body? It was in the +highest degree improbable, and yet it was not impossible. Or had the +body been spirited away without leaving a trace? That also was highly +improbable and yet, not absolutely impossible. The two contending +improbabilities cancelled one another. Each was as unlikely as the +other. + +I turned the problem over again and again as I shaved and took my +bath. I pondered upon it over a late and leisurely breakfast. But no +conclusion emerged from these reflections. The man, living or dead, +had been lying motionless in the lane all the time that I was +sheltering, and probably for some time before. In the interval of my +absence he had vanished. These were actual facts despite the open +incredulity of the police. How he had come there, what had occasioned +his death or insensibility, how he had disappeared and whither he had +gone; were questions to which no answer seemed possible. + +The fatigues of the previous night had left me somewhat indolent. +There was no occasion for me to go to the hospital to-day. It was +vacation time; the school was closed; the teaching staff were mostly +away, and there was little doing in the wards. I decided to take a +holiday and spend a quiet day rambling about the Heath, and, having +formed this resolution, I filled my pipe, slipped a sketch-book into +my pocket, and set forth. + +Automatically my feet turned towards Millfield Lane. It was, as I have +said, my usual walk, and on this morning, with last night’s +recollections fresh in my mind, it was natural that I should take my +way thither. + +Very different was the aspect of the lane this morning from that which +I had last looked upon. The gloom and desolation of the night had +given place to the golden sunshine of a lovely autumn day. The elms, +clothed already in the sober livery of the waning year, sighed with +pensive reminiscence of the summer that was gone; the ponds repeated +the warm blue of the sky; and the lane itself was a vista of +flickering sunlight and cool, reposeful shadow. + +The narrow continuation beyond the posts was wrapped as always, in a +sombre shade, save where a gleam of yellow light streamed through a +chink between the boards of the fence. I made my way straight to the +spot where the body had lain and stooped over it, examining each +pebble with the closest scrutiny. But not a trace remained. The hard, +gravelly soil retained no impress either of the body or even of our +footsteps; and as for the stain of blood, if there had ever been any, +it would have been immediately removed by the falling rain, for the +ground here had a quite appreciable slope and must have been covered +last night by a considerable flowing stream. + +I went on to the break in the fence--it was on the right-hand side of +the path--and was at once discouraged by the aspect of the ground; for +even our rough tramplings had left hardly a trace behind. After an +aimless walk across the meadow, now occupied by a flock of sheep, I +returned to the lane and walked slowly back past the place where I had +sheltered from the rain. And then it was that I discovered the first +hint of any clue to the mystery. I had retraced my steps some little +distance past the spot where I had seen the body, when my eye was +attracted by a darkish streak on the upper part of the high fence. It +was quite faint and not at all noticeable on the weather-stained oak, +but it chanced to catch my eye and I stopped to examine it. The fence +which bore it was the opposite one to that in which the break +occurred, and, since I had sheltered under it, the side of it which +looked towards the lane must have been the lee side and thus less +exposed to the rain. + +I looked at the stain attentively. It extended from the top of the +fence--which was about seven feet high--half-way to the ground, fading +away gradually in all directions. The colour was a dull brown, and the +appearance very much that of blood which had run down a wet surface. +The board which bore the stain was traversed by a vertical crack near +one edge, so that I was able to break off a small piece without much +difficulty; and on examining that portion of the detached piece which +had formed the side of the crack, I found it covered with a +brownish-red, shiny substance, which I felt little doubt was dried +blood, here protected by the crack and so less altered by contact with +water. + +Naturally, my next proceeding was to scrutinize very carefully the +ground immediately beneath the stain. At the foot of the fence, a few +tussocks of grass and clumps of undergrown weeds struggled for life in +the deep shade. The latter certainly had, on close examination, the +appearance of having been trodden on, though it was not very evident. +But while I was considering an undoubted bruise on the stalk of a +little dead-nettle, my eye caught the glint of some bright object +among the leaves. I picked it out eagerly and held it up to look at +it; and a very curious object it was; evidently an article of +jewellery of some kind, but quite unlike anything I had ever seen +before. It appeared to be a little elongated, gold case, with eight +sides and terminating at either end in a blunt octagonal pyramid with +a tiny ring at its apex, so that it seemed to have been part of a +necklace. Of the eight flat sides, six were ornamented with sunk +quatrefoils, four on each side; the other two sides were plain except +that each had a row of letters engraved on it--A.M.D.G. on one side, +and S.V.D.P. on the other. There was no hall-mark and, as far as I +could see, no means of opening the little case. It seemed to have been +suspended by a thin silk cord, a portion of which remained attached to +one ring and showed a frayed end where it had broken or chafed +through. + +I wrapped the little object and the detached fragment of the fence in +my handkerchief (for I had broken off the latter with the idea of +testing it chemically for blood-pigment), and then resumed my +investigations. The appearances suggested that the body had been +lifted over the fence, and the question arose, What was on the other +side? I listened attentively for a few seconds, and then, hearing no +sound of footsteps, I grasped the top of the fence, gave a good spring +and hoisting myself up, sat astride and looked about me. The fence +skirted the margin of a small lake much overgrown with weeds, amidst +which I could see a couple of waterhens making off in alarm at my +appearance, and beyond the lake rose the dark mass of Ken Wood. The +ground between the fence and the lake was covered with high, reedy +grass, which, immediately below my perch, bore very distinct +impressions of feet, and an equally distinct set of tracks led away +towards the wood--or from the wood to the fence; it was impossible to +say which. But in any case, as there were no other tracks, it was +certain that the person who made them had climbed over the fence. I +dropped down on the grass and, having examined the ground attentively +without discovering anything fresh, set off to follow the tracks. + +For some distance they continued through high grass in which the +impressions were very distinct: then they entered the wood, and here +also, in the soft humus, lightly sprinkled with fallen leaves, the +footprints were deep and easy to follow. But presently they struck a +path, and, as they did not reappear on the farther side, it was +evident that the unknown person had proceeded along it. The path was +an old one, well made of hard gravel, and, where it passed through the +deeper shade of the wood, was covered with velvety moss and grey-green +lichen; on which I made out with some difficulty, the imprints of +feet. But these were no longer distinct; they did not form a connected +track; nor was it possible to distinguish them from the footprints of +other persons who might have passed along the path. Even these I soon +lost where I had halted irresolutely under a noble beech that rose +from a fantastic coil of roots, and was considering how, if at all, I +should next proceed, when, there appeared round a curve of the path a +man in cord breeches and gaiters, evidently a keeper. He touched his +hat civilly and ventured to enquire my business. + +“I am afraid I have no business here at all,” I replied, for I did not +think it expedient to tell him what had brought me into the wood. “I +suppose I am trespassing.” + +“Well, sir, it is private property,” he rejoined, “and being so near +London we have to be rather particular. Perhaps you would like me to +show you the way out on to the Heath.” + +I accepted his offer with many thanks for his courteous method of +ejecting a trespasser, and we walked together through the beautiful +woodland until the path terminated at a rustic turnstile. + +“That will be your way, sir,” he said, as he let me out, indicating a +track that led down to the Vale of Health. I thanked him once more and +then asked: + +“Is that a private house or does it belong to your estate?” I pointed +to a small house or large cottage that stood within a fenced enclosure +not far from the edge of the wood. + +“That, sir,” he replied, “was formerly a keeper’s lodge. It is now let +for a short term to an artist gentleman who is making some pictures of +the Heath, but I expect it will be pulled down before long, as there +is some talk of the County Council taking over that piece of land to +add to the public grounds. Good-morning, sir,” and the keeper, with a +parting salute, turned back into the wood. + +As I took my way homeward by the Highgate Ponds I meditated on the +relation of my new discoveries to the mystery of the preceding night. +It was a strange affair, and sinister withal. + +That the tracks led from the lane to the wood and not from the wood to +the lane, I felt firmly convinced; and equally so that the body of the +unknown priest or clergyman had undoubtedly been spirited away. But +whither had it been carried? Presumably to some sequestered spot in +the wood. And what better hiding-place could be found? There, buried +in the soft leaf-mould, it might lie undisturbed for centuries, +covered only the deeper as each succeeding autumn shed its russet +burden on the unknown grave. + +And what, I wondered, was the connection between this mysterious +tragedy and the queer little object that I had picked up? Perhaps +there was none. Its presence at that particular spot might be nothing +but a coincidence. I took it from my handkerchief and examined it +afresh. It was a very curious object. As to its use or meaning, I +could only form vague surmises. Perhaps it was some kind of locket, +enclosing a wisp of hair; the hair perhaps of some dead child or wife +or husband or even lover. It was impossible to say. Of course, this +question could be settled by taking it to pieces, but I was loth to +injure the pretty little bauble; besides it was not mine. In fact, I +felt that I ought to notify publicly that I had found it, though the +circumstances did not make this very advisable. But if it had any +connection with the tragedy, what was the nature of that connection? +Had it dropped from the dead man or from the murderer--as I assumed +the other man to be? Either was equally possible, though the two +possibilities had very different values. + +Then the question arose as to what course I should pursue. Clearly it +would be my duty to inform the police of the mark on the fence and the +tracks through the grass. But should I hand over the mysterious +trinket to them? It seemed the correct thing to do, and yet there +might after all be no connection between it and the crime. In the end +I left the matter to be decided by the attitude of the police +themselves. + +I called at the station on my way home and furnished the inspector +with an account of my new discoveries; of which he made a careful +note, assuring me that the affair should be looked into. But his +manner expressed frank disbelief, and was even a trifle hostile; and +his emphatic request that I would abstain from mentioning the matter +to anyone left me in no doubt that he regarded both my communications +as wild delusions if not as a deliberate hoax. Consequently, though I +frequently reproached myself afterwards with the omission, I said +nothing about the trinket, and when I left the station I carried it in +my pocket. + +No communication on the subject of this mysterious affair ever reached +me from the police. That they did actually make some perfunctory +investigations, I learned later, as will appear in this narrative. But +they gave no publicity to the affair and they sought no further +information from me. For my own part, I could, naturally, never forget +so strange an experience; but time and the multitudinous interests of +my opening life tended to push it farther into the background of +memory, and there it might have remained for ever had not subsequent +events drawn it once more from its obscurity. + + + + + CHAPTER III. + “WHO IS SYLVIA?” + +The winter session had commenced at the hospital, but at Hampstead +the month of October had set in with something like a return to +summer. It is true that the trees had lost something of their leafy +opulence, and that here and there, amidst the sober green, patches of +russet and gold had made their appearance, as if Nature’s +colour-orchestra were tuning up for the final symphony. But, +meanwhile, the sun shone brightly and with a genial heat, and if, day +by day, he fell farther from the zenith, there was nothing to show it +but the lengthening noonday shadows, the warmer blue of the sky and +the more rosy tint of the clouds that sailed across it. + +Other and more capable pens than mine have set forth the charm of +autumn and the beauties of Hampstead--queen of suburbs of the world’s +metropolis; therefore will I refrain, and only note, as relevant to +the subject, the fact that on many a day, when the work of the +hospital was in full swing, I might have been seen playing truant very +agreeably on the inexhaustible Heath or in the lanes and fields +adjacent thereto. In truth, I was taking the final stage of my +curriculum rather lazily, having worked hard enough in the earlier +years, and being still too young by several months to be admitted to +the fellowship of the College of Surgeons; promising myself that when +the weather broke I would settle down in earnest to the winter’s work. + +I have mentioned that Millfield Lane was one of my favourite haunts; +indeed, from my lodgings, it was the most direct route to the Heath, +and I passed along it almost daily; and never, now, without my +thoughts turning back to that rainy night when I had found the +dead--or unconscious--man lying across the narrow footway. One +morning, as I passed the spot, it occurred to me to make a drawing of +the place in my sketch-book, that I might have some memorial of that +strange adventure. The pictorial possibilities of the lane just here +were not great, but by taking my stand at the turn, on the very spot +where I had seen the body lying, I was able to arrange a simple +composition which was satisfactory enough. + +I am no artist. A neat and intelligible drawing is the utmost that I +can produce. But even this modest degree of achievement may be very +useful, as I had discovered many a time in the wards or +laboratories--indeed, I have often been surprised that the instructors +of our youth attach such small value to the power of graphic +expression; and it came in usefully now, though in a way that was +unforeseen and not fully appreciated at the moment. I had dealt +adequately with the fence, the posts, the tree-trunks and other +well-defined forms and was beginning a less successful attack on the +foliage, when I heard a light, quick step approaching from Hampstead +Lane. Intuition--if there is such a thing--fitted the foot-step with a +personality, and, for once in a way, was right; as the new-comer +reached the sharp bend of the path, I saw a girl of about my own age, +simply and serviceably dressed and carrying a pochade box and a small +camp-stool. She was not an entire stranger to me. I had met her often +in the lane and on the Heath--so often in fact that we had developed +that profound unconsciousness of one another’s existence that almost +amounts to recognition--and had wondered vaguely who she was and what +sort of work she did on the panels in that mysterious box. + +As I drew back to make way for her, she brushed past, with a single, +quick, inquisitive glance at my sketch-book, and went on her way, +looking very much alive and full of business. I watched her as she +tripped down the lane and passed between the posts out into the +sunlight beyond, to vanish behind the trunks of the elms; then I +returned to my sketch and my struggles to express foliage with a touch +somewhat less suggestive of a birch-broom. + +When I had finished my drawing, I sauntered on rather aimlessly, +speculating for the hundredth time on the meaning of those discoveries +of mine in this very lane. Was it possible that the man whom I had +seen was not dead, but merely insensible? I could not believe it. The +whole set of circumstances--the aspect of the body, the blood-stain on +the fence, the tracks through the high grass and the mysterious gold +trinket--were opposed to any such belief. Yet, on the other hand, one +would think that a man could not disappear unnoticed. This was no +tramp or nameless vagrant. He was a clergyman or a priest, a man who +would be known to a great number of persons and whose disappearance +must surely be observed at once and be the occasion of very stringent +enquiries. But no enquiries had apparently been made. I had seen no +notice in the papers of any missing cleric, and clearly the police had +heard nothing or they would have looked me up. The whole affair was +enveloped in the profoundest mystery. Dead or alive, the man had +vanished utterly; and whether he was dead or alive, the mystery was +equally beyond solution. + +These reflections brought me, almost unconsciously, to another of my +favourite walks; the pretty footpath from the Heath to Temple Fortune. +I had crossed the stile and stepped off the path to survey the +pleasant scene, when my eye was attracted by a number of streaks of +alien colour on the leaves of a burdock. Stooping down, I perceived +that they were smears of oil-paint, and inferred that someone had +cleaned a palette on the herbage; an inference that was confirmed a +moment later by what looked like the handle of a brush projecting from +a clump of nettles. When I drew it out, however, it proved to be not a +brush, but a very curious knife with a blade shaped like a diminutive +and attenuated trowel; evidently a painting-knife and also evidently +home-made, at least in part, for the tang had been thrust into a +short, stout brush-handle and secured with a whipping of waxed thread. +I dropped it into my outside breast pocket and went on my way, +wondering if by chance it might have been dropped by my fair +acquaintance; and the thought was still in my mind when its object +hove in sight. Turning a bend in the path, I came on her quite +suddenly, perched on her little camp-stool in the shadow of the hedge, +with the open sketching-box on her knees, working away with an +industry and concentration that seemed to rebuke my own idleness. +Indeed, she was so much engrossed with her occupation that she did not +notice me until I stepped off the path and approached with the knife +in my hand. + +“I wonder,” said I, holding it out and raising my cap, “if this +happens to be your property. I picked it up just now among the nettles +near the barn.” + +She took the knife from me and looked at it inquisitively. “No,” she +replied, “it isn’t mine, but I think I know whose it is. I suspect it +belongs to an artist who has been doing a good deal of work about the +Heath. You may have seen him.” + +“I have seen several artists working about here during the summer. +What was this one like?” + +“Well,” she answered with a smile, “he was like an artist. Very much +like. Quite the orthodox get-up. Wide brimmed hat, rather long hair +and a ragged beard. And he wore sketching spectacles--half-moon-shaped +things, you know--and kid gloves--which were not quite so orthodox.” + +“Very inconvenient, I should think.” + +“Not so very. I work in gloves myself in the cold weather or if the +midges are very troublesome. You soon get used to the feel of them; +and the man I am speaking of wouldn’t find them in the way at all +because he works almost entirely with painting-knives. That is what +made me think that this knife was probably his. He had several, I +know, and very skillfully he used them, too.” + +“You have seen his work, then?” + +“Well,” she admitted, “I’m afraid I descended once or twice to play +the ‘snooper.’ You see, his method of handling interested me.” + +“May I ask what a ‘snooper’ is?” I enquired. + +“Don’t you know? It’s a student’s slang name for the kind of person +who makes some transparent pretext for coming off the path and passing +behind you to get a look at your picture by false pretences.” + +For an instant there flashed into my mind the suspicion that she was +administering a quiet “back-hander,” and I rejoined hastily: + +“I hope you are not including me in the genus ‘snooper.’” + +She laughed softly. “It did sound rather like it. But I’ll give you +the benefit of the doubt in consideration of your finding the +knife--which you had better keep in trust for the owner.” + +“Won’t you keep it? You know the probable owner by sight and I don’t; +and meanwhile you might experiment with it yourself.” + +“Very well,” she replied, dropping it into her brush-tray, “I’ll keep +it for the present at any rate.” + +There was a brief pause, and then I ventured to remark, “That looks a +very promising sketch of yours. And how well the subject comes.” + +“I’m glad you like it,” she replied, quite simply, viewing her work +with her head on one side. “I want it to turn out well, because it’s a +commission, and commissions for small oil paintings are rare and +precious.” + +“Do you find small oil pictures very difficult to dispose of?” I +asked. + +“Not difficult. Impossible, as a rule. But I don’t try now. I copy my +oil sketches in water-colour, with modifications to suit the market.” + +Again there was a pause; and, as her brush wandered towards the +palette, it occurred to me that I had stayed as long as good manners +permitted. Accordingly, I raised my cap, and, having expressed the +hope that I had not greatly hindered her, prepared to move away. + +“Oh, not at all,” she answered; “and thank you for the knife, though +it isn’t mine--or, at any rate, wasn’t. Good-morning.” + +With this and a pleasant smile and a little nod, she dismissed me; and +once more I went my idle and meditative way. + +It had been quite a pleasant little adventure. There is always +something rather interesting in making the acquaintance of a person +whom one has known some time by sight but who is otherwise an unknown +quantity. The voice, the manner, and the little revelations of +character, which confirm or contradict previous impressions, are +watched with interest as they develop themselves and fill in, one by +one, the blank spaces of the total personality. I had, as I have said, +often met this industrious maiden in my walks and had formed the +opinion that she looked a rather nice girl; an opinion that was +probably influenced by her unusual good looks and graceful carriage. +And a rather nice girl she had turned out to be; very dignified and +self-possessed, but quite simple and frank--though, to be sure, her +gracious reception of me had probably been due to my sketch-book; she +had taken me for a kindred spirit. She had a pleasant voice and a +faultless accent, with just a hint of the fine lady in her manner; but +I liked her none the less for that. And her name was a pretty name, +too, if I had guessed it correctly; for, on the inside of the lid of +her box, which was partly uncovered by the upright panel, I had read +the letters “Syl.” The panel hid the rest, but the name could hardly +be other than Sylvia; and what more charming and appropriate name +could be bestowed upon a comely young lady who spent her days amidst +the woods and fields of my beloved Hampstead? + +Regaling myself with this somewhat small beer, I sauntered on along +the grassy lane, between hedgerows that in the summer had been +spangled with wild roses and that were now gay with the big, oval +berries, sleek and glossy and scarlet, like overgrown beads of red +coral; away, across the fields to Golder’s Green and thence by +Millfield Lane, back to my lodgings at Gospel Oak, and to my landlady, +Mrs. Blunt, who had a few plaintive words to say respecting the +disastrous effects of unpunctuality--and the resulting prolonged +heat--on mutton cutlets and fried potatoes. + +It had been an idle morning and apparently void of significant events; +but yet, when I look back on it, I see a definite thread of causation +running through its simple happenings, and I realize that, all +unthinking, I had strung on one more bead to the chaplet of my +destiny. + + + + + CHAPTER IV. + SEPTIMUS MADDOCK, DECEASED + +It was getting well on into November when I strolled one afternoon +into the hospital museum, not with any specific object but rather +vaguely in search of something to do. During the last few days I had +developed a slight revival of industry--which had coincided, oddly +enough, with a marked deterioration of the weather--and, pathology +being my weakest point, the museum had seemed to call me (though not +very loudly, I fear) to browse amongst its multitudinous jars and dry +preparations. + +There was only one person in the great room; but he was a very +important person; being none other than our lecturer on Medical +Jurisprudence, Dr. John Thorndyke. He was seated at a small table +whereon was set out a collection of jars and a number of large +photographs, of which he appeared to be making a catalogue; but intent +as he was on his occupation, he looked up as I entered and greeted me +with a genial smile. + +“What do you think of my little collection, Jardine?” he asked, as I +approached deferentially. Before replying, I ran a vaguely enquiring +eye over the group of objects on the table and was mighty little +enlightened thereby. It was certainly a queer collection. There was a +flat jar which contained a series of five differently-coloured mice, +another with a similar series of three rats, a human foot, a +hand--manifestly deformed--a series of four fowls’ heads and a number +of photographs of plants. + +“It looks,” I replied, at length, “like what the auctioneers would +call a miscellaneous lot.” + +“Yes,” Dr. Thorndyke agreed, “it is a miscellaneous collection in a +sense. But there is a connecting idea. It illustrates certain +phenomena of inheritance which were discovered and described by +Mendel.” + +“Mendel!” I exclaimed. “Who is he? I never heard of him.” + +“I daresay not,” said Thorndyke, “though he published his results +before you were born. But the importance of his discoveries is only +now beginning to be appreciated.” + +“I suppose,” said I, “the subject is too large and complex for a short +explanation to be possible.” + +“The subject is a large one, of course,” he replied; “but, put in a +nutshell, Mendel’s great discovery amounts to this; that, whereas +certain characters are inherited only partially and fade off gradually +in successive generations, certain other characters are inherited +completely and pass unchanged from generation to generation. To take a +couple of illustrative cases: If a negro marries a European, the +offspring are mulattoes--forms intermediate between the negro and the +European. If a mulatto marries a European, the offspring are +quadroons--another intermediate form; and the next generation gives us +the octoroon--intermediate again between the quadroon and the +European. And so, from generation to generation, the negro character +gradually fades away and finally disappears. But there are other +characters which are inherited entire or not at all, and such +characters appear in pairs which are positive or negative to one +another. Sex is a case in point. A male marries a female and the +offspring are either male or female, never intermediate. The +sex-character of only one parent is inherited, and it is inherited +completely. The characters of maleness and femaleness pass down +unchanged through the ages with no tendency to diminish or to shade +off into one another. That is a case of Mendelian inheritance.” + +I ran my eyes over the collection and they presently lighted on the +rather abnormal-looking foot, hanging, white and shrivelled in the +clear spirit. I lifted the jar from the table and then, noticing for +the first time, that the foot had a supernumerary toe, I enquired what +point the specimen illustrated. + +“That six-toed foot,” Thorndyke replied, “is an example of a deformity +that is transmitted unchanged for an indefinite number of generations. +This brachy-dactylous hand is another instance. The brachy-dactylia +reappears in the offspring either completely or not at all. There are +no intermediate conditions.” + +He picked up the jar, and, having wiped the glass with a duster, +exhibited the hand which was suspended within; and a strange-looking +hand it was; broad and stumpy, like the hand of a mole. + +“There seem to be only two joints to each finger,” I said. + +“Yes. The fingers are all thumbs, and the thumb is only a demi-thumb. +A joint is suppressed in each digit.” + +“It must make the hand very clumsy and useless,” I remarked. + +“So one would think. It isn’t exactly the type of hand for a Liszt or +a Paganini. And yet we mustn’t assume too much. I once saw an armless +man copying pictures in the Luxembourg, and copying them very well, +too. He held his brush with his toes; and he was so handy with his +feet that he not only painted really dextrously, but managed to take +his hat off to a lady with quite a fine flourish. So you see, Jardine, +it is not the hand that matters, but rather the brain that actuates +it. A very indifferent hand will serve if the motor centres are of the +right sort.” + +He replaced the jar on the table, and then, after a short pause, +turning quickly to me, he asked: + +“What are you doing at present, Jardine?” + +“Principally idling, sir,” I replied. + +“And not a bad thing to do either,” he rejoined with a smile, “if you +do it thoroughly and don’t keep it up too long. How would you like to +take charge of a practice for a week or so?” + +“I don’t know that I should particularly care to, sir,” I answered. + +“Why not? It would be a useful experience and would bring you useful +knowledge; knowledge that you have got to acquire sooner or later. +Hospital conditions, you know, are not normal conditions. + +“General practice is normal medical practice, and the sooner you get +to know the conditions of the great world the better for you. If you +stick to the wards too long you will get to be like the nurses; who +seem to think that, + + + “‘All the world’s a hospital, + And men and women only patients.’” + + +I reflected for a few moments. It was perfectly true. I was a +qualified medical man, and yet of the ordinary routine of private +practice I had not the faintest knowledge. To me, all sick people were +either in-patients or out-patients. + +“Had you any particular practice in your mind, sir?” I asked. + +“Yes. I met one of our old students just now. He is at his wit’s end +to find a _locum tenens_. He has to go away to-night or to-morrow +morning, but he can’t get anyone to look after his work. Won’t you go +to his relief? It’s an easy practice, I believe.” + +I turned the question over in my mind and finally decided to try the +venture. + +“That’s right,” said Dr. Thorndyke. “You’ll help a professional +brother, at any rate, and pick up a little experience. Our friend’s +name is Batson, and he lives in Jacob Street, Hampstead Road. I’ll +write it down.” + +He handed me a slip of paper with the address on it and wished me +success; and I started at once from the hospital, already quite +elated, as is the way of the youthful, at the prospect of a new +experience. + +Dr. Batson’s establishment in Jacob Street was modest to the verge of +dingyness. But Jacob Street, itself, was dingy, and so was the +immediate neighbourhood; a district of tall, grimy houses that might +easily have seen better days. However, Dr. Batson himself was spruce +enough and in excellent spirits at my arrival, as was evident when he +bounced into the room with a jovial greeting, bringing in with him a +faint aroma of sherry. + +“Delighted to see you, Doctor!” he exclaimed in his large brisk voice +(that “doctor” was a diplomatic hit on his part. They don’t call +newly-qualified men “doctor” at the hospital.) “I met Thorndyke this +morning and told him of my predicament. A busy man is the Great +Unraveller, but never too busy to do a kindness to his friends. Can +you take over to-night?” + +“I could,” said I. + +“Then do. I want particularly to be off by the eight-thirty from +Liverpool Street. Drop in and have some grub about six-thirty; I shall +have polished off the day’s work by then and you’ll just come in for +the evening consultations.” + +“Are there any cases that you will want me to see with you?” I asked. + +“Oh, no,” Batson replied, rather airily I thought. “They’re all plain +sailing. There’s a typhoid, he’s doing well--fourth week; and there’s +a tonsilitis and a psoas abscess--that’s rather tedious, but still, +it’s improving--and an old woman with a liver. You won’t have any +difficulty with them. There’s only one queer case; a heart.” + +“Valvular?” I asked. + +“No, not valvular; I can tell you that much. I know what it isn’t, but +I’m hanged if I know what it is. Chappie complains of pain, shortness +of breath, faintness and so on, but I can’t find anything to account +for it. Heart-sounds all right, pulse quite good, no dropsy, no +nothing. Seems like malingering, but I don’t see why he should +malinger. I think I’ll get you to drop in this evening and have a look +at him.” + +“Are you keeping him in bed?” I asked. + +“Yes,” said Batson, “I am now; not that his general condition seems to +demand it. But he has had one or two fainting attacks, and yesterday +he must needs fall down flop in his bedroom when there was nobody +there, and, by way of making things more comfortable, he drops his +medicine bottle and falls on the fragments. He might have killed +himself, you know,” Batson added in an aggrieved tone; “as it was, a +long splinter from the bottom of the bottle stuck into his back and +made quite a deep little wound. So I’ve kept him in bed since, out of +harm’s way; and there he is, deuced sorry for himself but, as far as I +can make out, without a single tangible symptom.” + +“No facial signs? Nothing unusual in his colour or expression?” + +Batson laughed and tapped his gold-rimmed spectacles. + +“Ah! There you are! When you’ve got minus five d and some irregular +astigmatism and a pair of glasses that don’t correct it, all human +beings look pretty much alike; a trifle sketchy, don’t you know. _I_ +didn’t see anything unusual in his face, but _you_ might. Time will +show. Now you cut along and fetch your traps, and I’ll skip round and +polish off the sufferers.” + +He launched me into the outer greyness of Jacob Street and bounced off +in the direction of Cumberland Market, leaving me to pursue my way to +my lodgings at Gospel Oak. + +As I threaded the teeming streets of Camden Town I meditated on the +new experience that was opening to me, and, with youthful egotism, I +already saw myself making a brilliant diagnosis of an obscure heart +case. Also I reflected with some surprise on the calm view that Batson +took of his defective eyesight. A certain type of painter, as I had +observed, finds in semi-blindness a valuable gift which helps him to +eliminate trivial detail and to impart a noble breadth of effect to +his pictures; but to a doctor no such self-delusion would seem +possible. Visual acuteness is the most precious item in his equipment. + +I crammed into a large Gladstone bag the bare necessaries for a week’s +stay, together with a few indispensable instruments, and then mounted +the jingling horse-tram of those pre-electric days, which, in due +course, deposited me at the end of Jacob Street, Hampstead Road. Dr. +Batson had not returned from his round when I arrived, but a few +minutes later he burst into the surgery humming an air from “The +Mikado.” + +“Ha! Here you are then! Punctual to the minute!” He hung his hat on a +peg, laid his visiting-list on the desk of the dispensing counter and +began to compound medicine with the speed of a prestidigitateur, +talking volubly all the time. + +“That’s for the old woman with the liver, Mrs. Mudge, Cumberland +Market, you’ll see her prescription in the day book. S’pose you don’t +know how to wrap up a bottle of medicine. Better watch me. This is the +way.” He slapped the bottle down on a square of cut paper, gave a few +dextrous twiddles of his fingers and held out for my inspection a +little white parcel like the mummy-case of a deceased medicine bottle. + +“It’s quite easy when you’ve had a little practice,” he said, deftly +sticking the ends down with sealing-wax, “but you’ll make a frightful +mucker of it at first.” Which prophecy was duly fulfilled that very +evening. + +“What time had I better see that heart case?” said I. + +“Oh, you won’t have to see it at all. Man’s dead. Message left half an +hour ago. Pity, isn’t it? I should have liked to hear what you thought +of him. Must have been fatty heart. I’ll write out the certificate +while I think of it. Maggie! Where’s that note that Mrs. Samway left?” + +The question was roared out vaguely through the open door to a servant +of unknown whereabouts, and resulted in the appearance of a somewhat +scraggy housemaid bearing an opened note. + +“Here we are,” said Batson, snatching the note out of its envelope and +opening the book of certificate forms; “Septimus Maddock was the +chappie’s name, age fifty-one, address 23, Gayton Street, cause of +death--that’s just what I should like to know--primary cause, +secondary causes--I wish these infernal government clerks had got +something better to do than fill printed forms with silly conundrums. +I shall put “Morbus Cordis”; that ought to be enough for them. Mrs. +Samway--that’s his landlady, you know--will probably call for the +certificate during the evening.” + +“Aren’t you going to inspect the body?” I asked. + +“Lord, no! Why should I! It isn’t necessary, you know. I’m not an +undertaker. Wish I was. Dead people good deal more profitable than +live ones.” + +“But surely,” I exclaimed, “the death ought to be verified. Why the +man may not be dead at all.” + +“I know,” said Batson, scribbling away like a minor poet, “but that +isn’t my business. Business of the Law. Law wastes your time with a +heap of silly questions that don’t matter and leaves out the question +that does. Asks exact time when I last saw him alive, which doesn’t +matter a hang, and doesn’t ask whether I saw him dead. Bumble was +right. Law’s an ass.” + +“But still,” I persisted, “leaving the legal requirements out of +consideration, oughtn’t you for your own sake, and as a public duty, +to verify the death? Supposing the man were not really dead?” + +“That would be awkward for him,” said Batson, “and awkward for me, +too, if he came to life before they buried him. But it doesn’t really +happen in real life. Premature burial only occurs in novels.” + +His easy-going confidence jarred on me considerably. How could he, or +anyone else, know what happened? + +“I don’t see how you arrive at that,” I objected. “It could only be +proved by wholesale disinterment. And the fact remains that, if you +don’t verify a reported death you have no security against premature +burial--or even cremation.” + +Batson started up and stared at me, his wide-open, pale-blue eyes +looking ridiculously small through his deep, concave spectacles. + +“By Jove!” he exclaimed, “I am glad you mentioned that--about +cremation, I mean, because that is what will probably happen. I +witnessed the chappie’s will a couple of days ago, and I remember now +that one of the clauses stipulated that his body should be cremated. +So I shall have to verify the death for the purpose of the cremation +certificate. We’d better pop round and see him at once.” + +With characteristic impulsiveness he sprang to his feet, snatched his +hat from its peg, and started forth, leaving me to follow. + +“Beastly nuisance, these special regulations,” said Batson, as he +ambled briskly up the street. “Give a lot of trouble and cause a lot +of delay.” + +“Isn’t the ordinary death certificate sufficient in a case of +cremation?” I asked. + +“For purposes of law it is, though there is some talk of new +legislation on the subject, but the Company are a law unto themselves. +They have made the most infernally stringent regulations, and, as +there is no crematorium near London excepting the one at Woking, you +have to abide by their rules. And that reminds me--” here Batson +halted and scowled at me ferociously through his spectacles. + +“Reminds you?” I repeated. + +“That they require a second death certificate, signed by a man with +certain special qualifications.” He stood awhile frowning and +muttering under his breath and then suddenly turned and bounced off in +a new direction. + +“Going to catch the other chappie and take him with us,” he explained, +as he darted out into the Hampstead Road. “Be off my mind then. A +fellow named O’Connor, Assistant Physician to the North London +Hospital. He’ll do if we can catch him at home. If not, you’ll have to +manage him.” + +Batson looked at his watch--holding it within four inches of his +nose--and broke into a trot as we entered a quiet square. Halfway up +he halted at a door which bore a modest brass plate inscribed “Dr. +O’Connor,” and seizing the bell-knob, worked it vigorously in and out +as if it were the handle of an air-pump. + +“Doctor in?” he demanded briskly of a startled housemaid; and, without +waiting for an answer, he darted into the hall, down the whole length +of which he staggered, executing a sort of sword-dance, having caught +his toe on an unobserved door-mat. + +The doctor was in and he shortly appeared in evening dress with an +overcoat on his arm, and apparently in as great a hurry as Batson +himself. + +“Won’t it do to-morrow?” he asked, when Batson had explained his +difficulties and the service required. + +“Might as well come now,” said Batson persuasively; “won’t take a +minute and then I can go away in peace.” + +“Very well,” said O’Connor, wriggling into his overcoat. “You go along +and I’ll follow in a few minutes. I’ve got to look in on a patient on +my way up west, and I shall be late for my appointment as it is. Write +the address on my card, here.” + +He held out a card to my principal, and when the latter had scribbled +the address on it, he bustled out and vanished up the square. Batson +followed at the same headlong speed, and, again overlooking the mat, +came out on the pavement like an ill-started sprinter. + +Gayton Street, at which we shortly arrived, was a grey and dingy +side-street exactly like a score of others in the same locality, and +Number 23 differed from the rest of the seedy-looking houses in no +respect save that it was perhaps a shade more dingy. The door was +opened in answer to Batson’s indecorously brisk knock by a woman--or +perhaps I should say a lady--who at once admitted us and to whom +Batson began, without preface, to explain the situation. + +“I got your note, Mrs. Samway. Was going to bring my friend, here, +round to see the patient. Very unfortunate affair. Very sad. +Unexpected, too. Didn’t seem particularly bad yesterday. What time did +it happen?” + +“I can’t say exactly,” was the reply. “He seemed quite comfortable +when I looked in on him the last thing at night, but when I went in +about seven this morning he was dead. I should have let you know +sooner, but I was expecting you to call.” + +“H’m, yes,” said Batson, “very unfortunate. By the way, Mr. Maddock +desired that his remains should be cremated, I think?” + +“Yes, so my husband tells me. He is the executor of the will, you +remember, in the absence of any relatives. All Mr. Maddock’s relations +seem to be in America.” + +“Have you got the certificate forms?” asked Batson. + +“Yes. My husband got all the papers from the undertaker this +afternoon.” + +“Very well, Mrs. Samway, then we’ll just take a look at the body--have +to certify that I’ve seen it, you know.” + +Mrs. Samway ushered us into a sitting-room where she had apparently +been working alone, for an unfinished mourning garment of some kind +lay on the table. Leaving us here, she went away and presently +returned with a sheaf of papers and a lighted candle, when we rose and +followed her to a back room on the ground floor. It was a smallish +room, sparely furnished, with heavy curtains drawn across the window, +and by one wall a bed, on which was a motionless figure covered by a +sheet. + +Our conductress stood the candlestick on a table by the bed and +stepped back to make way for Batson, who drew back the sheet and +looked down on the body in his peering, near-sighted fashion. The +deceased seemed to be a rather frail-looking man of about fifty, but, +beyond the fact that he was clean shaven, I could form very little +idea of his appearance, since, in addition to the usual bandage under +the chin to close the mouth, a tape had been carried round the head to +secure a couple of pads of cotton wool over the eyes to keep the +eyelids closed. + +As Batson applied his stethoscope to the chest of the dead man, I +glanced at our hostess not without interest. Mrs. Samway was an +unusual-looking woman, and I thought her decidedly handsome though not +attractive to me personally. She seemed to be about thirty, rather +over the medium height and of fine Junoesque proportions, with a small +head very gracefully set on the shoulders. Her jet-black hair, +formally parted in the middle, was brought down either side of the +forehead in wavy, but very smooth, masses and gathered behind in a +neat, precisely-plaited coil. The general effect reminded me of the +so-called “Clytie,” having the same reposefulness though not the +gentleness and softness of that lovely head. But the most remarkable +feature of this woman was the colour of her eyes, which were of the +palest grey or hazel that I have ever seen; so pale in fact that they +told as spots of light, like the eyes of some lemurs or those of a cat +seen in the dusk; a peculiarity that imparted a curiously intense and +penetrating quality to her glance. + +I had just noted these particulars when Batson, having finished his +examination, held out the stethoscope to me. + +“May as well listen, as you’re here,” said he, and, turning to our +hostess, he added: “Let us see those papers, Mrs. Samway.” + +As he stepped over to the table, I took his place on a chair by the +bedside and proceeded to make an examination. It was, of course, only +a matter of form, for the man was obviously dead; but having insisted +so strongly on the necessity of verifying the death I had to make a +show of becoming scepticism. Accordingly I tested, both by touch and +with the stethoscope, the region of the heart. Needless to say, no +heart-sounds were to be distinguished, nor any signs of pulsation; +indeed, the very first touch of my hand on the chilly surface of the +chest was enough to banish any doubt. No living body could be so +entirely destitute of animal heat. + +I laid down the stethoscope and looked reflectively at the dead man, +lying so still and rigid, with his bandaged jaws and blindfolded eyes, +and speculated vaguely on his personality when alive and on the hidden +disease that had so suddenly cut him off from the land of the living; +and insensibly--by habit I suppose--my fingers strayed to his clammy, +pulseless wrist. The sleeve of his night-shirt was excessively long, +almost covering the fingers, and I had to turn it back to reach the +spot where the pulse would normally be felt. In doing this, I moved +the dead hand slightly and then became aware of a well-marked _rigor +mortis_, or death stiffening in the arm of the corpse; a condition +which I ought to have observed sooner. + +At this moment, happening to look up, I caught the eye of Mrs. Samway +fixed on me with a very remarkable expression. She was leaning over +Batson as he filled up the voluminous certificate, but had evidently +been watching me, and the expression of her pale, cat-like eyes left +no doubt in my mind that she strongly resented my proceedings. In some +confusion, and accusing myself of some failure in outward decorum, I +hastily drew down the dead man’s sleeve and rose from the bedside. + +“You noticed, I suppose,” said I, “that there is fairly well-marked +_rigor mortis_?” + +“I didn’t,” said Batson, “but if you did it’ll do as well. Better +mention it to O’Connor when he comes. He ought to be here now.” + +“Who is O’Connor?” asked Mrs. Samway. + +“Oh, he is the doctor who is going to sign the confirmatory +certificate.” + +Again a gleam of unmistakable anger flashed from our hostess’ eyes as +she demanded: + +“Then who is this gentleman?” + +“This is Dr. Humphrey Jardine,” said Batson. “’Pologize for not +introducing him before. Dr. Jardine is taking my practice while I’m +away. I’m off to-night for about a week.” + +Mrs. Samway withered me with a baleful glance of her singular eyes, +and remarked stiffly: + +“I don’t quite see why you brought him here.” + +She turned her back on me, and I decided that Mrs. Samway was somewhat +of a Tartar; though, to be sure, my presence was a distinct intrusion. +I was about to beat a retreat when Batson’s apologies were interrupted +by a noisy rat-tat at the street door. + +“Ah, here’s O’Connor,” said Batson, and, as Mrs. Samway went out to +open the door, he added: “Seem to have put our foot in it, though I +don’t see why she need have been so peppery about it. And O’Connor +needn’t have banged at the door like that, with death in the house. +He’ll get into trouble if he doesn’t look out.” + +Our colleague’s manner was certainly not ingratiating. He burst into +the room with his watch in his hand protesting that he was three +minutes late already, “and,” he added, “if there is one thing that I +detest, it’s being late at dinner. Got the forms?” + +“Yes,” replied Batson, “here they are. That’s my certificate on the +front page. Yours is overleaf.” + +Dr. O’Connor glanced rapidly down the long table of questions, +muttering discontentedly. “‘Made careful external examination?’ H’m. +‘Have you made a post mortem?’ No, of course, I haven’t. What an +infernal rigmarole! If cremation ever becomes general there’ll be no +time for anything but funerals. Who nursed the deceased?” + +“I did,” said Mrs. Samway. “My husband relieved me occasionally, but +nearly all the nursing was done by me. My name is Letitia Samway.” + +“Was the deceased a relation of yours?” + +“No; only a friend. He lived with us for a time in Paris and came to +England with us.” + +“What was his occupation?” + +“He was nominally a dealer in works of art. Actually he was a man of +independent means.” + +“Have you any pecuniary interest in his death?” + +“He has left us about seventy pounds. My husband is the executor of +the will.” + +“I see. Well, I’d better have a few words with you outside, Batson, +before I make my examination. It’s all a confounded farce, but we must +go through the proper forms, I suppose.” + +“Yes, by all means,” said Batson. “Don’t leave any loop-hole for +queries or objections.” He rose and accompanied O’Connor out into the +hall, whence the sound of hurried muttering came faintly through the +door. + +As soon as we were alone, I endeavoured to make my peace with Mrs. +Samway by offering apologies for my intrusion into the house of +mourning. + +“For the time being,” I concluded, “I am Dr. Batson’s assistant, and, +as he seemed to wish me to come with him, I came without considering +that my presence might be objected to. I hope you will forgive me.” + +My humility appeared entirely to appease her; in a moment her stiff +and forbidding manner melted into one that was quite gracious and she +rewarded me with a smile that made her face really charming. + +“Of course,” she said, “it was silly of me to be so cantankerous and +so rude, too. But it did look a little callous, you know, when I saw +you playing with his poor, dead hand; so you must make allowances.” +She smiled again, very prettily, and at this moment my two colleagues +re-entered the room. + +“Now, then,” said O’Connor, “let us see the body and then we shall +have finished.” + +He strode over to the bed, and, turning back the sheet, made a rapid +inspection of the corpse. + +“Ridiculous farce,” he muttered. “Looks all right. Would, in any case +though. Parcel of red tape. What’s the good of looking at the outside +of a body? Post-mortem’s the only thing that’s any use. What’s this +piece of tape-plaster on the back?” + +“Oh,” said Batson, “that is a little cut that he made by falling on a +broken bottle. I stuck the plaster on because you can’t get a bandage +to hold satisfactorily on the back. Besides, he didn’t want a bandage +constricting his chest.” + +“No, of course not,” O’Connor agreed. “Well, it’s all regular and +straightforward. Give me the form and I’ll fill it up and sign it.” He +seated himself at the table, looked once more at his watch, groaned +aloud and began to write furiously. + +“The Egyptians weren’t such bad judges, after all,” he remarked as he +laid down the pen and rose from his chair. “Embalming may have been +troublesome, but when it was done it was done for good. The deceased +was always accessible for reference in case of a dispute, and all this +red tape was saved. Good-night, Mrs. Samway.” He buttoned up his coat +and bustled off, and a minute or so later we followed. + +“By Jove!” exclaimed Batson, “this business has upset my arrangements +finely. I shall have to buck up if I’m going to catch my train. +There’s all the medicine to be made up and sent out yet, to say +nothing of dinner. But dinner will have to wait until the business is +all settled up. Don’t you hurry, Jardine. I’ll just run on and get to +work.” He broke into an elephantine trot and soon disappeared round a +corner, and, when I arrived at the surgery, I found him posting up the +day-book with the speed of a parliamentary reporter. + +Batson’s dexterity with medicine-bottles and wrapping paper filled me +with admiration and despair. I made a futile effort to assist, but in +the end, he snatched away the crumpled paper in which I was struggling +to enswathe a bottle, dropped it into the waste-paper basket, snatched +up a clean sheet and--slap! bang! in the twinkling of an eye, he had +transformed the bottle into a neat, little white parcel as a conjuror +changes a cocked hat into a guinea-pig. It was wonderful. + +My host was a cheerful soul, but restless. He got up from the table no +less than six times to pack some article that he had just thought of; +and after dinner, when I accompanied him to his bedroom, I saw him +empty his trunk no less than three times to make sure that he had +forgotten nothing. He quite worried me. Your over-quick man is apt to +wear out other people’s nerves more than his own. I began to look +anxiously at the clock, and felt a real relief when the maid came to +announce that the cab was at the door. + +“Well, good-bye, Doctor!” he sang out cheerily, shaking my hand +through the open window of the cab. “Don’t forget to keep the +stock-bottles filled up. Saves a world of trouble. And don’t take too +long on your rounds. Ta! ta!” + +The cab rattled away and I went back into the house, a full-blown +general practitioner. + + + + + CHAPTER V. + THE LETHAL CHAMBER + +A young and newly-qualified doctor, emerging for the first time into +private practice, is apt to be somewhat surprised and disconcerted by +the new conditions. Accustomed to the exclusively professional and +scientific atmosphere of the hospital, the sudden appearance of the +personal element as the predominant factor rather takes him aback. He +finds himself in a new and unexpected position. No longer a mere, +impersonal official, a portion of a great machine, he is the paid +servant of his patients: who are not always above letting him feel the +conditions of his service. The hospital patient, drilled into a +certain respectful submissiveness by the discipline of the wards, has +given place to an employer, usually critical, sometimes truculent and +occasionally addicted to a disagreeable frankness of speech. + +The _locum tenens_, moreover, is peculiarly susceptible to these +conditions, especially if, as in my case, his appearance is youthful. +Patients resent the substitution of a stranger for the familiar +medical attendant and are at no great pains to disguise the fact. The +“old woman with the liver” (to adopt Batson’s pellucid phrase) hinted +that I was rather young, adding encouragingly that I should get the +better of that in time; while the more morose typhoid bluntly informed +me that he hadn’t bargained for being attended by a medical student. + +Taken as a whole, I found private practice disappointing and soon +began to wish myself back in the wards and to sigh for my quiet, +solitary rambles on Hampstead Heath. + +Still, there were rifts in the cloud. Some of the patients appreciated +the interest that I took in their cases, evidently contrasting it with +the rather casual attitude of my principal, and some were positively +friendly. But, in general, my reception was such as to make me +slightly apprehensive whenever a new patient appeared. + +On the fourth evening after Batson’s departure, Mrs. Samway was +announced and I prepared myself for the customary snub. But I was +mistaken. Nothing could be more gracious than her manner towards me, +though the object of her visit occasioned me some embarrassment. + +“I have called, Dr. Jardine,” she said, “to ask you if you could let +me have the account for poor Mr. Maddock. My husband is the executor, +you know, and, as we shall be going back to Paris quite shortly, he +wants to get everything settled up.” + +I was in rather a quandary. Of the financial side of practice I was +absolutely ignorant and I thought it best to say so. “But,” I added, +“Dr. Batson will be back on Friday evening, if you can wait so long.” + +“Oh, that will do quite well,” she replied, “but don’t forget to tell +him that we want the account at once.” + +I promised not to forget, and then remarked that she would, no doubt, +be glad to be back in Paris. + +“No,” she answered, “I shall be rather sorry. Of course Camden Town is +not a very attractive neighbourhood, but it is close to the heart of +London; and then there are some delightful places near and quite +accessible. There is Highgate, for instance.” + +“Yes; but it is getting very much built over, isn’t it?” + +“Unfortunately it is; but yet there are some very pleasant places +left. The old village is still charming. So quaint and old world. And +then there is Hampstead. What could be more delightful than the Heath? +But perhaps you don’t know Hampstead?” + +“Oh, yes I do,” said I; “my rooms are at Gospel Oak, quite near the +Heath, and I think I know every nook and corner of the neighbourhood. +I am pining for a stroll on the Heath at this very moment.” + +“I daresay you are,” she said sympathetically. “This is a depressing +neighbourhood if you can’t get away from it. We found it very dismal, +at first, after Paris.” + +“Do you live in Paris?” I asked. + +“Not permanently,” she replied. “But we spend a good deal of time +there. My husband is a dealer in works of art, so he has to travel +about a good deal. That is how we came to know Mr. Maddock.” + +“He was a dealer too, wasn’t he?” I enquired. + +“Yes, in a way. But he had means of his own and his dealing was a mere +excuse for collecting things that he was not going to keep. He had a +passion for buying, and then he used to sell the things in order to +buy more. But I am afraid I am detaining you with my chatter?” + +“No, not at all,” I said eagerly, only too glad to have an +intelligent, educated person to talk to; “you are the last caller, and +I hope I have finished my day’s work.” + +Accordingly she stayed quite a long time, chatting on a variety of +subjects and finally on that of cremation. + +“I daresay,” she said, “it is more sanitary and wholesome than burial, +but there is something rather dreadful about it. Perhaps it is because +we are not accustomed to the idea.” + +“Did you go to the funeral?” I asked. + +“Yes. Mr. Maddock had no friends in England but my husband and me, so +we both went. It was very solemn and awesome. The coffin was laid on +the catafalque while a short service was read, and then two metal +doors opened and it was passed through out of our sight. We waited +some time and presently they brought us a little terra-cotta urn with +just a handful or two of white ash in it. That was all that was left +of our poor friend Septimus Maddock. Don’t you think it is rather +dreadful?” + +“Death is always rather dreadful,” I answered. “But when we look at +the ashes of a dead person, we realize the total destruction of the +body; whereas the grave keeps its secrets. If we could look down +through the earth and see the changes that are taking place, we should +probably find the slow decay more shocking than the swift consumption +by fire. Fortunately we cannot. But we know that the final result is +the same in both.” + +Mrs. Samway shuddered slightly, and drew her wraps more closely about +her. + +“Yes,” she said with a faint sigh; “the same end awaits us all--but it +is better not to think about it.” + +We were both silent for awhile. I sat with my gaze bent rather +absently on the case-book before me, turning over her last somewhat +gloomy utterance, until, chancing to look up, I found her pale, +penetrating eyes fixed on me with the same strange intentness that I +had noticed when she had looked at me as I sat by the body of Maddock. +As she met my glance, she looked down quickly but without confusion, +and with a return to her habitual reposefulness. + +Half-unconsciously I returned her scrutiny. She was a +remarkable-looking woman. A beautiful woman, too, but of a type that +is, in our time and country, rare: an ancient or barbaric type in +which womanly beauty and grace are joined to manifest physical +strength. I felt that some unusual racial mixture spoke in her +inconsistent colouring; her clear, pink skin, her pale eyes and the +jet-black hair that rippled down either side of her low forehead in +little crimpy waves, as regular and formal as the “archaic curls” of +early Greek sculpture. + +But predominant over all other qualities was that of strength. Full +and plump, soft and almost ultra-feminine, lissom and flexible in +every pose and movement, yet, to me, the chief impression that her +appearance suggested was strength--sheer, muscular strength; not the +rigid bull-dog strength of a strong man, but the soft and supple +strength of a leopard. I looked at her as she sat almost limply in her +chair, with her head on one side, her hands resting in her lap and a +beautiful, soft, womanly droop of the shoulders; and I felt that she +could have started up in an instant, active, strong, formidable, like +a roused panther. + +I was going on, I think, to make comparisons between her and that +other woman who was wont to trip so daintily down Millfield Lane, when +she raised her eyes slowly to mine; and suddenly she blushed scarlet. + +“Am I a _very_ remarkable-looking person, Dr. Jardine?” she asked +quietly, as if answering my thoughts. + +The rebuke was well merited. For an instant a paltry compliment +fluttered on my lips; but I swallowed it down. She wasn’t that kind of +woman. + +“I am afraid I have been staring you out of countenance, Mrs. Samway,” +I said apologetically. + +“Hardly that,” she replied with a smile; “but you certainly were +looking at me very attentively.” + +“Well,” I said, recovering myself, “after all, a cat may look at a +king, you know.” + +She laughed softly--a very pretty, musical laugh--and rose, still +blushing warmly. + +“And so,” she retorted, “by the same reasoning, you think a king may +look at a cat. Very well, Dr. Jardine. Good-night.” + +She held out her hand; a beautifully-shaped hand, though rather +large--but, as I have said, she was not a small woman; and as it +clasped mine, though the pressure was quite gentle, it conveyed, like +her appearance, an impression of abundant physical strength. + +I accompanied her to the door and watched her as she walked up the +dingy street with an easy, erect, undulating gait; even as might have +walked those women who are portrayed for the wonder of all time on the +ivory-toned marble of the Parthenon frieze. I followed with my eyes +the dignified, graceful figure until it vanished round the corner, and +then went back to the consulting-room dimly wondering why a woman of +such manifest beauty and charm should offer so little attraction to +me. + +Batson’s practice, among its other drawbacks, suffered from a deadly +lack of professional interest. Whether this was its normal condition, +or whether his patients had got wind of me and called in other and +more experienced practitioners, I know not; but certainly, after the +stirring work of the hospital, the cases that I had to deal with +seemed very small beer. Hence the prospect of a genuine surgical case +came as a grateful surprise and I hailed it with enthusiasm. + +It was on the day before Batson’s expected return that I received the +summons; which was delivered to me in a dirty envelope as I sat by the +bedside of the last patient on my list. + +“Is the messenger waiting?” I asked, tearing open the envelope. + +“No, Doctor. He just handed in the note and went off. He seemed to be +in a hurry.” + +I ran my eye over the message, scrawled in a rather illiterate hand on +a sheet of common notepaper, and read: + + + “Sir, + + “Will you please come at once to the Mineral Water Works in Norton + Street. One of our men has injured himself rather badly. + + “Yours truly, + “J. Parker. + + “P.S.--He is bleeding a good deal, so please come quick.” + + +The postscript gave a very necessary piece of information. An injury +which bled would require certain dressings and surgical appliances +over and above those contained in my pocket case; and to obtain these +I should have to take Batson’s house on the way. Slipping the note +into my pocket, I wished my patient a hasty adieu and strode off at a +swinging pace in the direction of Jacob Street. + +The housemaid, Maggie, helped me to find the dressings and pack the +bag--for she was a handy, intelligent girl though no beauty; and +meanwhile I questioned her as to the whereabouts of Norton Street and +the mineral water factory. + +“Oh, I know the place well enough, sir,” said she, “though I didn’t +know the works were open. Norton Street is only a few minutes’ walk +from here. It’s quite close to Gayton Street, in fact these works are +just at the back of the Samways’ house. You go up to the corner by the +market and take the second on the right and then--” + +“Look here, Maggie,” I interrupted, “you’d better come and show me the +way, as you know the place. There’s no time to waste on fumbling for +the right turning.” + +“Very well, sir,” she replied, and the bag being now packed with all +necessary instruments and dressings, we set forth together. + +“Is this a large factory?” I asked, as she trotted by my side, to the +astonished admiration of Jacob Street, and the neighbourhood in +general. + +“No, sir,” she replied. “It’s quite a small place. The last people +went bankrupt and the works were empty and to let for a long time. I +thought they were still to let, but I suppose somebody has taken them +and started the business afresh. It’s round here.” + +She piloted me round a corner into a narrow by-street, near the end of +which she halted at the gate of a yard or mews. Above the entrance was +a weather-beaten board bearing the inscription, “International Mineral +Water Company” and a half-defaced printed bill offering the premises +to let; and at the side was a large bell-pull. A vigorous tug at the +latter set a bell jangling within, and, as Maggie tripped away up the +street, a small wicket in the gate opened, disclosing the dimly-seen +figure of a man standing in the inner darkness. + +“Are you the doctor?” he inquired. + +I answered “Yes,” and, being thereupon bidden to enter, stepped +through the opening of the wicket, which the man immediately closed, +shutting out the last gleam of light from the street lamp outside. + +“It’s rather dark,” said the unseen custodian, taking me by the arm. + +“It is indeed,” I replied, groping with my feet over the rough +cobbles; “hadn’t you better get a light of some kind?” + +“I will in a minute,” was the reply. “You see, all the other men have +gone home. We close at six sharp. This is the way. I’ll strike a +match. The man is down in the bottling-room.” + +My conductor struck a match by the light of which he guided me through +a doorway, along a passage or corridor and down a flight of stone +steps. At the bottom of the steps was a flagged passage, out of which +opened what looked like a range of cellars. Along the passage I walked +warily, followed by the stranger and lighted, very imperfectly, by the +matches that he struck; the glimmer of which threw a gigantic and +ghostly shadow of myself on the stone floor, but failed utterly to +pierce the darkness ahead. I was exactly opposite the yawning doorway +of one of the cellars when the match went out, and the man behind me +exclaimed: + +“Wait a moment, Doctor! Don’t move until I strike another light.” + +I halted abruptly; and the next moment I received a violent thrust +that sent me staggering through the open doorway into the cellar. +Instantly, the massive door slammed and a pair of heavy bolts were +shot in succession on the outside. + +“What the devil is the meaning of this?” I roared, battering and +kicking furiously at the door. Of course, there was no answer, and I +quickly stopped my demonstrations, for it dawned on me in a moment +that the factory was untenanted save by the ruffian who had admitted +me; that I had been decoyed here of a set purpose, though what that +purpose was I could not imagine. + +But it was not long before I received a pretty broad hint as to the +immediate intentions of my host. A gentle thumping at the door of my +cellar attracted my attention and caused me to lay my ear against the +wood. The sound that I heard was quite unmistakable. The crevices of +the door were being filled, apparently with pieces of rag, which my +friend was ramming home, presumably with a chisel. In fact the door +was being “caulked” to make the joints airtight. + +The object of this proceeding was clear enough. I was shut up in an +air-tight cavity in which I was to be slowly suffocated. That was +quite obvious. Why was I to be suffocated, I could form no sort of +guess excepting that I had fallen into the hands of a homicidal +lunatic. But I was not greatly alarmed. The air in a good-sized cellar +will last a considerable time, and I could easily poke out anything +that my friend might stuff into the keyhole. Then, when the men +arrived in the morning, I could kick on the cellar door, and they +would come and let me out. There was nothing to be particularly +frightened about. + +But stay! Were there any men? The injured man was evidently a myth. +Supposing the other men were a myth too! I recalled Maggie’s remark, +that she “had thought the place was to let still.” Perhaps it was. +That would be rather more serious. + +At this point my cogitations were broken in upon by sounds from the +adjoining cellar; the sound of someone moving about and dragging some +heavy body. And it struck me at once as strange that I should hear +these sounds so distinctly, seeing the massive door of my own cellar +was closely sealed and the walls were of solid brick, as I ascertained +by rapping at them with my knuckles. But I had no time to consider +this circumstance, for there suddenly arose a new sound, whereat, I +must confess my heart fairly came into my mouth; a loud, penetrating +hiss like the shriek of escaping steam. It seemed to come from some +part of the cellar in which I was immured; from a spot nearly +overhead; and it was immediately echoed by a similar sound in the +adjoining cellar and then by a third. Even as the last sound broke +forth, the door of the adjoining cellar slammed, the bolts were shot +and then faintly mingled with the discordant hissing, I could hear the +dull thumping that told me that the cracks of that door, too, were +being caulked. + +It was a frightful situation. The hissing sound was obviously caused +by the escape of gas under high pressure, and that gas must be +entering my cellar through some opening. I felt for my match-box, and, +groping along the wall towards the point whence the loudest +sound--and, indeed, all the sounds--proceeded, I struck a match. The +glimmer of the wax vesta made everything clear. Close to the ceiling, +about seven feet from the ground, was an opening in the wall about six +inches square; and pouring through this in a continuous stream was a +cloud of white particles that glistened like snowflakes. As I stood +under the opening, some of them settled on my face; and the more than +icy coldness of the contact, told the whole, horrible tale in a +moment. + +This white powder _was_ snow--carbonic acid snow. The hissing sound +came from three of those great iron bottles, charged under pressure +with liquefied carbonic acid, which are used by mineral water +manufacturers for aërating the water. The miscreant (or lunatic) who +had imprisoned me had turned on the taps, and the liquid was escaping +and congealing into snow with the cold produced by its own rapid +evaporation and expansion. Of course the snow would quickly absorb +heat, and, without again liquefying, evaporate into the gaseous form. +In a very short time both cellars would be full of the poisonous gas, +and I--well, in a word, I was shut up in a lethal chamber. + +It has taken me some time to write this explanation, which, however, +flashed through my brain in the twinkling of an eye as the light of +the match fell on that sinister cloud of snowflakes. In a moment I had +my coat off, and was stuffing it for dear life into the opening. It +was but a poor protection against the gas, which would easily enough +find its way through the interstices of the fabric; but it would stop +the direct stream of snow and give me time to think. + +On what incalculable chances do the great issues of our lives depend! +If I had been a short man I must have been dead in half an hour; for +the opening through which the cloud of snow was pouring was well over +seven feet above the floor and would have been quite out of my reach. +Even as it was, with my six feet of stature and corresponding length +of arm, it was impossible to ram my coat into the opening with the +necessary force, for I had to stand close to the wall with my arm +upraised at a great mechanical disadvantage. Still, as I have said, +imperfect as the obstruction was, it served to stop the inrushing +cloud of snow. It would take some time for the heavy gas in the +adjoining cellar to rise to the level of the opening, and, meanwhile, +I could be devising other measures. + +I lit another match and looked about me. The cellar was much smaller +than I had thought and was absolutely empty. The floor was of +concrete, the walls of rough brickwork and the ceiling of plaster, all +cracked and falling in. There was plenty of ventilation there, but +that was of no interest to me. Carbonic acid gas is so heavy that it +behaves almost like a liquid, and it would have filled the cellar and +suffocated me even if the top of my prison had been open to the sky. +The adjoining cellar was already filling rapidly, and when the gas in +it reached the level of the opening, it would percolate through my +coat and come pouring down into my cellar. But that, as I have said, +would take some time--if the dividing wall was moderately sound. This +important qualification, as soon as it occurred to me, set me +exploring the wall with the aid of another match; and very +unsatisfactory was the result. It was a bad wall, built of inferior +brick and worse mortar, and was marked by innumerable holes where +wall-hooks and other fastenings had been driven in between the bricks. +My brief survey convinced me that, so far from being gas-tight, the +wall was as pervious as a sponge, and that whatever I meant to do to +preserve my life, I must set about without delay. + +But what was I to do? That was the urgent, the vital question. Escape +was evidently impossible. There were no means of stopping up the +numberless holes and weak places in the wall. The only vulnerable spot +was the door. If I could establish some communication with the outer +air, I could, for a time at least, disregard the poisonous gas with +which I should presently be surrounded. + +The first thing to be considered was the keyhole. That must be +unstopped at once. Fumbling in my bag--for I had grown of a sudden +niggardly with my matches--I found a good-sized probe, which I +insinuated into the keyhole; and, in a moment, my hopes in that +direction were extinguished. For the end of the probe impinged upon +metal. The keyhole was not stopped with rag, but with a plate of metal +fixed on the outside. With rapidly-growing alarm, but with a tidiness +born of habit, I put the probe back in the bag and began feverishly to +review the situation and consider my resources. And then I had an +idea, only a poor, forlorn hope, but still an idea. + +There is a certain ingenious type of pocket-knife, devised principally +in the interest of the cutlery trade, that innocent persons (usually +of the female persuasion) are wont to bestow as presents on their +masculine friends. Such a knife I chanced to possess. It had been +given to me by an aunt, and sentimental considerations had induced me +to give it an amount of room in my trousers’ pocket that I continually +grudged. However, there it was at this critical moment, with its +corkscrew, gimlet, its bewildering array of blades, its hoof-pick, +tooth-pick, tweezers, file, screw-driver and assorted unclassifiable +tools; a ponderous lump of pocket-destroying uselessness--and yet, the +appointed means of saving my life. + +The gimlet was the first tool that I called into requisition. Very +gingerly--for these tools are commonly over-tempered and brittle--I +bored in the thick plank a hole at about the level of my mouth; and as +I worked I turned over my further plans. When the gimlet was through +the door, I selected a tool on whose use I had often speculated--a +sharp-edged spike, like a diminutive and very stumpy bayonet--which I +proceeded to use broach-wise to enlarge the hole. When this tool +worked loose, I exchanged it for the screw-driver, with which I +managed to broach the hole out to about half an inch in width. And +this was as large as I could make it, and it was not large enough. +True, one could breathe fairly comfortably through a half-inch hole, +but, with the deadly gas circulating around, a freer opening was very +desirable. + +Then I bethought me that the magic knife contained a saw--a wretched, +thick-bladed affair, but still a saw--which would actually cut wood if +you gave it time. This implement suggested a simple plan which I +forthwith put into execution, working as rapidly as I could without +running the risk of breaking the tools. My plan was to make a second +hole some two inches diagonally below the first, and from each hole to +carry two saw-cuts at right angles to one another. The two pairs of +cuts would intersect and take a square piece out of the door, giving +me a little window through which I could breathe in comfort. + +It was a trifling task, but yet, with the miserable tools I had, it +took a considerable time to execute; the more since the saw blade was +wider than the holes, excepting at its point. However, it was +accomplished at last, and I had the satisfaction of pushing out the +little separated square of wood and feeling that I now had free access +to the pure air outside my dungeon. + +But it was none too soon. As I rested from my labours, it occurred to +me to test the condition of the air inside. Lighting a wax match, I +held the little taper so that the flame ascended steadily, and then +lowered it slowly. As it descended the flame changed colour somewhat, +and about eighteen inches from the floor it went out quite suddenly. +There was, then, a layer of the pure gas about eighteen inches deep +covering the floor, and, no doubt, rising pretty rapidly. + +This was rather startling, and it warned me to have recourse without +delay to my breathing hole. For though carbonic acid gas behaves +somewhat as a liquid, it is not a liquid: like other gases, it has the +power of diffusing upwards, and the air of the cellar must be already +getting unsafe. Accordingly, after carefully wiping the surface of the +door with my handkerchief, I applied my mouth, with some distaste, to +the opening and took in a deep draught of undoubtedly pure air. + +The position in which I had to stand with my mouth to the hole was an +irksome one, and I foresaw that it would presently become very +fatiguing. Moreover, when the gas reached the level of my head, it +would be difficult to prevent some of it from finding its way into my +mouth and nostrils; and if it did, I should most assuredly be +poisoned. This consideration suggested the necessity of making another +hole at a lower level to let out the gas and allow me to rest myself +by a change of position. But this new task had to be carried out with +my mouth glued to the breathing hole; and very awkward and tiring I +found it and very slow was the progress that I made. This second hole +was smaller than the first, for time was precious, and I reflected +that I could easily enlarge it by fresh saw-cuts, each two of which +would take out a triangular piece of wood. + +But it was tedious work, and its completion left me with aching arms; +indeed, I was beginning to ache all over from the constrained +position. Taking a deep breath and shutting my mouth, I stood up and +stretched myself. Then I lit a match and looked at my watch. Half-past +eight. I had been over two hours in the cellar. And meanwhile the +patients were waiting for me at the surgery, and, no doubt, murmuring +at the delay. How soon would my absence lead to enquiries? Or were +enquiries being made even now? + +Looking at the match that I still held in my hand, I noticed that its +flame was pallid and bluish; and as I lowered it slowly, it went out +when it was a little over two feet from the floor. The gas, then, was +still rising, though not so rapidly as I had feared, but from the +altered colour of the flame, it was evident that the air of the +cellar, generally, contained enough diffused gas to be actively +poisonous. + +After a time, the erect position began to grow insupportably +fatiguing. I felt that I must sit down for a few minutes’ rest, even +though prudence whispered that it was highly unsafe. I struggled for +awhile, but eventually, conquered by fatigue, sat down on the floor +with my mouth applied closely to the lower breathing-hole. I persuaded +myself that I would sit only just long enough to recover some of my +strength, but minute after minute sped by and still I felt an +unaccountable reluctance to rise. + +Suddenly I became conscious of a vague feeling of drowsiness; of a +desire to lean back against the wall and doze. It was only slight, but +its significance was so appalling that I scrambled to my feet in a +panic, and, putting my mouth to the upper breathing-hole, took several +deep inspirations. But I soon realized that the upright position was +impossible. The drowsy feeling continued and there was growing with it +a lassitude and weakness of the limbs that threatened to leave me only +the choice between sitting or falling. A wave of furious anger swept +over me and roused me a little; a burst of hatred of the cowardly +wretch who had decoyed me, as I now suspected, to my death. Then this +feeling passed and was succeeded by chilly fear, and I sank down once +more into a sitting position with my mouth pressed to the lower +opening. + +The time ran on unreckoned by me. Gradually, by imperceptible degrees, +my mental state grew more and yet more sluggish. Anger and fear and +ever-dwindling hope flitted by turns across the slowly-fading field of +my consciousness. Intervals of quiet indifference--almost of placid +comfort--began to intervene, with increasing lassitude and a growing +desire for rest. To lie down; that was what I wanted. To lay my head +upon the stony floor and sink into sweet oblivion. + +At last I must have actually dozed, though, fortunately, without +removing my mouth from the breathing-hole, for I had no sense of the +passage of time, when I was suddenly aroused by the loud and +continuous jangling of a bell. + +I listened with a sort of dull eagerness and keeping awake with a +conscious effort. + +The bell pealed wildly and without a pause for what seemed to me quite +a long time. + +Then it ceased, and again my consciousness began to grow dim. After an +interval, I know not how long, there came to me dimly and only +half-perceived, the closing of a door, the patter of quick footsteps, +and then the voice of a man calling me by name. + +I struggled to get on to my feet, but could not move. But I still held +the clasp-knife and was able to rap with it feebly on the door. Again +I heard the voice--it sounded nearer now, and yet infinitely far +away--and again I rapped on the door and shouted through the +breathing-hole; a thin, muffled cry, such as one utters in a troubled +dream. And then the drowsiness crept over me again and I heard no +more. + +The next thing of which I was conscious was a sounding thwack on the +cheek with something wet that felt like a dead fish. I opened my eyes +and looked vaguely into two faces that were close to mine and seemed +to be lighted by a lamp or candle. The faces were somehow familiar, +but yet I failed clearly to recognize them, and, after staring +stupidly for a few moments, I began to doze again. Then the dead fish +returned to the assault and I again opened my eyes. Another vigorous +flop caused me to open my mouth with an unparliamentary gasp. + +“Ah! That’s better,” said a familiar and yet “unplaced” voice. “When a +man is able to swear, he is fairly on the road to recovery.” Flop! + +The renewed attentions of the dead fish (which turned out, later, to +be merely a wet towel) evoked further demonstrations on my part of +progressing recovery, accompanied by a nervous titter in a female +voice. Gradually the clouds rolled away, and to my returning +consciousness, the faces revealed themselves as those of Maggie, the +housemaid, and Dr. Thorndyke. Even to my muddled wits, the presence of +the latter was somewhat of a puzzle, and, in the intervals of +anathematizing the deceased fish--which I had not yet identified--I +found myself hazily speculating on the problem of how my revered +teacher came to be in this place, and what place this was. + +“Come, now, Jardine,” said Dr. Thorndyke, emptying a jug of water on +my face, and receiving a volley of spluttered expletives in exchange, +“pull yourself together. How did you get in that cellar?” + +“Hang’ ’f I know,” said I, composing myself for another nap. But here +the wet towel came once more into requisition, and that with such +vigour that, in a fit of exasperation, I sat up and yawned. + +“I think you’d better fetch a cab,” said Thorndyke, as Maggie wrung +out the towel afresh; “but leave the gate open when you go out.” + +“Wasser cab for?” I asked sulkily. “Can’t I walk?” + +“If you can, it will be better,” said Thorndyke. “Let us see if you +are able to stand.” He hoisted me on to my feet and he and Maggie, +taking each an arm, walked me slowly up and down the cobbled yard, +which I now began to recognize as appertaining to the Mineral Water +Works. At first I staggered very drunkenly, but by degrees the drowsy +feeling wore off and I was able to walk with Thorndyke’s assistance +only. + +“I think we might venture out now,” said he, at length, piloting me +towards the gate, and when I had stumbled rather awkwardly through the +wicket, we set forth homeward. + +On my arrival home, Thorndyke ordered a supply of strong coffee and a +light meal, after which--it being obvious that I was good for nothing +in a professional sense, he suggested that I should go to bed. + +“Don’t worry about the practice,” said he. “I will send for my friend +Jervis, and, between us, we will see that everything is looked after. +If Maggie will give me a sheet of paper and an envelope I will write a +note to him; and then she can take a hansom to my chambers and give +the note either to Dr. Jervis or my man Polton. Meanwhile, I will stay +here and see that you don’t go to sleep prematurely.” + +He wrote the note; and Maggie, having made such improvements in her +outward garb as befitted the status of a rider in hansoms, took charge +of it and departed with much satisfaction and dignity. Thorndyke made +a few enquiries of me as to the circumstances that had led to my +incarceration in the cellar, but finding that I knew no more than +Maggie--whom he had already questioned--he changed the subject; nor +would he allow me again to refer to it. + +“No, Jardine,” he said. “Better think no more of it for the present. +Have a good night’s rest and then, if you are all right in the +morning, we will go into the matter and see if we can put the puzzle +together.” + + + + + CHAPTER VI. + A COUNCIL OF WAR + +I awoke somewhat late on the following morning; indeed, I was but +half awake when there came a somewhat masterful and peremptory tap at +my bedroom door, followed by the appearance in the room of a rather +tall gentleman of some thirty years of age. I should have diagnosed +him instantly as a doctor by his self-possessed, proprietary manner of +entering, but he left me no time for guessing as to his identity. + +“Good-morning, Jardine,” he said briskly, jingling the keys and small +change in his trousers’ pockets, “my name is Jervis. Second violin in +the Thorndyke orchestra. I’m in charge here _pro tem_. How are you +feeling?” + +“Oh, I’m all right. I was just going to get up. You needn’t trouble +about the practice. I’m quite fit.” + +“I’m glad to hear it,” said Jervis, “but you’d better keep quiet all +the same. My orders are explicit, and I know my place too well to +disobey. Thorndyke’s instructions were that you are not to make any +visits or go abroad until after the inquest.” + +“Inquest?” I exclaimed. + +“Yes. He’s coming here at four o’clock to hold an inquiry into the +circumstances that led to your being locked up in a cellar, and until +then I’m to look after the practice and keep an eye on you. What time +do you expect the offspring of the flittermouse?” + +“Who?” I demanded. + +“Batson. He’s coming back to-day, isn’t he?” + +“Yes. About six o’clock to-night.” + +“Then you’ll be able to clear out. So much the better. The +neighbourhood doesn’t seem very wholesome for you.” + +“I suppose I can do the surgery work,” said I. + +“You’d better not. Better follow Thorndyke’s instructions literally. +But you can tell me about the patients and help me to dispense. And +that reminds me that a person named Samway called just now, a rather +fine-looking woman--reminded me of a big, sleek tabby cat. She +wouldn’t say what she wanted. Do you know anything about her?” + +“I expect she came about her account. But she’ll have to see Batson. I +told her so, only a night or two ago.” + +“Very well,” said Jervis, “then I’ll be off now, and you take things +easy and just think over what happened last night, so as to be ready +for Thorndyke.” + +With this he bustled away, leaving me to rise and breakfast at my +leisure. + +His advice to me to think over the events of the previous night was +rather superfluous. The experience was not one that I was likely to +forget. To have escaped from death by the very slenderest chance was +in itself a matter to occupy one’s thoughts pretty completely, apart +from the horrible circumstances, and then there was the mystery in +which the whole affair was enveloped, a mystery which utterly baffled +any attempt to penetrate it. Turn it over as I would--and it was +hardly out of my thoughts for a minute at a time all day--no glimmer +of light could I perceive, no faintest clue to any explanation of that +hideous and incomprehensible crime. + +At four o’clock punctually to the minute, Dr. Thorndyke arrived, and, +having quickly looked me over to see that I was none the worse for my +adventure, proceeded to business. + +“Have you finished the visits, Jervis?” he asked. + +“Yes; and sent off all the medicine. There’s nothing more to do until +six.” + +“Then,” said Thorndyke, “we might have a cup of tea in the +consulting-room and talk this affair over. I am rather taking +possession of you, Jardine,” he added, “but I think we ought to see +where we are quite clearly, even if we decide finally to hand the case +over to the police. Don’t you agree with me?” + +“Certainly,” I agreed, highly flattered by the interest he was taking +in my affairs; “naturally, I should like to get to the bottom of the +mystery.” + +“So should I,” said he, “and to that end, I propose that you give us a +completely circumstantial account of the whole affair. I have had a +talk with your very intelligent little maid, Maggie, and now I want to +hear what happened after she left you.” + +“I don’t think I have much to tell that you don’t know,” said I; +“however, I will take up the story where Maggie left off,” and I +proceeded to describe the events in detail, much as I have related +them to the reader. + +Thorndyke listened to my story with profound attention, making an +occasional memorandum but not uttering a word until I had finished. +Then, after a rapid glance through his memoranda, he said: + +“You spoke of a note that was handed in to you. Have you got that +note?” + +“I left it on the writing-table, and it is probably there still. Yes, +here it is.” I brought it over to the little table on which our tea +was laid and handed it to him; and as he took it from me with the +dainty carefulness of a photographer handling a wet plate, I noted +mentally that the habit of delicate manipulation contracted in the +laboratory makes itself evident in the most trifling of everyday +actions. + +“I see,” he remarked, turning the envelope over and scrutinizing it +minutely, “that this is addressed to ‘Dr. H. Jardine.’ It appears, +then, that he knows your Christian name. Can you account for that?” + +“No, I can’t. The only letter I have had here was addressed ‘Dr. +Jardine,’ and I have signed no certificates or other documents.” + +He made a note of my answer, and, drawing the missive from its +envelope, read it through. + +“The handwriting,” he remarked, “looks disguised rather than +illiterate, and the diction is inconsistent. The blatantly incorrect +adverb at the end does not agree with the rest of the phraseology and +the correct punctuation. As to the signature, we may neglect that, +unless you are acquainted with anyone in these parts of the name of +Parker.” + +“I am not,” said I. + +“Very well. Then if you will allow me to keep this note, I will file +it for future reference. And now I will ask you a few questions about +this adventure of yours, which is really a most astonishing and +mysterious affair; even more mysterious, I may add, than it looks at +the first glance. But we shall come to that presently. At the moment +we are concerned with the crime itself--with a manifest attempt to +murder you--and the circumstances that led up to it; and there are +certain obvious questions that suggest themselves. The first is: Can +you give any explanation of this attempt on your life?” + +“No, I can’t,” I replied. “It is a complete mystery to me. I can only +suppose that the fellow was a homicidal lunatic.” + +“A homicidal lunatic,” said Thorndyke, “is the baffled investigator’s +last resource. But we had better not begin supposing at this stage. +Let us keep strictly to facts. You do not know of anything that would +explain this attack on you?” + +“No.” + +“Then the next question is: Had you any property of value on your +person?” + +“No. Five pounds would cover the value of everything I had about me, +including the instruments.” + +“Then that seems to exclude robbery as a motive. The next question is: +Does any person stand to benefit considerably by your death? Have you +any considerable expectations in the way of bequests, reversions or +succession to landed property or titles?” + +“No,” I replied with a faint grin. “I shall come in for a thousand or +two when my uncle dies, but I believe the London Hospital is the +alternative legatee, and I suppose we would hardly suspect the +hospital governors of this little affair. Otherwise, the only person +who would benefit by my death would be the undertaker who got the +contract to plant me.” + +Thorndyke nodded and made a note of my answer. + +“That,” said he, “disposes of the principal motives for premeditated +murder. There remains the question of personal enmity--not a common +motive in this country. Have you, as far as you know, an enemy or +enemies who might conceivably try to kill you?” + +“As far as I know, I have not an enemy in the world, or anyone, even, +who would wish to do me a bad turn.” + +“Then,” said Thorndyke, “that seems to dispose of all the ordinary +motives for murder; and I may say that I have only put these questions +as a matter of routine precaution--_ex abundantiâ cautelae_, as +Jervis says, when he is in a forensic mood--because certain other +facts which I have learned seem to exclude any of these motives +except, perhaps, robbery from the person.” + +“You haven’t been long picking up those other facts,” remarked Jervis. +“Why the affair only happened last night.” + +“I have only made a few simple enquiries,” replied Thorndyke. “This +morning I called on Mr. Highfield, whose name, as solicitor and agent +to the landlords, I copied from the notice on the gate at the works +last night. He knows me slightly so I was able to get from him the +information that I wanted. It amounts to this. + +“About four months ago, a Mr. Gill wrote to him and offered a lump sum +for the use of the mineral water works for six months. Highfield +accepted the offer and drew up an agreement, as desired, granting Gill +immediate possession of the premises and the small stock and plant, of +which the residue was to be taken back at a valuation by the landlords +at the expiration of the term. + +“I noted Gill’s address, as it appeared on the agreement, and sent my +man, Polton, to make enquiries. The address is that of a West +Kensington lodging house at which Gill was staying when he signed the +agreement. He had been there only three weeks, he left two days after +the date of the agreement and the landlady does not know where he went +or anything about him.” + +“Sounds a bit fishy,” Jervis remarked. “Did he tell Highfield what he +wanted the premises for?” + +“I understand that something was said about some assay work in +connection with certain--or rather uncertain--mineral concessions. But +of course that was no affair of Highfield’s. His business was to get +the rent, and, having got it, his interest in Mr. Gill lapsed. But you +see the bearing of these facts. Gill’s connection with these works +does, as Jervis says, look a little queer, especially after what has +happened. But, seeing that he made his arrangements four months ago, +at a time when Jardine had no thought of coming into this +neighbourhood, it is clear that those arrangements could have no +connection with this particular attempt. Gill obviously did not take +those works with the intention of murdering Jardine. He took them for +some other purpose; quite possibly the purpose that he stated. And we +must not assume that Gill was the perpetrator of this outrage at all. +Could you identify the man who let you in?” + +“No,” I replied. “Certainly not. I hardly saw him at all. The place +was pitch dark, and whenever he struck a match he was either behind me +or in front with his back to me. The only thing I could make out about +him was that he had some sort of coarse wash-leather gloves on.” + +“Ha!” exclaimed Thorndyke. “Then we were right, Jervis.” + +I looked in surprise from one to the other of my friends, and was on +the point of asking Thorndyke what he meant, when he continued. + +“That closes another track. If you couldn’t identify the man, a +description of Gill, if we could obtain it, would not help us. We must +begin at some other point.” + +“It seems to me,” said Jervis, “that we haven’t much to go upon at +all.” + +“We haven’t much,” agreed Thorndyke, “but still we have something. We +find that the motive of this attempt was apparently not robbery, nor +the diversion of inheritable property, nor personal enmity. It must +have been premeditated, but yet it could not have been planned more +than a week in advance, for Jardine has only been in this +neighbourhood for that time, and his coming was unexpected. The +appearances very strongly suggest that the motive, whatever it was, +has been generated recently and probably locally. So we had better +make a start from that assumption.” + +“Is it possible,” Jervis suggested, “that this man Gill may be some +sort of anarchist crank? Or a sort of thug? It is actually conceivable +that he may have taken these premises for the express purpose of +having a secure place where he could perpetrate murders and conceal +the bodies.” + +“It is quite conceivable,” said Thorndyke, “and when we go and look +over the works--which I propose we do presently--we may as well bear +the possibility in mind. But it is merely a speculative suggestion. To +return to your affairs, Jardine, has your stay here been quite +uneventful?” + +“Perfectly,” I replied. + +“No unusual or obscure cases? No injuries?” + +“No, nothing out of the common,” I replied. + +“No deaths?” + +“One. But the man died before I took over.” + +“Nothing unusual about that? Everything quite regular?” + +“Oh, perfectly,” I answered; and then with a sudden qualm, as I +recalled Batson’s uncertainty as to the actual cause of death, I +added, “At least I hope so.” + +“You hope so?” queried Thorndyke. + +“Yes. Because it’s too late to go into the question now. The man was +cremated.” + +At this a singular silence fell. Both my friends seemed to stiffen in +their chairs, and both looked at me silently but very attentively. +Then Thorndyke asked, “Did you have anything to do with that case?” + +“Yes,” I replied. “I went with Batson to examine the body.” + +“And are you perfectly satisfied that everything was as it should be?” + +I was on the point of saying “yes.” And then suddenly there arose +before my eyes the vision of Mrs. Samway looking at me over Batson’s +shoulder with that strange, inscrutable expression. And again, I +recalled her unexplained anger and then her sudden change of mood. It +had impressed me uncomfortably at the time, and it impressed me +uncomfortably now. + +“I don’t know that I am, now that I come to think it over,” I replied. + +“Why not?” asked Thorndyke. + +“Well,” I said, a little hesitatingly, “to begin with, I don’t think +the cause of death was quite clear. Batson couldn’t find anything +definite when he attended the man, and I know that the patient’s death +came as quite a surprise.” + +“But surely,” exclaimed Thorndyke, “he took some measures to find out +the cause of death!” + +“He didn’t. He assumed that it was a case of fatty heart and certified +it as ‘Morbus cordis’; and a man named O’Connor confirmed his +certificate after examining the body.” + +“After merely inspecting the exterior?” + +“Yes.” + +My two friends looked at one another significantly, and Thorndyke +remarked, with a disapproving shake of the head: + +“And this is what all the elaborate precautions amount to in practice. +A case which might have been one of the crudest and baldest poisoning +gets passed with hardly a pretence of scrutiny. And so it will always +be. Routine precautions against the unsuspected are no precautions at +all. That is the danger of cremation. It restores to the poisoner the +security that he enjoyed in the old days when there were no such +sciences as toxicology and organic chemistry, when it was impossible +for him to be tripped up by an exhumation and an analysis.” + +“You don’t think it likely that this was a case of poisoning, do you?” +I asked. + +“I know nothing about the case,” he replied, “excepting that there was +gross neglect in issuing the certificates. What do you think about it +yourself? Looking back at the case, is there anything besides the +uncertainty that strikes you as unsatisfactory?” + +I hesitated, and again the figure of Mrs. Samway rose before me with +that strange, baleful look in her eyes. Finally I described the +incident to my colleagues. + +“Mrs. Samway!” exclaimed Jervis. “Is that the handsome Lucrezia Borgia +lady with the mongoose eyes who called here this morning? By Jove! +Jardine, you are giving me the creeps.” + +“I understand,” said Thorndyke, “that you were making as if to feel +the dead man’s pulse?” + +“Yes.” + +“There is no doubt, I suppose, that he really was dead?” + +“None whatever. He was as cold as a fish, and, besides there was quite +distinct _rigor mortis_.” + +“That seems conclusive enough,” said Thorndyke, but he continued to +gaze at his open note-book with a profoundly speculative and +thoughtful expression. + +“It certainly looks,” said Jervis, “as if Jardine had either seen +something or had been about to see something that he was not wanted to +see; and the question is what that something could have been.” + +“Yes,” I agreed, gloomily; “that is what I have just been asking +myself. There might have been a wound or injury of some kind, or there +might have been the marks of a hypodermic needle on the wrist. I wish +I knew what she meant by looking at me in that way.” + +“Well,” said Jervis, “we shall never know now. The grave gives up its +secrets now and again, but the crematorium furnace never. Whether he +died naturally or was murdered, Mr. Maddock is now a little heap of +ashes with no message for anyone this side of the Day of Judgment.” + +Thorndyke looked up. “That seems to be so,” said he, “and really, we +have no substantial reasons for thinking that there was anything +wrong. So we come back to your own affairs, Jardine, and the question +is, What would you prefer to do?” + +“In what respect?” I asked. + +“In regard to this attempt on your life. You have told us that you +have not an enemy in the world. But it appears as if you had; and a +very dangerous one, too. Now would you like to put the case into the +hands of the police, or would you rather that we kept our own counsel +and looked into it ourselves?” + +“I should like you to decide that,” said I. + +“The reason that I ask,” said Thorndyke, “is this: the machinery of +the police is adjusted to professional crime--burglary, coining, +forgery, and so forth--and their methods are mostly based on +‘information received.’ The professional ‘crook’ is generally well +known to the police, and, when wanted for any particular ‘job,’ can be +found without much difficulty and the information necessary for his +conviction obtained from the usual sources. But in cases of obscure, +non-professional crime the police are at a disadvantage. The criminal +is unknown to them; there are no confederates from whom to get +information; consequently they have no starting-point for their +enquiries. They can’t create clues; and they, very naturally, will not +devote time, labour and money to cases in which they have nothing to +go on. + +“Now this affair of yours does not look like a professional crime. No +motive is evident and you can give no information that would help the +police. I doubt if they would do much more than give you some rather +disagreeable publicity, and they might even suspect you of some kind +of imposture.” + +“Gad!” I exclaimed. “That’s just what they would do. It’s what they +did last time, and this affair would write me down in their eyes a +confirmed mystery-monger.” + +“Last time?” queried Thorndyke. “What last time is that? Have there +been any other attempts?” + +“Not on me,” I replied. “But I had an adventure one night about six or +seven weeks ago that has made the Hampstead police look on me, I +think, with some suspicion”; and here I gave my two friends a +description of my encounter with the dead (or insensible) cleric in +Millfield Lane, and my discoveries on the following morning. + +“But my dear Jardine!” Thorndyke exclaimed when I had finished, “what +an extraordinary man you are! It seems as if you could hardly show +your nose out of doors without becoming involved in some dark and +dreadful mystery.” + +“Well,” said I, “I hope I have now exhausted my gifts in that respect. +I am not thirsting for more experiences. But what do you think about +that Hampstead affair? Do you think I could possibly have been +mistaken? Could the man have been merely insensible, after all, as the +police suggested?” + +Thorndyke shook his head. “I don’t think,” he replied, “that it is +possible to take that view. You see the man had disappeared. Now he +could not have got away unassisted, in fact he could not have walked +at all. One would have to assume that some persons appeared directly +after you left and carried him away; and that they appeared and +retired so quickly as not to be overtaken by you on your return a few +minutes later with the police. That is assuming too much. And then +there are the traces which you discovered on the following day, which +seem to suggest strongly that a body had been carried away to Ken +Wood. It is a thousand pities that you encountered that keeper, if you +could have followed the tracks while they were fresh you might have +been able to ascertain whither it had been carried. But now, to return +to your latest experience, what shall we do? Shall we communicate with +the police, or shall we make a few investigations on our own account?” + +“As far as I am concerned,” I replied eagerly, “a private +investigation would be greatly preferable. But wouldn’t it take up +rather a lot of your time?” + +“Now, Jardine, you needn’t apologize,” said Jervis. “Unless I am much +mistaken, my respected senior has ‘struck soundings,’ as the nautical +phrase has it. He has a theory of your case, and he would like to see +it through. Isn’t that so, Thorndyke?” + +“Well,” Thorndyke admitted, “I will confess that the case piques my +curiosity somewhat. It is an unusual affair and suggests some curious +hypotheses which might be worth testing. So, if you agree, Jardine, +that we make at least a few preliminary investigations, I suggest +that, as soon as Batson returns, we three go over to what the +newspapers would call ‘the scene of the tragedy’ and reconstitute the +affair on the spot.” + +“And what about Batson?” I asked. “Shall we tell him anything?” + +“I think we must,” said Thorndyke, “if only to put him on his guard; +for your unknown enemy may be his enemy, too.” + +At this moment the street door banged loudly, a quick step danced +along the hall, and Batson himself burst into the room. + +“Good Lord!” he exclaimed, halting abruptly at the door and gazing in +dismay at our little council. “What’s the matter? Anything happened?” + +Thorndyke laughed as he shook the hand of his quondam pupil. + +“Come, come, Batson,” said he, “don’t make me out such a bird of +ill-omen.” + +“I was afraid something awkward might have occurred, police job or +inquest or something of that sort.” + +“You weren’t so very far wrong,” said Thorndyke. “When you are at +liberty I’ll tell you about it.” + +“I’m at liberty now,” said Batson, dropping into a chair and glaring +at Thorndyke through his spectacles. “No scandal, I hope.” + +Thorndyke reassured him on this point and gave him a brief account of +my adventure and our proposed visit to the works; to which he listened +with occasional ejaculations of astonishment and relief. + +“By Gum!” he exclaimed, “what a mercy you got there in time. If you +hadn’t there’d have been an inquest and a devil of a fuss. I should +never have heard the last of it. Ruined the practice and worried me +into a lunatic asylum. Oh, and about those works. I wouldn’t go there +if I were you.” + +“Why not?” Thorndyke asked. + +“Well, you may have to answer some awkward questions, and we don’t +want this affair to get about, you know. No use raising a dust. Rumpus +of any kind plays the deuce with a medical practice.” + +Thorndyke smiled at my principal’s frank egoism. “Jervis and I went +over last night,” said he, “and had a hasty look round and we found +the place quite deserted. Probably it is so still.” + +“Then you won’t be able to get in. How jer get in last night?” + +“I happened to have a piece of stiff wire in my pocket,” Thorndyke +replied impassively. + +“Ha!” said Batson. “Wire, eh? Picklock in fact. I wouldn’t, if I were +you. Devil of a bobbery if anyone sees you. Hallo! There goes the +bell. Patient. Let him wait. ’Tisn’t six yet, is it?” + +“Two minutes past,” replied Thorndyke, rising and looking at his +watch. “Perhaps we had better be starting as it’s now dark, and the +business at the works, if there is any, is probably over for the day.” + +“Hang the works!” exclaimed Batson. “I wouldn’t go nosing about there. +What’s the good? Jardine’s alright and the chappie isn’t likely to be +on view. You’ll only raise a stink for nothing and bring in a crowd of +beastly reporters humming about the place. There’s that damn bell +again. Well, if you won’t stay, perhaps you’ll look me up some other +time. Always d’lighted to see you. Jervis too. You’re not going, +Jardine. I’ve got to settle up with you and hear your report.” + +“I’ll look in later,” said I; “when you’ve finished the evening’s +work.” + +“Right you are,” said Batson, opening the door and adroitly edging us +out. “Sorry you can’t stay. Good-night! Good-night!” + +He shepherded us persuasively and compellingly down the hall, with a +skill born of long practice with garrulous patients, and, having +exchanged us on the doorstep for a stout woman with two children, +returned into the house with his prey and was lost to sight. + + + + + CHAPTER VII. + AN UNSEEN ENEMY + +From my late principal’s house we walked away quickly down the +lamplit street, all, I think, dimly amused at the circumstances of our +departure. + +“Is Batson always like that?” Thorndyke asked. + +“Always,” I replied. “Hurry and bustle are his normal states.” + +“Dear, dear,” commented Thorndyke, “what a terrible amount of time he +must waste. Of course, one can understand now how that cremation +muddle came about. Your incurable hustler is always thinking of the +things he has got to do next instead of the thing that he is doing at +the moment. By the way, Jardine, I am taking it for granted that you +would like to inspect these premises. It is not essential. Jervis and +I had a preliminary look round last night, and I daresay we picked up +most of the facts that are likely to be of importance if we should be +going farther into the matter.” + +“I think it would be as well for me to take a look at the place and +show you exactly where and how the affair happened.” + +“I think so too,” said Thorndyke. “It was all pretty evident, but you +might be able to show us something that we had overlooked. Here we +are. I wonder if Mr. Gill is on the premises--supposing him still to +frequent them.” + +He looked up and down the street, and, taking a key from his pocket, +inserted it into the lock. + +“Why, how on earth did you get the key?” I asked. Thorndyke looked at +me slyly. + +“We keep a tame mechanic,” said he, as he turned the key and opened +the wicket. + +“Yes, but how did he get the pattern of the lock?” I asked. + +Thorndyke laughed softly. “It is only a simple trade lock. The fact +is, Jardine, that in our branch of practice we have occasionally to +take some rather irregular proceedings. For instance, I usually carry +a small set of picklocks--fortunately for you. That is how I got in +last night. Then I never go abroad without a little box of moulding +wax; a most invaluable material, Jardine, for collecting certain kinds +of evidence. Well, with a slip of wood and a bit of wax I was able to +furnish my man with the necessary data for filing up a blank key. One +doesn’t want to be seen using a picklock. Now, can you show us the +way?” + +He flashed a pocket electric lamp on the ground, and we advanced over +the rough cobbles until we reached a door at the side. + +“This is where I went in,” said I. “It opens into a sort of corridor, +and at the end is a door opening on some steps that lead down to the +passage below.” + +Thorndyke tried the handle of the door and pushed, but it was +evidently locked or bolted. + +“I left this door unlocked last night,” said he; “so it is clear that +someone has been here since. I hardly expected that. I thought our +friend would have cleared off for good. But it is possible that Gill +had nothing to do with the attempt. The premises may have been used by +someone who happened to know that they were unoccupied. It would have +been quite easy for such a person to gain admittance; as you see.” + +While speaking, he had produced from his pocket a little bunch of +skeleton keys, with one of which he now quietly unlocked the door. + +“These builders’ locks,” said he, “are merely symbolic of security. +You are not expected to unfasten them without authority, but you can +if you like and happen to have a bit of stiff wire.” + +We entered the corridor, and, as we proceeded, looked into the rooms +that opened out of it. One of them was meagrely furnished as an +office, but the thick layer of dust on the desk and stools showed +clearly that it had been long disused; the other rooms were empty and +desolate, and showed no trace of use or occupation. + +“The worthy Gill,” said Jervis, “seems to have been able, like +Diogenes, to get on with a very modest outfit.” + +“Yes,” agreed Thorndyke, “it is a little difficult to guess what his +occupation is. The place looks as if it had never been used at all. +Shall I go first?” + +He halted for a moment, passing the light of his lamp over the massive +door at the head of the steps, and then began to descend. It was +certainly a horrible and repulsive place, especially to my eyes, with +the recollection of my late experience fresh in my mind. The rough +brick walls, covered with the crumbling remains of old white-wash, the +black masses of cobwebs that drooped like funereal stalactites from +the ceiling, the fungi that sprouted in corners, and the snail-tracks +that glistened in the lamplight on the stone floor, all contributed to +a vault-like sepulchral effect that was most unpleasantly suggestive +of what might have been and very nearly had been. + +My late prison was easily distinguished by the two holes in the door. +We looked in; but that cellar was completely empty save for a few +chips of wood and a pinch or two of sawdust; memorials of my sojourn +in the lethal chamber at which I could hardly look without a shudder. +Then we passed on to the next cellar--the one adjoining my prison--and +this was an object of no little curiosity to me. Here, while I was +securely bolted into my cell, that unknown villain had, deliberately +and in cold blood, made all the arrangements for my murder; +arrangements which he little suspected that I should survive to look +upon. + +Thorndyke, too, was interested. He stood at the open door, looking in +as if considering the positions of various objects. As in fact he was. + +“Someone has been here since last night, Jervis,” said he. + +“Yes,” agreed Jervis. “That gas bottle has been taken down from the +opening. You see, Jardine,” he continued, “he had stood that big +packing-case up on end and laid the gas bottle along the top, with its +nozzle just opposite the hole. Two other bottles were standing upright +with their nozzles upwards.” + +“I understand,” said Thorndyke, “that you heard three bottles only +turned on?” + +“Yes,” I answered; “there was the one opposite the hole and two +others.” + +“I ask,” Thorndyke said, “because there are, as you see, seven other +bottles, lying by the wall. Those are all empty. We tried them when we +came here last night.” + +“I know nothing about those others,” said I. “The three bottles that I +have mentioned I heard distinctly, and after he had turned on the +third, the man went out of the cellar and closed up the door.” + +“Then,” said Thorndyke, “the other seven were presumably used for some +other--and let us hope, more legitimate--purpose. I wonder why our +friend has been at the trouble of moving the cylinders.” + +“Perhaps,” suggested Jervis, “he thought that the arrangement might be +a little too illuminating for the police, if they should happen to pay +a visit to the place. He may not be aware that the apparatus had +already been inspected _in situ_ by us. Or, again, the cylinders may +have been moved by someone else. We are assuming that he is a lawful +occupant of the premises; but he may be a mere secret intruder like +ourselves, who has discovered that the place is more or less +unoccupied and has made use of the premises and plant for his own +benevolent purposes.” + +“Yes,” agreed Thorndyke, “that is perfectly true. But we can put the +matter to the test, at least negatively. If the cylinders have been +moved by an innocent stranger they will bear the prints of hands.” + +“But why shouldn’t the man himself leave the prints of his hands on +the cylinders?” I asked. + +“Because, my dear Jardine, he is too knowing a bird. Jervis and I went +carefully over the cylinders last night in the hope of getting a few +finger-prints to submit to Scotland Yard; but not a vestige could we +find. Our friend had seen to that. We assumed that he had operated in +gloves and your description of him confirmed our assumption. Which, in +its way, is an interesting fact, for a man who is knowing enough to +take these precautions has probably had some previous experience of +crime, or, at least, has some acquaintance with the ways of criminals. +The suggestion, in fact, is that, although this is not an ordinary +professional crime, the perpetrator may be a professional criminal. +And the further suggestion is, of course, that of very deliberate +premeditation.” + +While he had been speaking he had produced from his pocket a small, +flattened bottle fitted with a metal cap and filled with a yellowish +powder. Removing the cap and uncovering a perforated inner cap, like +that of an iodoform dredger, he proceeded to shake a cloud of the +light powder over the three upper cylinders, jarring them with his +foot to make the powder spread. Then he blew sharply on them, one +after the other, when the powder disappeared from their surfaces, +leaving visible one or two shapeless whitened smears but never a trace +of a finger-print or even the shape of a hand. + +Thorndyke rose and slipped the bottle back in his pocket. + +“Apparently,” said he, “the cylinders were moved by our unknown +friend, with the same careful precautions as on the first occasion. A +wary gentleman, this, Jervis. He’ll give us a run for our money, at +any rate.” + +“Yes,” agreed Jervis, “he doesn’t mean to give himself away. He +preserves his incognito most punctiliously. I’ll say that for him.” + +“And meanwhile,” said Thorndyke, “we had better proceed with our +measures for drawing him out of this modest retirement. I want you, +Jardine, to look round this cellar and tell us if any of the things +that you see in it reminds you of anything that has happened to you, +or suggests any thought or reflection.” + +I looked round, I am afraid rather vacantly. A more unsuggestive +collection of objects I have never looked upon. + +“There are the gas cylinders,” I said, feebly; “but I have told you +about them. I don’t see anything else excepting a few oddments of +rubbish.” + +“Then take a good look at the rubbish,” said he. “Remember that it may +be necessary at some future time for you to recall exactly what this +cellar was like, and what it contained. You may even have to make a +sworn statement. So cast your eye round and tell us what you see.” + +I did so, wondering inwardly what the deuce I was expected to see and +what might be the importance of my seeing it. + +“I see,” said I, “a mouldy-looking cellar about fifteen feet by +twelve, with very bad brick walls, a plaster ceiling in an advanced +stage of decay, and a concrete floor. In the left hand wall is a hole +about six inches square opening into the adjoining cellar. The +contents are ten gas cylinders, all apparently empty, a key or spanner +which seems to have been used to turn the cocks, a large packing-case, +which, to judge by its shape, seems to have contained gas cylinders--” + +“The word ‘large,’” interrupted Thorndyke, “is not a particularly +exact one.” + +“Well, then, a packing-case about seven feet long by two and a half +feet wide and deep.” + +“That’s better,” said Thorndyke. “Always give your dimensions in +quantitative terms if possible. Go on.” + +“There are a couple of waterproof sheets,” said I. “I don’t see quite +what they can have been used for.” + +“Never mind their use,” said Thorndyke. “Note the fact that they are +here.” + +“I have,” said I; “and that seems to complete the list with the +exception of the straw in which I suppose the gas cylinders were +packed. There is a large quantity of that, but not more than would +seem necessary for the purpose. And that seems to complete the +inventory, and, I may say, that none of these things conveys any +suggestion whatever to my mind.” + +“Probably not,” said Thorndyke, “and it is quite possible that none of +these things has any particular significance at all. But as they are +the only facts offered us, we must make the best of them. There is one +other cellar that we have not yet looked into, I think.” + +We came out, and, walking along the passage, came to another door +which stood slightly ajar. Thorndyke opened it, and, throwing in the +light of his lamp, revealed a considerable stack of long iron gas +bottles, and one or two packing-cases similar to the one I had already +seen. + +“I presume,” said he, “that these are full cylinders; the store from +which our friend got his supply, but we may as well make sure.” + +He ran back into the adjoining cellar, and returned with the spanner, +with which he proceeded to turn the cock of one of the topmost +cylinders; upon which a loud hiss and a thin, snowy cloud showed that +his surmise was correct. + +He had just closed the cock and stepped out into the passage to take +back the spanner, when I saw him stop suddenly as if listening. And +then he sniffed once or twice. + +“What is it?” asked Jervis; but Thorndyke, without replying, ran +quickly along the passage and up the steps, and I heard him trying the +door at the top. + +“Bring up one of the empty cylinders,” he said quietly. “They have +bolted us in and apparently set fire to the place.” + +We did not require much urging to act quickly. Picking up one of the +long, ponderous iron cylinders, we ran with it along the passage +towards the light of Thorndyke’s lamp. As we ascended the steps I +became plainly aware of the smell of burning wood and of a crackling +sound, faintly audible through the massive door. + +“There is only one bolt,” said Thorndyke; “I noticed it as we came in. +I will throw my light on the part of the door where it is fixed, and +you two must batter on that spot with the cylinder.” + +The door was, as I have said, a massive one, but it would have been a +massive door indeed that could have withstood the blows of that +ponderous iron cylinder, wielded by two strong men whose lives +depended on their efforts. At the very first crash of the +battering-ram, a tiny chink opened and at each thundering blow, the +building shook. Furiously we pounded at the thick, plank-built door, +and slowly the chink widened as the screws of the bolt tore out of the +woodwork. And as the chink opened, a thin reek of pungent smoke +filtered in, and the cold light of Thorndyke’s lantern became +contrasted with a red glare from without. And then suddenly, the door, +under the heavy battering, burst from its fastenings and swung open. A +blinding, choking cloud of smoke and sparks rolled in upon us, through +which we could see in the corridor outside a pile of straw and crates +and broken packing-cases, blazing and cracking furiously. It looked as +if we were cut off beyond all hope. + +Jervis and I had dropped the now useless cylinder and were gazing in +horror at the blazing mass that filled the corridor and cut off our +only means of escape, when we were recalled by the voice of Thorndyke, +speaking in his usual quiet and precise manner. + +“We must get the full cylinders up as quickly as possible,” said he; +and, running down the steps he made straight for the end cellar, +whither we followed him. Picking up one of the cylinders, we carried +it quickly to the top of the steps. + +“Lay it down,” said Thorndyke, “and fetch another.” + +Jervis and I ran back to the cellar, and taking up another cylinder, +brought it along the passage. As we were ascending the steps, there +suddenly arose a loud, penetrating hiss, and as we reached the top, we +saw Thorndyke disengaging the spanner from the cock of the cylinder +out of which a jet of liquid was issuing, mingled with a dense, snowy +cloud. + +An instantaneous glance, as we laid down the fresh cylinder, reassured +me very considerably. The icy, volatile liquid and the falling cloud +of intensely cold carbonic acid snow had produced an immediate effect; +as was evident in a blackened, smouldering patch in the midst of the +blazing mass. With reviving hope I followed Jervis once more down the +steps and along the passage to the end cellar, from which we brought +forth a third cylinder. + +By this time the passage was so filled with smoke that it was +difficult either to see or to breathe, and the bright light that had +at first poured in through the open doorway had already pulled down so +far that Thorndyke’s figure, framed in the opening, loomed dim and +shadowy amidst the smoke and against the dusky red background. We +found him, when we reached the top of the steps, holding the great gas +bottle and directing the stream of snow and liquid on to those parts +of the wood and straw from which flames still issued. + +“It will be all right,” he said in his calm, unemotional way; “the +fire had not really got an effective start. The straw made a great +show, but that is nearly all burnt now, and all this carbonic acid gas +will soon smother the burning wood. But we must be careful that it +doesn’t smother us too. The steps will be the safest place for the +present.” + +He opened the cock of the new cylinder and, having placed it so that +it played on the most refractory part of the burning mass, backed to +the steps where Jervis and I stood looking through the doorway. The +fire was, as he has said, rapidly dying down. The volumes of gas +produced by the evaporation of the liquid and the melting snow, cut +off the supply of air so that, in place of the flames that had, at +first, looked so alarming, only a dense reek of smoke arose. + +“Now,” said Thorndyke, after we had waited on the steps a couple of +minutes more, “I think we might make a sortie and put an end to it. If +we can get the smouldering stuff off that wooden floor down on to the +stone, the danger will be over.” + +He led the way cautiously into the corridor, and, once more bringing +his electric lamp into requisition, began to kick the smouldering +cases and crates and the blackened masses of straw down the steps on +to the stone floor of the passage, whither we followed them and +scattered them with our feet until they were completely safe from any +chance of re-ignition. + +“There,” said Jervis, giving a final kick at a small heap of smoking +straw, “I should think that ought to do. There’s no fear of that stuff +lighting up again. And, if I may venture to make the remark, the +sooner we are off these premises the happier I shall be. Our friend’s +methods of entertaining his visitors are a trifle too strenuous for my +taste. He might try dynamite next.” + +“Yes,” I agreed; “or he might take pot shots at us with a revolver +from some dark corner.” + +“It is much more likely,” said Thorndyke, “that he has cleared off in +anticipation of the alarm of fire. Still, it is undeniable that we +shall be safer outside. Shall I go first and show you a light?” + +He piloted us along the corridor and up the cobbled yard, putting away +his lamp as he unlocked the wicket. There was no sign of anyone about +the premises nor, when we had passed out of the gate, was there anyone +in sight in the street. I looked about, expecting to see some sign of +the fire; but there was no smoke visible, and only a slight smell of +burning wood. The smoke must have drifted out at the back. + +“Well,” Thorndyke remarked, “it has been quite an exciting little +episode. And a highly satisfactory finish, as things turned out; +though it might easily have been very much the reverse. But for the +fortunate chance of those gas-bottles being available, I don’t think +we should be alive at this moment.” + +“No,” agreed Jervis. “We should be in much the same condition by this +time as Batson’s late patient, Mr. Maddock, or at least, well on our +way to that disembodied state. However, all’s well that ends well. Are +you coming our way, Jardine?” + +“I will walk a little way with you,” said I. “Then I must go back to +Batson to settle up and fetch my traps.” + +I walked with them to Oxford Street, and we discussed our late +adventure as we went. + +“It was a pretty strong hint to clear out, wasn’t it?” Jervis +remarked. + +“Yes,” replied Thorndyke; “it didn’t leave us much option. But the +affair can’t be left at this. I shall have a watch set on those +premises, and I shall make some more particular enquiries about Mr. +Gill. By the way, Jardine, I haven’t your address. I’d better have it +in case I want to communicate with you; and you’d better have my card +in case anything turns up which you think I ought to know.” + +We accordingly exchanged cards, and, as we had now reached the corner +of Oxford Street, I wished my friends adieu and thoughtfully retraced +my steps to Jacob Street. + + + + + CHAPTER VIII. + “IT’S AN ILL WIND--” + +London is a wonderful place. From the urban greyness of Jacob Street +to the borders of Hampstead Heath was, even in those days of the slow +horse tram, but a matter of minutes--a good many minutes, perhaps, but +still, considerably under an hour. Yet, in that brief and leisurely +journey, one exchanged the grim sordidness of a most unlovely street +for the solitude and sweet rusticity of open and charming country. + +A day or two after my second adventure in the mineral water works, I +was leaning on the parapet of the viaduct--the handsome, red brick +viaduct with which some builder, unknown to me, had spanned the pond +beyond the Upper Heath, apparently with purely decorative motive, and +in a spirit of sheer philanthropy. For no road seemed to lead anywhere +in particular over it, and there was no reason why any wayfarer should +wish to cross the pond rather than walk round it; indeed, in those +days it was covered by a turfy expanse seldom trodden by any feet but +those of the sheep that grazed in the meadows bordering the pond. I +leaned on the parapet, smoking my pipe with deep contentment, and +looking down into the placid water. Flags and rushes grew at its +borders, water-lilies spread their flat leaves on its surface and a +small party of urchins angled from the margin, with the keen joy of +the juvenile sportsman who suspects that his proceedings are unlawful. + +I had lounged on the parapet for several minutes, when I became aware +of a man, approaching along the indistinct track that crossed the +viaduct, and, as he drew near, I recognized him as the keeper whom I +had met in Ken Wood on the morning after my discovery of the body in +Millfield Lane. I would have let him pass with a smile of recognition, +but he had no intention of passing. Touching his hat politely, he +halted, and, having wished me good-morning, remarked: + +“You didn’t tell me, sir, what it was you were looking for that +morning when I met you in the wood.” + +“No,” I replied, “but apparently, someone else has.” + +“Well, sir, you see,” he said, “the sergeant came up the next day with +a plain-clothes man to have a look round, and, as the sergeant is an +old acquaintance of mine, he gave me the tip as to what they were +after. I am sorry, sir, you didn’t tell me what you were looking for.” + +“Why?” I asked. + +“Well,” he replied, “we might have found something if we had looked +while the tracks were fresh. Unfortunately there was a gale in the +night that fetched down a lot of leaves, and blew up those that had +already fallen, so that any foot-marks would have got hidden before +the sergeant came.” + +“What did the police officers seem to think about it?” I asked. + +“Why, to speak the truth,” the keeper replied, “they seemed to think +it was all bogey.” + +“Do you mean to say,” I asked, “that they thought I had invented the +whole story?” + +“Oh, no, sir,” he replied, “not that. They believed you had seen a man +lying in the lane, but they didn’t believe that he was a dead man, and +they thought your imagination had misled you about the tracks.” + +“Then, I suppose they didn’t find anything?” said I. + +“No, they didn’t, and I haven’t been able to find anything myself, +though I’ve had a good look round.” And then, after a brief pause: “I +wonder,” he said, “if you would care to come up to the Wood and have a +look at the place yourself.” + +I considered for a moment. I had nothing to do for I was taking a day +off, and the man’s proposal sounded rather attractive. Finally, I +accepted his offer, and we turned back together towards the Wood. + +Hampstead--the Hampstead of those days--was singularly rustic and +remote. But, within the wood, it was incredible that the town of +London actually lay within the sound of a church bell or the flight of +a bullet. Along the shady paths, carpeted with moss and silvery +lichen, overshadowed by the boughs of noble beeches; or in leafy +hollows, with the humus of centuries under our feet, and the +whispering silence of the woodland all around, we might have been +treading the glades of some primeval forest. Nor was the effect of +this strange remoteness less, when presently, emerging from the +thicker portion of the wood, we came upon a moss-grown, half-ruinous +boathouse on the sedgy margin of a lake, in which was drawn up a +rustic-looking, and evidently, little-used punt. + +“It’s wonderful quiet about here, sir,” the keeper remarked, as a +water-hen stole out from behind a clump of high rushes and scrambled +over the leaves of the water-lilies. + +“And presumably,” I remarked, “it’s quieter still at night.” + +“You’re right, sir,” the keeper replied. “If that man had got as far +as this, he’d have had mighty little trouble in putting the body where +no one was ever likely to look for it.” + +“I suppose,” said I, “that you had a good look at the edges of the +lake?” + +“Yes,” he answered. “I went right round it, and so did the police, for +that matter, and we had a good look at the punt, too. But, all the +same, it wouldn’t surprise me if, one fine day, that body came +floating up among the lilies; always supposing, that is,” he added, +“that there really was a body.” + +“How far is it,” I asked, “from the lake to the place where you met me +that morning?” + +“It’s only a matter of two or three minutes,” he answered, “we may as +well walk that way and you can see for yourself.” Accordingly, we set +forth together, and, coming presently upon one of the moss-grown +paths, followed it past a large summerhouse until we came in sight of +the beech beyond which I had encountered him while I was searching for +the tracks. As we went, he plied me with questions as to what I had +seen on the night in the lane, and I made no scruple of telling him +all that I had told the police, seeing that they, on their side, had +made no secret of the matter. + +Of course, it was idle, after this long period--for it was now more +than seven weeks since I had seen the body--to attempt anything in the +nature of a search. It certainly did look as if the man who had stolen +into that wood that night had been bound for the solitary lake. The +punt, I had noticed, was only secured with a rope, so that the +murderer--for such I assumed he must have been--could easily have +carried his dreadful burden out into the middle, and there sunk it +with weights, and so hidden it for ever. It was a quick, simple and +easy method of hiding the traces of his crime, and, if the police had +not thought it worth while to search the water with drags, there was +no reason why the buried secret should not remain buried for all time. + +After we had walked for some time about the pleasant, shady wood, less +shady now that the yellowing leaves were beginning to fall with the +passing of autumn, the keeper conducted me to the exit by which I had +left on the previous occasion. + +As I was passing out of the wicket, my eye fell once more on the +cottage which I had then noticed, and, recalling the remark that my +fair acquaintance had let fall concerning the artist to whom the +derelict knife was supposed to belong, I said: “You mentioned, I +think, that that house was let to an artist.” + +“It was,” he replied; “but it’s empty now, the artist has gone away.” + +“It must be a pleasant little house to live in,” I said, “at any rate, +in summer.” + +“Yes,” he replied, “a country house within an hour’s walk of the Bank +of England. Would you like to have a look at it, sir? I’ve got the +keys.” + +Now I certainly had no intention of offering myself as a tenant, but, +yet, to an idle man, there is a certain attractiveness in an empty +house of an eligible kind, a certain interest in roaming through the +rooms and letting one’s fancy furnish them with one’s own household +goods. I accepted the man’s invitation, and, opening the wide gate +that admitted to the garden from a byroad, we walked up to the door of +the house. + +“It’s quite a nice little place,” the keeper remarked. “There isn’t +much garden, you see, but then, you’ve got the Heath all around; and +there’s a small stable and coachhouse if you should be wanting to go +into town.” + +“Did the last tenant keep any kind of carriage?” I asked. + +“I don’t think so,” said the keeper, “but I fancy he used to hire a +little cart sometimes when he had things to bring in from town; but I +don’t know very much about him or his habits.” + +We walked through the empty rooms together looking out of the windows +and commenting on the pleasant prospects that all of them commanded, +and talking about the man who had last lived in the house. + +“He was a queer sort of fellow,” said the keeper. “He and his wife +seem to have lived here all alone without any servant, and they seem +often to have left the house to itself for a day or two at a time; but +he could paint. I have stopped and had a look when he has been at +work, and it was wonderful to see how he knocked off those pictures. +He didn’t seem to use brushes, but he had a lot of knives, like little +trowels, and he used to shovel the paint on with them, and he always +wore gloves when he was painting; didn’t like to get the paint on his +hands, I suppose.” + +“It sounds as if it would be very awkward,” I said. + +“Just what I should have thought,” the keeper agreed. “But he didn’t +seem to find it so. This seems to be the place that he worked in.” + +Apparently the keeper was right. The room, which we had now entered, +was evidently the late studio, and did not appear to have been cleaned +up since the tenant left. The floor was littered with scraps of paper +on which a palette-knife had been cleaned, with empty paint-tubes and +one or two broken and worn-out brushes, and, in a packing-case, which +seemed to have served as a receptacle for rubbish, were one or two +canvases that had been torn from their stretchers and thrown away. I +picked them out and glanced at them with some interest, remembering +what my fair friend had said. For the most part, they were mere +experiments or failures, deliberately defaced with strokes or daubs of +paint, but one of them was a quite spirited and attractive sketch, +rough and unfinished, but skilfully executed and undefaced. I +stretched out the crumpled canvas and looked at it with considerable +interest. It represented Millfield Lane, and showed the large elms and +the posts and the high fence under which I had sheltered in the rain. +In fact, it appeared to have been taken from the exact spot on which +the body had been lying, and from which I had made my own drawing; not +that there was anything in the latter coincidence, for it was the only +sketchable spot in the lane. + +“It’s really quite a nice sketch,” I said; “it seems a pity to leave +it here among the rubbish.” + +“It does, sir,” the keeper agreed. “If you like it, you had better +roll it up and put it in your pocket. You won’t be robbing anyone.” + +As it seemed that I was but rescuing it from a rubbish-heap, I +ventured to follow the keeper’s advice, and, rolling the canvas up, +carefully stowed it in my pocket. And shortly after as I had now seen +all that there was to see, which was mighty little, we left the house, +and, at the gate, the keeper took leave of me with a touch of his hat. + +I made my way slowly back towards my lodgings by way of the Spaniard’s +Road and Hampstead Lane, turning over in my mind as I went, the +speculation suggested by my visit to the wood. Of the existence of the +lake I had not been previously aware. Now that I had seen it, I felt +very little doubt that it was known to the mysterious murderer--for +such I felt convinced he was--who must have been lurking in the lane +that night when I was sheltering under the lee of the fence. The route +that he had then taken appeared to be the direct route to the lake. +That he was carrying the body, I had no doubt whatever; and, seeing +that he had carried it so far, it appeared probable that he had some +definite hiding-place in view. And what hiding-place could be so +suitable as this remote piece of still water? No digging, no +troublesome and dangerous preparation would be necessary. There was +the punt in readiness to bear him to the deep water in the middle; a +silent, easily-handled conveyance. A few stones, or some heavy object +from the boat-house, would be all that was needful; and in a moment he +would be rid for ever of the dreadful witness of his crime. + +Thus reflecting--not without dissatisfaction at the passive part that +I had played in this sinister affair--I passed through the turnstile, +or “kissing-gate,” at the entrance to Millfield Lane. Almost +certainly, the murderer or the victim or both, had passed through that +very gate on the night of the tragedy. The thought came to me with +added solemnity with the recollection of the silent wood and the dark, +still water fresh in my mind, and caused me unconsciously to tread +more softly and walk more sedately than usual. + +The lane was little frequented at any time and now, at mid-day, was +almost as deserted as at midnight. Very remote it seemed, too, and +very quiet, with a silence that recalled the hush of the wood. And yet +the silence was not quite unbroken. From somewhere ahead, from one of +the many windings of the tortuous lane, came the sound of hurried +footsteps. I stopped to listen. There were two persons, one treading +lightly, the other more heavily, apparently a man and a woman. And +both were running--running fast. + +There was nothing remarkable in this, perhaps; but yet the sound smote +on my ear with a certain note of alarm that made me quicken my pace +and listen yet more intently. And suddenly there came another sound; +a muffled, whimpering cry like that of a frightened woman. Instantly I +gave an answering shout and sprang forward at a swift run. + +I had turned one of the numerous corners and was racing down a +straight stretch of the lane when a woman darted round the corner +ahead, and ran towards me, holding out her hands. I recognized her at +a glance, though now she was dishevelled, pale, wild-eyed, breathless +and nearly frantic with terror, and rage against her assailant spurred +me on to greater speed. But when I would have passed her to give chase +to the wretch, she clutched my arm frantically with both hands and +detained me. + +“Let me go and catch the scoundrel!” I exclaimed; but she only clung +the tighter. + +“No,” she panted, “don’t leave me! I am terrified! Don’t go away!” + +I ground my teeth. Even as we stood, I could hear the ruffian’s +footsteps receding as rapidly as they had advanced. In a few moments +he would be beyond pursuit. + +“Do let me go and stop that villain!” I implored. “You’re quite safe +now, and you can follow me and keep me in sight.” + +But she shook her head passionately, and, still clutching my sleeve +with one hand, pressed the other to her heart. + +“No, no, no!” she gasped, with a catch in her voice that was almost a +sob, “I can’t be alone! I am frightened. Oh! Please don’t go away from +me!” + +What could I do? The poor girl was evidently beside herself with +terror, and exhausted by her frantic flight. It would have been cruel +to leave her in that state. But all the same, it was infuriating. I +had no idea what the man had done to terrify her in this way. But that +was of no consequence. The natural impulse of a healthy young man when +he learns that a woman has been ill-used is to hammer the offender +effectively in the first place, and then to inquire into the affair. +That was what I wanted to do; but it was not to be. + +“Well,” I said, by way of compromise, “let us walk back together. +Perhaps we may be able to find out which way the man went.” + +To this she agreed. I drew her arm through mine--for she was still +trembling and looked faint and weak--and we began to retrace her steps +towards Highgate. Of course the man was nowhere to be seen, and by the +time that we had turned the sharp corner where I had found the body of +the priest, the man was not only out of sight, but his footsteps were +no longer audible. + +Still we went on for some distance in the hopes of meeting someone who +could tell us which way the miscreant had gone. But we met nobody. +Only, some distance past the posts, we came in sight of a sketching +box and a camp-stool, lying by the side of the path. + +“Surely those are your things?” I said. + +“Yes,” she answered. “I had forgotten all about them. I dropped them +when I began to run.” + +I picked up the box and the stool, and debated with myself whether it +was worth while to go on any farther. From where we stood, nothing was +to be seen, for the lane was still enclosed on both sides by a seven +foot fence of oak boards. But the chance of overtaking the fugitive +was not to be considered; by this time he was probably out of the lane +on the Heath or in the surrounding meadows; and meanwhile, my +companion, though calmer and less breathless, looked very pale and +shaken. + +“I don’t know that it’s any use,” I said, “to tire you by going any +farther. The man is evidently gone.” + +She seemed relieved at my decision, and it then occurred to me to +suggest that she should sit down awhile on the bank under the high +fence to recover herself, and to this, too, she assented gladly. + +“If it wouldn’t distress you,” I said, “would you mind telling me what +had happened?” + +She pondered for a few seconds and then answered: “It doesn’t sound +much in the telling and I expect you will think me very silly to be so +much upset.” + +“I’m sure I shan’t,” I said, with perfect confidence in the +correctness of my statement. + +“Well,” she said, “what happened was this as nearly as I can remember: +I was coming up the path from the ponds and I had to pass a man who +was leaning against the fence by the stile. As I came near to him, he +looked at me, at first, in quite an ordinary way, and then, he +suddenly began to stare in a most singular and disturbing fashion, not +at me, so much, as at this little crucifix which I wear hung from my +neck. As I passed through the turnstile, he spoke to me: ‘Would you +mind letting me look at that crucifix?’ he asked. It was a most +astonishing piece of impertinence, and I was so taken aback that I +hardly had the presence of mind to refuse. However, I did, and very +decidedly, too. Then he came up to me, and, in a most threatening and +alarming manner, said: ‘You found that crucifix. You picked it up +somewhere near here. It’s mine, and I’ll ask you to let me have it, if +you please.’ + +“Now this was perfectly untrue. The crucifix was given to me by my +father when I was quite a little child, and I have worn it ever since +I have been grown up--ever since he died, in fact, six years ago. I +told the man this, but he made no pretence of believing me, and was +evidently about to renew his demand, when two labourers appeared, +coming down the lane. I thought this a good opportunity to escape, and +walked away quickly up the lane; it was very silly of me; I ought to +have gone the other way.” + +“Of course you ought,” I agreed, “you ought to have got out into a +public road at once.” + +“Yes, I see that now,” she said. “It was very foolish of me. However, +I walked on pretty quickly, for there was something in the man’s face +that had frightened me, and I was anxious to get home. I looked back, +from time to time, and, when I saw no sign of the man, I began to +recover myself; but just as I had got to the most solitary part of the +lane, just about where we are now, shut in by these high fences, I +heard quick footsteps behind me. I looked back and saw the man coming +after me. Then, I suppose, I got in a sudden panic, for I dropped my +sketching things and began to run. But as soon as I began to run, the +man broke into a run too. I raced for my life, and when I heard the +man gaining on me, I suppose I must have called out. Then I heard your +shout from the upper part of the lane and ran on faster than ever to +gain your protection. That’s all, and I suppose you think that I have +been making a great fuss about nothing.” + +“I don’t think anything of the kind,” I said, “and neither would our +absent friend if I could get hold of him. By the way, what sort of +person was he?--a tramp?” + +“Oh, no, quite a respectable looking person; in fact, he would have +passed for a gentleman.” + +“Can you give any sort of description of him, not that verbal +descriptions are of much use except in the case of a hunchback or a +Chinaman or some other easily identifiable creature.” + +“No, they are not,” she agreed, “and I don’t think that I can tell you +much about this man excepting that he was clean-shaved, of medium +height, quite well dressed, and wore a round hat and slate-coloured +suede gloves.” + +“I’m afraid we shan’t get hold of him from that description,” I said. +“The only thing that you can do is to avoid solitary places for the +present and not to come through this lane again alone.” + +“Yes,” she said. “I suppose I must, but it’s very unfortunate. One +cannot always take a companion when one goes sketching even if it were +desirable, which it is not.” + +As to the desirability, in the case of a good-looking girl, of +wandering about alone in solitary places, I had my own opinions; and +very definite opinions they were. But I kept them to myself. And so we +sat silent for awhile. She was still pale and agitated, and perhaps +her recital of her misadventure had not been wholly beneficial. At the +moment that this idea occurred to me, a crackling in my breast-pocket +reminded me of the forgotten canvas, and I bethought me that perhaps a +change of subject might divert her mind from her very disagreeable +experience. Accordingly, I drew the canvas out of my pocket, and, +unrolling it, asked her what she thought of the sketch. In a moment +she became quite animated. + +“Why,” she exclaimed, “this looks exactly like the work of that artist +who was working on the Heath a little while ago.” + +“It is his,” I replied, considerably impressed and rather astonished +at her instantaneous recognition; “but I didn’t know you were so +familiar with his work.” + +“I’m not very familiar with it,” she replied; “but, as I told you, I +sometimes managed to steal a glance or two when I passed him. You see, +his technique is so peculiar that it’s easily recognized, and it +interested me very much. I should have liked to stop and watch him and +get a lesson.” + +“It is rather peculiar work,” I said, looking at the canvas with new +interest. “Very solid and yet very smooth.” + +“Yes. It is typical knife-work, almost untouched with the brush. That +was what interested me. The knife is a dangerous tool for a +comparative tyro like myself, but yet one would like to learn how to +use it. Did he give you this sketch?” + +I smiled guiltily. “The truth is,” I admitted, “I stole it.” + +“How dreadful of you!” she said, “I suppose that you could not be +bribed to steal another?” + +“I would steal it for nothing if you asked me,” I answered, “and +meanwhile, you had better take possession of this one. It will be of +more use to you than to me.” + +She shook her head: “No, I won’t do that,” she said, “though it is +most kind of you. You paint, I think, don’t you?” + +“I’m only the merest amateur,” I replied. “I annexed the sketch for +the sake of the subject. I have rather an affection for this lane.” + +“So had I,” said she, “until to-day. Now, I hate it, but, might I ask +how you managed your theft?” + +I told her about the empty cottage and the rejected canvases in the +rubbish box. + +“I’m afraid none of the others would be of any use to you because he +had drawn a brushful of paint across each of them.” + +“Oh, that wouldn’t matter,” she said. “The brush-strokes would be on +dry paint and could easily be scraped off. Besides, it is not the +subject but the technique that interests me.” + +“Then I will get into the cottage somehow and purloin the remaining +canvases for you.” + +“Oh, but I mustn’t give you all this trouble,” she protested. + +“It won’t be any trouble,” I said. “I shall quite enjoy a deliberate +and determined robbery. But where shall I send the spoil?” + +She produced her card-case, and, selecting a card, handed it to me, +with a smile: “It seems, to me,” she said, “that I am inciting you to +robbery and acting as a receiver of stolen goods, but I suppose +there’s no harm in it, though I feel that I ought not to give you all +this trouble.” + +I made the usual polite rejoinder as I took from her the little +magical slip of pasteboard that, in a moment, transformed her from a +stranger to an acquaintance, and gave her a local habitation and a +name. Before bestowing it in my pocket-book, I glanced at the neat +copper-plate and read the inscription: “Miss Sylvia Vyne. The +Hawthorns. North End.” + +The effect of our conversation had answered my expectations. Her +agitation had passed off, the colour had come back to her cheeks, and, +in fact, she seemed quite recovered. Apparently she thought so +herself, for she rose, saying that she now felt well enough to walk +home, and held out her hand for the colour-box and stool. + +“I think,” said I, “that if you won’t consider me intrusive, I should +like to see you safely out on to an inhabited road at least.” + +“I shall accept your escort gratefully,” she replied, “as far as the +end of the lane, or farther if it is not taking you too much out of +your way.” + +Needless to say, I would gladly have escorted so agreeable and winsome +a protegée from John o’ Groats to Land’s End and found it not out of +my way at all; and when she passed out of the gate into Hampstead +Lane, I clung tenaciously to the box and stool and turned towards “The +Spaniards” as though no such thing as a dismissal had ever been +contemplated. In fact, with the reasonable excuse of carrying the +impedimenta, I maintained my place by her side in the absence of a +definite congé; and so we walked together, talking quite easily, +principally about pictures and painting, until, in the pleasant little +hamlet, she halted by a garden gate, and, taking her possessions from +me, held out a friendly hand. + +“Good-bye,” she said. “I can’t thank you enough for all your help and +kindness. I hope I have not been very troublesome to you.” + +I assured her that she had been most amenable, and, when I had once +more cautioned her to avoid solitary places, we exchanged a cordial +hand-shake and parted, she to enter the pleasant, rustic-looking +house, and I to betake myself back to my lodgings, lightening the way +with much agreeable and self-congratulatory reflection. + + + + + CHAPTER IX. + THORNDYKE TAKES UP THE SCENT + +At my lodgings, which I reached at an unconscionably late hour for +lunch, I found a little surprise awaiting me; a short note from Dr. +Thorndyke asking me if I should be at liberty early on the following +afternoon to show him the spot on which I had found the mysterious +body. Of course, I answered by return, begging him to come straight on +from the hospital to an early lunch, over which we could discuss the +facts of the case before setting out. Having dispatched my letter, I +called at the offices of the house agent who had the letting of the +cottage on the Heath, to see if he had duplicate keys. Fortunately he +had, and was willing to entrust them to me on the understanding that +they should be returned some time during the next day. I did not, +however, go on to the cottage, for it occurred to me that Thorndyke +would probably wish to visit the wood, and I could make my visit and +purloin the canvases then. + +A telegram on the following morning informed me that Thorndyke would +be with me at twelve o’clock, and, punctually to the minute, he +arrived. + +“I hope you don’t mind me swooping down on you in this fashion,” he +said, as the servant showed him into the room. + +I assured him, very truthfully, that I was delighted to be honoured by +a visit from him, and he then proceeded to explain. + +“You may wonder, Jardine, why I am busying myself about this case, +which is really no business of mine, or, at least, appears to be none; +but the fact is, that as a teacher and a practitioner of Medical +Jurisprudence, I find it advisable to look into any unusual cases. Of +course, there is always a considerable probability that I may be +consulted concerning any out of the way case; but, apart from that, I +have the ordinary specialist’s interest in anything remarkable in my +own speciality.” + +“I should think,” said I, “that it would be well for me to give you +all the facts before we start.” + +“Exactly, Jardine,” he replied, “that is what I want. Tell me all you +know about the affair and then we shall be able to test our +conclusions on the spot.” + +He produced a large scale ordnance map, and, folding it under my +direction, so that it showed only the region in which we were +interested, he stood it up on the table against the water bottle, +where we could both see it, and marked on it with a pencil each spot +as I described it. + +It is not necessary for me to record our conversation. I told him the +whole story as I have already told it to the reader, pointing out on +the map the exact locality where each event occurred. + +“It’s a most remarkable case, Jardine,” was his thoughtful comment +when I had finished, “most remarkable; curiously puzzling and +inconsistent too. For you see that on the one hand, it looks like a +casual or accidental crime, and yet, on the other, strongly suggests +premeditation. No man, one would think, could have planned to commit a +murder in what is, after all, a public thoroughfare; and yet, the long +distance which the body seems to have been carried, and the apparently +selected hiding-place, seem to suggest a previously considered plan.” + +“You think that there is no doubt that the man was really dead?” I +asked. + +“Had you any doubt at the time yourself?” + +“None at all,” I replied, “it was only the disappearance of the body, +and, perhaps, the sergeant’s suggestion, that made me think it +possible that I might have been mistaken.” + +Thorndyke shook his head. “No, Jardine,” said he, “the man was dead. +We are safe in assuming that; and on that assumption our +investigations must be based. The next question is, how was the body +taken away? Did you measure the fence?” + +“No, but I should say it is about seven feet high.” + +“And what kind of fence is it? Are there any footholds?” + +“I can show you exactly what the fence is like,” I answered. “That +sketch, which I have pinned up on the wall, was apparently painted +from the exact spot on which the body lay. That fence on the +right-hand side is the one under which I sheltered and is exactly like +the one over which the body seems to have been lifted.” + +Thorndyke rose and walked over to the sketch, which I had fixed to the +wall with drawing-pins. + +“Not a bad sketch, this, Jardine,” he remarked; “very smartly put in, +apparently mostly with the knife. Where did you get it?” + +I had to confess that the canvas was unlawfully come by, and told him +how I had obtained it. + +“You don’t know the artist’s name?” said Thorndyke, looking closely at +the sketch. + +“No. In fact, I know nothing about him, excepting that he worked +mostly with a small painting-knife, and usually wore kid gloves.” + +“You don’t mean that he worked in gloves?” said Thorndyke. + +“So I am told,” said I. “I never saw him.” + +“It’s very odd,” said Thorndyke. “I have heard of men wearing a glove +on the palette-hand to keep off the midges, and many men paint in +gloves in exceptionally cold weather. But this sketch seems to have +been painted in the summer.” + +“I suppose,” said I, “the midges don’t confine their attentions to the +palette-hand. And after all, to a man who worked entirely with the +knife, a glove wouldn’t be really in the way.” + +“No,” Thorndyke agreed, “that is true.” He looked closely at the +sketch, and even took out his pocket lens to help his vision, which +seemed almost unnecessary. It appeared that he was as much interested +in the unknown artist’s peculiar technique as was my friend, Miss +Sylvia Vyne. + +“By the way,” said he, when he had resumed his seat at the table, “you +were telling me about some kind of gold trinket that you had picked up +at the foot of the fence. Shall we have a look at it?” + +I fetched the little gold object from the dispatch box in which I had +locked it up, and handed it to him. He turned it over in his fingers, +read the letters that were engraved on it, and examined the little +piece of silk cord that was attached to one ring. + +“There is no doubt,” said he, “as to the nature of this object, nor of +its connection with the dead man. This is evidently a reliquary, and +these initials engraved upon it bear out exactly your description of +the body. S.V.D.P. evidently means St. Vincent de Paul, who, as you +probably know, was a saint who was distinguished for his works of +charity. You have mentioned that the dead man wore a Roman collar, +with a narrow, dark stripe up the front. That means that he was the +lay-brother of some religious order, probably some philanthropic +order, to whom St. Vincent de Paul would be an object of special +devotion. The other letters, A.M.D.G., are the initials of the words +_Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam_--the motto of the Society of Jesus. But as +St. Vincent de Paul was not a Jesuit saint, the motto probably refers +to the owner of the reliquary, who may have been a Jesuit or a friend +of the Society. It was apparently attached--perhaps to the neck--by +this silk cord, which seems to have been frayed nearly through, and +probably broke when the body was drawn over the top of the fence.” + +“I suppose I ought to have shown it to the police,” I said. + +“I suppose you ought,” he replied, “but, as you haven’t, I think we +had better say nothing about it now.” + +He handed it back to me, and I dropped it into my pocket, intending to +return it presently to the dispatch box. A few minutes later, we +sallied forth on our journey of exploration. + +It is not necessary to describe this journey in detail since I have +already taken the reader over the ground more than once. We went, of +course, to the place where I had found the body and walked right +through to Hampstead Lane. Then we returned, and reconstituted the +circumstances of that eventful night, after which, I conducted +Thorndyke to the place where I assumed that the body had been lifted +over the fence. + +“I suppose,” I said, “we must go round and pick up the track from the +other side.” + +He looked up and down the lane and smiled. “Would your quondam +professor lose your respect for ever, Jardine, if you saw him climb +over a fence in a frock coat and a topper?” + +“No,” I answered, “but it might look a little quaint if anyone else +saw you.” + +“I think we will risk that,” he said. “There is no one about, and I +should rather like to try a little experiment. Would you mind if I +hoisted you over the fence? You are something of an out-size, but +then, so am I, too, which balances the conditions.” + +Of course I had no objection, and, when we had looked up and down the +lane and listened to make sure that we had no observers, Thorndyke +picked me up, with an ease that rather surprised me, and hoisted me +above the level of the fence. + +“Is it all clear on the other side?” he asked. + +“Yes,” I answered, “there’s no one in sight.” + +“Then I want you to be quite passive,” he said, and with this, he +hoisted me up further until I hung with my own weight across the top +of the fence. Leaving me hanging thus, he sprang up lightly, and, +having got astride at the top, dropped down on the other side, when he +once more took hold of me and drew me over. + +“It wasn’t so very difficult,” he said. “Of course, it would have been +more so to a shorter man, but, on the other hand, it is extremely +unlikely that the body was anything like your size and weight.” + +We now followed the track up to the wood, which we entered by an +opening in the fence, through which I assumed that the murderer had +probably passed. I conducted Thorndyke by the nearest route to the +boat-house, and, when he had thoroughly examined the place and made +notes of the points that appeared to interest him, I showed him the +way out by the turnstile. + +It was here when we came in sight of the cottage that I bethought me +of my promise to Miss Vyne, and somewhat sheepishly explained the +matter to Thorndyke. + +“It won’t take me a minute to go in and sneak the things,” I said +apologetically, and was proposing that he should walk on slowly, when +he interrupted me. + +“I’ll come in with you,” said he. “There may be something else to +filch. Besides, I am rather partial to empty houses. There is +something quite interesting, I think, in looking over the traces of +recent occupation, and speculating on the personality and habits of +the late occupiers. Don’t you find it so?” + +I said “Yes,” truthfully enough, for it was a feeling of this kind +that had first led me to look over the cottage. But my interest was +nothing to Thorndyke’s; for no sooner had I let him in at the front +door, than he began to browse about through the empty rooms and +passages, for all the world like a cat that has just been taken to a +new house. + +“This was evidently the studio,” he remarked, as we entered the room +from which I had taken the canvas. “He doesn’t seem to have had much +of an outfit, as he appears to have worked on his sketching-easel; you +can see the indentations made by the toe-points, and there are no +marks of the castors of a studio easel. You notice, too, that he sat +on a camp-stool to work.” + +It did not appear to me to matter very much what he had sat on, but I +kept this opinion to myself and watched Thorndyke curiously as he +picked up the empty paint tubes and scrutinized them one after the +other. His inquisitiveness filled me with amused astonishment. He +turned out the rubbish box completely, and having looked over every +inch of the discarded canvases, he began systematically to examine, +one by one, the pieces of paper on which the late resident had wiped +his palette-knife. + +Having rolled up and pocketed the waste canvases, I expressed myself +as ready to depart. + +“If you’re not in a hurry,” said Thorndyke, “I should like to look +over the rest of the premises.” + +He spoke as though we were inspecting some museum or exhibition, and, +indeed, his interest and attention, as he wandered from room to room, +were greater than that of the majority of visitors to a public +gallery. He even insisted on visiting the little stable and +coach-house, and when he had explored them both, ascended the rickety +steps to the loft over the latter. + +“I suppose,” said I, “this was the lumber room or store. Judging by +the quantity of straw it would seem as if some cases had been unpacked +here.” + +“Probably,” agreed Thorndyke. “In fact, you can see where the cases +have been dragged along, and also, by that smooth indented line, where +some heavy metallic object has been slid along the floor. Perhaps if +we look over the straw, we may be able to judge what those cases +contained.” + +It didn’t seem to me to matter a brass farthing what they contained, +but again I made no remark; and together we moved the great mass of +straw, almost handful by handful, from one end of the loft to the +other, while Thorndyke, not only examined the straw but even closely +scrutinized the floor on which it lay. + +As far as I could see, all this minute and apparently purposeless +searching was entirely without result, until we were in the act of +removing the last armful of straw from the corner; and even then the +object that came to light did not appear a very remarkable one under +the circumstances, though Thorndyke seemed to find what appeared to me +a most unreasonable interest in it. The object was a pair of +canvas-pliers, which Thorndyke picked up almost eagerly and examined +with profound attention. + +“What do you make of that, Jardine?” he asked, at length, handing the +implement to me. + +“It’s a pair of canvas-pliers,” I replied. + +“Obviously,” he rejoined, “but what do you suppose they have been used +for?” + +I opined that they had been used for straining canvases, that being +their manifest function. + +“But,” objected Thorndyke, “he would hardly have strained his canvases +up here. Besides, you will notice that they have, in fact, been used +for something else. You observe that the handles are slightly bent, as +if something had been held with great force, and if you look at the +jaws, you will see that that something was a metallic object about +three-quarters of an inch wide with sharp corners. Now, what do you +make of that?” + +I looked at the pliers, inwardly reflecting that I didn’t care +twopence what the object was, and finally said that I would give it +up. + +“The problem does not interest you keenly,” Thorndyke remarked with a +smile; “and yet it ought to, you know. However, we may consider the +matter on some future occasion. Meanwhile, I shall follow your +pernicious example and purloin the pliers.” + +His interest in this complete stranger appeared to me very singular, +and it seemed for the moment to have displaced that in the mysterious +case which was the object of his visit to me. + +“A strange, vagabond sort of man that artist must have been,” he +remarked, as we walked home across the Heath, “but I suppose one picks +up vagabond habits in travelling about the world.” + +“Do you gather that he had travelled much, then?” I asked. + +“He appears to have visited New York, Brussels and Florence, which is +a selection suggesting other travels.” + +I was wondering vaguely how Thorndyke had arrived at these facts, and +was indeed about to ask him, when he suddenly changed the subject by +saying: + +“I suppose, Jardine, you don’t wander about this place alone at +night?” + +“I do sometimes,” I replied. + +“Then I shouldn’t,” he said; “you must remember that a very determined +attempt has been made on your life, and it would be unreasonable to +suppose that it was made without some purpose. But that purpose is +still unaccomplished. You don’t know who your enemy is, and, +consequently, can take no precautions against him excepting by keeping +away from solitary places. It is an uncomfortable thought, but at +present, you have to remember that any chance stranger may be an +intending murderer. So be on your guard.” + +I promised to bear his warning in mind, though I must confess his +language seemed to me rather exaggerated; and so we walked on, +chatting about various matters until we arrived at my lodgings. + +Thorndyke was easily persuaded to come in and have tea with me, and +while we were waiting for its arrival, he renewed his examination of +the sketch upon the wall. + +“Aren’t you going to have this strained on a stretcher?” he asked. + +I replied “yes,” and that I intended to take it with me the next time +I went into town. + +“Let me take it for you,” said Thorndyke. “I should like to show it to +Jervis to illustrate the route that we have marked on the map. Then I +can have it left at any place that you like.” + +I mentioned the name of an artist’s-colourman in the Hampstead Road, +and, unpinning the canvas, rolled it up and handed it to him. + +He took it from me and, rolling it up methodically and carefully, +bestowed it in his breast pocket. Then he brought forth the map, and, +as we drank our tea and talked over our investigations, we checked our +route on it and marked the position of the cottage. Shortly after tea +he took his leave, and I then occupied an agreeable half-hour in +composing a letter to Miss Vyne to accompany the loot from the +deserted house. + + + + + CHAPTER X. + THE UNHEEDED WARNING + +Thorndyke’s warning, so emphatically expressed, ought to have been +alike unnecessary and effective. As a matter of fact, it was neither. +I suppose that to a young man, not naturally timorous, the idea of a +constantly lurking danger amidst the prosaic conditions of modern +civilization is one that is not readily accepted. At any rate, the +fact is that I continued to walk abroad by day and by night with as +much unconcern as if nothing unusual had ever befallen me. It was not +that the recollection of those horrible hours in the poisoned cellar +had in any way faded. That incident I could never forget. But I think, +that in the back of my mind, there still lingered the idea of a +homicidal lunatic; though that idea had been so scornfully rejected by +Thorndyke. + +But before I describe the amazing experience by which I once more came +within a hair’s breadth of sudden and violent death, I must refer to +another incident; not because it seemed to be connected with that +alarming occurrence, but because it came first in the order of time, +and had its own significance later. + +It was a couple of days after Thorndyke’s visit that I walked down the +Hampstead Road with the intention of fetching the sketch from the +artist’s-colourman’s. The shop was within a few hundred yards of Jacob +Street, and as I crossed the end of that street, I was just +considering whether I ought to look in on Batson, when a lady bowed to +me and made as if she would stop. It was Mrs. Samway. Of course, I +stopped and shook hands, and while I was making the usual polite +enquiries, I felt myself once more impressed with the unusualness of +the woman. Even in her dress she was unlike other women, though not in +the least eccentric or bizarre. At present, she was clothed from head +to foot in black; but a scarlet bird’s wing in the coquettish little +velvet toque, and a scarlet bow at her throat, gave an effect of +colour that, unusual as it was, harmonized completely and naturally +with her jet-black hair and her strange, un-English beauty. + +“So you haven’t started for Paris yet,” I remarked. + +“No,” she replied; “my husband has gone and may, perhaps, come back. +At any rate, I am staying in England for the present.” + +“Then I may possibly have the pleasure of seeing you again,” I said, +and she graciously replied that she hoped it might be so, as we shook +hands and parted. + +A few minutes later, in the artist’s-colourman’s shop, I had another +chance meeting and a more agreeable one. The proprietor had just +produced the sketch, now greatly improved in appearance by being +strained on a stretcher, when the glass door opened and a young lady +entered the shop. Imagine my surprise when that young lady turned out +to be none other than Miss Vyne. + +“Well,” I exclaimed, as we mutually recognized each other, “what an +extraordinary coincidence!” + +“I don’t see that it is very extraordinary,” she replied. “Most of the +Hampstead people come here because it’s the nearest place where you +can get proper artist’s materials. Is that the sketch you were telling +me about?” + +“Yes,” I answered; “and it’s the pick of the loot. But it isn’t too +late to alter your mind. Say the word and it’s yours.” + +“Well,” she replied, with a smile, “I am not going to say the word, +but I want to thank you for rescuing those other treasures for me.” + +She had, as a matter of fact, already thanked me in a very pretty +little note, but I was not averse to her mentioning the subject again. +We stepped back to the door, and in the brighter light, looked at the +sketch together. + +“It’s a pity,” she remarked, “that he handled it so carelessly before +the paint was hard. Those finger-marks wouldn’t matter a bit on a +brush-painted surface; but on the smooth knife-surface they are rather +a disfigurement.” + +She placed the sketch in my hand, and I backed nearer to the glass +door to get a better light. Happening to glance up, I noticed that a +sudden and very curious change had come over her; a look of haughty +displeasure and even anger, apparently directed at somebody or +something outside the shop. + +For a few moments I took no notice; then, half-unconsciously, I looked +round just as some person moved away from the door. I looked once more +at Miss Vyne. She was quite unmistakably angry. Her cheeks were +flushed and there was a resentful light in her eyes that gave her an +expression quite new to me. + +I suppose she caught my enquiring glance for she exclaimed: + +“Did you see that woman? I never heard of such impertinence in my +life.” + +“What did she do?” I asked. + +“She came right up to the doorway and looked over your shoulder; and +then stared at me in the most singular and insolent manner. I could +have slapped her face.” + +“Not through the glass door,” I suggested; on which her anger subsided +in a ripple of laughter as quickly as it had arisen. “What was this +objectionable person like?” I asked. “Was she a char-woman or a +slavey?” + +“Oh, not at all,” replied Miss Vyne. “Quite a ladylike looking person, +except for her manners. Rather tastefully dressed, too; a black and +vermilion scheme of colour.” + +The reply startled me a little. “Had she a scarlet bird’s wing in her +hat?” I asked. + +“Yes, and a scarlet bow at her throat. I hope you are not going to say +that you know her.” + +It was a rather delicate situation. I could not actually disavow the +acquaintance, but I did not feel inclined to have a black and scarlet +fly introduced into the sweet-smelling ointment of my intercourse with +the fair Sylvia; so I explained with great care the exact scope of the +acquaintance; on which Miss Vyne remarked that “she supposed that +doctors could not be held responsible for the people they knew”; and +proceeded to make her purchases. + +I did not take the sketch away with me after all, for it occurred to +me that I might as well leave it to be framed; but instead, I carried +forth with me the parcel containing Miss Vyne’s purchases. I had not +far to carry it, for she was returning at once to Hampstead. I was +tempted to return, for the sake of enjoying a chat with her, too, but +discreetly withstood the temptation, and, having escorted her to a +tram, I turned my face south and walked away at a leisurely pace into +the jaws of an all-unsuspected danger. + +It was some hours, however, before anything remarkable happened. + +My immediate objective was Lincoln’s Inn Fields, where, at the College +of Surgeons, a lecture on Epidermic Appendages was to be delivered by +the Hunterian Professor; and there, in the college theatre, I spent a +delightful hour while the genial professor took his hearers with him +on a personally-conducted tour among structures that ranged from the +plumage of the sun-bird to the dermal plates of the crocodile, from +the silken locks of beauty to the quills of the porcupine or the mail +of the armadillo. + +When I came out, the dusk was just closing in. It was a slightly foggy +evening. The last glow of the sunset in the western sky lighted up the +haze into a rosy background, against which the shadowy buildings were +relieved in shapes of cloudy grey. It was a lovely effect; an effect +such as London alone can show, and fugitive as a breath on a mirror. +As I sauntered westward up the Strand I presently bethought me that, +before the light should have faded completely, I would see how the +effect looked by the riverside. Walking quickly down Buckingham +Street, I came out on to the Embankment and looked into the west. But +the light was nearly gone, the shadows of evening were closing in +fast, and the fog, creeping up the river, ushered in the night. + +I leaned on the parapet and watched the last glimmer die away; watched +the darkness deepen on the river and the faint lights on the barges +moored on the southern shore at first twinkle pallidly and then fade +out as the fog thickened. I lit my pipe and looked down at the dark +water swirling past, and gradually fell into a train of half-dreamy +meditation. + +Not for the first time since the occurrence, my thoughts turned to +Mrs. Samway. Why had she stared at Miss Vyne in that singular +manner--if indeed it was really Mrs. Samway, and if she really had +stared in the manner alleged? It was an odd affair; but, after all, it +did not very much matter. And with this, my thoughts rambled off in a +new direction. + +It was to the cottage on the Heath that they wandered this time, and +the picture of Thorndyke’s cat-like prowlings and pryings arose before +me. That was very queer, too. Was it possible that this learned and +astute man habitually went about eagerly probing into the personal +habits and trivial actions of chance strangers? The apparently puerile +inquisitiveness that he had displayed seemed totally out of character +with all that I knew about the man; but then it often happens that the +private life of public men develops personal traits that are +surprising and disappointing to those who have only known them in +connection with their public activities. + +I had become so completely immersed in my thoughts as to be almost +oblivious of what was happening around. Indeed, there was mighty +little happening. The gathering darkness and the thin fog limited my +view to a few square yards. Now and again, a muffled hoot from the +lower river spoke of life and movement on the water, and at long +intervals an occasional wayfarer would pass along the pavement behind +me. + +My reflections had reached the point recorded above, when a person +emerged from the obscurity near to the parapet and approached as if to +pass close behind me. I only caught the dusky shape indistinctly with +the tail of my eye; so indistinctly that I could not say certainly +whether it was that of a man or a woman, for I was still gazing down +at the dark water. He or she approached quietly, swerving towards me +across the wide pavement, and was in the act of passing quite close to +me when the thing happened. Of a sudden, I felt my knees clasped in a +powerful grip, and at the same moment I was lifted off my feet and +thrust forward over the parapet. Instinctively, I clutched at the +stonework, but its flat surface offered nothing for my fingers to +grasp. Then my assailant let go, and the next instant I plunged +head-first into the icy water. + +It was fortunate for me that the tide was nearly full, else must I, +almost certainly, have broken my neck. As it was, my head struck on +the firm mud at the bottom with such force, that for some moments I +was half-stunned. Nevertheless, I must have struck out automatically, +for when I began to recover my wits my head was above water, and I was +swimming as actively as my clinging garments would let me. But, +apparently, in those moments of dazed semi-consciousness, I must have +struck out towards the middle of the river, for now I was encompassed +by a murky void in which nothing was visible save one or two reddish, +luminous patches--presumably, the lamps on the Embankment. + +Towards one of these I turned and struck out vigorously. The water was +desperately cold, and hampered as I was with my clothing, I felt that +I should not be able to keep myself afloat very long, strong swimmer +as I was. The dim, red nebulæ of the unseen lamps moved past slowly, +showing me that I was drifting down on the ebb-tide. Before me, I +knew, was the long, inhospitable wall of the Embankment. True, there +were some steps, if I was not mistaken, by Cleopatra’s Needle, but the +question was whether I had not drifted past them already. I had given +one or two lusty shouts as soon as I had cleared my chest of the +mouthful of water that I got in my first plunge, and I was now letting +off another yell, when, out of the darkness behind me, came a +prolonged hoot. + +I looked round quickly in the direction whence the sound had come, and +then became aware of the churning of a propeller. Almost at the same +moment, a dim, ruddy smudge of light broke through the darkness over +the river, and began rapidly to brighten until it took the form of the +twin mast-head lights of a tug with a vessel in tow. + +For a moment I hesitated. My first impulse was to avoid the danger of +being run down; but suddenly I altered my mind. For, as the tug bore +down on me, with a roaring of water and a loud clank of machinery, I +saw that she was not absolutely end-on, for her green starboard light, +which had been for a moment visible, suddenly disappeared. Of what +happened during the next few moments, I have but a confused +recollection. A splashing and churning, with the loud wash of water, +the throb of the engines and a glare of light which blazed before my +eyes for a moment, to vanish in an instant into pitchy darkness; a +huge, black object, felt rather than seen to sweep past before me; and +then my hand clutched a wooden projection, and I felt myself dragged +violently through the water. The projection that I had laid hold of +was the lee-board of a sailing barge, as I discovered when the rush of +the water banged me against it; and much ado I had to hold on, with +the water dragging at me and spouting up over my head. But, with what +strength was left to me, I reached out with the other hand and clawed +hold of the dwarf bulwark over which the water was lapping; and so, +with a last violent effort, contrived to drag myself up on to the +deck. + +I essayed to stand up, and did, in fact, succeed, but as my sensations +suggested those of a leaden statue with india-rubber legs, I sat down +hastily on the hatch-cover to avoid going overboard. And there I sat +for a minute or two leaning against the lowered mast with my teeth +chattering, and seeming to grow more and more chilled and exhausted +every moment. + +Numb as my mind was by this time, my medical instincts told me that +this would not do. Somehow I must get warmth and shelter, for I might +as well have been drowned at once as die of exposure and cold. I +looked round lethargically. There was no sign of anyone on board. +Another barge was towing alongside, and the bows of two others were +dimly visible astern. On those rear-most barges there must certainly +have been someone steering. But they were inaccessible to me, and I +had not the energy to shout; nor could anyone have got across to me if +I had. + +Suddenly my eye fell on the little chimney that rose by the cabin +scuttle. A thin stream of smoke issued from it and blew away astern. +Perhaps, then, the crew were below, or, if not, at least there was a +fire. I crawled aft, holding on with my hands, and, pushing back the +scuttle, backed cautiously down the ladder closing the scuttle after +me. + +There seemed to be nobody below, and the cabin was in darkness, save +for the glow of the fire that burned in the little grate. The air was +probably warm, though to me it felt icy; but, at least, there was no +wind to play on my wet clothes. + +I sat down on the locker as near to the fire as I could, and rested my +elbows on the little triangular table. Chilled to the marrow and +utterly exhausted, I was sensible of a growing desire to sleep; a +desire which I repressed, as I believed, with noble resolution. But +apparently my efforts in this respect were not so successful as I had +supposed, for the next incident opened with suspicious suddenness. + +A vigorous shake, which dislodged one of my elbows, introduced the +episode. + +I looked up, blinking sulkily, at a bright and most objectionably +dazzling light, which further inspection showed to proceed from a +hurricane lamp held by a rather dirty hand. + +“Here, wake up, mister,” said a hoarse voice, “this here ain’t the +Hotel Cecil, you know.” + +I sat up and stared vaguely at the speaker, or at least, the holder of +the lamp, but could not think of anything appropriate to say. Then +another voice emerged from nowhere in particular. + +“’E’s been overboard, that’s what ’e’s been.” + +“Any fool can see that,” said the first man; “but the question is, who +is he and what’s he a-doin’ in my cabin? Who are yer, mister?” + +Now, that would seem to be a perfectly simple and straightforward +question. But it is not so simple as it seems. To a complete stranger, +the bare mention of a name is unilluminating. Further explanations are +needed. And at that moment I did not feel equal to explanations. +Besides, I was not so very clear on the subject myself. Consequently, +I preserved a silence which, perhaps, was wooden rather than golden. + +“D’ye ’ear?” persisted the first man. “I’m a-arskin’ you a question.” + +“What’s the good of arskin’ questions of a man what’s been a-rammin’ +’is crumpet aginst the bottom of the river?” protested the other man. + +“What d’ye mean?” demanded the first mariner. + +“Can’t you see?” retorted the other, “as ’e’s took the ground ’ard? +Look at ’is ’ed.” + +Here the first mariner--Lucifer, or lamp-bearer--wiped his hand over +the top of my head and then examined the tip of his forefinger +critically as though it were the arming of a deep-sea lead. + +“You’re right, Abel,” said he. “That’s mud off the bottom, that is. He +must have took a regular header. Sooicide perhaps, and altered his +mind. Found it a bit damper’n what he expected. Put the kittle on, +Abe.” + +From this moment, the two mariners treated me as if I had been a +lay-figure. Silently, they peeled off my wet clothes, and dried my +skin with vigorous friction as if it had been a wet deck. They not +only asked no further questions, but when I would have spoken they +urged me to economize my wind. They inducted me into stiff and hairy +garments of uncouth aspect, and finally, Abe set before me on the +table a large earthenware mug, the contents of which steamed and +diffused through the cabin a strong odour of Dutch gin. + +“You git outside that, mister,” said the luminiferous mariner (who +turned out subsequently to be the skipper), “and then you’d best turn +in.” + +The treatment was not strictly orthodox, but I obeyed without demur. +Most people would have done the same under the circumstances. But the +process of “getting outside” it took time, for the grog was boiling +hot and had been brewed with a flexible wrist. By the time that I had +emptied the mug I was not only revived, but (so far as my memory +serves) rather disposed to be garrulously explanatory and facetious. I +even felt a slight inclination to sing. But my friends would stand no +nonsense. As soon as the mug was fairly empty, they bundled me, neck +and crop, into a sort of elongated cupboard and proceeded to pile on +me untold quantities of textile fabrics, including a complete suit of +oilskins. Then they commanded me to go to sleep; which I believe I +must have done almost instantly. + + + + + CHAPTER XI. + A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS + +Awakening in a strange place is always a memorable experience; +especially to the young, in whom the capacity for novel sensations has +not yet been exhausted by repetition. When I emerged, somewhat +gradually, from the unconsciousness of sleep, my first impressions +concerned themselves with the unusual appearance of the bedroom wall +and its remarkable proximity to my nose. I further noticed that the +bedstead had become inexplicably tilted and that the house appeared to +be swaying; and as I mused on these phenomena with the vagueness of +the half-awake, a loud voice, proceeding apparently from the floor +above, roared out the mystic words, “Lee O!” whereupon there ensued a +sound like the shaking of colossal table cloths and the loud clanking +of chains, and my bedstead took a sharp tilt to the opposite side. +This roused me pretty completely, and, turning over in the bunk, I +looked out into the barge’s cabin. + +It was broad daylight and evidently not early, for a square patch of +sunlight crept to and fro on the little table, whence presently it +slipped down to the floor and slithered about unsteadily, as if +Phœbus had overdone his morning dram and could not drive his chariot +straight. I watched it lazily for some time and then, becoming +conscious of a vacancy within, crept out from under the mountain of +bedclothes and made my way to the ladder. + +As I put my head through the companion hatch, a man who stood at the +wheel regarded me stolidly. + +“So you’ve woke up, have yer?” said he. “Thought you was going right +round the clock. Abel! he’s woke up. Tell young Ted to stand by with +them heggs and that there ’addick.” + +Here Abel looked round from behind the luff of the mainsail, and +having verified the statement, conveyed the order to some invisible +person in the fore-peak. Then he came aft with an obvious air of +business. The time for explanations had arrived. + +Accordingly I proceeded to “pitch them my yarn,” as they expressed it; +to which they listened with polite attention and manifest +disappointment, clearly regarding the story as a fabrication from +beginning to end. And no wonder. The whole affair was utterly +incredible even to me; to them it must have seemed sheer nonsense. +Their own verdict of “sooicide” during very temporary insanity with +sudden mental recovery, under the influence of cold water, was so much +more rational. Not that they obtruded their views. They listened +patiently and said nothing; and nothing that they could have said +could have been more expressive. + +Meanwhile I looked about me with no little surprise. Some miles away +to the south lay a stretch of low land, faint and grey, with a single +salient object, apparently a church with two spires. In every other +direction was the unbroken sea horizon. + +“You seem to have made a pretty good passage,” I remarked. + +“We’ve had sixteen hours to do it in,” replied the skipper, “and +spring tides and a nice bit of breeze. If it ’ud only hold--which I’m +afraid it won’t--we’d be in Folkestone Harbour this time to-morrow, or +even sooner. Folkestone be much out of your way?” + +I smiled at the artlessness of the question. It was undeniable that +the route from Charing Cross to Hampstead by way of Folkestone was +slightly indirect. But there was no need to insist on the fact. My +hospitable friends had acted for the best and their prudence was +justified by the result; for here I was, not a whit the worse for my +ducking save that I badly wanted a bath. + +“Folkestone will suit me quite well,” I replied, “if there is enough +money left in my pockets to pay my fare home.” + +“That’s all right,” said the skipper. “I cleared out your pockets +myself. You’ll find the things in a mug in the starboard locker. +Better overhaul ’em when you go below and see if you’ve dropped +anything. Here comes young Ted with your grub.” + +As he spoke the apprentice rose through the fore-hatch like a stage +apparition--if one can imagine an apparition burdened with a tin +tea-pot, two “heggs” and an “’addick”--and came grinning along the +weather side-deck, to vanish through the cabin hatchway. I followed +gleefully, and, almost before young Ted had finished the somewhat +informal table arrangements, fell to on the food with voracious joy. + +“If you want any more eggs or anythink,” said the apprentice, “all +you’ve got to do is just to touch the electric bell and the waiter’ll +come and take your orders,” and having delivered this delicate shaft +of irony he presented me with an excellent back view of a pair of +brown dreadnoughts as he retired up the ladder. + +As I consumed the rough but excellent breakfast I reflected on the +strange events that had placed me in my present odd situation. For the +first time, I began fairly to realize that I was in some way involved +in a nexus of circumstances that I did not in the least understand. I +had an enemy; a vindictive enemy, too, in whose eyes mere human life +was a thing of no account. But who could he be? I knew of no one on +whom I had ever inflicted the smallest injury. I bore no man any +grudge and had never to my knowledge had unfriendly dealings with any +human creature. Was this inveterate enemy of mine anyone whom I knew? +Or was he some stranger whose path I had crossed without knowing it, +and whom I should not recognize even if I saw him? + +This last supposition was highly disquieting, especially as it seemed +rather probable; for if my enemy was unknown to me, what precautions +could I take? + +Then, again, there was the question! What was the occasion of this +extraordinary vendetta? What had I done to this man that he should +pursue me with such deadly purpose? As to Jervis’s suggestion, that I +had seen something at the Samways’ house that I was not wanted to see, +there was nothing in it; for, as a matter of fact, I had seen nothing. +There was nothing to see. The man Maddock was certainly dead. As to +what he died of, that was Batson’s affair; but even in that there was +no sign of anything suspicious. The man himself had consulted Batson, +and had thought so badly of himself that he had made his will in +Batson’s presence. The patient himself was fully aware of his serious +condition; it was only Batson, with his eternal hurry and bustle and +his defective eyesight, who had missed observing it. The only +circumstance that supported Jervis’s view was that the acts of +violence seemed to be connected with the locality of Batson’s house. + +Of course there remained the mystery of the dead priest or +lay-brother. But with that these attempts seemed to have no +connection. Nor was there any reason why the murderer should pursue +me. I had seen the body, it is true; but nobody believed me and no +proceedings were being taken. Nor could I have identified the murderer +if I had been confronted with him. Clearly, he had nothing to fear +from me. + +From the causes of my present predicament I passed to the immediate +future. I should have to get back from Folkestone, and I ought to send +a telegram to my landlady, Mrs. Blunt, who would probably be in a +deuce of a twitter about me. I raised the lid of the locker, and, +reaching out the big earthenware mug, emptied its contents on the +table. All my portable property seemed to be there, including the +little gold reliquary, which I had carelessly carried in my pocket +ever since I had shown it to Thorndyke. My available funds were some +four or five pounds; amply sufficient to get me home and to discharge +my liability to the skipper as well. I swept the things back into the +mug, which I returned to the locker, and having cut myself another +thick slice of bread, proceeded with the largest breakfast that I have +ever eaten. + +The skipper’s forebodings were justified by the course of events. When +I came on deck the breeze had died down to a mere faint breath, hardly +sufficient to keep the big red main-sail asleep--as the pretty old +nautical phrase has it. The skipper was still at the wheel and Abel +was anxiously taking soundings with a hand-lead. + +“You won’t do it, Bill,” said the latter, coiling up the lead-line +with an air of finality, “this ’ere breeze is a-petering right out.” + +The skipper said nothing, but stared gloomily at the land which was +now right ahead and much nearer than when I had last looked; and from +the land his eye travelled to a sand-bank from which rose a tall post +at the top of which was an inverted cone. + +“Ought to a-gone about a bit sooner, Bill,” pursued Abel; whereupon +the skipper turned on him fiercely. + +“What’s the good o’ saying that now?” he demanded. “If you’d a-told me +the wind was going to drop, I’d a-gone about sooner. What water is +there?” + +“Five fathom here,” replied Abel; “that means one and a quarter on the +Woolpack. You’d best shove her nose round now, Bill.” + +“Oh, all right!” retorted the skipper, “Lee O! This is going to be an +all-night job, this is,” and with this gloomy prediction, he spun the +wheel round viciously, and once more headed away from the land. + +Prophecy appeared to be the skipper’s specialty and, like most +prophets, he tended to view the future with an unfavourable eye. +Gradually the breeze died away into a dead calm, so that we had +presently to let go the anchor to avoid drifting on to a great +sand-bank which now lay between us and the land. And here we remained +not only for the rest of the day and the succeeding night, as the +skipper had promised, but throughout the whole of the next day and +following night. + +I have already remarked on the incalculable chances by which the +course of a man’s life is determined. Looking back now, I see that the +skipper’s little miscalculation and his failure to cross the Woolpack +Shoal into the inshore channel, was an antecedent determining the most +momentous consequences for me. For had the barge been becalmed in the +inshore channel, I could, and should, have landed in the boat and +returned home forthwith; and if I had, certain events would not have +happened and my life might have run a very different course. As it +was, miles of sea and the great bank known as the Margate Sand, lay +between me and the shore; whence I was committed to the wanderings and +dallyings of the barge as irrevocably as if we were crossing the +Pacific. + +We lay, then, in the Queen’s Channel, outside Margate Sand, for two +whole days and nights; during which time the skipper and Abel slept +much and smoked more, and young Ted, having cleaned and dried my +clothes, inducted me into the art of bottom-fishing. On the third day, +a faint breath of breeze enabled us to crawl round the North Foreland, +and the skipper having elected to pass outside the Goodwin, managed to +get becalmed again in the neighbourhood of the East Goodwin Lightship. +A little breeze at night enabled us to move on a few miles farther; +and so we continued to crawl along at intervals, mainly on the tide, +until nine o’clock in the morning of the fifth day, when we finally +crawled into Folkestone Harbour. + +As soon as the barge was brought up to a buoy, young Ted was detailed +to put me ashore in the boat. The skipper and Abel had insisted on +treating me as a guest, and I had perforce to accept the position. But +young Ted had no such pride; and when I ran up the wooden steps by the +old fish-market, I left him on the stage below, staring with an +incredulous grin at a gold coin in his none-too-delicate palm. + +I was not sorry to be landed in this unfashionable quarter of the +town, for in spite of young Ted’s efforts, my turn-out left much to be +desired, especially in the matter of shirt-cuffs and collar, and I +was, moreover, hatless and somewhat imperfectly shaved. Accordingly, I +slunk inconspicuously past the market and the groups of lounging +fishermen, and when I saw a well-dressed, lady-like woman preceding me +into the little narrow street, known as the Stade, I slackened my pace +so as not to overtake her. She sauntered along with a leisurely air as +if she were waiting for something or somebody, and this and the fact +that she carried a light canvas portmanteau and a rug, suggested to me +that she was probably travelling by the cross-channel boat which was +due to start presently. + +Suddenly my attention was diverted from her by a loud chattering and a +series of shouts. A small crowd of men and women ran excitedly past +the end of the little street. The clattering rapidly drew nearer; and +then a horse, with a light van, swept round the corner and passing +under an archway, advanced at a furious gallop. Evidently the horse +had bolted and now, mad with terror, dashed forward with trailing +reins, zigzagging erratically and making the van sway to and fro, so +that it took up the whole of the narrow street. The few wayfarers +darted into doorways and sheltered corners, and I was about to secure +my own safety in a similar manner, when I noticed that the woman in +front of me had apparently become petrified with terror, for she stood +stock still, gazing helplessly at the approaching horse. It was no +time for ceremony. The infuriated animal and the swaying van were +thundering up the street like an insane Juggernaut. With a hasty +apology, I seized the woman from behind, and half-dragged, +half-carried her to the opening of a little yard beside a sail-loft. +And even then, I was hardly quick enough, for as the van roared past, +some projecting object struck me between the shoulders and sent me +flying, face downwards, on to a pile of tarred drift-net. + +I had had the presence of mind to let go, as I was struck, so that my +fair protegée was not involved in my downfall; but in a moment, she +was stooping over me, and with many expressions of concern, +endeavouring to help me to rise. Beyond a thump in the back, however, +I was not hurt in the least, but picked myself up, grinning and turned +to reassure her. And then I really did get a shock; for as I turned, +the woman gave a shriek and fell back on the steps of the sail-loft, +gasping, and staring at me with an expression of the utmost +astonishment and terror. I supposed the accident had upset her nerves; +but to be sure, my own received, as I have said, a pretty severe +shock. For the woman was Mrs. Samway. + +We remained for a moment or two gazing at one another in mute +astonishment. Then I recollected myself, and advanced to shake hands; +but to my discomfiture, she shrank away from me and began to sob and +laugh in an unmistakably hysterical fashion. I must confess that I was +somewhat surprised at these manifestations in so robust a woman as +Mrs. Samway. Unreasonably so, indeed, for all women-kind are more or +less prone to hysteria; but whereas the normal woman tends to laugh +and cry, the weaker vessels develop inexplicable diseases, with a +tendency to social reform and emancipation. + +I put on my best bedside manner, at once matter-of-fact and +persuasive. “You seem quite upset,” I said, “and all about nothing, +for the poor beggar of a horse must be half a mile away by now.” + +“Yes,” she answered shakily, “it’s ridiculous of me, but it was so +sudden and so--” here she laughed noisily, and as the laugh ended in a +portentous sniff, I hastened to continue the conversation. + +“Yes, it was a bit of a facer to see that beast coming up the street +as if it was Tottenham Corner. Why on earth didn’t you get out of the +way?” + +“I am sure I don’t know,” she answered. “I seemed to be paralyzed and +idiotic and--” here the laughter began again. + +“Well,” I interrupted cheerfully, “you didn’t get rolled on those +tarred nets, so that’s something to be thankful for.” + +This was a rather unlucky shot, for the semblance of facetiousness +started a most alarming train of giggles, interrupted by rather loud +sobs; but at this point, a new curative influence made itself +manifest. Two smack boys halted outside the opening and surveyed her +with frank interest and pleased surprise. Simultaneously, an elderly +mariner appeared at the door of the sail-loft, grasping a black bottle +and a tea-cup, and rather shyly descending the steps, suggested that +“perhaps a drop o’ sperits might do the lady good.” + +Mrs. Samway bounced off the steps, her hitherto pale cheeks aflame +with anger. “I am making a fool of myself,” she exclaimed. “Let us go +away from here.” + +She walked out into the street, and I, having thanked the old +gentleman for his most efficacious remedy, followed. As soon as I +caught her up, she turned on me quickly and held out her hand. + +“Good-bye, Dr. Jardine,” she said, “and thank you so very much for +risking your life for a--for a wretched giggling woman.” + +“Oh, you’re not going to send me packing like this,” I protested, +“when we’ve hardly said good morning. Besides, you’re not fit to be +left. But you’re not to begin laughing again,” I added, threateningly, +for an ominous twitching of her mouth seemed to herald a relapse, “or +I shall go back and get that black bottle.” + +She shook her head impatiently, but without looking at me. “I would +rather you went away, Dr. Jardine,” she said in an agitated voice. “I +would, really. I wish to be alone. Don’t think me ungracious. I am +really most grateful to you, but I would rather you left me now.” + +Of course there was nothing more to be said. She was not really ill or +in need of assistance, and probably her instinct was right. Hysteria +is not one of those affections which waste their sweetness on the +desert air. I shook her hand cordially and, advising her to keep out +of the way of stray vans and horses, once more pursued my way towards +the town, meditating as I went, on the oddity of the whole affair. It +was an astonishing coincidence that I should have run against this +woman in this out of the way place. I had left her but a few days +since apparently firmly rooted in the Hampstead Road, and now, behold, +as I step ashore from the barge, she is almost the first person that I +meet. And yet the coincidence, which had evidently hit her as hard as +it had me, like most coincidences, tended to disappear on closer +inspection. The only really odd feature was my own presence in +Folkestone. As to Mrs. Samway, she had probably been sent for by her +husband, and was crossing by the boat that was now due to start. + +Her anxiety to get rid of me was more puzzling, until I suddenly +remembered my bare head, my crumpled collar and generally raffish and +disreputable appearance. The latter was, in fact, at this moment +brought to my notice by a man, with whom, in my preoccupation, I +collided; who first uttered an impatient exclamation and then, +bestowing on me a quick stare of astonishment, muttered a hasty +apology and hurried past. The incident emphasized the necessity for +some reform, and I mended my pace towards the region of shops in a +very ferment of uncomfortable self-consciousness. + +With the purchase of a new hat, a collar, a pair of cuffs, a neck-tie, +a pair of gloves and a stick, some faint glimmer of self-respect +revived in me. I was even conscious of a temptation to linger in +Folkestone and spend a few hours by the sea; but a sense of duty, +aided by a large, muddy stain on my coat, finally decided me to return +to town at once. Accordingly, having sent off a telegram to my +landlady and ascertained that a train left for London in about twenty +minutes, I betook myself to the station. + +There were comparatively few people travelling by this particular +train; in fact, when I had established myself with the morning paper +in the off-side corner seat of a smoking compartment, I began, with an +Englishman’s proverbial unsociability, to congratulate myself on the +prospect of having the compartment to myself, when my hopes were +dashed by the entrance of an elderly clergyman; who not only broke up +my solitude, but aggravated the offence by quite unnecessarily seating +himself opposite to me. I was almost tempted to move to another +corner, for my length of leg gives an added value to space; but it +seemed a rude thing to do; and as the train moved off at this moment, +I resigned myself to the trifling discomfort. + +My clerical friend was a somewhat uncommon-looking man, with a +countenance at once strong and secretive; a rectangular, masterful +face, with a bull-like dew-lap and a small, and very sharp, Roman +nose. On further inspection, I decided that he was either a +High-Church parson or a Roman Catholic priest. His proceedings seemed +to favour the latter hypothesis, for the train was barely out of the +station before he had whisked out of his pocket an +ecclesiastical-looking volume, which he opened at a marked place, and +instantly began to read. I watched him with inquisitive interest, for +his manner of reading was very singular. There was something habitual, +almost mechanical, about it, suggesting an allotted and familiar task, +and a lack of concentration that suggested a corresponding lack of +novelty in the matter. As he read, his lips moved, and now and again I +caught a faint whisper, by which I gathered that he was reading +rapidly; but the most singular phenomenon was, that when his eyes +strayed out of the carriage window, as they did at frequent intervals, +his lips went on sputtering with unabated rapidity. Quite suddenly he +appeared to come to the end of a sort of literary measured mile, for +even as his lips were still moving, he clapped in the book-mark, shut +the volume, and returned it to his pocket with a curious air of +business-like finality. + +As his eyes were no longer occupied with the book, my observations had +to be suspended, and my attention was now turned to my own affairs. +Putting my hand in my coat pocket for my pipe and pouch, I became +aware of a state of confusion in the said pocket which I had already +noticed when making my purchases. The fact is, that I had nearly come +away from the barge without my portable property. It was only at the +last moment that the skipper, remembering the mug, had fetched it +hurriedly from the locker and shot its contents bodily into my coat +pocket. The present seemed a good opportunity for distributing the +various articles among their proper receptacles. Accordingly I turned +out the whole pocketful on the seat by my side, and a remarkably +miscellaneous collection they formed; comprising knives, pencils, +match-box, keys, the minor implements of my craft, and various other +objects, useful and useless, including the little gold reliquary. + +My neighbour opposite was, I think, quite interested in my +proceedings, though he kept up a dignified pretence of being entirely +unaware of my existence. Only for a while, however. Suddenly he sat +up, very wide awake, and slewing his head round, stared with +undisguised intentness at my little collection. I guessed at once what +it was that had attracted his attention. A cleric would not be +thrilled by the sight of a clinical thermometer or an ophthalmoscope. +It was the reliquary that had caught his eye. That was an article in +his own line of business. + +With deliberate mischief, I left the little bauble exposed to view as +I very slowly and methodically conveyed the other things one by one, +each to its established pocket. Last of all, I picked up the reliquary +and held it irresolutely as if debating where I should stow it. And at +this point His Reverence intervened, unable any longer to contain his +curiosity. + +“Zat is a very remargable liddle opchect, sir,” he said in excellent +Anglo-German. “Might one bresume to ask vat its use is?” + +I handed the reliquary to him and he took it from me with +ill-disguised eagerness. + +“I understand,” said I, “that it is a reliquary. But you probably know +more about such things than I do. I haven’t opened it so I can’t say +what is inside.” + +He nodded gravely. “Zo! I am glad to hear you zay zat. Brobably zere +is inside some holy relic vich ought not to be touched egzepting by +bious handts.” He turned the case over, and, putting on a pair of +spectacles--which he had not appeared to require for reading--closely +scrutinized the inscriptions, and even the wisp of cord that remained +attached to one of the rings. + +“You zay,” he resumed without raising his eyes, “zat you understandt +zat zis is a reliquary. Do you not zen know? Ze berson who gafe it to +you, did he not tell you vat it gondained?” + +“It wasn’t given to me at all,” I replied. “In fact, it isn’t properly +mine. I picked it up and am merely keeping it until I find the owner.” + +He pondered this statement with a degree of profundity that seemed +rather out of proportion to its matter; and he continued to gaze at +the reliquary, never once raising his eyes to mine. At length, after a +considerable pause and a most unnecessary amount of reflection, he +asked: + +“Might one ask, if you shall bardon my guriosity, vere you found zis +liddle opchect?” + +I hesitated before replying. My first, and natural, impulse was to +tell him exactly where and under what circumstances I had found the +“opchect.” But the way in which my information had been received by +the police had made me rather chary of offering confidences; besides +which, I had half promised them not to talk about the affair. And, +after all, it was no business of this good gentleman’s where I found +it. My answer was, therefore, not very explicit. + +“I picked it up in a lane at Hampstead, near London.” + +“At Hampstead!” he repeated. “Zo! Zat would be--a--very good blace to +find such sings. I mean,” he added, hastily, “zere are many beople in +zat blace and some of zem will be of ze old religion.” + +Now, this last remark was such palpable nonsense that it set me +speculating on what he had intended to say, for it was obvious that he +had altered his mind in the middle of the sentence and completed it +with the first words that came to hand. However, as I could read no +sense into it at all, I said that “perhaps he was right,” which seemed +an eminently safe rejoinder to an unintelligible statement. + +When he had finished his minute examination of the reliquary, he +handed it back to me with such evident reluctance that, if it had been +mine, I should have been tempted to ask him to accept it. But it was +not mine. I was only a trustee. So I made no remark, but watched him +as he, very deliberately, took off his spectacles and returned them to +their case, looking meanwhile, at the floor with an air of deep +abstraction. He appeared to be thinking hard, and I was quite curious +as to what his next remark would be. A considerable interval elapsed +before he spoke again; but at last the remark came, in the form of a +question, and very disappointing it was. + +“You are not berhaps very much interested in relics and reliquaries?” + +As a matter of fact, I didn’t care two straws for either the one or +the other; but there was no need to put it as strongly as that. + +“We are apt,” I replied, “to find a lack of interest in subjects of +which we are ignorant.” (That was a fine sentence. It might have come +straight out of Sandford and Merton.) + +“Zat is vat I sink, too,” he rejoined. “Ve do not know; ve do not +care. But zere is a very egsellent liddle book vich egsplains all ze +gustoms and zeremonies gonnected vid relics of ze zaints. I should +like you to read zat book. Vill you bermit me to send you a gobby vich +I haf?” + +Of course I said I should be delighted. It was an outrageous +falsehood, but what else could I say? + +“Zen,” said he, “I shall haf great pleasure in zending it to you if +you vill kindly tell me how I shall address it.” + +I presented him with my card, which he read very attentively before +bestowing it in his pocket-book. + +“I see,” he remarked, “zat you are a doctor of medecine. It is a fine +brofession, if one does not too much vorget ze spiritual life in +garing for zat of ze body.” + +In this I acquiesced vaguely, and the conversation drifted into +detached commonplaces, finally petering out as we approached Paddock +Wood; where my reverend acquaintance bought a newspaper and underwent +a total eclipse behind it. + +As soon as the train started again, I took up my own paper; and the +very first glance at it gave me a shock of surprise that sent all +other matters clean out of my mind. It was an advertisement in the +column headed “Personal” that attracted my attention, an advertisement +that commenced with the word “Missing,” in large type, and went on to +offer Two Hundred Pounds Reward: thus:-- + + + “MISSING. TWO HUNDRED POUNDS REWARD. + + “Whereas, on the 14th inst., Dr. Humphrey Jardine disappeared from his + home and his usual places of resort; the above reward will be paid to + any person who shall give information as to his whereabouts, if alive, + or the whereabouts of his body if he is dead. He was last seen at + 12.20 p.m. on the above date in the Hampstead Road, and was then + walking towards Euston Road. The missing man is about twenty-six years + of age; is somewhat over six feet in height; of medium complexion; has + brown hair, grey eyes, straight nose and a rather thin face, which is + clean-shaved. He was wearing a dark tweed suit, and soft felt hat. + + “Information should be given to Hector Brodribb, Esquire, 65, New + Square, Lincoln’s Inn, by whom the above reward will be paid.” + + +Here was a pretty state of affairs: It seemed that while I was +placidly taking events as they came; smoking the skipper’s tobacco and +bottom-fishing with young Ted; my escapade had been producing +somewhere a most almighty splash. I read the advertisement again, with +a self-conscious grin, and out of it there arose one or two rather +curious questions. In the first place, who the deuce was Hector +Brodribb? And what concern was I of his? And how came he to know that +I was walking down Hampstead Road at 12.20 on the 14th inst.? + +I felt very little doubt it was actually Thorndyke who was tweaking +the strings of the Brodribbian puppet. But even this left the mystery +unsolved. For how did Thorndyke know? This was only the fifth day +after my disappearance, and it would seem that there had hardly been +time for exhaustive enquiries. + +Then another highly interesting fact emerged. The only person who had +seen me walk away down Hampstead Road was Sylvia Vyne; whence it +followed that Thorndyke, or the mysterious Brodribb, had in some way +got into touch with her. And reflecting on this, the mechanism of the +enquiry came into view. The connecting-link was, of course, the +sketch. Thorndyke had, himself, left the canvas with Mr. Robinson, the +artist’s-colourman, and he must have called to enquire if I had +collected it. Then, he would have been told of my meeting with Miss +Vyne, and as she was a regular customer, Mr. Robinson would have been +able to give him her address. It was all perfectly simple, the only +remarkable feature being the extraordinary promptitude with which the +inquiry had been carried out. Which went to show how much more clearly +Thorndyke had realized the danger that surrounded me than I had +myself. + +These various reflections gave me full occupation during the remainder +of the journey, extending themselves into consideration of how I +should act in the immediate future. My first duty was obviously to +report myself to Thorndyke without delay; after which, I persuaded +myself, it would be highly necessary for me personally to reassure the +fair, and, perhaps, anxious Sylvia. As to how this was to be managed, +I was not quite clear, and in spite of the most profound cogitation, I +had reached no conclusion when the train rumbled into Charing Cross +Station. + + + + + CHAPTER XII. + MISS VYNE + +As I stepped out on to the platform with a valedictory bow to my +reverend fellow-passenger, my irresolution came to an end and my duty +became clear. I must, in common decency, report myself at once to +Thorndyke, seeing that he had been at so much trouble on my account. +His card, which he had given me, I had unfortunately--or perhaps +fortunately, as it turned out--left on the mantelpiece at my lodgings; +but I remembered that the address was King’s Bench Walk and assumed +that I should have no difficulty in finding the house. Nor had I, for, +as I entered the Temple by the Tudor Street gate--having overshot my +mark on the Embankment--I was almost immediately confronted by a fine +brick doorway surmounted by a handsome pediment and bearing legibly +painted on its jamb, “First pair, Dr. Thorndyke.” + +I ascended the “first pair” of stairs, which brought me to an open oak +door, massive and iron-bound, and a closed inner door, on the brass +knocker of which I executed a flourish that would have done credit to +a Belgravian footman; whereupon the door opened and a small man of +sedate and clerical aspect regarded me with an air of mild enquiry. + +“Is Dr. Thorndyke at home?” I asked. + +“No, sir. He is at the hospital.” + +“Dr. Jervis?” + +“Is watching a case in the Probate Court. Perhaps you would like to +leave a message or write a note. A message in writing would be +preferable.” + +“I don’t know that it’s necessary,” said I. “My name is Jardine, and +if you tell him that I called that will probably be enough.” + +The little man gave me a quick, bird-like glance of obviously +heightened interest. + +“If you are Dr. Humphrey Jardine,” said he, “I think a few explanatory +words would be acceptable. The Doctor has been extremely uneasy about +you. A short note and an appointment, either here or at the hospital, +would be desirable.” + +With this he stepped back, holding the door invitingly open, and I +entered, wondering who the deuce this prim little cathedral dean might +be, with his persuasive manners and his quaintly precise forms of +speech. He placed a chair for me at the table, and, having furnished +me with writing materials, stood a little way off, unobtrusively +examining me as I wrote. I had finished the short letter, closed it up +and addressed it, and was rising to go, when, almost automatically, I +took out my watch and glanced at it. Of course it had stopped. + +“Can you tell me the time?” I asked. + +My acquaintance drew out his own watch and replied deliberately: +“Seventeen minutes and forty seconds past one.” He paused for a moment +and then added: “I hope, sir, you have not got any water into your +watch.” + +“I’m afraid I have,” I replied, rather taken aback by the rapidity of +his diagnosis. “But I’ll just wind it up to make sure.” + +“Oh, don’t do that, sir!” he exclaimed. “Allow me to examine it before +you disturb the movement.” He whipped out of his pocket a watchmaker’s +eyeglass, which miraculously glued itself to his eye, and, having +taken a brief glance at the opened watch, produced a minute pocket +screw-driver and a sheet of paper; and, in the twinkling of an eye, as +it seemed to me, the paper was covered with the dismembered structures +which had in their totality formed my timepiece. + +“It’s quite a small matter, sir,” was his report, as he rose from his +inspection and pocketed his eye-glass. “Just a speck or two of rust. +If you will take my watch for the present, I will have your own in +going order by the next time you call.” + +It seemed an odd transaction; but the little man’s manner, though +quiet, was so decisive that I took his proffered watch, and, affixing +it to my chain, thanked him for his kindness and departed, wondering +if it was possible that this prim, clerical little person could +possibly be the “tame mechanic” of whom Thorndyke had spoken. + +Travelling in London was comparatively slow in those days--which, +perhaps, was none the worse for a near and pleasant suburb like +Hampstead; it had turned half-past two when I let myself into my +lodgings with a rather rusty key and almost literally, fell into the +arms of Mrs. Blunt. I feared, for a moment, that she was going to kiss +me. But that was a false alarm. What she actually did was to seize +both my hands and burst into tears with such violence as to cover me +with confusion and cause the servant maid to rise like a domestic, and +highly inquisitive, apparition from the kitchen stairs. I pacified +Mrs. Blunt as well as I could and shook hands heartily with the maid, +who thereupon retired, much gratified, to the underworld, whence +presently issued an odour suggestive of sacrificial rites, not +entirely unconnected with fried onions, and accompanied by an +agreeable hissing sound. + +“But wherever have you been all this time?” Mrs. Blunt asked, as she +preceded me up the stairs wiping her eyes, “and why didn’t you send us +a line just to say that you were all right?” + +To this question I made a somewhat guarded answer in so far as the +cause of my immersion in the river was concerned; otherwise I gave her +a fairly correct account of my adventures. + +“Well, well,” was her comment, “I suppose it was all for the best, but +I do think those sailors might have put you on shore somewhere. Dear +me, what a time it has been. I couldn’t sleep at night for thinking of +you, and what Susan and I have eaten between us wouldn’t have kept a +sparrow alive. And Dr. Thorndyke, too, I’m sure he was very anxious +and worried about you, though he is such a quiet, self-contained man +that you can’t tell what he is thinking of. And Lord; what a lot of +questions he do ask, to be sure!” + +“By the way, how did he come to know that I was missing?” + +“Why, I told him, of course. When you didn’t come home that +night--which Susan and me sat up for you until three in the morning--I +thought there must be something wrong, you being so regular in your +habits; so next day, the very first thing, I took his card from your +mantelpiece and down I went to his office and told him what had +happened. He came up here that evening to see if you had come home, +and he’s been here every day since to enquire.” + +“Has he really?” + +“Yes. In a hansom cab. Every single day. And so has the young lady.” + +“The young lady!” I exclaimed. “What young lady?” + +Mrs. Blunt regarded me with something as nearly approaching a wink as +can be imagined in association with an elderly female of sedate +aspect. + +“Now,” she protested slyly, “as if you didn’t know! What young lady +indeed! Why, Miss Vyne, to be sure; and a very sweet young lady she +is, and talked to me just as simple and friendly as if she’d been an +ordinary young woman.” + +“How do you know that she isn’t an ordinary young woman?” I asked. + +Mrs. Blunt was shocked. “Do you suppose, Mr. Jardine, sir,” she +demanded severely, “that I who have been a head parlour-maid in a +county family where my poor husband was coachman, don’t know a real +gentlewoman when I meet one? You surprise me, sir.” + +I apologized hastily and suggested that, as so many kind enquiries had +been made, the least I could do was to call and return thanks without +delay. + +“Certainly, sir,” Mrs. Blunt agreed; “but not until you have had your +lunch. It’s a small porterhouse steak,” she added alluringly, being +evidently suspicious of my intentions. The announcement, seconded by +an appetizing whiff from below, reminded me that I was prodigiously +sharp set, having tasted no food since I had come ashore at +Folkestone, and put the grosser physiological needs of the body, for +the moment, in the ascendant. But even as I was devouring the steak +with voracious gusto, my mind occupied itself with plans for a +strategic descent on the abode of the fair Sylvia and with +speculations on the reception I should get; and the noise of water +running into the bath formed a pleasing accompaniment to the final +mouthfuls. + +When I had bathed, shaved and attired myself in carefully selected +garments, I set forth, as smart and spruce as the frog that would +a-wooing go--saving the opera hat, which would have been inappropriate +to the occasion. The distance to Sylvia’s house was not great, and a +pair of long and rapidly-moving legs consumed it to such purpose that +it was still quite reasonable calling time when I opened the gate of +“The Hawthorns” and gave a modest pull at the bell. My summons was +answered by a rather foolish-looking maid, by whom I was informed that +Miss Vyne was at home, and when I had given her my name--which she +seemed disposed to confuse with that of a well-known edible fish--she +ushered me down a passage to a room at the back of the house, and, +opening the door, announced me--correctly, I was glad to note; +whereupon I assumed an ingratiating smile and entered. + +Now there is nothing more disconcerting than a total failure of +agreement between anticipation and realization. Unconsciously, I had +pictured to myself the easy-mannered, genial Sylvia, seated, perhaps, +at an easel or table, working on one of her pictures, and had prepared +myself for a reception quite simple, friendly and unembarrassing. +Confidently and entirely at my ease, I walked in through the doorway; +and there the pleasant vision faded, leaving me with the smile frozen +on my face, staring in consternation at one of the most appalling old +women that it has ever been my misfortune to encounter. + +I am, in general, rather afraid of old women. They are, to my mind, a +rather alarming class of creature; but the present specimen exceeded +my wildest nightmares. It was not merely that she was seated +unnaturally in the exact centre of the room and that she sat with +unhuman immobility, moving no muscle and uttering no sound as I +entered, though that was somewhat embarrassing. It was her strange, +forbidding appearance that utterly shattered my self-possession and +seemed to disturb the very marrow in my bones. + +She was a most remarkable-looking person. An immense Roman nose, a mop +of frizzy grey fringe and a lofty surmounting cap or head-dress of +some kind, suggested that monstrous and unreal bird, the helmeted +hornbill; and the bird-like character was heightened by her eyes, +which were small and glittering and set in the midst of a multitude of +radiating wrinkles. + +To this most alarming person I made a low bow--and dropped my stick, +of which the maid had neglected to relieve me and for which I had +found no appointed receptacle. As I stooped hastily to pick it up, my +hat slipped from my grasp, and, urged by the devil that possesses +disengaged hats, instantly rolled under a deep ottoman, whence I had +to hook it out with the handle of my stick. I rose, perspiring with +embarrassment, to confront that immovable figure, and found the +glittering eyes fixed on me attentively but without any sign of +expression of human emotion. Haltingly I essayed to stammer out an +explanation of my visit. + +“Er--I have--er--called--” Here I paused to collect my ideas and the +old lady watched me stonily without offering any remark; indeed no +comment was needed on a statement so self-evidently true. After a +brief and hideous silence I began again. + +“I--er--thought it desirable--er--and in fact necessary +and--er--proper to call--er and--” + +Here my ideas again petered out and a horrid silence ensued, amidst +which I heard a still, emotionless voice murmur: + +“Yes. And you have accordingly called.” + +“Exactly,” I agreed, grasping eagerly at the slenderest straw of +suggestion. “I have called to--er--well, the fact is that my--er--very +remarkable absence seemed to call for some explanation, especially as +certain enquiries--er--” + +At this point I stopped suddenly with a horrible doubt as to whether I +was not saying more than was discreet; and the misgiving was +intensified by that chilly, calm voice, framing the question: + +“Enquiries made personally?” + +Now this was a facer. I seemed to have put my foot in it at the first +lead off. Supposing Sylvia had said nothing about her little visits to +Mrs. Blunt? It would never do to give her away to this inquisitorial +old waxwork. I endeavoured to temporize. + +“Well,” I stammered, “not exactly made personally to me.” + +“By letter, perhaps?” the voice suggested in the same even, impassive +tone. + +“Er--no. Not by letter.” + +There was a short embarrassing pause, and then the old lady, as if +summing up the case, said frigidly: + +“Not exactly personally and not by letter.” + +I was so utterly confounded by her judicial manner, her immovable, +expressionless face and the hypnotic quality of those glittering eyes, +that for the moment I could think of nothing to say. + +“Don’t let me interrupt you,” said she after some seconds of agonized +silence on my part; whereupon I pulled myself together and made a +fresh start. + +“I should, perhaps, have explained that I have been unavoidably absent +from home for some time, and, as I was unable to communicate with my +friends, I have, I am afraid, caused them some anxiety. It was this +that seemed to make it necessary for me to call and give an account of +myself.” + +She pondered awhile on this statement--if a graven image can be said +to ponder--and at length enquired: + +“You spoke of your friends. Are any of them known to me?” + +“Well,” I replied, “I was referring more particularly to your +daughter.” + +She continued to regard me fixedly, and, after a brief interval, +rejoined: + +“You are referring to my daughter. But I do not recall the existence +of any such person. I think you must be mistaken.” + +It seemed extremely probable, and I hastened to amend the description. + +“I beg your pardon. I should have said Miss Vyne. But perhaps she is +not at home.” + +“You are evidently mistaken,” was the paralyzing reply. “I am Miss +Vyne; and I need not add that I am at home.” + +“But,” I demanded despairingly, “is there not another Miss Vyne?” + +“There is not,” she answered. “But it is possible that you are +referring to Miss Sylvia Vyne. Is that so?” + +I replied sulkily that it was; and being somewhat nettled by this +unnecessary and rather offensive hair-splitting, offered no further +remark. How the conversation would have proceeded after this, I cannot +even surmise. But it did not proceed at all, for the embarrassing +silence was brought to an end by a very agreeable interruption. The +door opened softly and for one moment Sylvia herself stood framed in +the portal; then, with a little cry, she ran towards me with her hands +held out impulsively and the prettiest smile of welcome. + +“So it is really you!” she exclaimed. “That silly little goose of a +maid has only just told me you were here. I _am_ glad to see you. When +did you graciously please to descend from the clouds?” + +“I arrived home this afternoon, and as soon as I had changed and had +lunch I came here to report myself.” + +“How nice of you,” said Sylvia. “I suppose you guessed how anxious we +should be?” + +“I didn’t presume to think that you would actually be anxious about +me,” I replied, with a furtive eye on the waxwork, “though I knew that +you had been kind enough to express an interest in my fate.” + +“What a cold-bloodedly polite way to put it!” laughed Sylvia. +“‘Express an interest,’ indeed! We were most dreadfully worried about +you.” + +To a somewhat friendless man like myself this sympathetic warmth was +very delightful, and my pleasure was not appreciably damped when a +chill, emotionless voice affirmed: + +“The use of the first person singular would, I think, be preferable.” + +Sylvia turned on her aunt with mock ferocity. + +“Well, really,” she exclaimed. “You are a dreadful impostor, Mopsy, +dear! Just listen to her, Dr. Jardine. And if you had only seen what a +twitter she was in as the time went on and no news came!” + +I gasped, and the hair seemed to stir on my scalp. Mopsy! The name was +obviously not applied to me. But could it be--was it possible that +such a name could be associated with that terrific old lady? It was +inconceivable. It was positively profane! It was almost as if one +should presume to address the Deity as “old chap.” I could hardly +believe my ears. + +I glanced at her nervously and caught her glittering eye; but the +grotesque face was as immovable as everlasting granite, though, +indeed, by some ventriloquial magic, the word “Rubbish” managed to +disengage itself from her person. + +“It isn’t rubbish,” retorted Sylvia. “It’s the plain truth. We were +both worried to death about you. And no wonder. Dr. Thorndyke was very +quiet and matter-of-fact, but there was no disguising his fear that +something dreadful had happened to you. And then there was the +advertisement in the papers. Did you see that? Oh, it’s nothing to +grin about. You’ve given us all a nice fright; and me especially, +because, of course, I naturally thought of that ruffian from whom you +rescued me in the lane.” + +“But he never saw me.” + +“You don’t know. He may have done. At any rate, you owe us an +explanation; so, when the tea comes in you shall give us the true +story of your adventures. I hope you’ve let Dr. Thorndyke know about +your resurrection.” + +I reassured her on this point, and as the “goose of a maid” now +brought in the tea, I proceeded to “pitch my yarn” as the skipper had +expressed it, without those reservations that I had considered +necessary in the case of Mrs. Blunt. + +The old lady, having been unmasked by Sylvia, developed a slight +tendency to thaw. She even condescended, in a rigid and effigean +fashion, to consume bread and butter; a proceeding that seemed to me +weirdly incongruous, as though one should steal into the British +Museum in off hours and find the seated statue of Amenhotep the Third +in the act of refreshing itself with a sandwich and a glass of beer. +But I was less terrified of her now since I had gathered that a core +of warm humanity was somewhere concealed within that grim exterior; +and even though her little sparkling eyes were fixed on me immovably, +I told my story to the end without flinching. + +Sylvia listened to my narration with a rapt attention that greatly +flattered my vanity and made me feel like a very Othello, and when I +had finished, she regarded me for awhile silently and with an air of +speculation. + +“It’s a queer affair,” she said at length, “and there is a smack of +mystery and romance about it that is rather refreshing in these +commonplace days. But I don’t like it. Adventure is all very well, but +there seems to have been a deliberate attempt to make away with you; +unless you think it may have been a piece of silly horse-play that +went farther than it was meant to.” + +“That is quite possible,” I replied untruthfully--for I didn’t think +anything of the sort, and only made this evasive answer to avoid +raising other and more delicate issues. + +“I hope that is the explanation,” said Sylvia, “though it sounds +rather a lame one. You would know if you had an enemy who might wish +to get rid of you. I suppose you don’t know of any such person?” + +It was a rather awkward question. I didn’t want to tell an untruth, +but, on the other hand, I knew that Thorndyke would not wish to have +my affairs discussed while his investigations were in progress; so I +“hedged” once more, replying, quite truthfully, that I was not +acquainted with anyone who bore me the slightest ill-will. + +My adventures done with, the talk drifted into other channels and +presently came round to the little crucifix that had been the occasion +of Sylvia’s disagreeable experience in the lane. In spite of my +confusion, I had noticed, on first entering the room, that the old +lady was wearing suspended from her neck, a small enamelled crucifix, +and had instantly identified it and wondered not a little that she +should be thus disporting herself in borrowed ornaments; but when +Sylvia had arrived, behold, the original crucifix was hanging on its +chain from _her_ neck. From time to time during my recital my eyes had +wandered from one to the other seeking some difference or variation +but finding none, and at length my inquisitive glances caught the +younger lady’s attention. + +“I can see, Dr. Jardine,” said she, “that you are eaten up with +curiosity about the crucifix that my Aunt is wearing. Now confess. +Aren’t you?” + +“I am,” I admitted. “When I first came in I naturally thought it was +yours. Is it a copy?” + +“Certainly not,” said Miss Vyne, the elder. “They are duplicates.” + +Sylvia laughed. “You’d better not talk about copies,” said she. “My +aunt has only acquired her treasure lately, and she is as proud of it +as a peacock; aren’t you, dear?” + +“The sensations of a peacock,” replied Miss Vyne, “are unknown to me. +I am very gratified at possessing the ornament.” + +“Gratified indeed!” said Sylvia. “I consider such vanity most +unsuitable to a person of your age. But they _are_ very charming, and +there is quite a little story attached to them. My father and a cousin +of his--” + +“By marriage,” interposed Miss Vyne. + +“You needn’t insist on that,” said Sylvia, “as if poor old Vitalis +were a person to be ashamed of. Well, my father and this cousin were +at a Jesuit school in Belgium--at Louvain, in fact--and among the +teachers in the school was an Italian Jesuit named Giglioli. Now the +respected Giggley--” + +“--oli,” interposed Miss Vyne in a severe voice. + +“--oli,” continued Sylvia, “had formerly been a goldsmith; and the +Father Superior, with that keen eye to the main chance which you may +have noticed among professed religious, furnished him with a little +workshop and employed him in making monstrances, thuribles and church +plate in general. It was he who made these two crucifixes; and, with +the Father Superior’s consent, he gave one to my father and the other +to the cousin as parting gifts on their leaving school. As the boys +were inseparable friends, the two crucifixes were made absolute +duplicates of one another, with the single exception that each had the +owner’s name engraved on the back. When my poor father died his +crucifix became mine, and a short time ago, his cousin--who is now +getting an old man--took a fancy that he would like the two crucifixes +to be together once more and gave his to my aunt. So here they are, +after all these years, under one roof again.” + +As she finished speaking, she detached the crucifix from her neck and, +having given it to me to examine, proceeded to remove its fellow from +the neck of the elder lady--who not only submitted quite passively but +seemed to be unaware of the transaction--and handed that to me also. + +I laid them side by side in my palm and compared them, but could not +detect the slightest difference between them. They were complete +duplicates. Each was a Latin cross with trefoiled extremities, wrought +from a single piece of gold and enriched with champlevé enamel. The +body of the cross was filled with a ground of deep, translucent blue, +from which the figure stood out in rather low relief, and the space +between each of the trefoils was occupied by a single Greek +letter--Iota and Chi at the top and bottom respectively, and at the +ends of the horizontal arm Alpha and Omega. On turning them over, I +saw that the back of each bore an engraved inscription carried across +the horizontal arm, that on Sylvia’s reading: “A.M. Robertus, D.G.,” +while that on the other read: “A.M. Vitalis, D.G.” + +“They are very charming little things,” I said, as I returned them to +Sylvia; “and it was a pretty idea of the old Jesuit to make them both +alike for the two friends. I suppose he didn’t make any more of them +for his other pupils?” + +“What makes you ask that?” demanded Sylvia. + +“I am thinking of that man in the lane. He must have had some reason +for claiming the crucifix as his, one would think; and as these are +quite unlike any ordinary commercial jewellery, the suggestion is that +the worthy Giglioli was tempted to repeat his successes. What do you +think?” + +“I think,” said Miss Vyne, “that the suggestion is inadmissable. +Father Giglioli was an artist, and an artist does not repeat himself.” + +“I am inclined to agree with my aunt,” said Sylvia. “An artist does +not care to repeat a design, excepting for a definite purpose, as in +the case of these duplicates; especially when the thing designed is +intended as a gift.” + +To this I gave a somewhat qualified assent, though I found the +argument far from convincing; and, as I had made a very long +visitation, especially for a first call, I now rose to depart. + +“I hope I may be allowed to come and see you again,” I ventured to say +as Miss Vyne raised a sort of semaphore arm to my extended hand. + +“I see no reason why you should not,” she replied judicially. “You +seem to be a well-disposed young man, though indiscreet. +Good-afternoon.” + +I bowed deferentially and then, to my gratification, was escorted as +far as the garden gate by Sylvia; who evidently wished to gather my +impressions of her relative, for, as she let me out, she asked with a +mischievous smile: + +“What do you think of my aunt, Dr. Jardine?” + +“She is rather a terrifying old lady,” I replied. + +Sylvia giggled delightedly. “She does look an awful old griffin, +doesn’t she? But it’s all nonsense, you know. She is really a dear old +thing, and as soft as butter.” + +“Well,” I said, “she conceals the fact most perfectly.” + +“She does. She is a most complete impostor. I’ll tell you a secret, +Dr. Jardine,” Sylvia added in a mysterious whisper, as we shook hands +over the gate; “she trades on her nose. I’ve told her so. Her nose is +her fortune, and she plays it for all it’s worth. Good-bye--or rather, +au revoir! for you’ve promised to come and see us again.” + +With a bright little nod she turned and ran up the garden path, still +chuckling softly at her joke; and I wended homewards, very well +pleased with the circumstances of my visit, despite the soul-shaking +incidents with which it had opened. + + + + + CHAPTER XIII. + A MYSTERIOUS STRANGER + +On the following morning I betook myself to the hospital intending +to call later in the day at Dr. Thorndyke’s chambers; but that visit +turned out to be unnecessary, for, as I ran my eye over the names on +the attendance board in the entrance hall, I saw that Thorndyke was in +the building, although it was not the day on which he lectured. I +found him, as I had expected, in the museum and was greeted with a +hearty grip of the hand and a welcome, the warmth of which gratified +me exceedingly. + +“Well, Jardine,” he said, “you’ve given us all a pretty fine shake-up. +I have never been more relieved in my life than I was when my man +Polton gave me your note. But you seem to have had another fairly +close shave. What a fellow you are, to be sure! You seem to be as +tenacious of life as the proverbial cat.” + +“So that little archbishop is your man Polton, is he?” + +“Yes; and a most remarkable man, Jardine, and simply invaluable to me, +though he ought to be in a very different position. But I think he is +quite happy with me--especially now that he has got your watch to +experiment on. You will see that watch again some day, when he has +rated it to half a second. And meanwhile let us go into the curator’s +room and re-constitute your adventures.” + +The curator’s room was empty at the moment; empty, that is to say, so +far as human denizens were concerned. Otherwise it was decidedly full; +the usual wilderness of glass jars, sepulchral slate tanks, bones in +all stages of preparation and unfinished specimens, being supplemented +by that all-pervading, unforgettable odour peculiar to curator’s +rooms, compounded of alcohol and mortality, and suggesting a +necropolis for deceased dipsomaniacs. Thorndyke seated himself on a +well-polished stool by the work-bench, and, motioning me to another, +bade me speak on. Which I did in exhaustive detail; giving him a +minute history of my experiences from the time of my parting from +Sylvia to the present moment, not omitting my encounter with Mrs. +Samway and the clerical gentleman in the train. + +He listened to my narrative in his usual silent, attentive fashion, +making no comments and asking no questions until I had finished; when +he cross-examined me on one or two points of detail. + +“With regard to Mrs. Samway,” he asked; “did you gather that she was +crossing by the Boulogne boat?” + +“I inferred that she was, but she said nothing on the subject.” + +He nodded and then asked: “Do I understand that you never saw your +assailant at all?” + +“I never got the slightest glimpse of him; in fact I could not say +whether the person who attacked me was a man or a woman excepting that +the obvious strength and the method of attack suggest a man.” + +To this he made no reply, but sat awhile absorbed in thought. It was +evident that he was deeply interested in the affair, not only on my +account but by reason of the curious problems that it offered for +solution. Indeed, his next remark was to this effect. + +“It is a most singular case, Jardine,” he said. “So much of it is +perfectly clear, and yet so much more is unfathomable mystery. But +just now, the speculative interest is overshadowed by the personal. I +am rather doubtful as to what we ought to do. It almost looks as if +you ought not to be at large.” + +“I hope, sir, you don’t suggest shutting me up,” I exclaimed with a +grin. + +“That was in my mind,” he answered. “You are evidently in considerable +danger, and you are not as cautious as you ought to be.” + +“I shall be mighty cautious after this experience,” I rejoined; “and +you have yourself implied that I have nine lives.” + +“Even so,” he retorted, “you have played away a third of them pretty +rapidly. If you are not more careful of the other six, I shall have to +put you somewhere out of harm’s way. Do, for goodness’ sake, Jardine, +keep away from unpopulated places and see that no stranger gets near +enough to have you at a disadvantage.” + +I promised him to keep a constant watch for suspicious strangers and +to avoid all solitary neighbourhoods and ill-lighted thoroughfares, +and shortly after this we separated to go our respective ways, he back +to the museum and I to the surgical wards. + +For some time after this, the record of my daily life furnishes +nothing but a chronicle of small beer. I had resumed pretty regular +attendance at the hospital, setting forth from my lodgings in the +morning and returning thither as the late afternoon merged into +evening; taking the necessary exercise in the form of the long walk to +and from the hospital, and keeping close indoors at night. It began to +look as though my adventures were at an end and life were settling +down to the old familiar jog trot. + +And yet the beer was not quite so small as it looked. Coming events +cast their shadows before them, but often enough those shadows wear a +shape ill-defined and vague, and so creep on unnoticed. Thus it was in +these days of apparent inaction, though even then there were certain +little happenings at which I looked askance. Such an episode occurred +within a few days of my return, and gave me considerable food for +thought. I had climbed on to the yellow ’bus in the Tottenham Court +Road and was seated on the top, smoking my pipe, when, as we passed up +the Hampstead Road, I noticed a woman looking into the window of Mr. +Robinson, the artist’s-colourman. Something familiar or distinctive in +the pose of the figure made me glance a second time; and then I think +my eyes must have grown more and more round with astonishment as the +’bus gradually drew me out of range. For the woman was undoubtedly +Mrs. Samway. + +It was really a most surprising affair. This good lady seemed to be +ubiquitous; to fly hither and thither and drop from the clouds as if +she were the possessor of a magic carpet. Apparently she had not gone +to Boulogne after all; or if she had, her stay on the Continent must +have been uncommonly short. But if she had not crossed on the boat, +what was she doing in Folkestone? It was all very well to say that she +had as much right to be in Folkestone as I had. That was true enough, +but it was a lame conclusion and no explanation at all. + +It was my custom, as I have said, to walk from my lodgings to the +hospital, a distance of some five miles; but this was practicable only +in fine weather. On wet days I took the tram from the “Duke of St. +Alban’s”; and beguiled the slow journey by reading one of my +text-books and observing the manners and customs of my +fellow-passengers. Such a day was the one that followed the +re-appearance of Mrs. Samway. A persistent drizzle put my morning walk +out of the question and sent me reluctant but resigned to seek the +shelter of the tram, where having settled myself with a volume of +Gould’s “Surgical Diagnosis,” I began to read to the accompaniment of +the monotonous rhythm of the horses’ hoofs and the sleepy jingle of +their bells. From time to time I looked up from my book to take a +glance at the other occupants of the steamy interior, and on each +occasion that I did so, I caught the eye of my opposite neighbour +roving over my person as if taking an inventory of my apparel. +Whenever he caught my eye, he immediately looked away; but the next +time I glanced up I was sure to find him once more engaged in a +leisurely examination of me. + +There was nothing remarkable in this. People who sit opposite in a +public vehicle unconsciously regard one another, as I was doing +myself; but when I had met my neighbour’s eye a dozen times or more, I +began to grow annoyed at his persistent inspection; and finally, +shutting up my book, proceeded to retaliate in kind. + +This seemed to embarrass him considerably. Avoiding my steady gaze, +his eyes flitted to and fro, passing restlessly from one part of the +vehicle to another; and then it was that my medical eye noted a fact +that gave an intrinsic interest to the inspection. The man had what is +called a nystagmus; that is, a peculiar oscillatory movement of the +eyeball. As his eyes passed quickly from object to object, they did +not both come to rest instantaneously, but the right eye stopped with +a sort of vertical stagger as if the bearings were loose. The +condition is not a very common one, and the one-sided variety is +decidedly rare. It is usually associated with some defect of vision or +habitual strain of the eye-muscles, as in miners’ nystagmus; whence my +discovery naturally led to a further survey and speculation as to the +cause of the condition in the present case. + +The man was obviously not a miner. His hands--with a cigarette stain, +as I noticed, on the left middle finger--were much too delicate, and +he had not in any way the appearance of a labourer. Then the spasm +must be due to some defect of eyesight. Yet he was not near-sighted, +for, as we passed a church at some distance, I saw him glance out +through the doorway at the clock and compare it with his watch; and +again, I noticed that he took out his watch with his left hand. Then +perhaps he had a blind eye or unequal vision in the two eyes; this +seemed the most likely explanation; and I had hardly proposed it to +myself when the chance was given to me to verify it. Confused by my +persistent examination of him, my unwilling patient suddenly produced +a newspaper from his pocket and, clapping a pair of pince-nez on his +nose, began to read. Those pince-nez gave me the required information, +for I could see that one glass was strongly convex while the other was +nearly plane. + +The question of my friend’s eyesight being disposed of, I began to +debate the significance of that stain of the left middle finger. Was +he left-handed? It did not follow, though it seemed likely; and then I +found myself noting the manner in which he held his paper, until, +becoming suddenly conscious of the absurdity of the whole affair, I +impatiently picked up my book and reverted to the diagnosis of _renal +calculus_. I was becoming, I reflected disparagingly, as inquisitive +as Thorndyke himself; from whom I seemed to have caught some infection +that impelled me thus to concern myself with the trifling +peculiarities of total strangers. + +The trivial incident would probably have faded from my recollection +but for another, equally trivial, which occurred a day or two later. I +was returning home by way of Tottenham Court Road and had nearly +reached the crossing at the north end when I suddenly remembered that +I had come to the last of my note-books. The shop at which I obtained +them was in Gower Street, hard by, and as the thought of the books +occurred to me, I turned abruptly and, running across the road, strode +quickly down a by-street that led to the shop. + +As I came out into Gower Street I noticed a small, but rapidly +augmenting crowd on the pavement, and, elbowing my way through, found +at its centre a man lying on the ground, writhing in the convulsions +of an epileptic fit. I proceeded to ward off the well-meant attentions +of the usual excited bystanders, who were pulling open his hands and +trying to sit him up, and had thrust the corner of a folded newspaper +between his teeth to prevent him from biting his tongue when a +constable arrived on the scene; upon which, as the officer bore on his +sleeve the badge of the St. John’s Ambulance Society, I gave him a few +directions and began to back out of the crowd. + +At this moment, I became aware of a pressure behind me and a +suspicious fumbling, strongly suggestive of the presence of a +pick-pocket. Instantly, I turned to the right about and directed a +searching look at the people behind me, and especially at a bearded, +nondescript person who seemed also to be backing out of the crowd. He +gave me a single, quick glance as I followed him through the press and +then averted his eyes; and as he did so, I noticed, with something of +a start, that his right eye came to rest with a peculiar, rapid +up-and-down shake. He had, in fact, a right-sided nystagmus. + +The coincidence naturally struck me with some force. A nystagmus is +not, as I have said, a very common condition; one-sided nystagmus is +actually a rare one; and, of the one-sided instances, only some fifty +per cent. will affect the right eye. The coincidence was therefore +quite a notable one; but had it any particular bearing? I had a +half-formed inclination to follow the man; but he had not actually +picked my pocket or done any other overt act, and one could hardly +follow a person merely because he happened to suffer from an uncommon +nervous affection. + +The man was now walking up the street, briskly, but without manifest +hurry; looking straight before him and swinging his stick with +something of a flourish. I watched him speculatively, as I walked in +the same direction, and then suddenly realized that he was carrying +his stick in his left hand, and carrying it, too, with the +unmistakable ease born of habit. Then he was left-handed! And here was +another coincidence; not a remarkable one in itself, but, when added +to the other, so singular and striking that I insensibly quickened my +pace. + +As my acquaintance reached the corner of the Euston Road, an omnibus +stopped to put down a passenger. It was about to move on when he +raised his stick, and, following it, stepped on the footboard and +mounted to the roof. I was undecided what to do. Should I follow him? +And, if so, to what purpose? He would certainly notice me if I did and +be on his guard, so that I should probably have my trouble for nothing +and possibly look like a fool into the bargain. And while I was thus +standing irresolute at the corner, the omnibus rumbled away westward +and decided the question for me. + +I am not, as the reader may have gathered, a particularly cautious man +or much given to suspicion. But recent events had made me a good deal +more wary and had taught me to look with less charity on chance fellow +creatures; and this left-handed person with the nystagmus occupied my +thoughts to no small extent during the next day or two. Was he the man +whom I had seen in the tram? Apparently not. The latter had been clean +shaven and dressed neatly in the style of a clerk or ordinary City +man, whereas the former wore a full beard and was shabby, almost +beyond the verge of respectability. As to their respective statures, I +could not judge, as I had seen the one man seated and the other +standing; but, superficially, they were not at all alike, and, in all +probability they were different persons. + +But this conclusion was not at all inevitable. When I reflected on the +matter, I saw that the resemblances and differences did not balance. +The two men resembled one another in qualities that were inherent and +unalterable, but they differed in qualities that were superficial and +subject to change. A man cannot assume or cast off a nystagmus, but he +can put on a false beard. A left-handed man may endeavour to conceal +his peculiarity, but the superior deftness of the habitually used hand +will make itself apparent in spite of his efforts; whereas he can make +any alterations in his clothing that he pleases. And thus reflecting, +the suspicion grew more and more strong that the two men might very +well have been one and the same person, and that it would be discreet +to keep a bright look-out for a left-handed man with a right-sided +nystagmus. + +During all this time I had seen nothing of my new friend Miss Sylvia. +But I had by no means forgotten her. Without wishing to exaggerate my +feelings, I may say that I had taken a strong liking to that very +engaging young lady. She was a pleasant, easy-mannered girl, evidently +good-tempered, and very frank and simple; a girl--as Mr. Sparkler +would have said--“with no bigod nonsense about her.” Her tastes ran +along very similar lines to my own, and she was clever enough to be a +quite interesting companion. Then it was evident that she liked +me--which was in itself an attraction, to say nothing of the credit +that it reflected on her taste--and, in a perfectly modest way, she +had made no secret of the fact. And finally, she was exceptionally +good-looking. Now people may say, as they do, that beauty is only skin +deep--which is perfectly untrue, by the way; but even so, one is more +concerned with the skins of one’s fellow creatures than with their +livers or vermiform appendices. The contact of persons, as of things, +occurs at their respective surfaces. + +From which it will be gathered that I was only allowing a decent +interval to elapse before repeating my visit to “The Hawthorns”; +indeed, I was beginning to think that a sufficient interval had +already passed and to contemplate seriously my second call, when my +intentions were forestalled by Sylvia herself. Returning home one +Friday evening, I found on my mantelpiece a short letter from her, +enclosing a ticket for an exhibition of paintings and sculpture at a +gallery in Leicester Square, and mentioning--incidentally--that she +proposed to visit the show on the following morning in order to see +the works by a good light; which seemed such an eminently rational +proceeding in these short winter days, that I determined instantly to +follow her example and get the advantage of the morning light myself. + +I acted on this decision with such thoroughness that, when I arrived +at the gallery, I found the attendant in the act of opening the doors, +and, for nearly half an hour I was in sole possession of the premises. +Then, by twos and threes, other visitors began to straggle in, and +among them Sylvia, looking very fresh and dainty and obviously pleased +to see me. + +“I am glad you were able to come,” she said, as we shook hands. “I +thought you would, somehow. It is so much nicer to have someone to +talk over the pictures with, isn’t it?” + +“Much more interesting,” I agreed. “I have been taking a preliminary +look round and have already accumulated quite a lot of profound +observations to discharge at you as occasion offers. Shall we begin at +number one?” + +We began at number one and worked our way methodically picture by +picture, round the room, considering each work attentively with +earnest discussion and a wealth of comment. As the morning wore on, +visitors arrived in increasing numbers, until the two large rooms +began to be somewhat inconveniently crowded. We had made a complete +circuit of the pictures and were about to turn to the sculpture, which +occupied the central floor space, when Sylvia touched me on the arm. + +“Let us sit down for a minute,” said she. “I want to speak to you.” + +I led her to one of the large settees that disputed the floor-space +with the busts and statuettes, and, somewhat mystified by her serious +tone and by the rather agitated manner, which I now noticed for the +first time, seated myself by her side. + +“What is it?” I asked. + +She looked anxiously round the room, and, leaning towards me, said in +a low tone: + +“Have you noticed a man who has been keeping near us and listening to +our conversation?” + +“No, I haven’t,” I replied. “If I had I would have given him a hint to +keep farther off. But there’s nothing in it, you know. In picture +galleries it is very usual for people to hang about and try to +overhear criticisms. This man may be interested in the exhibits.” + +“Yes, I know. But I don’t think this person was so much interested in +the exhibits. He didn’t look at the pictures, he looked at us. I +caught his eye several times reflected in the picture-glasses, and +once or twice I saw him looking most attentively at this crucifix of +mine. That was what really disturbed me. I wish, now, that I hadn’t +unbuttoned my coat.” + +“So do I. You will have to leave that crucifix at home if it attracts +so much undesirable attention. Which is the man? Is he in this room?” + +“No, I don’t see him now. I expect he has gone into the next room.” + +“Then let us go there, too; and if you will point him out to me, I +will pay him back in his own coin.” + +We rose and made our way to the door of communication, and, as we +passed into the second room, Sylvia grasped my arm nervously. + +“There he is--don’t let him see us looking at him--he is sitting on +the settee at the farther end of the room.” + +It was impossible to make a mistake since the settee held only a +single person; a fairly well-dressed, ordinary-looking man, rather +swarthy and foreign in appearance, with a small waxed moustache. He +was sitting nearly opposite the entrance door and seemed, at the +moment, to be reading over the catalogue, which he held open on his +knee; but, as he looked up almost at the moment when we entered, I +turned my back to him and continued my inspection with the aid of the +reflection in a picture-glass. + +“He is probably a journalist,” I said. “You see he is scribbling some +notes on the blank leaves of his catalogue; probably some of your +profound criticisms, which will appear, perhaps to-morrow morning, +clothed in super-technical jargon, in a daily paper.” + +Here I paused suddenly, for I had made a rather curious observation. +The reflection in a mirror is, as everybody knows, reversed laterally; +so that the right hand of a person appears to be the left, and vice +versa. But in the present case, no reversal seemed to have taken +place. The figure in the reflection was writing with his right hand. +Obviously, then, the real person was writing with his left. + +This put a rather different aspect on the affair. Up to the present, I +had been disposed to think that Sylvia had been unduly disturbed; for +there are plenty of ill-bred bounders to be met in any public place +who will stare a good-looking girl out of countenance. But now my +suspicions were all awake. It is true that left-handed men are as +common as blackberries; but still-- + +“Can you tell me, Miss Vyne,” I asked, as we worked our way towards +the other end of the room, “if this man is at all like the one who +frightened you so in Millfield Lane?” + +“No, he is not. I am sure of that. The man in the lane was a good deal +taller and thinner.” + +“Well,” said I, “whoever he is, I want to have a good look at him, and +the best plan will be to turn our attention to the sculpture. Shall we +go and look at that rather remarkable pink bust? That will give our +friend a chance of another stare at you, and, if he doesn’t take it, +I will go and inspect him where he sits.” + +The bust to which I had referred was executed in a curious rose-tinted +marble, very crystalline and translucent, a material that suited the +soft, girlish features of its subject admirably. It stood on an +isolated pedestal quite near the settee on which the suspicious +stranger was sitting, and I hoped that our presence might lure him +from his retreat. + +“I don’t think,” I said, taking up a position with my back to the +settee, “that I have ever seen any marble quite like this. Have you?” + +“No,” replied Sylvia. “It looks like coarse lump sugar stained pink. +And how very transparent it is; too transparent for most subjects.” + +Here she gave a quick, nervous glance at me, and I was aware of a +shadow thrown by some person standing behind me. Had our friend risen +to the bait already? I continued the conversation in good audible +tones. + +“Very awkward these isolated pedestals would be for slovenly artists +who scamp the back of their work.” + +With this remark I moved round the pedestal as if to examine the back +of the bust, and Sylvia followed. The move brought us opposite the +person who had been standing behind me; and, sure enough, it was the +gentleman from the settee. I continued to talk--rather blatantly, I +fear--commenting on the careful treatment of the hair and the backs of +the ears; and meanwhile took an occasional swift glance at the man +opposite. He appeared to be gazing in wrapt admiration at the bust, +but his glance, too, occasionally wandered; and when it did, the +“point of fixation,” as the oculists would express it, was Sylvia’s +crucifix, which was still uncovered. + +Presently I ventured to take a good, steady look at him and was for a +few moments unobserved. His left eye moved, as I could see, quite +smoothly and evenly from point to point; but the right, at each change +of position, gave a little, rapid, vertical oscillation. Suddenly he +became aware of my, now undisguised, inspection of him, and, +immediately, the oscillation became much more marked, as is often the +case with these spasmodic movements. Perhaps he was conscious of the +fact; at any rate, he turned his head away and then moved off to +examine a statuette that stood near the middle of the room. + +I looked after him, wondering what I ought to do. That he was the man +whom I had seen on the two previous occasions I had not the slightest +doubt, although I was still unable to identify his features or +anything about him excepting the nystagmus and the left-handed +condition. But there could be no question that he was the same man; +and this very variability in his appearance only gave a more sinister +significance to the affair, pointing clearly, as it did, to careful +and efficient disguise. Evidently he had been, and still was, +shadowing me, and, what was still worse, he seemed to be taking a most +undesirable interest in Sylvia. And yet what could I do? My small +knowledge of the law suggested that shadowing was not a criminal act +unless some unlawful intent could be proved. As to punching the +fellow’s head--which was what I felt most inclined to do--that would +merely give rise to disagreeable, and perhaps dangerous, publicity. + +“My lord is pleased to meditate,” Sylvia remarked at length, breaking +in upon my brown study. + +“I beg your pardon,” I exclaimed. “The fact is I was wondering what we +had better do next. Do you want to see anything else?” + +“I should rather like to see the outside of the building,” she +answered. “That man has made me quite nervous.” + +“Then we will go at once, and we won’t sign the visitor’s book.” + +I led her to the door, and, as we rapidly descended the carpeted +stairs, I considered once more what it were best to do. Had I been +alone I would have kept our watcher in view and done a little +shadowing on my own account; but Sylvia’s presence made me uneasy. It +was of the first importance that this sinister stranger should not +learn where she lived. The only reasonable course seemed to be to give +him the slip if possible. + +“What did you make of that man?” Sylvia asked when we were outside in +the square. “Don’t you think he was watching us?” + +“Yes, I do. And I may say that I have seen him before.” + +She turned a terrified face to me and asked: “You don’t think he is +the wretch who pushed you into the river?” + +Now this was exactly what I did think, but it was not worth while to +say so. Accordingly I temporized. + +“It is impossible to say. I never saw that man, you know. But I have +reason for thinking that this fellow is keeping a watch on me, and it +occurs to me that, if he appears still to be following us, I had +better put you into a hansom and keep my eye on him until you are out +of sight.” + +“Oh, I’m not going to agree to that,” she replied with great decision. +“I don’t suppose that my presence is much protection to you, but +still, you are safer while we are together, and I’m not going to leave +you.” + +This settled the matter. Of course she was quite right. I was much +safer while she was with me, and if she refused to go off alone, we +must make our escape together. I looked up the square as we turned out +of it towards the Charing Cross Road, but could see no sign of our +follower, and, as we walked on at a good pace, I hoped that we might +get clear away. But I was not going to take any chances. Before +turning homewards, I decided to walk sharply some distance in an +easterly direction and then see if there was any sign of pursuit; for +my previous experiences of this good gentleman led me to suspect that +he was by no means without skill and experience in the shadowing art. + +We walked down to Charing Cross and turned eastward along the north +side of the Strand. I had chosen this thoroughfare as offering a good +cover to a pursuer, who could easily keep out of sight among the crowd +of way-farers who thronged the pavement for the first question to be +settled was whether we were or were not being shadowed. + +“Where are we going now?” Sylvia asked. + +“We are going up Bedford Street,” I answered. “There is a book shop on +the right-hand side where we can loiter unobtrusively and keep a +look-out. If we see nobody, we will try one of the courts off Maiden +Lane where we should be certain to catch anyone who was following. But +we will try the bookstall first because, if our friend is in +attendance, I have a rather neat plan for getting rid of him.” + +We accordingly made our way to the bookstall in Bedford Street and +began systematically to look through the second-hand volumes; and as +we pored over an open book, we were able to keep an effective watch on +the end of the street and the Strand beyond. Our vigil was not a long +one. We had been at the stall less than a minute when Sylvia whispered +to me: + +“Do you see that man looking in the shop on the farther side of the +Strand?” + +“Yes,” I replied, “I have noticed him. He has only just arrived, and I +fancy he is our man. If he is, he will probably go into the doorway so +as not to have to keep his back to us.” + +Almost as I spoke, the man moved into the deep doorway as if to +inspect the end of the shop window, and Sylvia exclaimed: + +“I’m sure that is the man. I can see his profile now.” + +There could be no doubt of the man’s identity; and, at this moment, as +if to clinch the matter, he took out a cigarette and lighted it, +striking the match with his left hand. + +“Come along,” said I. “We will now try my little plan for getting rid +of him. We mustn’t seem to hurry.” + +We sauntered up to the corner of Maiden Lane and there stood for a few +moments looking about us. Then we strolled across to the farther side +of Chandos Street, and, as soon as we were out of sight of our +follower, crossed the road and slipped in at the entrance to the Civil +Service Stores. Passing quickly through the provision department, we +halted at the glazed doors, from which we could look out through the +Bedford Street entrance. + +“There he is!” exclaimed Sylvia. And there he was, sure enough, +walking rather quickly up the east side of Bedford Street. + +“Now,” said I, “let us make a bolt for it. This way.” + +We darted out through the china, furniture and ironmongery +departments, across the whole width of the building and out of the +Agar Street entrance, where we immediately crossed into King William +Street, turned down Adelaide Street, shot through the alley by St. +Martin’s Church, and came out opposite the National Portrait Gallery +just as a yellow omnibus was about to start. We sprang into the moving +vehicle, and, as it rumbled away into the Charing Cross Road, we kept +a sharp watch on the end of King William Street. But there was no sign +of our pursuer. We had got rid of him for the present, at any rate. + +“Don’t you think,” said Sylvia, “that he will suspect that we went +into the Stores?” + +“I have no doubt he will, and that is where we have him. He can’t come +away and leave the building unsearched. Most probably he is, at this +very moment, racing madly up and down the stairs and trying to watch +the three entrances at the same time.” + +Sylvia chuckled gleefully. “It has been quite good fun,” she said, +“but I am glad we have shaken him off. I think I shall stay indoors +for a day or two and paint, and I hope you’ll stay indoors, too. And +that reminds me that I am out of Heyl’s white. I must call in at +Robinson’s and get a pound tube. Do you mind? It won’t delay us more +than a few minutes.” + +Now I would much rather have gone straight on to Hampstead, for our +unknown attendant certainly knew the whereabouts of my lodgings and +might follow us when he failed to find us in the stores. Moreover, I +had, of late, given the neighbourhood of the artist’s-colourman’s shop +a rather wide berth, having seen Mrs. Samway from afar once or twice, +thereabouts, and having surmised that she tended to haunt that +particular part of the Hampstead Road. But the fresh supply of flake +white seemed to be a necessity, so I made no objection, and we +accordingly alighted opposite the shop and entered. Nevertheless, +while Sylvia was making her purchase, I stood near the glass door and +kept a watchful eye on the street. When a tram stopped a short +distance away, I glanced quickly over its passengers, as well as I +could, though without observing anyone who might have been our absent +friend. But just as it was about to move on, I saw a woman run out +from the pavement and enter; and though I got but an indifferent view +of her, I felt an uncomfortable suspicion that the woman was Mrs. +Samway. + +Looking back, I do not quite understand why I had avoided this woman +or why I now looked with distaste on the fact that she was travelling +in our direction. She was a pleasant-spoken, intelligent person, and I +had no dislike of her, nor any cause for dislike. Perhaps it was the +recollection of the offence that she had given Sylvia in this very +shop, but a short time since, that made me unwilling to encounter her +now in Sylvia’s company. At any rate, whatever the course may have +been, throughout the, otherwise, pleasant journey, and in spite of an +animated and interesting conversation, the thought of Mrs. Samway +continually recurred, and this notwithstanding that I kept a constant, +unobtrusive look-out for the mysterious spy who might, even now, be +hovering in our rear. + +We alighted from the tram at the “Duke of St. Alban’s” and made our +way to North End by way of the Highgate Ponds. As we crossed the open +fields and the Heath, I turned at intervals to see if there was any +sign of our being followed; but no suspicious-looking person appeared +in sight, though on two separate occasions, I noticed a woman ahead of +us, and walking in much the same direction, turn round and look our +way. There was no reason, however, to suppose that she was looking at +us, and, in any case, she was too far ahead to be recognizable. At +last, somewhere in the neighbourhood of the Spaniard’s Road, she +finally disappeared, possibly into the hollow beyond, and I saw no +more of her. + +At the gate of “The Hawthorns” I delivered up the heavy tube of paint, +and thus, as it were, formally brought our little outing to an end; +and as we shook hands Sylvia treated me to a parting exhortation. + +“Now do take care of yourself and keep out of harm’s way,” she urged. +“You are so large, you see,” she added with a smile, “and such a very +conspicuous object that you ought to take special precautions. And you +must come and see us again quite soon. I assure you my aunt is +positively pining for another conversation with you. Why shouldn’t you +drop in to-morrow and have tea with us?” + +Now this very idea had already occurred to me, so I hastened to close +with the invitation; and then, as she retired up the path with another +“good-bye” and a wave of the hand, I turned away and walked back +towards the Heath. + +For some minutes I strode on, across furzy hollows or over little +hills, traversed by sunken, sandy paths, occupying myself with +thoughts of the pleasant, friendly girl whom I had just left and +reflections on the strange events of the morning. Presently I mounted +a larger hill, on which was perched a little, old-fashioned house. +Skirting the wooden fence that enclosed it, I turned the corner and +saw before me, at a distance of some forty yards, a rough, rustic +seat. On that seat a woman was sitting; and somehow, when I looked at +her and noted the graceful droop of the figure, it was without any +feeling of surprise--almost that of realized expectation--that I +recognized Mrs. Samway. + + + + + CHAPTER XIV. + A LONELY WOMAN + +If I had had any intention of avoiding Mrs. Samway, that intention +must inevitably have been frustrated, for her recognition was as +instantaneous as my own. Almost as I turned the corner, she looked up +and saw me; and a few moments later, she rose and advanced in my +direction, so that, to an onlooker it would have appeared as if we had +met by appointment. There was obviously nothing for it but to look as +pleased as I could manage at such short notice; which I did, shaking +her hand with hypocritical warmth. + +“And I suppose, Dr. Jardine,” said she, “you are thinking what a very +odd coincidence it is that we should happen to meet here?” + +“Oh, I don’t know that it is so very odd. I live about here and I +understood you to say that you often come up to the Heath. At any +rate, our last meeting was a good deal more odd.” + +“Yes, indeed. But the truth is that this is not a coincidence at all. +I may as well confess that I came here deliberately with the intention +of waylaying you.” + +This very frank statement took me aback considerably; so much so that +I could think of no appropriate remark beyond mumbling something to +the effect that “it was very flattering of her.” + +“I have been trying,” she continued, “to get a few words with you for +some time past; but, although I have lurked in your line of march in +the most shameless manner, I have always managed to miss you. I +thought, from what you told me, that you passed Robinson’s shop on +your way to the hospital.” + +“So I do,” I replied mendaciously; for I could hardly tell her that I +had lately taken to shooting up by-streets with the express purpose of +avoiding that particular stretch of pavement. + +“It’s rather curious that I never happened to meet you there. However, +I didn’t, so, to-day, I determined to take the bull by the horns and +catch you here.” + +This last statement, like the former ones, gave me abundant matter for +reflection. How the deuce had she managed to “catch me here”? I +supposed that she had seen Sylvia and me in the Hampstead Road and had +guessed that we were coming on to this neighbourhood. That was a case +of feminine intuition; which, like the bone-setter’s skill, is a +wonderful thing--when it comes off (and when it doesn’t one isn’t +expected to notice the fact). Then she had gone on ahead--still +guessing at our final destination--and kept us in sight while keeping +out of view herself. It was not so very easy to understand and not at +all comfortable to think of, for there was a disagreeable suggestion +that she had somehow ascertained Sylvia’s place of abode beforehand. +And yet--well, the whole affair was rather mysterious. + +“You don’t ask why it was that I wanted to waylay you,” she said, at +length, as I made no comment on her last statement. + +“There is an old saying,” I replied, “that one shouldn’t look a +gift-horse in the mouth.” + +“That is very diplomatic,” she retorted with a laugh. “But I daresay +your knowledge of women makes the question unnecessary.” + +“My knowledge of women,” said I, “might be put into a nutshell and +still leave plenty of room for the nut and a good, fat maggot +besides.” + +“Then I must beware of you. The man who professes to know nothing of +women is the most deep and dangerous class of person. But there is one +item of knowledge that you seem to have acquired. You seem to know +that women like to have pretty things said to them.” + +“If you call that knowledge,” said I, “you must apply the same name to +the mere blind impulse that leads a spider to spin a nice, symmetrical +web.” + +She laughed softly and looked up at me with an expression of amused +reflection. “I am thinking,” she said, “what a very fine symmetrical +web you would spin if you were a spider.” + +“Possibly,” I replied. “But it looks as if the rôle of bluebottle +were the one that is being marked out for me.” + +“Oh! Not a bluebottle, Dr. Jardine. It doesn’t suit you at all. If you +must make a comparison, why not say a Goliath beetle, and have +something really dignified--and not so very inappropriate?” + +“Well, then, a Goliath beetle, if you prefer it; not that he would +look very dignified, kicking his heels in the elegant web of the +superlatively elegant feminine spider.” + +“Oh, but that isn’t pretty of you at all, Dr. Jardine. In fact it is +quite horrid; and unfair, too; because you are trying to get the +information without asking a direct question.” + +“What question am I supposed to ask?” + +“You needn’t ask any. I will take pity on your masculine pride and +tell you why I have been lying in wait for you, although I daresay you +have guessed. The truth is, I am simply devoured by curiosity.” + +“Concerning what?” + +“Now, how can you ask? Just think! One day I meet you in the Hampstead +Road, going about your ordinary business, apparently a fixture, at +least for months. A few days later, a hundred miles from London, I +feel myself suddenly seized from behind; I turn round and there are +you with tragedy and adventure written large all over you.” + +“I thought the tragedy was rather on your side; and so did the ancient +mariner with the black bottle and the tea cup. But--” + +“I don’t wish to discuss the views of that well-meaning old brute. I +want an explanation. I want to know how you came to be in Folkestone +and in that extraordinary condition. I am sure something strange must +have happened to you.” + +“Why? Haven’t I as much right to be in Folkestone as you have?” + +“That is mere evasion. When I see a man who is usually rather +carefully and very neatly dressed, walking in the streets of a seaport +town without hat or a stick and with a collar that looks as if it had +been used to clean out a saucepan, and great stains on his clothes, I +am justified in inferring that something unusual has happened to him.” + +“I didn’t think you had noticed my negligé get-up.” + +“At the time I did not. I was very upset and agitated, I had just had +a lot of worry and was compelled to cross to France at a moment’s +notice; and then there was that horrible horse, and the sudden way +that you seized me and then got knocked down; and the--” + +“The ancient mariner.” + +“Yes, the ancient mariner; and the knowledge that I was behaving like +an idiot and couldn’t help it--though you were so nice and kind to me. +So you see, I was hardly conscious of what was happening at the time. +But afterwards, when I had recovered my wits a little, I recalled the +astonishing figure that you made, and I have been wondering ever since +what had happened to you. I assure you, Dr. Jardine, you looked as if +you might have swum to Folkestone.” + +“Did I, by Jove!” I exclaimed with a laugh. “Well, appearances weren’t +so very deceptive. The fact is that I had swum part of the way.” + +She looked at me incredulously. “Whatever do you mean?” she asked. + +“I mean that you are now looking on a modern and strictly up-to-date +edition of Sinbad the Sailor.” + +“That isn’t very explanatory. But I suppose it isn’t meant to be. It +is just a preliminary stimulant to whet my appetite for marvels, and a +most unnecessary one, I can assure you, for I am absolutely agape with +curiosity. Do go on. Tell me exactly what had happened to you.” + +Now the truth is that I had already said rather more than was strictly +discreet and would gladly have drawn in my horns. But I had evidently +let myself in for some sort of plausible explanation, and a lack of +that enviable faculty that enables its possessor to tell a really +convincing and workmanlike lie, condemned me to a mere unimaginative +adherence to the bald facts, though I did make one slight and +amateurish effort at prevarication. + +“You want a detailed log of Sinbad’s voyages, do you?” said I. “Then +you shall have it. We will begin at the beginning. The port of +departure was the Embankment somewhere near Cleopatra’s Needle. I was +leaning over the parapet, staring down at the water like a fool, when +some practical joker came along, and, apparently thinking it would be +rather funny to give me a fright, suddenly lifted me off my feet. But +my jocose friend hadn’t allowed for the top-heaviness of a person of +my height, and, before you could say ‘knife,’ I had slipped from his +hold and taken a most stylish header into the water. Fortunately for +me, a barge happened at the moment to be towing past, and, when I had +managed to haul myself on board, I fell into the arms of a marine +species of Good Samaritan, who, not having a supply of the orthodox +oil and wine, proceeded to fill me up with hot gin and water, which is +distinctly preferable for internal application. Then the Samaritan +aforesaid clothed me in gorgeous marine raiment and stowed me in a +cupboard to sleep off the oil and wine, which I did after some sixteen +hours, and then awoke to find our good ship on the broad bosom of the +ocean. And so--not to weary you with the incidents of the voyage--I +came to Folkestone, where I found a beautiful lady endeavouring, very +unsuccessfully, to hypnotize a run-away horse; and so to the adventure +of the tarred nets and the ancient mariner with the black bottle.” + +Mrs. Samway smiled a little consciously as I mentioned the last +incidents, but the smile quickly faded and left a deeply thoughtful +expression on her face. + +“You take it all very calmly,” said she, “but it seems to me to have +been a rather terrible experience. You really had a very narrow escape +from death.” + +“Yes; quite near enough. I’m far from wanting any more from the same +tap.” + +“And I don’t quite see why you assume that it was a mere clumsy joke +that sent you into the river by accident.” + +“Why, what else could it have been?” + +“It looks more like a deliberate attempt to drown you. Perhaps you +have some enemy who might want to make away with you.” + +“I haven’t. There isn’t a soul in the world who owes me the slightest +grudge.” + +“That seems rather a bold thing to say, but I suppose you know. Still, +I should think you ought to bear this strange affair in mind, and be a +little careful when you go out at night; to avoid the riverside, for +instance. Have you--did you give any information to the police about +this accident, as you call it?” + +“Good Lord! No! What would have been the use?” + +“I thought you might have given them some description of the man who +pushed you over.” + +“But I never saw him. I don’t even know for certain that it was a man. +It might have been a woman for all that I can tell.” + +Mrs. Samway looked up at me with that strangely penetrating expression +that I had seen before in those singular, pale eyes of hers. + +“You don’t mean that?” she said. “You don’t really think that it could +have been a woman?” + +“I don’t think very much about it; but as I never saw the person who +did me the honour of hoisting me overboard, I am clearly not in a +position to depose as to the sex of that person. But if it was a +woman, she must have been an uncommonly strong one.” + +Mrs. Samway continued to look at me questioningly. + +“I thought you seemed to hint at a suspicion that it actually was a +woman. You would surely be able to tell.” + +“I suppose I should if there were time to think about the matter; but, +you see, before I was fairly aware that anyone had hold of me, I was +sticking my head into the mud at the bottom of the river, which is a +process that does not tend very much to clarify one’s thoughts.” + +“No, I suppose not,” she agreed. “But it is a most mysterious and +dreadful affair. I can’t think how you can take it so calmly. You +don’t seem to be in the least concerned by the fact that you have been +within a hairs-breadth of being murdered. What do your friends think +about it?” + +“Well, you see, Mrs. Samway,” I replied evasively, “one doesn’t talk +much about incidents of this kind. It doesn’t sound very credible, and +one doesn’t want to gain a reputation as a sort of modern Munchausen. +I shouldn’t have told you but that you were already partly in the +secret and that you cross-examined me in such a determined fashion.” + +“But,” she exclaimed, “do you mean to tell me that you have said +nothing to anyone about this extraordinary adventure of yours?” + +“No, I don’t say that. Of course, I had to give some sort of +explanation to my landlady, for instance, but I didn’t tell her all +that I have told you; and I would rather, if you don’t mind, that you +didn’t mention the affair to anyone. I should hate to be suspected of +romancing.” + +“You shan’t be through anything that I may say,” she replied, “though +I should hardly think that anyone who knew you would be likely to +suspect you of inventing imaginary adventures.” + +For some minutes after this we walked on without speaking, and, from +time to time, I stole a glance at my companion. And, once again, I +found myself impressed by something distinctive and unusual in her +appearance. Her unquestionable beauty was not like that of most pretty +women, localized and unequal, having features of striking +attractiveness set in an indifferent or even defective matrix. It was +diffused and all pervading, the product of sheer physical excellence. +With most women one feels that the more attractive wares are +judiciously pushed to the front of the window while a discreet +reticence is maintained respecting the unpresentable residue. Not so +with Mrs. Samway. Her small, shapely head, her symmetrical face, her +fine supple figure, and her easy movements, all spoke of a splendid +physique. She was not merely a pretty woman, she was that infinitely +rarer creature, a physically perfect human being; comely with the +comeliness of faultless proportion, graceful with the grace of +symmetry and strength. + +Suddenly she looked up at me with just a hint of shyness and a little +heightening of the colour in her cheek. + +“Are you going to tell me again, Dr. Jardine, that a cat may look at a +king? Or was it that a king may look at a cat?” + +“Whichever you please,” I replied. “We will put them on a footing of +equality, excepting that the king might have the better claim if the +cat happened to be an exceptionally good-looking cat. But I wasn’t +really staring at you this time, I was only giving you a sort of +friendly look over. You weren’t quite yourself, I think, when we met +last.” + +“No, I certainly was not. So you are now making an inspection. May I +ask if I am to be informed of the diagnosis, as I think you call it?” + +Now, to tell the truth, I had thought her looking rather haggard and +worn and decidedly thinner; and when her sprightliness subsided in the +intervals of our somewhat flippant talk, it had seemed to me that her +face took on an expression that was weary and even sad. But it would +hardly do to say as much. + +“It is quite irregular,” I replied. “The diagnosis is for the doctor; +the patient is only concerned with the treatment. But I’ll make an +exception in your case, especially as my report is quite +unsensational. I thought you looked as if you had been doing rather +too much and not greatly enjoying the occupation. Am I right?” + +“Yes. Quite right. I’ve had a lot of worry and bother lately, and not +enough rest and peace.” + +“I hope all that is at an end now?” + +“I don’t know that it is,” she replied, wearily, “or, for that matter, +that it will ever be. Fate or destiny, or whatever we may call it, +starts us upon a certain road, and along that road we must needs +trudge, wherever it may lead.” + +I was rather startled at the sudden despondency of her tone. +Apparently the road that Mrs. Samway trod was not strewn with roses. + +“Still,” I said, “it is a long road that has no turning.” + +“It is,” she agreed, bitterly, “but many have to travel such a road, +to find the turning at last barred by the churchyard gate.” + +“Oh, come!” I protested, “we don’t talk of churchyards at your time of +life. We think of the jolly wayside inns and the buttercups and +daisies and the may-blossom in the hedgerows. Churchyard indeed! We +will leave that to the old folk and the village donkey, if you +please.” + +She smiled rather wanly. Her gaiety seemed to have deserted her for +good. + +“The wayside inns and the wayside flowers,” said she, “are your +portion--at least, I hope so. They are not for me. And, after all, +there are worse things to think of than a nice quiet churchyard, with +the village donkey browsing among the graves, as you say.” + +“I quite agree with you. From the standpoint of the disinterested +spectator, not contemplating freehold investments, nothing can be more +delightfully rustic and peaceful. It is the personal application that +I object to.” + +Again she smiled, but very pensively, and for a while we walked on in +silence. Presently she resumed. “I used to think that the shortness of +life was quite a tragedy. That was when I was young. But now--” + +“When you were young!” I interrupted. “Why, what are you now? I can +tell you, Mrs. Samway, that there is many a girl of twenty who would +be only too delighted to exchange personalities with you, and who +would stand to make a mighty fine bargain if she could do it. If you +talk like this, I shall have to refer you to the great Leonardo’s +advice to painters.” + +“What is that?” she asked. + +“He recommends the frequent use of a looking-glass.” + +She gave me a quick glance and then blushed so very deeply that I was +quite alarmed lest I should have given offence. But her next words +reassured me. + +“It was nice of you to say that, and most kindly meant. I won’t say +that I don’t care very much how I look, because that would be an +ungracious return for your compliment and it wouldn’t be quite true. +There are times when one is quite glad to feel that one looks +presentable; the present moment, for instance.” + +I acknowledged the compliment, with a bow. + +“Thank you,” I said. “That was more than I deserved. I only wish that +your fortune was equal to your looks, but I am afraid it isn’t. I have +an uncomfortable feeling that you are not very happy.” + +“I’m afraid I’m not,” she replied. “Life is rather a lottery, you +know, and the worst of it is that you can only take a single ticket. +So, when you find that you’ve drawn the wrong number and you realize +that there is no second chance--well, it isn’t very inspiriting, is +it?” + +I had to admit that it was not; and, after a short pause, she +continued: + +“Women are poor dependent creatures, Dr. Jardine; dependent, I mean, +for their happiness on the people who surround them.” + +“But that is true of us all.” + +“Not quite. A man--like yourself, for instance--has his work and his +ambitions that make him independent of others. But, for a woman, +whatever pretences she may make as to larger interests in life, a +husband, a home and one or two nice children form the real goal of her +ambition.” + +“But you are not a lone spinster, Mrs. Samway,” I reminded her. + +“No, I am not. But I have no children, no proper home, and not a real +friend in the world--unless I may think of you as one.” + +“I hope you always will,” I exclaimed impulsively; for there was, to +me, something very pathetic in the evident loneliness of this woman. +She must, I felt, be friendless indeed if she must needs appeal for +friendship to a comparative stranger like myself. + +“I am glad to hear you say that,” she replied, “for I am making you +bear a friend’s burden. I hope you will forgive me for pouring out my +complaints to you in this way.” + +“It isn’t difficult,” said I, “to bear other people’s troubles with +fortitude. But if sympathy is any good, believe me, Mrs. Samway, when +I tell you that I am really deeply grieved to think that you are +getting so much less out of life than you ought. I only wish that I +could do something more than sympathize.” + +“I believe you do,” she said. “I felt, at Folkestone, how kind you +were--as a good man is to a woman in her moments of weakness. That is +why, I suppose, I was impelled to talk to you like this. And that is +why,” she added, after a little pause, “I felt a pang of envy when I +saw you pass with your pretty companion.” + +I started somewhat at this. Where the deuce could she have seen us +near enough to tell whether my companion was pretty or not? I turned +the matter over rapidly in my mind, and meanwhile, I said: + +“I don’t quite see why you envied me, Mrs. Samway.” + +“I didn’t say that I envied _you_,” she replied, with a faint smile +and the suspicion of a blush. + +“Or her either,” I retorted. “We are only the merest acquaintances.” + +My conscience smote me somewhat as I made this outrageous statement, +but Mrs. Samway took me up instantly. + +“Then you’ve only known her quite a short time?” + +The rapidity with which she had jumped to this conclusion fairly took +my breath away, and I had answered her question before I was aware of +it. + +“But,” I added, “I don’t quite see how you arrived at your +conclusion.” + +“I thought,” she replied, “that you seemed to like one another very +well.” + +“So we do, I think. But can’t acquaintances like one another?” + +“Oh, certainly; but if they are a young man and a maiden they are not +likely to remain mere acquaintances very long. That was how I argued.” + +“I see. Very acute of you. By the way, where did you see us? I didn’t +see you.” + +“Of course you didn’t. Yet you passed quite close to me on the +Spaniard’s Road, immersed in conversation, and little suspecting that +the green eyes of envy were fixed on you.” + +“Oh, now, Mrs. Samway, I can’t have that. They’re not green, you know, +although what their exact colour is I shouldn’t like to say offhand.” + +“What! Not after that careful inspection?” + +“That didn’t include the eyes. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind if I made +another, just to satisfy my curiosity and settle the question for +good.” + +“Oh, do, by all means, if it is such a weighty question.” + +We both halted and I stared into the clear depths of her singular, +pale hazel eyes with an impertinent affectation of profound scrutiny, +while she looked up smilingly into mine. Suddenly, to my utter +confusion, her eyes filled and she turned away her head. + +“Oh! please forgive me!” she exclaimed. “I beg your pardon--I do beg +your pardon most earnestly for being such a wretched bundle of +emotions. You would forgive me if you knew--what I can’t tell you.” + +“There is no need, dear Mrs. Samway,” I said very gently, laying my +hand on her arm. “Are we not friends? And may I not give you my +warmest sympathy without asking too curiously what brings the tears to +your eyes?” + +I was, in truth, deeply moved, as a young man is apt to be by a pretty +woman’s tears. But more than this, something whispered to me that my +playful impertinence had suddenly brought home to her the void that +was in her life; the lack of intimate affection at which she had +seemed to hint. And, instantly, all that was masculine in me had risen +up with the immemorial instinct of the male in defence of the female; +for, whatever her faults may have been, Mrs. Samway was feminine to +the finger-tips. + +She pressed my hand for a moment and impatiently brushed the tears +from her eyes. + +“I do hope, Dr. Jardine,” she said, looking up at me with a smile, +“that your wife will be a good woman. You’ll be a dreadful victim if +she isn’t, with your quick sympathy and your endless patience with +feminine silliness. And now I won’t plague you any more with my +tantrums. I hope I am not bringing you a great deal out of your way. +You do live in this direction, don’t you?” + +“Yes; and I have been assuming that my direction was yours, too. Is +that right? Are you going back to Hampstead Road?” + +“Not at once. I’m going to make a call at Highgate first.” + +“Then you’ll want to go up Highgate Rise or Swain’s Lane; and I will +walk up with you if you’ll let me.” + +“I think my nearest way will be up the little path that leads out of +Swain’s Lane. You know it, I expect?” + +“Yes. It is locally known as Love Lane: it leads to the crest of the +hill.” + +“That is right. You shall see me to the top of it and then I’ll take +myself off and leave you in peace.” + +We had by this time crossed Parliament Hill Fields and passed the end +of the Highgate Ponds. A few paces more brought us out at the top of +the Grove and a few more to the entrance of the rather steep and very +narrow lane. For some time Mrs. Samway walked by my side in silence, +and, by the reflective way in which she looked at the ground before +her, seemed to be wrapped in meditation, which I did not disturb. As +we entered the lane, however, she looked up at me thoughtfully and +said: + +“I wonder what you think of me, Dr. Jardine.” + +It was a fine opening for a compliment, but somehow, compliments +seemed out of place, after what had passed between us. I accordingly +evaded the question with another. + +“What do you suppose I think of you?” + +“I don’t know. I hardly know what I think of myself. You would be +quite justified in thinking me rather forward, to waylay you in this +deliberate fashion.” + +“Well, I don’t. Your curiosity about that Folkestone affair seems most +natural and reasonable.” + +“I’m glad you don’t think me forward,” she said; “but, as to my +curiosity, I am beginning to doubt whether it was that alone that +determined me of a sudden to come here and talk to you. I half suspect +that I was feeling a little more solitary than usual, and that some +instinct told me that you would be kind to me and say nice things and +pet me just a little--as you have done.” + +I was deeply touched by her pathetic little confession; so deeply that +I could find nothing to say in return. + +“You don’t think any the worse of me,” she continued, “for coming to +you and begging a little sympathy and friendship?” + +As she spoke, she looked up very wistfully and earnestly in my face, +and rested her hand for a moment on my arm. I took it in mine and drew +her arm under my own as I replied: + +“Of course I don’t. Only I think it a wonder and a shame that my poor +friendship and sympathy should be worth the consideration of a woman +like you.” + +She pressed my arm slightly, and, after a little interval, said in a +low voice with just the suspicion of a tremor in it: + +“You have been very kind to me, Dr. Jardine; more kind than you know. +I am very, very grateful to you for taking what was really an +intrusion so nicely.” + +“It was not in the least an intrusion,” I protested; “and as to +gratitude, a good many men would be very delighted to earn it on the +same terms. You don’t seem to set much value on your own exceedingly +agreeable society.” + +She smiled very prettily at this, and again we walked on for a while +up the slope without speaking. Once she turned her head as if +listening for some sound from behind us, but our feet were making so +much noise on the loose gravel, and the sound reverberated so much in +the narrow space between the wooden fences that I, at least, heard +nothing. Presently we turned a slight bend and came in sight of the +opening at the top of the hill, guarded by a couple of posts. Within a +few yards of the latter she halted, and withdrawing her hand from my +arm, turned round and faced me. + +“We must say ‘Good-bye’ here,” said she. “I wonder if I shall ever see +you again.” + +For a moment I felt a strong impulse to propose some future meeting at +a definite date, but, fortunately some glimmering of discretion--and +perhaps some thought of Sylvia--restrained me. + +“Why shouldn’t you?” I asked. + +“I don’t know. But mine is rather a vagabond existence, and I suppose +you will be travelling about soon. I hope we shall meet again; but if +we do not, I shall always think of you as my friend, and you will have +a kind thought for me sometimes, won’t you?” + +“I shall indeed. I shall think of you very often and hope that your +life is brighter than it seems to be now.” + +“Thank you,” she said earnestly; “and now ‘Good-bye!’” + +She held out her hand, and, as I grasped it, she looked in my face +with the wistful, yearning expression that I had noticed before, and +which so touched me to the heart that, yielding to a sudden impulse, I +drew her to me and kissed her. Dim as was the light of the fading +winter’s day, I could see that she had, in an instant, turned scarlet. +But she was not angry; for, as she drew away from me, shyly and almost +reluctantly, she gave me one of her prettiest smiles and whispered +“Good-bye” again. Then she ran out between the posts, and, turning +once again--and still as red as a peony--waved me a last farewell. + +I stood in the narrow entrance looking out after her with a strange +mixture of emotions; pity, wonder and admiration and a little doubt as +to my own part in the late transaction. For I had never before kissed +a married woman, and cooling judgment did not altogether approve the +new departure; for if Mr. Samway was not all that he might be, still +he was Mr. Samway and I wasn’t. Nevertheless, I stood and watched my +late companion with very warm interest until she faded into the dusk; +and even then I continued to stand by the posts, gazing out into the +waning twilight and cogitating on our rather strange interview. + +Suddenly my ear caught a sound from behind me, down the lane; a sound +which, while it set my suspicion on the alert, brought a broad grin to +my face. It was what I suppose I must call a stealthy footstep, but +the stealthiness might have stood for the very type and essence of +futility, for, as I have said, the ground sloped pretty steeply and +was covered with loose pebbles, whereby every movement of the foot was +rendered as audible as a thunderclap. However, absurd as the situation +seemed--if the unseen person was really trying to approach by +stealth--it was necessary to be on my guard. Moreover, if this should +chance to be the person with the nystagmus, the present seemed to be +an excellent opportunity for coming to some sort of understanding with +him. + +Accordingly I wheeled about and began to walk back down the lane. +Instantly, the steps--no longer stealthy--began to retire. I quickened +my pace; the unknown and invisible eavesdropper quickened his. Then I +broke into a run, and so did he, notwithstanding which, I think I +should have had him but for an untoward accident. The ground was not +only sloping, but, under the loose gravel, was as hard as stone. +Consequently, the foothold was none of the best, as I presently +discovered, for, as I raced down one of the steepest slopes, the +pebbles suddenly rolled away under my foot and I lost my balance. But +I did not fall instantly. Half recovering, I flew forward, clawing the +air, stamping, staggering, kicking up the gravel, and making the most +infernal hubbub and clatter, before I finally subsided into a sitting +posture on the pebbles. When I rose, the footsteps were no longer +audible, though the lower end of the lane was still some distance +away. + +I resumed my progress at a more sedate pace and kept a sharp look-out +for a possible ambush, though the lane was too narrow, even in the +darkness that now pervaded it, to furnish much cover to an enemy. Some +distance down, I came to an opening in the fence, where one or two +boards had become loose, and was half disposed to squeeze through and +explore. But I did not, for, on reflection, it occurred to me that if +the man was not there it would be useless for me to go, while if he +should be hiding behind the fence it would be simply insane of me to +put my head through the hole. + +When I emerged into the road at the bottom, I looked about vaguely, +but, of course there was no sign of the fugitive--nor, indeed, could I +have identified him if I had met him. I loitered about undecidedly for +a minute or two, and then, realizing the futility of keeping a watch +on the entrance of the lane for a man whom I could not recognize, and +becoming conscious of a ravenous desire for food I made my way down +the Grove in the direction of my lodgings. + + + + + CHAPTER XV. + EXIT DR. JARDINE + +My second visit to “The Hawthorns,” to which I had looked forward +with some eagerness, had, after all, to be postponed indefinitely. I +say “had,” since, under the circumstances, it appeared to be so unsafe +that I could not fairly take the risk that it involved. I had made the +engagement thoughtlessly, and, in my preoccupation with Mrs. Samway, +had not realized the indiscretion to which I had committed myself +until I was brought back sharply to the actual conditions by the +incident in Love Lane which I have mentioned. But, after that, I saw +that it would be the wildest folly to show myself in the vicinity of +Sylvia’s house. Evidently the spy, after we had given him the slip so +neatly, had made direct for my lodgings and lurked in the +neighbourhood, and there it must have been that he had picked me up +again as I passed with Mrs. Samway. Of course it was possible that the +unseen person in the lane was not really shadowing me at all; but his +stealthy approach, his hasty retreat and his mysterious disappearance, +left me in very little doubt on the subject. + +I was not very nervous about this enigmatical person on my own +account. In spite of my alarming experiences, I found it difficult to +take him as seriously as I should have done, and still felt a quite +unjustifiable confidence in my capability of taking care of myself. +But on Sylvia’s account I was exceedingly uneasy. The interest that +this man had shown in the unlucky little ornament that she wore, +associated itself in my mind most disagreeably with her mysterious and +terrifying adventure in Millfield Lane, and made me feel that it would +be sheer insanity for me to go from my house to hers and so possibly +give this unknown villain the clue to her whereabouts. + +This conclusion, at which I had arrived over-night, was confirmed on +the following morning, for, having taken a brisk walk out in the +direction of Harrow, and having kept a very sharp look-out, I was +distinctly conscious of the fact that there always appeared to be a +man in sight. I never got near him and was not able to recognize him, +but at intervals throughout the morning he continually reappeared in +the distance, even on the comparatively solitary country roads and the +hedge-divided meadows. + +It was excessively irritating. Yet what could I do? Even if I could +have identified him with the man who had apparently shadowed me +before, I really had nothing against him. And cogitating on the +matter, with no little annoyance, I determined to take counsel with +Thorndyke, and meanwhile to avoid the neighbourhood of “The +Hawthorns.” + +After lunch, I wrote a letter to Sylvia, briefly explaining the state +of affairs, and, having given it to our maid to deliver, I took the +precaution to go out and saunter towards Kentish Town with the object +of engaging the spy’s attention and preventing him from following my +messenger to North End. The rest of the day I spent at home and +occupied my time in writing a long letter to Thorndyke in which I gave +a pretty detailed account of my recent experiences; which letter was +duly posted by Mrs. Blunt herself in time for the evening collection. + +I had barely seated myself at the breakfast table on the following +morning when a telegram was brought to me. On opening it I found that +it was from Thorndyke, advising me that a letter had been dispatched +by hand and asking me to stay at home until I had received it; which I +did; and within an hour it arrived and was delivered into my own hands +by a messenger boy. + +It was curt and rather peremptory in tone, desiring me to meet him at +one o’clock at Salter’s Club in a turning off St. James’s Street and +concluding with these somewhat remarkable instructions: “I want you to +wear an overcoat and hat of a distinctive and easily recognizable +character and to take every means that you can of being seen and, if +possible, followed to the club. You had better put a few necessaries +in a bag or suit-case and tell your landlady that you may not be home +to-night. Follow these instructions to the letter and bring this note +with you.” + +At the latter part of these directions I was somewhat disposed to +boggle, remembering my worthy teacher’s threat to put me somewhere out +of harm’s way. But Thorndyke was a difficult man to disobey. Suave and +persuasive as his manners were, he had a certain final and compelling +way with him that silenced objections and produced a sort of +frictionless obedience without any sense of compulsion. Hence, +notwithstanding a slight tendency to bluster and tell myself that I +would see him hanged before I would submit to being mollycoddled like +an idiot, I found myself, presently, walking down the Grove in a buff +overcoat and a grey felt hat, carrying a green canvas suit-case in +which were packed the necessaries for a brief stay away from home, and +bearing in my pocket the incriminating letter. + +I walked slowly as far as the Junction Road in order to give any +pursuer a fair opportunity to take up the chase and to make the +necessary observations on my tasteful turn-out. At the Junction I +waited for a tram and carefully abstained from staring about in a +manner which would have embarrassed any person who might wish +unobserved to share the conveyance with me; and from the terminus at +Euston Road I proceeded in leisurely fashion on foot, still resisting +the temptation to look about and see if I had picked up a companion by +the way. + +Salter’s Club was domiciled in a typical West End house situated in a +quiet street of similar houses, graced at one end by a cabstand. I +timed my arrival with such accuracy that a neighbouring church-clock +struck one as I ascended the steps; and on my entering the hall, I was +met by an elderly man in a quiet livery who seemed to expect me, for, +when I mentioned Thorndyke’s name, he asked, “Dr. Jardine, sir?” and, +hardly waiting for my reply, showed me to the cloak-room. + +“Dr. Thorndyke,” said he, “will be with you in a few minutes. When you +have washed, I will show you to the dining room where he wished you to +wait for him.” + +I was just a little surprised at even this short delay, for Thorndyke +was the soul of punctuality. However, I had not to wait long. I had +been sitting less than three minutes at a small table laid for two in +the deep bay window, scanning the street through the wire-gauze +blinds, when he arrived. + +“I needn’t apologize, I suppose, Jardine,” he said, shaking my hand +heartily. “You will have guessed why I have kept you waiting.” + +“You flatter me, sir,” I replied with a slight grin. “I haven’t your +powers of instantaneous deduction.” + +“You hardly needed them,” he retorted. “Of course I was watching your +approach and observing the corner by which you entered the street to +see who came after you.” + +“Did anyone come after me?” + +“Several persons. I examined them all very carefully with a prism +binocular that magnifies twelve times linear, and an assistant is now +at the same window--the one over this--following the fortunes of those +persons with the same excellent glass.” + +“Did you spot anyone in particular as looking a likely person?” + +“Yes. The second man who came after you seemed to be sauntering in a +rather unpurposive fashion and looking a little obtrusively +unconcerned. I noticed, too, that he was carrying an umbrella in his +left hand. But we needn’t concern ourselves. If anyone is shadowing +you we are certain to see him. He must expose himself to view from +time to time, for he can’t afford to lose sight of our doorway for +more than a few seconds, and there is practically no cover in this +street.” + +“He might hide in a doorway,” I suggested. + +“Oh, might he! These are all clubs in this street. He’d very soon have +the servants out wanting to know his business. No; he’ll have to keep +on the move and he’ll have to keep mostly in sight of this house. And +meanwhile we are going to take our lunch at our leisure and have a +little talk to while away the time.” + +The lunch was on a scale that my youthful appetite approved strongly, +though the number of courses and irrelevant, time-consuming kickshaws +struck me as rather unusual. And I never saw a man eat so slowly and +delay a meal so much as Thorndyke did on that occasion. I believe that +it took him fully twenty minutes to consume a fried sole; and even +then he created a further delay by drawing my attention to the +skeleton on his plate as an illustration of inherited deformity +adjusted to special environmental conditions. But all the time, +whether eating or talking, I noticed that his eye continually +travelled up and down the stretch of street that was visible through +the wire blinds. + +“You haven’t told me why you sent for me, sir,” I said, after waiting +patiently for him to open the subject. + +“I dare say you have guessed,” he replied; “but we may as well thrash +the matter out now. You realize that you are running an enormous and +unnecessary risk by going abroad with this man at your heels?” + +“Well, I don’t suppose he is following me about from sheer affection.” + +“No. I thought it possible that he might be a plain-clothes policeman, +but I have ascertained that he is not. Who he is we don’t know, but we +have the strongest reasons for suspecting his intentions. There have +been three very determined attempts on your life. They were all made +with such remarkable caution and foresight that, though they failed, +practically no traces have been left. Those attempts imply a strong +motive, though to us, an unknown one; and that motive, presumably, +still exists. Your enemy may well be getting desperate, and may be +prepared to take greater risks to get rid of you; and if he is, the +chances are that he will succeed sooner or later. Murder isn’t very +difficult to a cool-headed man who means business.” + +“Then what do you propose, sir?” + +“I propose that you disappear from your ordinary surroundings and come +and stay, for a time, at my chambers in the Temple.” + +This was no more than I had expected, but my jaw dropped considerably, +notwithstanding. + +“It’s awfully good of you, sir,” I stammered--and so, to be sure, it +was--“but don’t you think it would be simpler to turn the tables on +this Johnnie and shadow him?” + +“An excellent idea, Jardine, and one, I may say, that I am acting on +at this moment. But there isn’t so much in it as you seem to think. +Supposing we identify this man and even run him to earth? What then? +We have nothing against him. We know of no crime that has been +committed. We may suspect that the man whom you saw at Hampstead had +been murdered. But we can’t prove it. We can’t produce the body or +even prove that the man was dead. And we couldn’t connect this person +with the affair because nobody was known to be connected with it. I +should like to know who this man is, but I don’t want to put him on +his guard; and above all, I can’t agree to your going about as a sort +of live-bait to enable us to locate him. By the way, that man on the +opposite side of the street is the one whom I selected as being +probably your attendant. Apparently I was right, as this is the third +time he has passed. Do you recognize him?” + +I looked attentively at the uncharacteristic figure on the farther +side of the street, but could find nothing familiar in his appearance. + +“No,” I replied; “he doesn’t look to me like the same man. He is +dressed differently--but that’s nothing, as he has been dressed +differently on each occasion--and that torpedo beard and full +moustache are quite unlike, though there’s nothing in that either; but +the man looks different altogether--distinctly taller, for instance.” + +Thorndyke chuckled. “Good,” said he. “Now look at his feet, as he +passes opposite. Did you ever see an instep set at that angle to the +sole? And does not your anatomical conscience cry out at a foot of +that thickness?” + +“Yes, by Jove!” I exclaimed; “there’s room for a double row of +metatarsals. It is a fake of some kind, I suppose?” + +“Cork ‘raisers’ inside high-heeled boots. Through the glasses I could +see that the boots gaped considerably at the instep, as they will when +there is a pad inside as well as a foot. But you notice, also, that +the man is dressed for height. He has a tall hat, a long coat, and his +shoulders are obviously raised by padding. I think there is very +little doubt that he is our man.” + +“It must be a dull job,” I remarked, “hanging about by the hour to see +a man come out of a house.” + +“Very,” Thorndyke agreed. “I am quite sorry for the worthy person, +especially as we are going to play him a rather shabby trick +presently.” + +“What are we going to do?” I asked. + +“We are going to let him in for one of the longest waits he has ever +had, I am afraid. Perhaps I had better give you the particulars of our +_modus operandi_. First, I shall send down to the stand for a hansom, +which will draw up opposite the club; and thereupon I have no doubt +our friend will hurry down to the cabstand to be in readiness. At any +rate, I shall let him get down to that end of the street before I do +anything more. Then I shall take the liberty of putting on your coat +and hat and go out to the cab with your suit-case in my hand; I shall +stand on the kerb long enough to let our friend get a good view of my +back, I shall get into the cab, give the driver the direction through +the trap to drive to the hospital, and pay the fare in advance.” + +“Why in advance?” I asked. + +“So that I shall not have to turn round and show my face when I get +out at the hospital entrance. I assume that your friend will follow me +in another hansom. Also that he will alight at the outer gates, +whereas I shall drive into the courtyard right up to the main +entrance, so that he will merely see your hat, coat and suit-case +disappear into the building. Then, as I say, he will be in for an +interminable vigil. I have a lecture to give this afternoon, and, when +I have finished, I shall come away in a black overcoat and tall hat +(which are at this moment hanging up in the curator’s room), leaving +your friend to wait for the reappearance of your coat, hat and +suit-case. I only hope he won’t wait too long.” + +“Why?” + +“Because he may wear out the patience of my assistant. I have a +plain-clothes man keeping a watch from the window above. If your +friend sets off in pursuit of your garments, as I anticipate, the +plain-clothes man will go straight to the hospital and take up his +post in the porter’s lodge, which, as you know, commands the whole +street outside the gates.” + +“And what have I got to do?” + +“First of all, you will put your tooth brush in your pocket--never +mind about your razor--and let me try on your hat, in case we have to +pad the lining. Then, when you have seen your friend start off in +pursuit and are sure the coast is clear, you will make straight for my +chambers and wait there for me.” + +“And supposing the chappie doesn’t start off in pursuit? Supposing he +twigs the imposture?” + +“Then the plain-clothes man will go out and threaten to arrest him for +loitering with intent to commit a felony. That would soon move him on +out of the neighbourhood, and the officer might accompany him some +distance and try to get his address. Meanwhile, you would be off to +King’s Bench Walk.” + +“But wouldn’t it be simpler to run the Johnnie in, in any case? Then +we should know all about him.” + +“No, it wouldn’t do. The police wouldn’t actually make an arrest +without an information; and, if they did proceed, they would want me +to appear. That wouldn’t suit me at all. Until we obtain some fresh +evidence, I don’t want this man to get any suspicion that the case is +being investigated. And now I think the time has come for a move. Let +us go to the cloak-room and see if your hat fits me sufficiently +well.” + +It was not a good fit, being just a shade small; but, as it was a soft +felt, this was not a vital defect. The overcoat fitted well enough, +though a trifle long in the sleeves, and when Thorndyke was fully +arrayed in this borrowed plumage, his back view, so far as I could +judge, was indistinguishable from my own. + +“If you will take out your toothbrush and hand me your suit-case,” +said he, “I will send for a hansom, and then we will watch the +progress of events from the dining-room window.” + +I handed him the green canvas case and we returned to the dining-room +and there, when he had ordered the cab, we took up a position at the +window, screened from observation by the wire blinds. + +“Our friend,” said Thorndyke, “was walking towards the right hand end +of the street when we saw him last. As the cabstand is at the left +hand end, we may hope to look upon his face once again.” + +As he spoke, the air was rent by the shriek of the cab-whistle, and +the leading hansom began immediately to bear down on the club. It had +hardly come to rest at our door when a figure appeared from the +opposite direction, advancing at a brisk walk on our side of the road. +I recognized him instantly as the man to whom Thorndyke had directed +my attention, and watched him closely, as he approached, to see if I +could identify him with the man who had shadowed Sylvia and me at the +picture gallery; but, though he passed within a few yards of the +window, and I felt no doubt that he was the same man, I could trace no +definite resemblance. It is true, that while actually passing the +club, he averted his face somewhat; but I had a good view of him +within an easy distance, and the face that I then saw was certainly +not the face of the man at the gallery. The skilfulness of the +make-up--assuming it to be really a disguise--was incredible, and I +remarked on it to Thorndyke. + +“Yes,” he agreed, “a really artistic make-up is apt to surprise the +uninitiated. And that reminds me that Polton has instructions to make +a few trifling alterations in your own appearance.” + +I stared at him aghast. “You don’t mean to say,” I exclaimed, “that +you contemplate making me up?” + +“We won’t discuss the question now,” he replied a little evasively. +“You talk it over with Polton. It is time for me to go now, as our +quarry has considerately acted up to our expectations. He little knows +what confusion of our plans he would have occasioned by simply staying +at the other end of the street.” + +The spy had, in fact, now halted opposite the cabstand and was +apparently making some notes in a pocket-book, facing, meanwhile, in +our direction. With a few parting instructions to me, Thorndyke picked +up the suit-case and hurried out, and I saw him dart down the +steps--with his face turned somewhat to the right--and stand for a few +seconds at the edge of the pavement with his back to the cabstand, but +in full view, looking at his watch as if considering some appointment. +Suddenly he sprang into the cab and, pushing up the trap, gave the +driver his instructions and handed up the fare. At the same moment I +saw the unknown shadower hail a hansom, and, scrambling to the +footboard, give some brief directions to the driver. Then Thorndyke’s +cabman touched his horse with the whip, and away he went at a smart +trot; but hardly had the cab turned the first corner when the second +hansom rattled past the club in hot pursuit. + +I was about to turn away from the window when a tall, well-dressed man +ran down the steps and immediately signalled to the cabstand with his +stick. Thinking it probable that this was the plain-clothes policeman, +I stopped to watch; and when I had seen him enter the cab and drive +off in the same direction as the other two, I decided that the show +was over and that it was time for me to take my departure; which I +did, after stuffing a couple of envelopes into the lining of +Thorndyke’s hat, to prevent it from slipping down towards my ears. + +That my arrival at number 5a, King’s Bench Walk was not quite +unexpected I gathered not only from the fact that the “oak” stood wide +open, revealing the inner door, but from the instantaneous way in +which this latter opened in response to my knock; and something +gleeful and triumphant in Mr. Polton’s manner as he invited me to +enter, stirred my suspicions and aroused vague forebodings. + +He helped me out of my--or rather Thorndyke’s--overcoat, and, having +taken the hat from me, peered inquiringly into its interior and fished +out the two envelopes, which he politely offered to me. Then, having +disposed of his employer’s property, he returned to confront me, and, +wrinkling his countenance into a most singular and highly corrugated +smile, he opened his mouth and spoke. + +“So you have come, sir, the Doctor tells me, to take sanctuary for a +time with us from the malice of your enemies.” + +“I don’t know about that,” I replied; “but there is a cockeyed +transformationist who seems to be dodging about after me, and Dr. +Thorndyke thinks I had better give him the go-by for the present.” + +“And very proper, too, sir. Discretion is the better part of valour, +as the proverb says--though I really could never see that it is any +part at all. But no doubt our forefathers, who made the proverb, knew +best. Did the Doctor mention that he had given me certain instructions +about you?” + +“He said that I was to talk over some question with you, but I didn’t +quite follow him. What were his instructions?” + +Polton rubbed his hands, and his face became more crinkly than ever. +“The Doctor instructed me,” he replied, looking at me hungrily and +obviously making a mental inventory of my features, “to effect certain +slight alterations in your outward personality.” + +“Oh, did he,” said I. “And what does he mean by that? Does he mean +that you are to make me up as an old woman or a nigger minstrel?” + +“Not at all, sir,” replied Polton. “Neither of those characters would +be at all suitable. They would occasion remark, which it is our object +to avoid; and as to a negro minstrel, his presence in chambers would +undoubtedly be objected to by the benchers.” + +“But,” I expostulated, “why any disguise at all, if I am to be boxed +up in these chambers? The chappie isn’t likely to come and look +through the keyhole.” + +“He wouldn’t see anything if he did,” said Polton. “I fitted these +locks. But, you see, sir, many strangers come to these chambers, and +then, too, you might like to take a little exercise about the inn or +the gardens. That would probably be quite safe if you were +unrecognizable, but otherwise, I should think, inadmissible. And +really, sir,” he continued persuasively, “if you do a thing at all you +may as well do it thoroughly. The Doctor wishes you to disappear; then +disappear completely. Don’t do it by halves.” + +I could not but admit to myself that this was reasonable advice. +Nevertheless, I grumbled a little sulkily. “It seems to me that Dr. +Thorndyke is making a lot of unnecessary fuss. It is absurd for an +able-bodied man to be sneaking into a hiding-place and disguising +himself like a runaway thief.” + +“I can offer no opinion on that, sir,” said Polton; “but you’re wrong +about the Doctor. He is a cautious man but he is not nervous or fussy. +You would be wise to act as he thinks best, I am sure.” + +“Very well,” I said; “I won’t be obstinate. When do you want to begin +on me?” + +“I should like,” replied Polton, brightening up wonderfully at my +sudden submission, “to have you ready for inspection by the time that +the Doctor returns. If agreeable to you, sir, I would proceed +immediately.” + +“Then in that case,” said I, “we had better adjourn to the green-room +forthwith.” + +“If you please, sir,” replied Polton; and with this, having opened the +door and cautiously inspected the landing, he conducted me up the +stairs to the floor above, the rooms of which appeared to be fitted as +workshops and laboratories. In one of the former, which appeared to be +Polton’s own special den, I saw my watch hanging from a nail, with a +rating table pinned above it, and proceeded to claim it. + +“I suppose, sir,” said Polton, reluctantly taking it from its nail and +surrendering it to me, “as you are going to reside on the premises and +I can keep it under observation, you may as well wear it. The present +rate is plus one point three seconds daily. And now I will trouble you +to sit down on this stool and take off your collar.” + +I did as he bade me, and, meanwhile, he turned up his cuffs and stood +a little way off, surveying me as a sculptor might survey a bust on +which he was at work. Then he fetched a large cardboard box, the +contents of which I could not see, and fell to work. + +His first proceeding was to oil my hair thoroughly, part it in the +middle and brush it smoothly down either side of my forehead. Next he +shaved off the outer third of each eyebrow, and, having applied some +sort of varnish or adhesive, he proceeded to build up, with a number +of short hairs, a continuation of the eyebrows at a higher level. The +result seemed to please him amazingly, for he stepped back and viewed +me with an exceedingly self-satisfied smirk. + +“It is really surprising, sir,” said he, “how much expression there is +in the corner of an eyebrow. You look a completely different gentleman +already.” + +“Then,” said I, “there’s no need to do any more. We can leave it at +this.” + +“Oh, no, we can’t, sir,” Polton replied hastily, making a frantic dive +into the cardboard box. “Begging your pardon, sir, it is necessary to +attend to the lower part of the face, in case you should wish to wear +a hat, which would cover the hair and throw the eyebrows into shadow.” + +Here he produced from the box an undeniable false beard of the torpedo +type and approached me, holding it out as if it were a poultice. + +“You are not going to stick that beastly thing on my face!” I +exclaimed, gazing at it with profound disfavour. + +“Now, sir,” protested Polton, “pray be patient. We will just try it +on, and the Doctor shall decide if it is necessary.” + +With this he proceeded to affix the abomination to my jowl with the +aid of the same sticky varnish that he had used previously, and, +having attached a moustache to my upper lip, worked carefully round +the edges of both with a quantity of loose hair, which he stuck on the +skin with the adhesive liquid and afterwards trimmed off with +scissors. The process was just completed and he had stepped back once +more to admire his work when an electric bell rang softly in the +adjoining room. + +“There’s the Doctor,” he remarked. “I’m glad we are ready for him. +Shall we go down and submit our work for his inspection?” + +I assented readily, having some hopes that Thorndyke would veto the +beard, and we descended together to the sitting-room, where we found +that Jervis and his principal had arrived together. As to the former, +he greeted my entrance by staggering back several paces with an +expression of terror, and then seated himself on the edge of the table +and laughed with an air of enjoyment that was almost offensive; +particularly to Polton, who stood by my side, rubbing his hands and +smiling with devilish satisfaction. + +“I assume,” Thorndyke said, gravely, “that this is our friend +Jardine.” + +“It isn’t,” said Jervis. “It’s the shopwalker from Wallis’s. I +recognized him instantly.” + +“Look here,” I said, with some heat, “it’s all very well for you to +make me up like Charley’s Aunt and then jeer at me, but what’s the use +of it? The fifth of November’s past.” + +“My dear Jardine,” Thorndyke said, soothingly, “you are confusing your +sensations with your appearance. I daresay that make-up is rather +uncomfortable, but it is completely successful, and I must +congratulate Polton; for the highest aim of a disguise is the utterly +common-place, and I assure you that you are now a most +ordinary-looking person. Fetch the looking-glass from the office, +Polton, and let him see for himself.” + +I gazed into the mirror which Polton held up to me with profound +surprise. There was nothing in the least grotesque or unusual in the +face that looked out at me, only it was the face of an utter stranger; +and, as Thorndyke had said, a perfectly common-place stranger, at whom +no one would look twice in the street. Grudgingly, I acknowledged the +fact, but still objected to the beard. + +“Do you think it is really necessary, sir, in addition to the other +disfigurements?” + +“Yes, I do,” replied Thorndyke. “It is only a temporary expedient, +because, in a fortnight, your own beard will have grown enough to +serve with a little artificial re-enforcement. And,” he continued, as +Polton retired with a gratified smile, “I am anxious that your +disappearance shall be complete. It is not only a question of your +safety--although that is very urgent and I feel myself responsible for +you, as we are not appealing to the police. There are other issues. +Assuming, as we do assume, that some crime has been committed, the +lapse of time must inevitably cause some of the consequences of that +crime to develop. If the man whose body you saw at Hampstead was +really murdered, he must presently be missed and enquired for. Then we +shall learn who he was and perhaps we may gather what was the motive +of the crime. Then, your secret enemy will be left unemployed and may +produce some fresh evidence--for he can’t wait indefinitely for your +reappearance. And finally, certain enquiries which I am making may set +us on the right track. And, if they do, you must remember, Jardine, +that you are probably the sole witness to certain important items of +evidence; so you must be preserved in safety as a matter of public +policy, apart from your own prejudices in favour of remaining alive.” + +“I didn’t know that you were actually working at the case,” I said. +“Have you been following up that man Gill of the mineral water works?” + +“I followed him up to the vanishing-point. He has gone and left no +trace; and I have been unable to get any description of him.” + +“Then,” said I, “if it is allowable to ask the question, in what +direction have you been making enquiries?” + +“I have been interesting myself,” Thorndyke replied, “in the other +case; that of your patient Mr. Maddock, as the attacks on you seemed +to be associated with his neighbourhood rather than with that of +Hampstead. I have examined his will at Somerset House and am +collecting information about the persons who benefited by its +provisions. Especially, I am making some enquiries about a legatee who +lives in New York, and concerning whom I am rather curious. I can’t go +into further details just now, but you will see that I am keeping the +case in hand, and you must remember that, at any moment, fresh +information may reach me from other sources. My practice is a very +peculiar one, and there are few really obscure cases that are not, +sooner or later, brought to me for an opinion.” + +“And, meanwhile, I am to eat the bread of idleness here and wait on +events.” + +“You won’t be entirely idle,” Thorndyke replied. “We shall find you +some work to do, and you will extend your knowledge of medico-legal +practice. You write shorthand fairly well, don’t you?” + +“Yes; and I can draw a little, if that is of any use.” + +“Both accomplishments are of use, and, even if they are not, we should +have to exercise them for the sake of appearances. It will certainly +become known that you are here, so we had better make no secret of it, +but find you such occupation as will account for your presence. And, +as you will have to meet strangers now and again, we must find you a +name. What do you think of ‘William Morgan Howard’?” + +“It will do as well as any other,” I replied. + +“Very well, then William Morgan Howard let it be. And, in case you +might forget your alias, as the crooks are constantly doing, we will +drop the name of Jardine and call you Howard even when we are alone. +It will save us all from an untimely slip.” + +To this arrangement also I agreed with a sour smile, and so, with some +physical discomfort in the neighbourhood of the lower jaw, and a +certain relish of the novelty and absurdity of my position, I placed +myself, under the name of Howard, on the roster of Thorndyke’s +establishment. + + + + + CHAPTER XVI. + ENTER FATHER HUMPERDINCK + +On the day following my--and Thorndyke’s--masterly retreat from +Salter’s Club, the plain-clothes officer called to make his report; +and even before he spoke, I judged from his rather sheepish expression +that he had failed. And so it turned out. He had waited in the +porter’s lodge, he told us, until midnight keeping a watch on the +watcher, who, for his part, lurked in the street, always keeping in +sight of the hospital, and whiling away the time by gazing into the +shop windows. The spy had evidently failed to recognize Thorndyke, for +when the latter left the hospital in company with one of the +physicians, he had given only a passing glance at the open carriage in +which the two men sat. + +After the shops had shut, the persevering shadower had occupied +himself with a sort of dismal sentry-go up and down the street, +disappearing into the darkness and reappearing at regular intervals. +Once or twice, the plain-clothes man went out and followed his quarry +in his perambulations, but, not considering it prudent to expose +himself too much to view, he remained mostly in the Lodge. It was +after one of these sallies that the mischance occurred. Returning to +the Lodge, he saw the spy pass the gates and disappear up the dark +street; he looked, after the usual interval, for him to reappear. But +the interval passed and there was no reappearance. Then the officer +hurried out in search of his quarry, but found only an empty street. +Even the apparently inexhaustible patience of the spy had given out at +last. And so the quest had ended. + +I cannot say that Thorndyke impressed me as being deeply disappointed; +in fact, I thought that he seemed, if anything, rather relieved at his +emissary’s failure. This was Jervis’s opinion also, and he had no +false delicacy about expressing it. + +“Well,” Thorndyke replied, “as the fellow thrust himself right under +my nose, I could hardly do less than make some sort of an attempt to +find out who he is. But I don’t particularly want to know. My +investigations are proceeding from quite another direction; and you +see, Jervis, how awkward it might have been to have this person on our +hands. We could only charge him with loitering with felonious intent, +and we couldn’t prove the intent after all; for we can’t produce any +evidence connecting this man with the three attempted murders. He may +not be the same man at all. And I certainly don’t want to go into the +witness box just now, and still less do I want my new clerk, Mr. +Howard, put into that position. I don’t want to take any action until +I have the case quite complete and am in a position to make a decisive +move.” + +“The truth is,” said Jervis, addressing me confidentially in a stage +whisper, “Thorndyke hates the idea of spoiling a really juicy problem +by merely arresting the criminal and pumping his friends. He looks on +such a proceeding much as a Master of Fox-hounds would look on the act +of poisoning a fox.” + +Thorndyke smiled indulgently at his junior. “There is such a thing,” +said he, “as failing to poison a fox and only making him too unwell to +leave his residence. A premature prosecution is apt to fail; and then +the prisoner has seen all the cards of his adversaries. At present I +am playing against an unseen adversary, but I am hoping that I, in my +turn, am unseen by him, and I am pretty certain that he has no idea +what cards I hold.” + +“Gad!” exclaimed Jervis, “then he is in much the same position as I +am.” And with this the subject dropped. + +The first week of my residence in Thorndyke’s chambers was quite +uneventful, and was mainly occupied in settling down to the new +conditions. My letters were sent on by Mrs. Blunt to the hospital +whence they were brought by my principal--as I may now call my quondam +teacher--with the exception of Sylvia’s; which we had agreed were to +be sent to the chambers enclosed in an envelope addressed to +Thorndyke. + +At first, I had feared that the confinement would be unendurable; but +the reality proved to be much less wearisome than I had anticipated. A +horizontal bar rigged up by Polton in the laboratory, gave me the +means of abundant exercise of one kind; and in the early mornings, +before the gates of the inn were opened, I made it my daily practice +to trot round the precincts for an hour at a time, taking the circuit +from our chambers through Crown Office Road to Fountain Court and back +by way of Pump Court and the Cloisters, to the great benefit of my +health and the mild surprise of the porters and laundresses. + +Nor was I without occupation in the daytime. Besides an exhaustively +detailed account of all the remarkable experiences that had befallen +me of late which I wrote out at Thorndyke’s request, I had a good deal +of clerical work of one kind and another, and was frequently employed, +when clients called, in exhibiting my skill as a stenographer; taking +down oral statements, or making copies of depositions or other +documents which were read over to me by Thorndyke or Jervis. + +It was the exercise of these latter activities that introduced me to a +certain Mr. Marchmont, and through him to some new and rather +startling experiences. Mr. Marchmont was a solicitor, and, as I +gathered, an old client of Thorndyke’s; for, when he called one +evening, about ten days after my arrival, with a bagful of documents, +he made sundry references to former cases by which I understood that +he and Thorndyke had been pretty frequently associated in their +professional affairs. + +“I have got a lot of papers here,” he said, opening the bag, “of which +I suppose I ought to have had copies made; but there hasn’t been time +and I am afraid there won’t be, as I have to return them to-morrow. +But perhaps, if you run your eye over them, you will see what it is +necessary to remember and make a few notes.” + +“I think,” said Thorndyke, “that my friend, Mr. Howard, will be able +to help us by taking down the essentials in shorthand. Let me +introduce you. Mr. Howard is very kindly assisting me for a time by +relieving me of some of the extra clerical work.” + +Mr. Marchmont bowed, and, as we shook hands, looked at me, as I +thought, rather curiously; then he extracted the papers from his bag, +and, spreading them out on the table, briefly explained their nature. + +“There is no need,” said he, “to have copies of them all, but I +thought you had better see them. Perhaps you will glance through them +and see which you think ought to be copied for reference.” + +Thorndyke ran his eye over the documents, and, having made one or two +brief notes of the contents of some, which he then laid aside, +collected the remainder and began to read them out to me, while I took +down the matter verbatim, interpolating Marchmont’s comments and +explanations on a separate sheet of paper. The reading and the +discussion occupied a considerable time, and, before the business was +concluded, the Treasury clock had struck half-past nine. + +“It’s getting late,” said Marchmont, folding the papers and putting +them back in the bag. “I must be going or you’ll wish me at Halifax, +if you aren’t doing so already.” He snapped the fastening of the bag, +and, grasping the handle, was about to lift it from the table, when he +appeared to recollect something, for he let go the handle and once +more faced my principal. + +“By the way, Thorndyke,” said he, “there is a matter on which I have +wanted to consult you for some time past, but couldn’t get my client +to agree. It is a curious affair; quite in your line, I think; a case +of disappearance--not in the legal sense, as creating a presumption of +death, but disappearance from ordinary places of resort with a very +singular change of habits, so far as I can learn. Possibly a case of +commencing insanity. I have been wanting to lay the facts before you, +but my client, who is a Jesuit and as suspicious as the devil, +insisted on trying to ferret out the evidence for himself and wouldn’t +hear of a consultation with you. Of course he has failed completely, +and now, I think, he is more amenable.” + +“Are you in possession of the facts, yourself?” asked Thorndyke. + +“No, I’m hanged if I am,” replied Marchmont. “The case is concerned +with a certain Mr. Reinhardt, who was a client of my late partner, +poor Wyndhurst. I never had anything to do with him; and it +unfortunately happens that our old clerk, Bell--you remember Bell--who +had charge of Mr. Reinhardt’s business, left us soon after poor +Wyndhurst’s death, so there is nobody in the office who has any +personal knowledge of the parties.” + +“You say it is a case of disappearance?” asked Thorndyke. + +“Not exactly disappearance, but--well, it is a most singular case. I +can make nothing of it, and neither can my worthy and reverend client, +so as I say, he is now growing more amenable, and I think I shall be +able to persuade him to come round with me and take your opinion on +such facts as we have. Shall you be at home to-morrow evening?” + +“Yes, I can make an appointment for to-morrow, after dinner, if you +prefer that time.” + +“We won’t call it an appointment,” said Marchmont. “If I can overcome +his obstinacy, I will bring him round and take the chance of your +being in. But I think he’ll come, as he is on his beams’ ends; and if +he does, I fancy you will find the little problem exactly to your +liking.” + +With this Mr. Marchmont took his departure, leaving Thorndyke and me +to discuss the various legal aspects of disappearance and the changes +of habit and temperament that usher in an attack of mental alienation. +I could see that the solicitor’s guarded references to an obscure and +intricate case had aroused Thorndyke’s curiosity to no small extent, +for, though he said little on the subject, it evidently remained in +his mind, as I judged by the care with which he planned the disposal +of his time of the following day, and the little preparations that he +made for the reception of his visitors. Nor was Thorndyke the only +expectant member of our little establishment. Jervis also, having +caught the scent of an interesting case, made it his business to keep +the evening free, and so it happened that when eight o’clock struck on +the Temple bell, it found us gathered round the fire, chatting on +indifferent subjects, but all three listening for the expected tread +on the stairs. + +“It is to be hoped,” said Jervis, “that our reverend friend won’t jib +at the last moment. I always expect something good from Marchmont. He +doesn’t get flummoxed by anything simple or commonplace. I think we +have had most of our really thrilling cases through him. And seeing +that Jardine has laid in two whole quarto note-blocks and put those +delightful extra touches to his already alluring get-up--” + +“There is no such person here as Jardine,” Thorndyke interrupted. + +“I beg his pardon. Mr. Howard, I should have said. But listen! There +are two persons coming up the stairs. You had better take your place +at the table, Ja--Howard, and look beastly business-like, or the +reverend gentleman will want you chucked out, and then you’ll lose the +entertainment.” + +I hurried across to the table and had just seated myself and taken up +a pen when the brass knocker on our inner door rattled out its +announcement. Thorndyke strode across and threw the door open, and as +Mr. Marchmont entered with his client I looked at the latter +inquisitively. But only for a single instant. Then I looked down and +tried to efface myself utterly, for Mr. Marchmont’s client was none +other than the cleric with whom I had travelled from Folkestone to +London. + +The solicitor ushered in his client with an air of but half-concealed +triumph and proceeded with exaggerated geniality to do the honours of +introduction. + +“Let me make you known to one another, gentlemen,” said he. “This is +the Very Reverend Father Humperdinck. These gentlemen are Dr. +Thorndyke, Dr. Jervis and Mr. Howard, who will act, on this occasion, +as the recording angel to take down in writing the particulars of your +very remarkable story.” + +Father Humperdinck bowed stiffly. He was evidently a little +disconcerted at finding so large an assembly, and glanced at me, in +particular, with undisguised disfavour, while I, my oiled hair, +deformed eyebrows and false beard notwithstanding, perspired with +anxiety lest he should recognize me. But however unfavourably the +reverend father may have viewed our little conclave, Mr. Marchmont, +who had been watching him anxiously, gave him no chance of raising +objections, but proceeded to open the matter forthwith. + +“I have not brought any digest or précis of the case,” said he, +“because I know you prefer to hear the facts from the actual parties. +But I had better give you a brief outline of the matter of our +inquiry. The case is concerned with a Mr. Vitalis Reinhardt, who has +been closely associated with Father Humperdinck for very many years +past, and who has now, without notice or explanation, disappeared from +his ordinary places of resort, ceased from communication with his +friends, and adopted a mode of life quite alien from and inconsistent +with his previous habits. Those are the main facts, stated in general +terms.” + +“And the inquiry to which you referred?” said Thorndyke. + +“Concerns itself with three questions,” replied Marchmont, and he +proceeded to check them off on his fingers. “First, is Vitalis +Reinhardt alive or dead? Second, if he is alive, where is he? Third, +having regard to the singular change in his habits, is his conduct +such as might render it possible to place him under restraint or to +prove him unfit to control his own affairs?” + +“To certify him as insane, if I may put it bluntly,” said Thorndyke. +“That question could be decided only on a full knowledge of the nature +of the changes in this person’s habits, with which, no doubt, you are +prepared to furnish us. But what instantly strikes me in your epitome +of the proposed inquiry is this: you raise the question whether Mr. +Reinhardt is alive or dead, and then you refer to certain changes in +his habits; but, since a man must be alive to have any habits at all, +the two questions seem to be mutually irreconcilable in relation to +the same group of facts.” + +Father Humperdinck nodded approvingly. + +“Zat is chust our great diffigulty,” said he. “Zome zings make me +suspect zat my friend Reinhardt is dead; zome ozzer zings make me feel +certain zat he is alife. I do not know vich to zink. I am gombletely +buzzled.” + +“Perhaps,” said Thorndyke, “the best plan would be for Father +Humperdinck to give us a detailed account of his relations with Mr. +Reinhardt and of the latter gentleman’s habits as they are known to +him; after which we could discuss any questions that suggest +themselves and clear up any points that seem to be obscure. What do +you say, Marchmont?” + +“It will be a long story,” Marchmont replied, doubtfully. + +“So much the better,” rejoined Thorndyke. “It will give us the more +matter for consideration. I would suggest that Father Humperdinck +tells us the story in his own way and that Mr. Howard takes down the +statement. Then we shall have the principal data and can pursue any +issue that seems to invite further investigation.” + +To this proposal Marchmont agreed, a little reluctantly, fortifying +himself for the ordeal by lighting a cigar; and Father Humperdinck, +having cast a somewhat disparaging glance at me, began his account of +his missing friend, which I took down verbatim, and which I now +reproduce shorn of the speaker’s picturesque but rather tiresome +peculiarities of pronunciation. + +“My acquaintance with Vitalis Reinhardt began more than forty years +ago, when we were both school-boys in the Jesuit’s house at Louvain. +But I did not see much of him then, as I was preparing for the +novitiate while he was on the secular side. In spite of his German +name, Vitalis was looked upon as an English boy, for his father had +married a rich English lady and was settled in England; and Vitalis, +being the only child, had very great expectations. When he left school +I lost sight of him for some years, and it was only after the war had +broken out between Germany and France that we met again. I had then +just been ordained and was attached as chaplain to a Bavarian +regiment; he had come out from England as a volunteer to attend the +sick and wounded; and so we met, soon after the battle of Saarbrück, +in the wards of a temporary hospital. But our career in the field was +not a long one. Less than a month after Saarbrück, our little force +met a French division and had to retreat, leaving a number of men and +guns and all the wounded in the hands of the enemy. Both of us were +among the prisoners, and Vitalis was one of the wounded, for, just as +the retreat began, a French bullet struck him in the right hip. We +were both taken to Paris with the rest of the prisoners, and there, in +the hospital for wounded prisoners, I was allowed to visit him. + +“His wound was a severe one. The bullet had entered deeply and lodged +behind the bone of the hip, so that the repeated efforts of the +surgeons to extract it not only failed but caused great pain and made +the wound worse. From day to day poor Vitalis grew thinner and more +yellow, and we could see plainly that if no change occurred, the end +must come quite soon. So the doctors said and so Vitalis himself felt. + +“Then it came to me that, if the skill of man failed us, we should ask +for help from above. It happened that I possessed a relic of the +blessed Saint Vincent de Paul, which was contained in a small gold +reliquary, and which I had been permitted by the Father General to +keep. I proposed to Vitalis that we should apply the relic and make a +special appeal to the saint for help, and also that he should promise +to dedicate some part of his great possessions to the service of God. + +“He agreed readily, for he had always been a deeply pious man. +Accordingly he made the promises as I had suggested, we offered up +special prayers to the saint, and, with the permission of the +surgeons, I attached the reliquary to the dressings of the wound, +praying that it should avail to draw out the bullet.” + +“And did it?” asked Marchmont in a tone which evidently did not escape +the observant Jesuit, for that nimble-witted gentleman turned sharply +on the lawyer and replied with severe emphasis: + +“No, sir, it did not. And why? Because there was no need. The very +next day after the reliquary was applied, when the dressings were +changed, a small shred of filthy cloth came out of the wound. _That_ +was the cause of the trouble, not the clean metal bullet. The saint, +you see, sir, knew better than the surgeon.” + +“Evidently,” said Marchmont, glancing quickly at me, and the +expression that I caught in the eye of that elderly heathen suggested +that he had actually contemplated a wink and then thought better of +it. + +“As soon as the piece of cloth was out of the wound,” Father +Humperdinck resumed, “all the trouble ceased. The fever abated, the +wound healed, and very soon Vitalis was able to get about, none the +worse for his mishap. + +“It was natural that he should be grateful to the saint who had saved +his life, for though we look forward to the hereafter, we do not wish +to die. Also was it natural that he should feel a devotion to the holy +relic which had been the appointed instrument of his recovery. He did, +and to gratify him, I obtained the Father General’s permission to +bestow it on him, which gave him great joy, and thenceforth he always +carried the reliquary on his person.” + +“I hope he kept his promise to the saint,” said Marchmont. + +“He did; faithfully, and, indeed, handsomely. No sooner was he +recovered of his wound than he proposed to me the founding of a new +society of brothers of charity to attend the sick and wounded. I +consulted with the Father General of my Society--the Society of +Jesus--and received his sanction to act as director of the new society +or fraternity which was to be affiliated to the Society of Jesus under +the title of ‘The Poor Brothers of Saint Joseph of Aramithea.’” + +“Why not Saint Vincent de Paul?” asked Marchmont. + +“Because there was already a society named after that saint, and +because Saint Joseph was a man of eminent charity. But I shall not +weary you with a history of our society. It was founded and blessed by +His Holiness, the Pope, it prospered, and it still prospers to the +glory of God and to the benefit and relief of the sick, the poor, and +the suffering. At first Vitalis paid all the costs, and he has been a +generous benefactor ever since.” + +“This is all extremely interesting,” said Marchmont, “but--you will +excuse my asking--has it any bearing on your friend’s disappearance?” + +“Yes, sir, it has,” replied Father Humperdinck, “as you shall berceive +ven I my narradive gondinue.” + +Mr. Marchmont bowed, and Father Humperdinck, quite undisturbed by the +interruption, “gondinued his narradive.” + +“Our first house was established in Belgium, near Brussels, and +Vitalis came to live with us in community. He did not regularly join +the society or take any vows, but he lived with us as one of ourselves +and wore the habit of a lay brother when in the house and the dress of +one when he went abroad. This he has continued to do ever since. +Though bound by no vows, he has lived the life of a professed +religious by choice, occupying an ordinary cell for sleeping and +taking his meals at the refectory table. But not always. From time to +time he has taken little holidays to travel about and mix with the +outer world. Sometimes he would come to England to visit his +relatives, and sometimes he would spend a few weeks in one of the +great cities of the Continent, looking over the museums and +picture-galleries. He was greatly interested in art and liked to +frequent the society of painters and sculptors, of whom he knew +several; and one, in particular--an English painter named Burton, +whose acquaintance he made quite recently--he seemed very much +attached to, for he stayed with him at Bruges for more than a month. + +“When he came back from Bruges, he told me that he purposed going to +England to see his relatives and to make certain arrangements with his +lawyers for securing a part of his property to our Society. I had +often urged him to do this, but, hitherto, he had retained complete +control of his property and only paid the expenses of the Society as +they occurred. He was most generous, but, of course, this was a bad +arrangement, because, in the event of his death, we should have been +left without the support that he had promised. It seemed that while he +was at Bruges he had discussed this matter with Mr. Burton, who was a +Catholic, and that the Englishman also had advised him to make a +permanent provision for the Society. It seemed that he had decided to +divide his property between our community and a cousin of his who +lives in England, a project of which I strongly approved. After +staying with us for a month or two, he left for England with the +purpose of making this arrangement. That was in the middle of last +September, and I have not seen him since.” + +“Did he complete the arrangements that he had mentioned?” Thorndyke +asked. + +“No, he did not. He made certain arrangements as to his property, but +they were very different ones from those he had proposed. But we shall +come to that presently. Let me finish my story. + +“A few days after Vitalis left us, our oldest lay brother was taken +very seriously ill. I wrote to Vitalis, who was deeply attached to +Brother Bartholomew, telling him of this, and, as I did not know where +he was staying, I sent the letter to his cousin’s house at Hampstead. +He replied, on the eighteenth of September, that he should return +immediately. He said that he was then booking his luggage and paying +his hotel bill; that he had to see his cousin again, but that he would +try to come by the night train, or if he missed that, he would sleep +at the station hotel and start as early as possible on the following +day, the nineteenth. That was the last I ever heard from him. He never +came and has never communicated with me since.” + +“You have made enquiries, of course?” said Thorndyke. + +“Yes. When he did not come, I wrote to his lawyer, Mr. Wyndhurst, whom +I knew slightly. But Mr. Wyndhurst was dead, and my letter was +answered by Mr. Marchmont. From him I learned that Vitalis had called +on him on the morning of the nineteenth and made certain arrangements +of which he, perhaps, will tell you. Mr. Marchmont ascertained that, +on the same day, Vitalis’s luggage was taken from the cloak room in +time to catch the boat train. I have made inquiries and find that he +arrived at Calais, and I have succeeded in tracing him to Paris, but +there I have lost him. Where he is now I am unable to discover. + +“And now, before I finish my story, you had better hear what Mr. +Marchmont has to tell. He has been very close with me, but you are a +lawyer and perhaps know better how to deal with lawyers.” + +Thorndyke glanced enquiringly at the solicitor, who, in his turn, +looked dubiously at the end of his waning cigar. + +“The fact is,” said he, “I am in a rather difficult position. Mr. +Reinhardt has employed me as his solicitor, and I don’t quite see my +way to discussing his private affairs without his authority.” + +“That is a perfectly correct attitude,” said Thorndyke, “and yet I am +going to urge you to tell us what passed at your interview with your +client. I can’t go into particulars at present, but I will ask you to +take it from me that there are sound reasons why you should; and I +will undertake to hold you immune from any blame for having done so.” + +Marchmont looked sharply and with evidently awakened interest at +Thorndyke. + +“I think I know what that means,” he said, “and I will take you at +your word, having learned by experience what your word is worth. But +before describing the interview, I had better let you know how +Reinhardt had previously disposed of his property. + +“About twelve years ago he got Wyndhurst to draft a will for him by +which a life interest in the entire property was vested in his cousin, +a Miss Augusta Vyne, with reversion to her niece, Sylvia Vyne, the +only child of his cousin Robert. This will was duly executed in our +office. + +“After that our firm had, until quite recently, no special business to +transact for Mr. Reinhardt beyond the management of his investments. +The whole of his property--which was all personal--was in our hands to +invest, and our relations with him were confined to the transfer of +sums of money to his bank when we received instructions from him to +effect such transfer. He never called at the office, and latterly +there has been no one there who knew him excepting Wyndhurst himself +and the clerk, Bell. + +“The next development occurred last September. On the seventeenth I +received a letter from him, written at Miss Vyne’s house at Hampstead, +saying that he had been discussing his affairs with her and that he +should like to call on me and make some slight alterations in the +disposal of the property. I replied on the eighteenth, addressing my +letter to him at Miss Vyne’s house, making an appointment for eleven +o’clock on the morning of the nineteenth. He kept the appointment +punctually, and we had a short interview, at which he explained the +new arrangements which he wished to make. + +“He began by saying that he had found it somewhat inconvenient, +living, as he did, on the Continent, to have his account at an English +Bank. He proposed, therefore, to transfer it to a private bank at +Paris, conducted by a certain M. Desiré, or rather to open an account +there, for he did not suggest closing his account at his English +bank.” + +“Do you know anything about this M. Desiré?” asked Thorndyke. + +“I did not, but I have since ascertained that he is a person of +credit--quite a substantial man in fact--and that his business is +chiefly that of private banker and agent to the officers of the army. + +“Well, Mr. Reinhardt went on to say that he had become rather tired of +the monotonous life of a lay brother--which he, after all, was +not--and wished for a little freedom and change. Accordingly he +intended to travel for a time--which was his reason for employing M. +Desiré--and did not propose, necessarily, to keep anyone informed of +his whereabouts. He was a rich man and he had decided to get some +advantage from his wealth, which really did not seem to me at all an +unreasonable decision. He added that he had no intention of +withdrawing his support from the Society of the Poor Brothers; he +merely intended to dissociate himself, personally, from it, and he +suggested that any occasions that might arise for pecuniary assistance +should be addressed to him under cover of M. Desiré. + +“Finally, he desired me to transfer one thousand pounds stock to his +new agent seven days from the date of our interview, and gave me an +authority in writing to that effect in which he instructed me to +accept M. Desiré’s receipt as a valid discharge.” + +“And you did so?” asked Thorndyke. + +“Certainly I did. And I hold M. Desiré’s receipt for the amount.” + +“Did you think it necessary to raise the question of your client’s +identity, seeing that no one in the office knew him personally?” + +“No, I did not. The question did not arise. There could not possibly +be any doubt on the subject. He was an old client of the firm, and our +correspondence had been carried on under cover of his cousin, Miss +Vyne, who had known him all his life. You remember that I wrote to him +at Miss Vyne’s address, making the appointment for the interview.” + +“And what happened next?” + +“The next development was a letter from Father Humperdinck asking if I +could give him Mr. Reinhardt’s address. Of course I could not, but I +wrote to M. Desiré asking him if he could give it to me. Desiré +replied that he did not, at the moment, know where Mr. Reinhardt was, +but would, if desired, take charge of any communications and forward +them at the first opportunity. This statement may or may not have been +true, but I don’t think we shall get any more information out of +Desiré. He is Reinhardt’s agent and will act on his instructions. If +Reinhardt has told him not to give anyone his address, naturally he +won’t give it. So there the matter ends, so far as I am concerned.” + +“Did Vitalis make no suggestion as to altering his will?” Father +Humperdinck enquired. + +“None whatever. Nothing was said about the will. But,” Mr. Marchmont +added, after a cogitative pause, “we must remember that he has another +man of business now. There is no saying what he may have done through +M. Desiré.” + +Father Humperdinck nodded gloomily, and Thorndyke, addressing the +solicitor, asked: + +“And that is all you have to tell us?” + +“Yes. And I’m not sure that it is not a good deal more than I ought to +have told you. It is Father Humperdinck’s turn now.” + +The Jesuit acknowledged the invitation to resume his narrative by a +stiff bow and then proceeded: + +“You can now see, sir, that what I said is perfectly correct. The +conduct of my friend Vitalis shows a sudden and unaccountable change. +It is quite inconsistent with his habits and his way of thinking. And +the change is, as I say, so sudden. One day he is coming with the +greatest haste to the bedside of his sick friend, Brother Bartholomew, +the next he is making arrangements for a life of selfish pleasure, +utterly indifferent as to whether that friend is alive or dead. As a +matter of fact, the good brother passed away to his reward the day +after Vitalis should have arrived, without even a message from his old +friend. But now I return to my story. + +“When Vitalis failed to appear, and I could get no news of him, I +became very anxious; and, as it happened that the business of our +Society called me to England, I determined to inquire into the matter. +Circumstances compelled me to travel by way of Boulogne and cross to +Folkestone. I say ‘circumstances,’ but I should rather say that I was +guided that way by the hand of Providence, for, in the train that +brought me from Folkestone to London, I had a most astonishing +experience. In the carriage, alone with me, there travelled a young +man, a very strange young man indeed. He was a very large man--or, I +should say, very high--and in appearance rather fierce and wild. His +clothes were good, but they were disordered and stained with mud, as +if he had been drunk at night and had rolled in the gutter. And this, +I think, was the case, for, soon after we had started, he began to +turn out his pockets on the seat of the carriage, as if to see whether +he had lost anything during his debauch. And then it was that I saw a +most astonishing thing. Among the objects that this man took from his +pockets and laid on the seat, was the reliquary that I had given so +many years ago to Vitalis. + +“I could not mistake it. Once it had been mine, and I had been +accustomed to see it almost daily since. Moreover the young man had +the effrontery to pass it to me that I might examine it, and I found +on it the very letters which I, myself, had caused to be engraved on +it. When I asked him where he had obtained it, he told me that he had +picked it up at Hampstead, and he professed not to know what it was. +But his answers were very evasive and I did not believe him.” + +“Nevertheless,” said Mr. Marchmont, “there was nothing improbable in +his statement. Mr. Reinhardt had been at Hampstead and might have +dropped it.” + +“Possibly. But he would have taken measures to recover it. He would +not have left England until he had found it. He was a rich man, and he +would have offered a large reward for this his most prized +possession.” + +“You say,” said Thorndyke, “that he habitually carried this reliquary +on his person. Can you tell us how he carried or wore it?” + +“That,” replied Father Humperdinck, “was what I was coming to. The +reliquary was a small gold object with a ring at each end. It was +meant, I suppose, to be worn round the wrist, or perhaps the neck, by +means of a cord or chain attached to the two rings, or to be inserted +into a chaplet of devotional beads. But this was not the way in which +Vitalis carried it. He possessed a small and very beautiful crucifix +which he set great store by, because it was given to him by one of the +fathers when he left school, and which he used to wear suspended from +his neck by a green silk cord. Now, when I gave him the reliquary, he +caused a goldsmith to link one of its rings to the ring of the +crucifix and he fastened the silk cord to the other ring, and so +suspended both the reliquary and the crucifix from his neck.” + +“Did he wear them outside his clothing so that they were visible?” +Thorndyke asked. + +“Yes, outside his waistcoat, so that they were not only visible but +very conspicuous when his coat was unbuttoned. It was, of course, very +unsuitable to the dress of a lay brother, and I spoke to him about it +several times. But he was sometimes rather self-willed, as you may +judge by his refusal to settle an endowment on the Society, and, +naturally, as he was not professed, I had no authority over him. But I +shall return presently to the reliquary. Now I continue about this +young man. + +“When I had heard his explanation, and decided that he was telling me +lies, I made a simple pretext to discover his name and place of abode. +With the same effrontery, he gave me his card, which I have here, and +which, you will see, is stained with mud, owing, no doubt, to those +wallowings in the mire of which I have spoken.” He drew the card from +his pocket-book and handed it to Thorndyke, who read it gravely, and, +pushing it across the table to me, said, without moving a muscle of +his face: + +“You had better copy it into your notes, Mr. Howard, so that we may +have the record complete.” + +I accordingly copied out my own name and address with due solemnity +and a growing enjoyment of the situation, and then returned the card +to Father Humperdinck, who pocketed it carefully and resumed: + +“Having the name and address of this young man, I telegraphed +immediately to a private detective bureau in Paris, asking to have +sent to me, if possible, a certain M. Foucault, who makes a specialty +of following and watching suspected persons. This Foucault is a man of +extraordinary talent. His power of disguising himself is beyond belief +and his patience is inexhaustible. Fortunately he was disengaged and +came to me without delay, and, when I had given him the name and +address of this young man, Jardine, and described him from my +recollection of him, he set a watch on the house and found that the +man was really living there, as he had said, and that he made a daily +journey to the hospital of St. Margaret’s, where he seemed to have +some business, as he usually stayed there until evening.” + +“St. Margaret’s!” exclaimed Marchmont. “Why that is your hospital, +Thorndyke. Do you happen to know this man Jardine?” + +“There is, or was, a student of that name, who qualified some little +time ago, and who is probably the man Father Humperdinck is referring +to. A tall man; quite as tall, I should say, as my friend here, Mr. +Howard.” + +“I should say,” said Father Humperdinck, “that the man, Jardine, is +taller, decidedly taller. I watched him as I walked behind him up the +platform at Charing Cross, and M. Foucault has shown him to me since. +But that matters not. Have you seen the man, Jardine, lately at the +hospital?” + +“Not very lately,” Thorndyke replied. “I saw him there nearly a +fortnight ago, but that, I think, was the last time.” + +“Ah!” exclaimed Humperdinck. “Exactly. But I shall continue my story. +For some time M. Foucault kept a close watch on this man, but +discovered nothing fresh. He went to the hospital daily, he came home, +and he stayed indoors the whole evening. But, at last, there came a +new discovery. + +“One morning M. Foucault saw the man, Jardine, come out of his house, +dressed more carefully than usual. From his house, Foucault followed +him to a picture gallery in Leicester Square and went in after him; +and there he saw him meet a female, evidently by a previous +assignation. AND,” Father Humperdinck continued, slapping the table to +emphasize the climax of his story, +“From--the--neck--of--that--female--was--hanging--_Vitalis_--_Reinhardt’s_--Crucifix!” + +Having made this thrilling communication, our reverend client leaned +back to watch its effect on his audience. I am afraid he must have +been a little disappointed, for Thorndyke was habitually impassive in +his exterior, and, as for Jervis and me, we were fully occupied in +maintaining a decent and befitting gravity. But Marchmont--the only +person present who was not already acquainted with the incident--saved +the situation by exclaiming: + +“Very remarkable! Very remarkable indeed!” + +“It is more than remarkable,” said Father Humperdinck. “It is highly +suspicious. You observe that the reliquary and the crucifix had been +linked together. Now they are separated, and since both the rings of +the reliquary were unbroken, it follows that the ring of the crucifix +must have been cut through and a new one made, by which to suspend +it.” + +“I don’t see anything particularly suspicious in that,” said +Marchmont. “If Jardine found the two articles fixed together, +and--having failed to discover the owner--wished to give the crucifix +to his friend, it is not unnatural that he should have separated +them.” + +“I do not believe that he found them,” Father Humperdinck replied +doggedly; “but I shall continue my story and you will see. There is +not much more to tell. + +“It seems that the man, Jardine, suspected Foucault of watching him, +for presently he left the gallery in company with the female, and, +after being followed for some distance, he managed to escape. As soon +as Foucault found that he had lost him, he went to Jardine’s house and +waited about the neighbourhood, and an hour or two later he had the +good fortune to see him coming from Hampstead towards Highgate, in +company with another female. He followed them until they entered a +narrow passage or lane that leads up the hill, and when they had gone +up this some distance, he followed, but could not get near enough to +hear what they were saying. + +“And now he had a most strange and terrible experience. For some time +past he had felt a suspicion that some person--some accomplice of +Jardine’s perhaps--was following and watching him; and now he had +proof of it. At the top of the lane, Jardine stopped to talk to the +female, and Foucault crept on tiptoe towards him; and while he was +doing so, he heard someone approaching stealthily up the lane, behind +him. Suddenly, Jardine began to return down the lane. As it was not +convenient for Foucault to meet him there, he also turned and walked +back; and then he heard a sound as if someone were climbing the high +wooden fence that enclosed the lane. Then Jardine began to run, and +Foucault was compelled also to run but he would have been overtaken if +it had not happened that Jardine fell down. + +“Now, just as he heard Jardine fall, he came to a broken place in the +fence, and it occurred to him to creep through the hole and hide while +Jardine passed. He accordingly began to do so, but no sooner had he +thrust his head through the hole than some unseen ruffian dealt him a +violent blow which rendered him instantly insensible. When he +recovered his senses, he found himself lying in a churchyard which +adjoins the lane, but Jardine and the other ruffian were, of course, +nowhere to be seen. + +“And now I come to the last incident that I have to relate. The +assault took place on a Saturday; on the Sunday M. Foucault was +somewhat indisposed and unable to go out, but early on Monday he +resumed his watch on Jardine’s house. It was nearly noon when Jardine +came out, dressed as if for travelling and carrying a valise. He went +first to a house near Piccadilly and from thence to the hospital in a +cab. Foucault followed in another cab and saw him go into the hospital +and waited for him to come out. But he never came. Foucault waited +until midnight, but he did not come out. He had vanished.” + +“He had probably come out by a back exit and gone home,” said +Marchmont. + +“Not so,” replied Humperdinck. “The next day Foucault watched +Jardine’s house, but he did not come there. Then he made enquiries; +but Jardine is not there, and the landlady does not know where he is. +Also the porter at the hospital knows nothing and is not at all +polite. The man Jardine has disappeared as if he had never been.” + +“That really is rather queer,” said Marchmont. “It is a pity that you +did not give me all these particulars at first. However, that can’t be +helped now. Is this all that you have to tell us?” + +“It is all; unless there is anything that you wish to ask me.” + +“I think,” said Thorndyke, “that it would be well for us to have a +description of Mr. Reinhardt; and, as we have to trace him, if +possible, a photograph would be exceedingly useful.” + +“I have not a photograph with me,” said Father Humperdinck, “but I +will obtain one and send it to you. Meanwhile I will tell you what my +friend Vitalis is like. He is sixty-two years of age, spare, upright, +rather tall--his height is a hundred and seventy-three centimetres--” + +“Roughly five feet nine,” interposed Thorndyke. + +“His hair is nearly white, he is, of course, clean shaven, he has grey +eyes, a straight nose, not very prominent, and remarkably good teeth +for his age, which he shows somewhat when he talks. I think he is a +little vain about his teeth and he well may be, for there are not many +men of sixty-two who have not a single false tooth, nor even one that +has been stopped by the dentist. As to his clothing, he wears the +ordinary dress of a lay brother, which you are probably familiar with, +and he nearly always wears gloves, even indoors.” + +“Is there any reason for his wearing gloves?” Thorndyke asked. + +“Not now. The habit began when he had some affliction of the skin, +which made it necessary for him to keep his hands covered with gloves +which contained some ointment or dressing, and afterwards for a time +to conceal the disagreeable appearance of the skin. The habit having +been once formed, he continued it, saying that his hands were more +comfortable covered up than when exposed to the air.” + +“Was he dressed in this fashion when he called at your office, +Marchmont?” asked Thorndyke. + +“Yes. Even to the gloves. I noticed, with some surprise, that he did +not take them off even when he wrote and signed the note of which I +told you.” + +“Was he then wearing the reliquary and crucifix as Father Humperdinck +has described, on the front of his waistcoat?” + +“He may have been, but I didn’t notice them, as I fancy I should have +done if they had been there.” + +“And you have nothing more to tell us, Father Humperdinck, as to your +friend’s personal appearance?” + +“No. I will send you the photograph and write to you if I think of +anything that I have forgotten. And now, perhaps you can tell me if +you think that you will be able to answer those questions that Mr. +Marchmont put to you.” + +“I cannot, of course, answer them now,” replied Thorndyke. “The facts +that you have given us will have to be considered and compared, and +certain enquiries will have to be made. Are you staying long in +England?” + +“I shall be here for at least a month; and I may as well leave you my +address, although Mr. Marchmont has it.” + +“In the course of a month,” Thorndyke said, as he took the proffered +card, “I think I may promise you that we shall have settled definitely +whether your friend is alive or dead; and if we find that he is alive, +we shall, no doubt, be able to ascertain his whereabouts.” + +“That is very satisfactory,” said Father Humperdinck. “I hope you +shall be able to make good your promise.” + +With this he rose, and, having shaken hands stiffly with Thorndyke, +bestowed on Jervis and me a ceremonious bow and moved towards the +door. I thought that Marchmont looked a little wistful, as if he would +have liked to stay and have a few words with us alone; indeed, he +lingered for a moment or two after the door was open, but then, +apparently altering his mind, he wished us “good-night” and followed +his client. + + + + + CHAPTER XVII. + THE PALIMPSEST + +It was getting late when our friends left us, but nevertheless, as +soon as they were gone, we all drew our chairs up to the fire with the +obvious intention of discussing the situation and began, with one +accord, to fill our pipes. Jervis was the first to get his tobacco +alight, and, having emitted a voluminous preliminary puff, he +proceeded to open the debate. + +“That man, Jardine, seems to be a pretty desperate character. Just +think of his actually wallowing in the mire--not merely rolling, mind +you, but wallowing--and of his repulsive habit of consorting with +females; one after the other, too, in rapid succession. It’s a +shocking instance of depravity.” + +“Our reverend friend,” said Thorndyke, “reaches his conclusions by a +rather short route--in some cases, at least; in others, his methods +seem a little indirect and roundabout.” + +“Yes,” agreed Jervis, “he’s a devil at guessing. But he didn’t get +much food for the imagination out of the man, Thorndyke. Why were you +so extraordinarily secretive? With what he told you and what you knew +before, you could surely have suggested a line of inquiry. Why didn’t +you?” + +“Principally because of the man’s personality. I could not have +answered his questions; I could only have suggested one or two highly +probable solutions of the problem that he offered and partial +solutions at that. But I am not much addicted to giving partial +solutions or to handing over the raw material of a promising inquiry. +Certainly, not to a man like this, who seems incapable of a +straightforward action.” + +“The reverend father,” said Jervis, “does certainly seem to be a +rather unnecessarily downy bird. And he doesn’t seem to have got much +by his excessive artfulness, after all.” + +“No,” agreed Thorndyke; “nothing whatever. Quite the contrary, in +fact. Look at his ridiculous conduct in respect of ‘the man Jardine.’ +I don’t complain of his having taken the precaution to obtain that +malefactor’s address; but, when he had got it, if he had not been so +tortuous, so eager to be cunning; if, in short, he had behaved like an +ordinary sensible man, he would have got, at once, all the information +that Jardine had to give. He could have called on Jardine, written to +him, employed a lawyer or applied to the police. Either of these +simple and obvious plans would have been successful; instead of which, +he must needs go to the trouble and expense of engaging this absurd +spy.” + +“Who found a mare’s nest and got his head thumped,” remarked Jervis. + +“Then,” continued Thorndyke, “look at his behaviour to Marchmont. +Evidently he put the case into Marchmont’s hands, but, equally +evident, he withheld material facts and secretly tinkered at the case +himself. No, Jervis, I give no information to Father Humperdinck until +I have this case complete to the last rivet. But, all the same, I am +greatly obliged to him, and especially to Marchmont for bringing him +here. He has given us a connected story to collate with our rather +loose collection of facts and, what is perhaps more important, he has +put our investigation on a business footing. That is a great +advantage. If I should want to invoke the aid of the powers that be, I +can do so now with a definite _locus standi_ as the legal +representative of interested parties.” + +“I can’t imagine,” said I, “in what direction you are going to push +your inquiries. Father Humperdinck has given us, as you say, a +connected story, but it is a very unexpected one, to me, at least, and +does not fall into line at all with what we know--that is, if you are +assuming, as I have been, that the man whom I saw lying in Millfield +Lane was Vitalis Reinhardt.” + +“It is difficult,” replied Thorndyke, “to avoid that assumption, +though we must be on our guard against coincidences; but the man whom +you saw agreed with the description that has been given to us, we know +that Reinhardt was in the neighbourhood on that day, and you found the +reliquary on the following morning in the immediate vicinity. We seem +to be committed to the hypothesis that the man was Reinhardt unless we +can prove that he was someone else, or that Reinhardt was in some +other place at the time; which at present we cannot.” + +“Then,” said I, “in that case, the Bobby must have been right, after +all. The man couldn’t have been dead, seeing that he called on +Marchmont the following day and was afterwards traced to Paris. But I +must say that he looked as dead as Queen Anne. It just shows how +careful one ought to be in giving opinions.” + +“Some authority has said,” remarked Jervis, “that the only conclusive +proof of death is decomposition. I believe it was old Taylor who said +so, and I am inclined to think that he wasn’t far wrong.” + +“But,” said Thorndyke, “assuming that the man whom you saw was +Reinhardt, and that he was not dead how do you explain the other +circumstances? Was he insensible from the effects of injury or drugs? +Or was he deliberately shamming insensibility? Was it he who passed +over the fence? and if so, did he climb over unassisted or was he +helped over? And what answers do you suggest to the questions that +Marchmont propounded? You answer his first question: ‘Is Reinhardt +alive?’ in the affirmative. What about the others?” + +“As to where he is,” I replied, “I can only say, the Lord knows; +probably skulking somewhere on the Continent. As to his state of mind, +the facts seem to suggest that, in vulgar parlance, he has gone off +his onion. He must be as mad as a hatter to have behaved in the way +that he has. For, even assuming that he wanted to get clear of the +Poor Brothers of Saint Jeremiah Diddler without explicitly saying so, +he adopted a fool’s plan. There is no sense in masquerading as a +corpse one day and turning up smiling at your lawyer’s office the +next. If he meant to be dead, he should have stuck to it and remained +dead.” + +“The objection to that,” said Jervis, “is that Marchmont would have +proceeded to get permission to presume death and administer the will.” + +“I see. Then I can only suppose that he had got infected by Father +Humperdinck and resolved to be artful at all costs and hang the +consequences.” + +“Then,” said Thorndyke, “I understand your view to be that Reinhardt +is at present hiding somewhere on the Continent and that his mind is +more or less affected.” + +“Yes. Though as to his being unfit to control his own affairs, I am +not so clear. I fancy there was more evidence in that direction when +he was forking out the bulk of his income to maintain the poverty of +the Poor Brothers. But the truth is, I haven’t any opinions on the +case at all. I am in a complete fog about the whole affair.” + +“And no wonder,” said Jervis. “One set of facts seems to suggest most +strongly that Reinhardt must certainly be dead. Another set of facts +seems to prove beyond doubt that he was alive, at least after that +affair in Millfield Lane. He may be perpetrating an elephantine +practical joke on the Poor Brothers; but that doesn’t seem to be +particularly probable. The whole case is a tangle of contradictions +which one might regard as beyond unravelment if it were not for a +single clear and intelligible fact.” + +“What is that?” I asked. + +“That my revered senior has undertaken to furnish a solution in the +course of a month; from which I gather that my revered senior has +something up his sleeve.” + +“There is nothing up my sleeve,” said Thorndyke, “that might not +equally well be up yours. I have made no separate investigations. The +actual data which I possess were acquired in the presence of one or +both of you, and are now the common property of us all. I am +referring, of course, to the original data, not to fresh matter +obtained by inference from, or further examination of those data.” + +Jervis smiled sardonically. “It is the old story,” said he. “The +magician offers you his hat to inspect. + +“You observe, ladies and gentlemen, that there is no deception. You +can look inside it and examine the lining, and you can also inspect +the top of my head. I now put on my hat. I now take it off again and +you notice that there is a guinea pig sitting in it. There was no +deception, ladies and gentlemen, you had all the data.” + +Thorndyke laughed and shook his head. + +“That’s all nonsense, Jervis,” he said. “It is a false analogy. I have +done nothing to divert your attention. The guinea pig has been staring +you in the face all the time.” + +“Very rude of him,” murmured Jervis. + +“I have even drawn your attention to him once or twice. But, +seriously, I don’t think that this case is so very obscure, though +mind you, it is a mere hypothesis so far as I am concerned, and may +break down completely when I come to apply the tests that I have in +view. But what I mean is, that the facts known to us suggested a very +obvious hypothesis and that the suggestion was offered equally to us +all. The verification may fail, but that is another matter.” + +“Are you going to work at the case immediately?” I asked. + +“No,” Thorndyke replied. “Jervis and I have to attend at the Maidstone +Assizes for the next few days. We are retained on a case which +involves some very important issues in relation to life assurance, and +that will take up most of our time. So this other affair will have to +wait.” + +“And meanwhile,” said Jervis, “you will stay at home like a good boy +and mind the shop; and I suppose we shall have to find you something +to do, to keep you out of mischief. What do you say to making a +longhand transcript of Father Humperdinck’s statement?” + +“Yes, you had better do that,” said Thorndyke; “and attach it to the +original shorthand copy. And now we must really turn in or we shall +never be ready for our start in the morning.” + +The transcription of Father Humperdinck’s statement gave me abundant +occupation for the whole of the following morning. But when that was +finished, I was without any definite employment, and, though I was not +in the least dull--for I was accustomed to a solitary life--I suppose +I was in that state of susceptibility to mischief that is proverbially +associated with unemployment. And in these untoward circumstances I +was suddenly exposed to a great temptation; and after some feeble +efforts at resistance, succumbed ignominiously. + +I shall offer no excuses for my conduct nor seek in any way to +mitigate the judgment that all discreet persons will pass upon my +folly. I make no claims to discretion or to the caution and foresight +of a man like Thorndyke. At this time I was an impulsive and rather +heedless young man, and my actions were pretty much those which might +have been expected from a person of such temperament. + +The voice of the tempter issued in the first place from our +letter-box, and assumed the sound of the falling of letters thereinto. +I hastened to extract the catch, and sorting out the envelopes, +selected one, the superscription of which was in Sylvia’s now familiar +handwriting. It was actually addressed to Dr. Thorndyke, but a private +mark, on which we had agreed, exposed that naïvely pious fraud and +gave me the right to open it; which I did, and seated myself in the +armchair to enjoy its perusal at my ease. + +It was a delightful letter; bright, gossipy and full of frank and +intimate friendliness. As I read it, the trim, graceful figure and +pretty face of the writer rose before me and made me wonder a little +discontentedly how long it would be before I should look on her and +hear her voice again. It was now getting into the third week since I +had last seen her, and, as the time passed, I was feeling more and +more how great a blank in my life the separation from her had caused. +Our friendship had grown up in a quiet and unsensational fashion and I +suppose I had not realized all that it meant; but I was realizing it +now; and, as I conned over her letter, with its little personal notes +and familiar turns of expression, I began to be consumed with a desire +to see her, to hear her speak, to tell her that she was not as other +women to me, and to claim a like special place in her thoughts. + +It was towards the end of the letter that the tempter spoke out in +clear and unmistakable language, and these were the words that he +used, through the medium of the innocent and unconscious Sylvia: + +“You remember those sketches that you stole for me--‘pinched,’ I think +was your own expression. Well, I have cleaned off the daubs of paint +with which they had been disfigured and put them in rough frames in my +studio. All but one; and I began on that yesterday with a scraper and +a rag dipped in chloroform. But I took off, not only the defacing +marks but part of the surface as well; and then I got such a surprise! +I shan’t tell you what the surprise was, because you’ll see, when you +come out of the house of bondage. I am going to work on it again +to-morrow, and perhaps I shall get the transformation finished. How I +wish you could come and see it done! It takes away more than half the +joy of exploration not to be able to share the discovery with you; in +fact, I have a good mind to leave it unfinished so that we can +complete the transformation together.” + +Now, I need not say that, as to the precious sketches, I cared not a +fig what was under the top coat of paint. What I did care for was that +this dear maid was missing me as I missed her; was wanting my sympathy +with her little interests and pleasures and was telling me, half +unconsciously, perhaps, that my absence had created a blank in her +life, as her absence had in mine. And forthwith I began to ask myself +whether there was really any good reason why I should not, just for +this once, break out of my prison and snatch a few brief hours of +sunshine. The spy had been exploded. He was not likely to pick up my +tracks after all this time and now that my appearance was so altered; +and I did not care much if he did, seeing that he had been shown to be +perfectly harmless. The only circumstance that tended to restrain me +from this folly was the one that mitigated its rashness--the change in +my appearance; and even that, now that I was used to it and knew that +my aspect was neither grotesque nor ridiculous, had little weight, for +Sylvia would be prepared for the change and we could enjoy the joke +together. + +I was aware, even at the time, that I was not being quite candid with +myself, for, if I had been, I should obviously have consulted +Thorndyke. Instead of which I answered the letter by return, +announcing my intention of coming to tea on the following day; and +having sent Polton out to post it, spent the remainder of the +afternoon in gleeful anticipation of my little holiday, tempered by +some nervousness as to what Thorndyke would have to say on the matter, +and as to what “my pretty friend,” as Mrs. Samway had very +appropriately called her, would think of my having begun my letter +with the words, “My dear Sylvia.” + +Nothing happened to interfere with my nefarious plans. + +On the following morning, Thorndyke and Jervis went off after an early +breakfast, leaving me in possession of the premises and master of my +actions. I elected to anticipate the usual luncheon time by half an +hour, and, when this meal was disposed of, I crept to my room and +thoroughly cleansed my hair of the grease which Polton still persisted +in applying to it; for, since my hat would conceal it while I was out +of doors, the added disfigurement was unnecessary. I was even tempted +to tamper slightly with my eyebrows, but this impulse I nobly +resisted; and, having dried my hair and combed it in its normal +fashion, I descended on tip-toe to the sitting-room and wrote a short, +explanatory note to Polton, which I left conspicuously on the table. +Then I switched the door-bell on to the laboratory, and, letting +myself out like a retreating burglar, closed the door silently and +sneaked away down the dark staircase. + +Once fairly outside, I went off like a lamplighter, and, shooting out +through the Tudor Street gate, made my way eastward to Broad Street +Station, where I was fortunate enough to catch a train that was just +on the point of starting. At Hampstead Heath Station I got out, and, +snuffing the air joyfully, set forth at my best pace up the slope that +leads to the summit; and in little over twenty minutes found myself at +the gate of “The Hawthorns.” + +There was no need to knock or ring. My approach had been observed from +the window, and, as I strode up the garden path, the door opened and +Sylvia ran out to meet me. + +“It _was_ nice of you to come!” she exclaimed, as I took her hand and +held it in mine. “I don’t believe you ought to have ventured out, but +I am most delighted all the same. Don’t make a noise; Mopsy is having +a little doze in the drawing room. Come into the morning room and let +me have a good look at you.” + +I followed her meekly into the front room, where, in the large bay +window, she inspected me critically, her cheeks dimpling with a +mischievous smile. + +“There’s something radically wrong about your eyebrows,” she said, +“but, really, you are not in the least the fright that you made out. +As to the beard and moustache, I am not sure that I don’t rather like +them.” + +“I hope you don’t,” I replied, “because, off they come at the first +opportunity--unless, of course, you forbid it.” + +“Does my opinion of your appearance matter so much then?” + +“It matters entirely. I don’t care what I look like to anyone else.” + +“Oh! what a fib!” exclaimed Sylvia. “Don’t I remember how very neatly +turned out you always were when you used to pass me in the lane before +we knew one another?” + +“Exactly,” I retorted. “We didn’t know one another then. That makes +all the difference in the world--to me, at any rate.” + +“Does it?” she said, colouring a little and looking at me +thoughtfully. “It’s very--very flattering of you to say so, Dr. +Jardine.” + +“I hope you don’t mean that as a snub,” I said, rather uneasy at the +form of her reply and thinking of my letter. + +“A snub!” she exclaimed. “No, I certainly don’t. What did I say?” + +“You called me Dr. Jardine. I addressed you in my letter as +‘Sylvia’--‘My dear Sylvia.’” + +“And what ought I to have said?” she asked, blushing warmly and +casting down her eyes. + +“Well, Sylvia, if you liked me as well as I like you, I don’t see why +you shouldn’t call me Humphrey. We are quite old friends now.” + +“So we are,” she agreed; “and perhaps it _would_ be less formal. So +Humphrey it shall be in future, since that is your royal command. But +tell me, how did you prevail on Dr. Thorndyke to let you come here? Is +there any change in the situation?” + +“There’s a change in my situation, and a mighty agreeable change, too. +I’m here.” + +“Now don’t be silly. How did you persuade Dr. Thorndyke to let you +come?” + +“Ha--that, my dear Sylvia, is a rather embarrassing question. Shall we +change the subject?” + +“No, we won’t.” She looked at me suspiciously for a moment and then +exclaimed in low, tragical tones: + +“Humphrey! You don’t mean to tell me that you came away without his +knowledge!” + +“I’m afraid that is what it amounts to. I saw a loop-hole and I popped +through it; and here I am, as I remarked before.” + +“But how dreadful of you! Perfectly shocking! And whatever will he say +to you when you go back?” + +“That is a question that I am not proposing to present vividly to my +consciousness until I arrive on the doorstep. I’ve broken out of choky +and I’m going to have a good time--to go on having a good time, I +should say.” + +“Then you consider that you are having a good time now?” + +“I don’t consider. I am sure of it. Am I not, at this very moment +looking at you? And what more could a man desire?” + +She tried to look severe, though the attempt was not strikingly +successful, and retorted in an admonishing tone: + +“You needn’t try to wheedle me with compliments. You are a very wicked +person and most indiscreet. But it seems to me that some sort of +change has come over you since you retired from the world. Don’t you +think I’m right?” + +“You’re perfectly right. I’ve improved. That’s what it is. Matured and +mellowed, you know, like a bottle of claret that has been left in a +cellar and forgotten. Say you think I’ve improved, Sylvia.” + +“I won’t,” she replied, and then, changing her mind, she added: “Yes, +I will. I’ll say that you are more insinuating than ever, if that will +do. And now, as you are clearly quite incorrigible, I won’t scold you +any more, especially as you ‘broke out of choky’ to come and see me. +You shall tell me all about your adventures.” + +“I didn’t come here to talk about myself, Sylvia. I came to tell you +something--well, about myself, perhaps, but--er--not my adventures you +know or--or that sort of thing--but, I have been thinking a good deal, +since I have been alone so much--about you, I mean, Sylvia--and--er-- +Oh! the deuce!” + +The latter exclamation was evoked by the warning voice of the gong, +evidently announcing tea, and the subsequent appearance of the +housemaid; who was certainly not such a goose as she was supposed to +be, for she tapped discreetly at the door and waited three full +seconds before entering; and even then she appeared demurely +unconscious of my existence. + +“If you please, Miss Sylvia, Miss Vyne has woke up and I’ve taken in +the tea.” + +Such was the paltry interruption that arrested the flow of my +eloquence and scattered my flowers of rhetoric to the winds. I +murmured inwardly, “Blow the tea!” for the opportunity was gone; but I +comforted myself with the reflection that it didn’t matter very much, +since Sylvia and I seemed to have arrived at a pretty clear +understanding; which understanding was further clarified by a +momentary contact of our hands as we followed the maid to the +drawing-room. Miss Vyne was on this occasion, as on the last, seated +in the exact centre of the room, and with the same monumental effect; +so that my thoughts were borne irresistibly to the ethnographical +section of the British Museum and especially to that part of it +wherein the deities of Polynesia look out from their cases in +perennial surprise at the degenerate European visitors. If she had +been asleep previously, she was wide enough awake now; but the +glittering eyes were not directed at me. From the moment of our +entering the room they focussed themselves on Sylvia’s face and there +remained rivetted, whereby the heightening of that young lady’s +complexion, which our interview had produced, became markedly +accentuated. It was to no purpose that I placed myself before the +rigid figure and offered my hand. A paw was lifted automatically to +mine, but the eyes remained fixed on Sylvia. + +“What did you say this gentleman’s name was?” the waxwork asked +frigidly. + +“This is Dr. Jardine,” was the reply. + +“Oh, indeed. And who was the gentleman who called some three weeks +ago?” + +“Why, that was Dr. Jardine; you know it was.” + +“So I thought, but my memory is not very reliable. And this is a Dr. +Jardine, too? Very interesting. A medical family, apparently. But not +much alike.” + +I was beginning to explain my identity and the cause of my altered +appearance, when Sylvia approached with a cup of tea and a carefully +dissected muffin, which latter she thrust under the nose of the elder +lady; who regarded it attentively and with a slight squint, owing to +its nearness. + +“It’s of no use, you know,” said Sylvia, “for you to pretend that you +don’t know him, because I’ve told you all about the +transformation--that is, all I know myself. Don’t you think it’s +rather a clever make-up?” + +“If,” said Miss Vyne, “by ‘make-up’ you mean a disguise, I think it is +highly successful. The beard is a most admirable imitation.” + +“Oh, the beard is his own; at least, I think it is.” + +I confirmed this statement, ignoring Polton’s slight additions. + +“Indeed,” said Miss Vyne. “Then the wig--it is a wig, I suppose?” + +“No, of course it isn’t,” Sylvia replied. + +“Then,” said Miss Vyne, majestically, “perhaps you will explain to me +what the disguise consists of.” + +“Well,” said Sylvia, “there are the eyebrows. You can see that they +have been completely altered in shape.” + +“If I had committed the former shape of the eyebrows to memory, as you +appear to have done,” said Miss Vyne, “I should, no doubt, observe the +change. But I did not. It seems to me that the disguise which you told +me about with such a flourish of trumpets just amounts to this; that +Dr. Jardine has allowed his beard to grow. I find the reality quite +disappointing.” + +“Do you?” said Sylvia. “But, at any rate, you didn’t recognize him; so +your disappointment doesn’t count for much.” + +The old lady, being thus hoist with her own petard, relapsed into +majestic silence; and Sylvia then renewed her demand for an account of +my adventures. + +“We want to hear all about that objectionable person who has been +shadowing you, and how you finally got rid of him. Your letters were +rather sketchy and wanting in detail, so you have got to make up the +deficiency now.” + +Thus commanded, I plunged into an exhaustive account of those events +which I have already chronicled at length and which I need not refer +to again, nor need I record the cross-examination to which I was +subjected, since it elicited nothing that is not set forth in the +preceding pages. When I had finished my recital, however, Miss Vyne, +who had listened to it in silence, hitherto, put a question which I +had some doubts about answering. + +“Have you or Dr. Thorndyke been able to discover who this inquisitive +person is and what is his object in following you about?” + +I hesitated. As to my own experiences, I had no secrets from these +friends of mine, excepting those that related to the subjects of +Thorndyke’s investigations, but I must not come here and babble about +what took place in the sacred precincts of my principal’s chambers. + +“I think I may tell you,” said I, “that Dr. Thorndyke has discovered +the identity of this man and that he is not the person whom we +suspected him to be. But I mustn’t say any more, as the information +came through professional channels and consequently is not mine to +give.” + +“Of course you mustn’t,” said Sylvia; “though I don’t mind admitting +that you have put me on tenterhooks of curiosity. But I daresay you +will be able to tell us everything later.” + +I agreed that I probably should; and the talk then turned into fresh +channels. + +The short winter day was running out apace. The daylight had long +since gone, and I began, with infinite reluctance, to think of +returning to my cage. Indeed, when I looked at my watch, I was +horrified to see how the time had fled. + +“My word!” I exclaimed. “I must be off, or Thorndyke will be putting +the sleuth-hounds of the law on my track. And I don’t know what you +will think of me for having stayed such an unconscionable time.” + +“It isn’t a ceremonial visit,” said Sylvia, as I rose and made my +adieux to her aunt. “We should have liked you to stay much longer.” + +Here she paused suddenly, and, clasping her hands, gazed at me with an +expression of dismay. + +“Good Heavens! Humphrey!” she exclaimed. + +“Eh?” said Miss Vyne. + +“I was addressing Dr. Jardine,” Sylvia explained, in some confusion. + +“I didn’t suppose you were addressing me,” was the withering reply. + +“Do you know,” said Sylvia, “that I haven’t shown you those sketches, +after all. You must see them. They were the special object of your +visit.” + +This was perfectly untrue, and she knew it; but I did not think it +worth while to contest the statement in Miss Vyne’s presence. +Accordingly I expressed the utmost eagerness to see the trumpery +sketches, and the more so since I had understood that they were on +view in the studio; which turned out to be the case. + +“It won’t take a minute for you to see them,” said Sylvia. “I’ll just +run up and light the gas; and you are not to come in until I tell +you.” + +She preceded me up the stairs to the little room on the first floor in +which she worked, and, when I had waited a few moments on the landing +she summoned me to enter. + +“These are the sketches,” said she, “that I have finished. You see, +they are quite presentable now. I cleaned off the rough daubs of paint +with a scraper and finished up with a soft rag dipped in chloroform.” + +I ran my eye over the framed sketches, which, now that the canvases +were strained on stretchers and the disfiguring brush-strokes removed, +were, as she had said, quite presentable, though too rough and +unfinished to be attractive. + +“I daresay they are very interesting,” said I, “but they are only bare +beginnings. I shouldn’t have thought them worth framing.” + +“Not as pictures,” she agreed; “but as examples of a very curious +technique, I find them most instructive. However, you haven’t seen the +real gem of the collection. This is it, on the easel. Sit down, on the +chair and say when you are ready. I’m going to give you a surprise.” + +I seated myself on the chair opposite the easel, on which was a canvas +with its back towards me. + +“Now,” said Sylvia. “Are you ready? One, two, three!” + +She picked up the canvas, and, turning it round quickly, presented its +face to me. I don’t know what I had expected--if I had expected +anything; but certainly I was not in the least prepared for what I +saw. The sketch had originally represented, very roughly, a dark mass +of trees which occupied nearly the whole of the canvas; but of this +the middle had been cleaned away, exposing an under painting. And this +it was that filled me with such amazement that, after a first startled +exclamation, I could do nothing but stare open-mouthed at the canvas; +for, from the opening in the dark mass of foliage there looked out at +me, distinct and unmistakable, the face of Mrs. Samway. + +It was no illusion or chance resemblance. Rough as the painting was, +the likeness was excellent. All the well-known features which made her +so different from other women were there, though expressed by a mere +dextrous turn of the knife; the jet-black, formally-parted hair, the +clear, bright complexion, the pale, inscrutable eyes; all were there, +even to the steady, penetrating expression that looked out at me from +the canvas as if in silent recognition. As I sat staring at the +picture with a surprise that almost amounted to awe, Sylvia looked at +me a little blankly. + +“Well!” she exclaimed, at length, “I meant to give you a surprise, +but--what is it, Humphrey? Do you know her?” + +“Yes,” I replied; “and so do you. Don’t you remember a woman who +looked in at you through the glass door of Robinson’s shop?” + +“Do you mean that black and scarlet creature? I didn’t recognize her. +I had no idea she was so handsome; for this is really a very beautiful +face, though there is something about it that I don’t understand. +Something--well eerie; rather uncanny and almost sinister. Don’t you +think so?” + +“I have always thought her a rather weird woman, but this is the +weirdest appearance she has made. How on earth came her face on that +canvas?” + +“It _is_ an odd coincidence. And yet I don’t know that it is. She may +have been some relative of that rather eccentric artist, or even his +wife. I don’t know why it shouldn’t be so.” + +Neither did I. But the coincidence remained a very striking one, to +me, at least; much more so than Sylvia realized; though what its +significance might be--if it had any--I could not guess. Nor was there +any opportunity to discuss it at the moment, for it was high time for +me to be gone. + +“You will send me a telegram when you get back, to say that you have +arrived home safely, won’t you,” said Sylvia, as we descended the +stairs with our arms linked together. “Of course nothing is going to +happen to you, but I can’t help feeling a little nervous. And you’ll +go down to the station by the High Street, and keep to the main roads. +That is a promise, isn’t it?” + +I made the promise readily having decided previously to take every +possible precaution, and, when I had wished Sylvia “good-bye” at some +length, I proceeded to execute it; making my way down the +well-populated High Street and keeping a bright look-out both there +and at the station. Once more I was fortunate in the matter of trains, +and, having taken a hansom from Broad Street to the Temple, was set +down in King’s Bench Walk soon after half-past six. + +As I approached our building, I looked up with some anxiety at the +sitting-room windows; and when I saw them brightly lighted, a +suspicion that Thorndyke had returned earlier than usual filled me +with foreboding. I had had my dance and now I was going to pay the +piper, and I did not much enjoy the prospect; in fact, as I ascended +the stairs and took my latch-key from my pocket, I was as nervous as a +school-boy who has been playing truant. However, there was no escape +unless I sneaked up to my bed-room, so, inserting the key into the +lock, I turned it as boldly as I could, and entered. + + + + + CHAPTER XVIII. + A VISITOR FROM THE STATES + +As I pushed open the inner door and entered the room I conceived the +momentary hope of a reprieve from the wrath to come, for I found my +two friends in what was evidently a business consultation with a +stranger, and was on the point of backing out when Thorndyke stopped +me. + +“Don’t run away, Howard,” said he. “There are no secrets being +disclosed--at least, I think not. We have finished with your affairs, +Mr. O’Donnell, haven’t we?” + +“Yes, doctor,” was the answer; “you’ve run me dry with the exception +of your own little business.” + +“Then, come in and sit down, Howard, and let me present you to Mr. +O’Donnell who is a famous American detective and has been telling us +all sorts of wonderful things.” + +Mr. O’Donnell paused in the act of returning a quantity of papers to a +large attaché case and offered his hand. + +“The doctor,” he remarked, “is blowing his trumpet at the wrong end. I +haven’t come here to give information but to get advice. But I guess I +needn’t tell you that.” + +“I hope that isn’t quite true,” said Thorndyke. “You spoke just now of +my little business; haven’t you anything to tell me?” + +“I have; but I fancy it isn’t what you wanted to hear. However, we’ll +just have a look at your letter to Curtis and take your questions one +by one. By the way, what made you write to Curtis?” + +“I saw, when I inspected Maddock’s will at Somerset House, that he had +left a small legacy to Curtis. Naturally, I inferred that Curtis knew +him and could give me some account of him.” + +“It struck you as a bit queer, I reckon, that he should be leaving a +legacy to the head of an American detective agency.” + +“The circumstance suggested possibilities,” Thorndyke admitted. + +O’Donnell laughed. “I can guess what possibilities suggested +themselves to you, if you knew Maddock. Your letter and the lawyer’s, +announcing the legacy, came within a mail or two of one another. +Curtis showed them both to me and we grinned. We took it for granted +that the worthy testator was foxing. But we were wrong. And so are +you, if that is what you thought.” + +“You assumed that the will was not a genuine one?” + +“Yes; we thought it was a fake, put up with the aid of some shyster to +bluff us into giving up Mr. Maddock as deceased. So, as I had to come +across about these other affairs, Curtis suggested that I should look +into the matter. And a considerable surprise I got when I did; for the +will is perfectly regular and so is everything else. That legacy was a +sort of posthumous joke, I guess.” + +“Then do I understand that Mr. Curtis was not really a friend of +Maddock’s?” + +O’Donnell chuckled. “Not exactly a friend, doctor,” said he. “He felt +the warmest interest in Maddock’s welfare, but they weren’t what you +might call bosom friends. The position was this: Curtis was the chief +of our detective agency; Maddock was a gentleman whom he had been +looking for and not finding for a matter of ten years. At last he +found him; and then he lost him again; and this legacy, I take it, was +a sort of playful hint to show which hole he’d gone down.” + +“Was Maddock in hiding all that time?” asked Thorndyke. + +“In hiding!” repeated O’Donnell. “Bless your innocent heart, doctor, +he had a nice convenient studio in one of the best blocks in New York +a couple of doors from our agency, and he used to send us cards for +his private views. No, sir, our dear departed friend wasn’t the kind +that lurks out of sight in cellars or garrets. It was Maddock, sure +enough, that Curtis wanted, only he didn’t know it. But I guess I’m +fogging you. I’d better answer the questions that you put to Curtis. + +“First, do we know anything about Maddock? Yes, we do. But we didn’t +know that his name was Maddock until a few months ago. Isaac Vandamme +was the name we knew him by, and it seems that he had one or two other +names that he used on occasion. We now know that the gay Isaac was a +particularly versatile kind of crook, and a mighty uncommon kind, too, +the Lord be praised; for, if there were many more like him we should +have to raise our prices some. He wasn’t the kind of fool that makes a +million dollar coup and then goes on the razzle and drops it all. That +sort of man is easy enough to deal with. When he’s loaded up with +dollars everybody knows it, and he’s sure to be back in a week or two +with empty pockets, ready for another scoop. Isaac wasn’t that sort. +When he made a little pile, he invested his winnings like a sensible +man and didn’t live beyond his means; and the only mystery to me is +that, when he died, he didn’t leave more pickings. I see from his +will--which I’ve had a look at--that the whole estate couldn’t have +been above five thousand dollars. He had a lot more than that at one +time.” + +“He may have disposed of the bulk of his property by gift just before +his death,” Jervis suggested. + +“That’s possible,” agreed O’Donnell. “He’d escape the death dues that +way. However, to return to his engaging little ways. His leading line +was penmanship--forgery--and he did it to an absolute finish. He was +the most expert penman that I have ever known. But where he had us all +was that he didn’t only know _how_ to write another man’s name; he +knew _when_ to write it. I reckon that the great bulk of his forgeries +were never spotted at all, and, of the remainder very few got beyond +the bare suspicion that they _were_ forgeries. In the case of the few +that were actually spotted as forgeries, his tracks were covered up so +cleverly that no one could guess who the forger was.” + +“And how did you come to suspect him eventually?” Thorndyke asked. + +“Ah!” said O’Donnell. “There you are. Every crook--even the +cleverest--has a strain of the fool in him. Isaac’s folly took the +form of suspicion. He suspected us of suspecting him. We didn’t; but +he thought we did, and then he started to dodge and make some false +clues for us. That drew our attention to him. We looked into his +record, traced his little wanderings and then we began to find things +out. A nice collection there was, too, by the time we had worked a +month or two at his biography; forgeries, false notes, and, at least, +two murders that had been a complete mystery to us all. We made ready +to drop on Isaac, but, at that psychological moment, he disappeared. +It looked as if he had left the States, and, as we have no great +affection for extradition cases, we let the matter rest, more or less, +expecting that he would turn up again, sooner or later. And then came +this lawyer’s letter and yours, announcing his decease. Of course +Curtis and I thought he was at the old game; that it was a bit of that +sort of extra caution that won’t let well alone. So, as I was coming +over, I thought I’d just look into the affair as I told you; and, to +my astonishment, I found everything perfectly regular; the will +properly proved, the death certificate made out correctly and a second +certificate signed by two doctors.” + +“Did you go into the question of identity?” asked Thorndyke. + +“Oh, yes. I called on one of the doctors, a man named Batson, and +ascertained that it was all correct. Batson’s eyesight seemed to be +none of the best, but he made it quite clear to me that his late +patient was certainly our friend Isaac, or Maddock. So that’s the end +of the case. And if you want to go into it any further you’ve got to +deal with a little pile of bone ash, for our friend is not only dead; +he’s cremated. That’s enough for us. We don’t follow our clients to +the next world. We are not so thorough as you seem to be.” + +“You are flattering me unduly,” said Thorndyke. “I’m not so thorough +as that; but our clients, when they betake themselves to the happy +hunting-ground, usually leave a few of their friends behind to +continue their activities. Do you happen to know what Maddock’s +original occupation was? Had he any profession?” + +“He was originally an engraver, and a very skilful engraver, too, I +understand. That was what made him so handy in working the flash note +racket. Then he went on the stage for a time, and didn’t do badly at +that; but I fancy he was more clever at making-up and mimicry than at +acting in the dramatic sense. For the last ten years or so he was +practising as a painter--chiefly of landscape, though he could do a +figure subject or a portrait at a pinch. I don’t fancy he sold much, +or made any great efforts to sell his work. He liked painting and the +art covered his real industries, for he used to tour about in search +of subjects and so open up fresh ground for the little operations that +actually produced his income.” + +“Was his work of any considerable merit?” Thorndyke asked. + +“Well, in a way, yes. It was rather in the American taste, though +Maddock was really an Englishman. Our taste, as you know, runs to +technical smartness and novelty of handling; and Maddock’s work was +very peculiar and remarkably smart and slick in handling. He used the +knife more than the brush and he used it uncommonly cleverly. In fact, +he was unusually skilful in many ways; and that’s the really +surprising thing about him, when one considers his +extraordinary-looking paws.” + +“What was there peculiar about his hands?” asked Thorndyke. “Were they +noticeably clumsy in appearance?” + +“Clumsy!” exclaimed O’Donnell. “They were more than that. They were +positively deformed. A monkey’s hands would be delicate compared with +Maddock’s. They were short and thick like the paws of an animal. +There’s some jaw-twisting name for the deformity that he suffered +from; bronchodactilious, or something like that.” + +“Brachydactylous,” suggested Thorndyke. + +“That’s the word; and I daresay you know the sort of paw I mean. It +didn’t look a very likely hand for a first-class penman and engraver +of flash notes, but you can’t always judge by appearances. And now as +to your other questions: You ask what Maddock was like in appearance. +I can only give you the description which I gave to Batson and which +he recognized at once.” + +“Had he noticed the peculiarity of the hands?” enquired Thorndyke. + +“Yes. I asked him about it and he remembered having observed it when +he was attending Maddock. Well, then, our friend was about five feet +nine in height, fairly broad and decidedly strong, of a medium +complexion with grey eyes and darkish brown hair. That’s all I can +tell you about him.” + +“You haven’t got his finger-prints, I suppose?” + +“No. He was never in prison, so we had no chance of getting them.” + +“Was he married?” + +“He had been; but some years ago his wife divorced him, or he divorced +her. Latterly he has lived as a bachelor.” + +“There is nothing else that you can think of as throwing light on his +personality or explaining his actions?” + +“Nothing at all, doctor. I’ve told you all I know about him, and I +only hope the information may be more useful than it looks to me.” + +“Thank you,” said Thorndyke; “your information is not only useful; I +expect to find it quite valuable. Reasoning, you know, Mr. O’Donnell,” +he continued, “is somewhat like building an arch. On a supporting +mould, the builder lays a number of shaped stones, or voussoirs; but +until all the voussoirs are there, it is a mere collection of stones, +incapable of bearing its own weight. Then you drop the last +voussoir--the keystone--into its place, and the arch is complete; and +now you may take away the supports, for it will not only bear its own +weight, but carry a heavy superstructure.” + +“That’s so, doctor,” said O’Donnell. “But, if I may ask, is this all +gratuitous wisdom or has it any particular bearing?” + +“It has this bearing,” replied Thorndyke. “I have myself been, for +some time past, engaged, metaphorically, in the building of an arch. +When you came here to-night, it was but a collection of shaped and +adjusted stones, supported from without. With your kind aid, I have +just dropped the keystone into its place. That is what I mean.” + +The American thoughtfully arranged the papers in his case, casting an +occasional speculative glance at Thorndyke. + +“I’d like to know,” he said presently, “what it was that I told you. +It doesn’t seem to me that I have produced any startling novelties. +However, I know it’s no use trying to squeeze you, so I’ll get back to +my hotel and have a chew at what you’ve told me.” + +He shook hands with us all round, and, when Thorndyke had let him out, +we heard him bustling downstairs and away up King’s Bench Walk towards +Mitre Court. + +For a minute or more after his departure none of us spoke. Thorndyke +was apparently ruminating on his newly-acquired information, and +Jervis and I on the statement that had so naturally aroused the +detective’s curiosity. + +At length Jervis opened the inevitable debate. + +“I begin to see a glimmer of daylight through the case of Septimus +Maddock, deceased,” said he; “but it is only a glimmer. Whereas, from +what you said to O’Donnell, I gather that you have the case quite +complete.” + +“Hardly that, Jervis,” was the reply. “I spoke metaphorically, and +metaphors are sometimes misleading. Perhaps I overstated the case; so +we will drop metaphor and state the position literally in terms of +good, plain, schoolboy logic. It is this: we had certain facts +presented to us in connection with Maddock’s death. For instance, we +observed that the cause of death was obscure, that the body was +utterly destroyed by cremation and that Jardine, who was an unofficial +witness to some of the formalities, was subsequently pursued by some +unknown person with the unmistakable purpose of murdering him. Those +were some of the observed facts; and the explanation of those facts +was the problem submitted to us; that is to say, we had to connect +those facts and supply others by deduction and research, so that they +should form a coherent and intelligible sequence, of which the motive +for murdering Jardine should form a part. + +“Having observed and examined our facts, we next propose a hypothesis +which shall explain them. In this case it would naturally take the +form of a hypothetical reconstruction of the circumstances of +Maddock’s death. That hypothesis must, of course, be in complete +agreement with all the facts known to us, including the attempts to +murder Jardine. Then, having invented a hypothesis which fits our +facts completely, the next stage is to verify it. If the circumstances +of Maddock’s death were such as we have assumed, certain antecedent +events must have occurred and certain conditions must have existed. We +make the necessary inquiries and investigations, and we find that +those events had actually occurred and those conditions had actually +existed. Then it is probable that our hypothesis is correct, +particularly if our researches have brought to light nothing that +disagrees with it. + +“With our new facts we can probably amplify our hypothesis; +reconstruct it in greater detail; and then we have to test and verify +it afresh in its amplified and detailed form. And if such new tests +still yield an affirmative result, the confirmation of the hypothesis +becomes overwhelmingly strong. It is, however, still only hypothesis. +But perhaps we light on some final test which is capable of yielding a +definite answer, yes or no. If we apply that test--the ‘Crucial +Experiment’ of the logicians--and obtain an affirmative result, our +inquiry is at an end. It has passed out of the region of hypothesis +into that of demonstrative proof.” + +“And are we to understand,” asked Jervis, “that you have brought +Maddock’s case to the stage of complete demonstration?” + +“No,” answered Thorndyke. “I am still in the stage of hypothesis; and +when O’Donnell came here to-night there were two points which I had +been unable to verify. But with his aid I have been able to verify +them both, and I now have a complete hypothesis of the case which has +been tested exhaustively and has answered to every test. All that +remains to be done is to apply the touchstone of the final +experiment.” + +“I suppose,” said Jervis, “you have obtained a good many new facts in +the course of your investigations?” + +“Not a great many,” replied Thorndyke; “and what new data I have +obtained, I have, for the most part, communicated to you and Jardine. +I assure you, Jervis, that if you would only concentrate your +attention on the case, you have ample material for a most convincing +and complete elucidation of it.” + +Jervis looked at me with a wry smile. + +“Now, Jardine-Howard,” said he; “why don’t you brush up your wits and +tell us exactly what happened to the late Mr. Maddock and why some +person unknown is so keen on your vile body. You have all the facts, +you know.” + +“So you tell me,” I retorted; “but this case of yours reminds me of +those elaborate picture puzzles that used to weary my juvenile brain. +You had a hatful of irregular-shaped pieces which, if you fitted them +together, made a picture. Only the beggars wouldn’t fit together.” + +“A very apt comparison,” said Thorndyke. “You put the pieces together, +and, if they made no intelligible part of a picture, you knew you were +wrong, no matter how well they seemed to fit. On the other hand, if +they seemed to make parts of a picture you had to verify the result by +finding pieces of the exact shape and size of the empty spaces. That +is what I have been doing in this case; trying the data together and +watching to see if they made the expected picture. As I have told you, +O’Donnell’s visit found me with the picture entire save for two empty +spaces of a particular shape and size; and from him I obtained two +pieces that dropped neatly into those spaces and made the picture +complete. All I have to do now is to see if the picture is a true +representation or only a consistent work of imagination.” + +“I take it that you have worked the case out in pretty full detail,” +said Jervis. + +“Yes. If the final verification is successful I shall be able to tell +you exactly what happened in Maddock’s house, what was the cause of +death--and I may say that it was not that given in the +certificates--who the person is who has been pursuing Jardine and what +is his motive, together with a number of other very curious items of +information. And the mention of that person reminds me that our friend +has been disporting himself in public, contrary to advice and to what +I thought was a definite understanding.” + +“But surely,” I said, “it doesn’t matter now. We have given that spy +chappie the slip, and, even if he hasn’t given up the chase as +hopeless, we know that he is quite harmless.” + +“Harmless!” exclaimed Thorndyke. “Why, my dear fellow, he was your +guardian angel. Didn’t you realize that from Father Humperdinck’s +statement? He shadowed you so closely that no attack on you was +possible; in fact, he actually caught a rap on the head that was +apparently meant for you. You were infinitely safer with him at your +heels than alone.” + +“But we’ve given the other fellow the slip, too,” I urged. + +“We mustn’t take that for granted,” said Thorndyke. “The French +detective, you remember, came on the scene quite recently, whereas the +other man has been with us from the beginning. He probably saw Jervis +and me enter the mineral water works on the night of the fire, for he +was certainly there; and he may even have followed us home to +ascertain who we were. There are several ways in which he could have +connected you with us and traced you here; so I must urge you most +strongly not to venture out of the precincts of the Temple for the +next few days, in fact, it would be much wiser to keep indoors +altogether. It will be only a matter of days unless I get a quite +unexpected set back, for I hope to have the case finally completed in +less than a week; and when I do, I shall take such action as will give +your friend some occupation other than shadowing you.” + +“Very well,” I said. “I will promise not to attempt again to escape +from custody. But, all the same, my little jaunt to-day has not been +entirely without result. I have picked up a new fact, and a rather +curious one, I think. What should you say if I suggested that Mrs. +Samway was the wife of that eccentric artist who used to paint on the +Heath? The man, I mean, who always worked in gloves?” + +“I have assumed that she was in some such relation to him,” replied +Thorndyke, “but I should like to hear the evidence.” + +“Mrs. Samway,” Jervis said in a reflective tone: “isn’t that the +handsome, uncanny-looking lady with the mongoose eyes, who reminded me +of Lucrezia Borgia?” + +“That is the lady. Well, I met with a portrait of her to-day which was +evidently the work of the man with the gloves;” and here I gave them a +description of the portrait and an account of the odd way in which it +had been disinterred from the landscape that had been painted over it, +to which they both listened with close attention. + +“It’s a queer incident,” said Thorndyke, “and quite dramatic. If one +were inclined to be superstitious one might imagine some invisible +agency uncovering the tracks that have been so carefully hidden and +working unseen in the interests of justice. But haven’t you rather +jumped to your conclusion? The existence of the portrait establishes a +connection, but not necessarily that of husband and wife.” + +“I only suggested the relationship; but it seemed a likely one as the +portrait had been painted over and thrown into the rubbish box.” + +Jervis laughed sardonically; and even Thorndyke’s impassive face +relaxed into a smile. + +“Our young friend,” said the former, “doesn’t take as favourable a +view of the married state as one might expect from a gay Lothario who +breaks out of his cage to go a-philandering. But we’ll overlook that, +in consideration of the very interesting information that he has +brought back with him. Not that it conveys very much to me. It is +obviously a new piece to fit into our puzzle, but I’m hanged if I see, +at the moment, any suitable space to drop it into.” + +“I think,” said Thorndyke, “that if you consider the picture as a +whole, you will soon find a vacant space. And while you are +considering it, I will just send off a letter, and then we had better +adjourn this discussion. We have to catch the early train to Maidstone +to-morrow, and that, I hope, will be the last time. Our case ought to +be disposed of by the afternoon.” + +He seated himself at the writing-table and wrote his letter, while +Jervis stared into the fire with a cogitative frown. When the letter +was sealed and addressed, Thorndyke laid it on the table while he went +to the lobby to put on his hat and coat, and, glancing at it almost +unconsciously, I noted that the envelope was of foolscap size and was +addressed to the Home Office, Whitehall. The name of the addressee +escaped me, for, suddenly realizing the impropriety of thus inspecting +another man’s letter, I looked away hastily; but even then, when +Thorndyke had taken it away to the post, I found myself speculating +vaguely on the nature of the communication and wondering if it had any +relation to the mysterious and intricate case of Septimus Maddock. + + + + + CHAPTER XIX. + TENEBRAE + +The resigned composure with which I accepted Thorndyke’s sentence of +confinement within doors was not entirely attributable to discretion +or native virtue. My resolution to follow scrupulously my principal’s +very pointed advice was somewhat like the ascetic resolutions formed +by the gourmet as he rises replete from the banquet table; for, just +as the latter is in a peculiarly favourable condition for the unmoved +contemplation of a--temporary--abstinence from food, so I, having +enjoyed my little dissipation, could now contemplate with fortitude a +brief period of retirement. Moreover, the weather was in my favour, +being--as Polton reported, when he returned, blue-nosed and powdered +with snow, with a fresh supply of tobacco for me--bitterly cold, with +a threatening of smoky fog from the east. + +Under these circumstances it was no great hardship to sit in a roomy +armchair with my slippered feet on the kerb and read and meditate as I +basked in the warmth of a glowing fire; though, to be sure, my reading +was perfunctory enough, for the treatise of “The Surface Markings of +the Human Body,” admirable as it was, competed on very unfavourable +terms with other claimants to my attention. In truth, I had plenty to +think about even if I went no farther for matter than to the events of +the previous day. There was my visit to Sylvia, for instance. I had +not said much to her, but what I had said had pledged me to a +life-long companionship; which was a solemn thing to reflect upon even +though I looked forward to the fulfilment of that pledge with nothing +but hopeful pleasure. The dice were thrown. Of course they would turn +up sixes, every one; but still--the dice were thrown. + +From my own strictly personal affairs my thoughts rambled by an easy +transition to the singular episode of the buried portrait, and thence +to the subject of that strange palimpsest. Viewed by the light of Mr. +O’Donnell’s revelations, Mrs. Samway’s position was not all that could +have been desired. She and her husband had unquestionably been closely +associated with Maddock; but Maddock was, it seemed, a habitual +criminal. Could this fact have been known to the Samways? Or was it +that the cunning forger and swindler had sheltered himself behind +their respectability. It was impossible for me to say. + +Then there was the strange and perplexing case of the man Maddock, +himself. I could make nothing of that, had not, indeed, been aware +that there had been a “case,” until Thorndyke’s investigations had put +me in possession of the fact. And even now I could see nothing on +which to base any suspicion, apart from the attempts on my life, which +we were assuming to be in some way connected with events that had +occurred in Maddock’s house. The cause of death was apparently not +“Morbus Cordis”; which might easily enough be, seeing that the +diagnosis of heart disease was a mere guess on Batson’s part. But if +not Morbus Cordis, what was it? Thorndyke apparently knew, and seemed +to hint that it was something other than ordinary disease. + +Could there have been foul play? And, if so, were the Samways involved +in it in any way? It seemed incredible, for had not Maddock himself +suspected that he was in a dangerous state of health. There was +certainly one possibility which I considered with a good deal of +distaste; namely, that Maddock had been in a hypochondriacal state and +that the Samways had taken advantage of his gloomy views as to his +health to administer poison. The thing was actually possible; but I +did not entertain it; for, even if one assumed that poison had been +administered, at any rate, the cremation of the body was not designed +to hide the traces of the crime. The Samways had nothing to do with +that; the cremation had been adopted in preference to burial by +Maddock’s own wish. + +So my thoughts flitted from topic to topic, with occasional interludes +of “Surface Markings,” through the lazy forenoon until Polton came to +lay my solitary luncheon. And after this little break in the +comfortable monotony, another spell of meditative idleness set in. +Polton was busy upstairs in the laboratory with some photographic +copying operations and I was disposed to wander up and look on; but my +small friend politely but very firmly vetoed any such proceeding. On +some other occasion he would be delighted to show me the working of +the great copying camera, but, just now, he had a big job in hand, +and, as he was working against time, he would prefer to be alone. He +even suggested that I might attend to any stray callers and make my +own tea on the gas-ring so as to avoid interrupting his work; and when +I had agreed to relieve him to this extent, he thanked me profusely +and retired and I saw no more of him. + +For some time after his departure, I stood at the window looking out +across the wide space at Paper Buildings and the end of Crown Office +Row. It was a wretched afternoon. The yellow, turbid sky brooded close +upon the houseroofs and grew darker and more brown moment by moment, +as if the invisible sun had given the day up in despair and gone home +early. A comfortless powdering of snow filtered down at intervals and +melted on the pavements, along which depressed wayfarers hurried with +their coat collars turned up and their hands thrust deep into their +pockets. I watched them commiseratingly, reflecting on the superior +advantages of being within doors and forbidden to go out; and then, +having flung another scoopful of coal on the fire, I betook myself +once more to the armchair, the “Surface Markings” and idle meditation. + +It was some time past four when my reflective browsings had begun to +proceed in the direction of the tea-kettle, that I heard a light +footstep on the landing as of someone wearing goloshes. Then a letter +dropped softly into the box, and, as I instantly pushed back my chair +to rise, the footsteps retreated. I crossed the room quickly and +opened the door; but the messenger had already disappeared down the +dark staircase, and had gone so silently on his rubber soles that, +though I listened attentively, I could hear no sound from below. + +Having closed the door, I extracted the letter from the box and took +it over to the window to examine it, when I was not a little surprised +to find that it was addressed to W.M. Howard, Esq. This was the first +communication that I had received in my borrowed name, and my surprise +at its arrival was not unreasonable, for, of the few persons who knew +me by that name, none--with the exception, perhaps, of Mr. +Marchmont--was in the least likely to write to me. + +But, if the address on the envelope had surprised me, the letter +itself surprised me a good deal more; for though the writer was quite +unknown to me, even by name, he seemed to be in possession of certain +information concerning me which I had supposed to be the exclusive +property of Thorndyke, Jervis, Polton and myself. It bore the address, +29, Fig-tree Court, Inner Temple, and ran thus: + + + “Dear Sir, + + “I am taking the liberty of writing to you to ask for your assistance + as I happen to know that my friends, Drs. Thorndyke and Jervis, are + away at Maidstone and not available at the moment, and I understand + that you have some acquaintance with medical technicalities. + + “The circumstances are these. At half-past five to-day I shall be + meeting a solicitor to advise as to action in respect of a case in + which I am retained; and the decision as to our action will be vitally + affected by a certain issue on which I am not competent to form an + opinion for lack of medical knowledge. If Dr. Thorndyke had been + within reach I should have taken his opinion; as he is not, it + occurred to me to ask if you would fill his place on this occasion, it + being, of course, understood that the usual fee of five guineas will + be paid by the solicitor. + + “If you should be unable to come to the consultation, do not trouble + to reply, as I am now going out and shall not be returning until + five-thirty, the time of the appointment. I am, + + “Yours faithfully, + “Arthur Courtland.” + + +The contents of this letter, as I have said, surprised me more than a +little. How, in the name of all that was wonderful, had this stranger, +whose very name was unknown to me, come to be aware that I had any +knowledge of medicine? Not from Thorndyke, I felt perfectly sure; nor +from Jervis, who, notwithstanding a certain flippant facetiousness of +manner, was really an extremely cautious and judicious man. Could it +be that my principal was overseen in his trusted laboratory assistant? +Was it conceivable that the suave and discreet Polton had moments of +leakiness, when, in unofficial talk outside, he let drop the secrets +of which his employer’s unbounded confidence had made him the +repository? I could not believe it. Not only did Polton appear to be +the very soul of discretion; there was Thorndyke himself; he was not +the man to give his confidence to anyone until after the most +exhaustive proof of the safety of so giving it. Nor was he a man who +was likely to be deceived; for nothing escaped his observation, and +nothing that he observed was passed over without careful +consideration. + +My lethargy having been shaken off, I addressed myself to the task of +preparing tea; and, as I listened to the homely crescendo of the +kettle’s song, I turned the matter over in all its bearings. By some +means this Mr. Courtland had become aware that I was either a doctor +or a medical student. But by what means? Was it possible that he had +merely inferred from the circumstance of my being associated with +Thorndyke that I was of the same profession? That was just barely +conceivable; but, if he had, then, as Jervis had said of Father +Humperdinck, he must be “a devil at guessing.” + +As I made the tea and subsequently consumed it, I continued to +ruminate on the contents of that singular letter. No answer to it was +required. Then what was Mr. Courtland going to do if I did not turn +up? He admitted that the issue, which seemed to be an important one, +was beyond him, and yet he had to give an answer to the solicitor. And +he was prepared to pay five guineas for the advice of a man of whom +he--presumably--knew nothing. That was odd. In fact, the whole tone of +the letter, with its inconsistent mixture of urgency and casual +trusting to chance, seemed irreconcilable with the care and method +that one expects from a professional man. + +And there was another point. The time of the consultation was +half-past five. Now within an hour of that time Thorndyke would be +back--or even sooner if he came by the earlier train as he had done on +the previous day--as Mr. Courtland must have known, since he knew +whither my principal had gone, and he must have often attended assizes +himself. Could he not have waited an hour? And again; had this +business been sprung upon him so suddenly that he had had no time to +get Thorndyke’s opinion? And, yet again, why had he written at all, +instead of dropping in at our chambers with the solicitor, as was so +commonly done by Thorndyke’s clients? + +All of which were curious and puzzling questions which I put to +myself, one by one, and had to dismiss unanswered. And then I came to +the practical question, to which I had to find an answer, and which +was: Could I, under the existing circumstances, accede to Mr. +Courtland’s request? To go outside the precincts of the Inn was, I +recognized, absolutely forbidden; but I had given no actual promise to +remain in our chambers, nor had I been positively forbidden to leave +them. Thorndyke had advised me to remain indoors, and his advice had +been given so pointedly and with so evident a desire that it should be +followed that I had not hitherto even thought of leaving our premises. +But this was an unforeseen contingency; and the question was, did it +alter my position in regard to Thorndyke’s advice? + +I think I have never been so undecided in my life. On the one hand, I +was strongly tempted to keep the appointment. The prospect of +triumphantly handing to Thorndyke a five-guinea fee which I had earned +as his deputy appealed to me with almost irresistible force. On the +other hand, my knowledge of Thorndyke did not support this appeal. I +knew him to be a man to whom a principle was much more important than +any chance benefit gained by its abandonment, and my inner +consciousness told me that he would be better pleased by a strict +adherence to our understanding than by the increment of five guineas. + +So my thoughts oscillated, to and fro, now impelling me to risk it and +earn the fee, and now urging me to keep to the letter of my +instructions; and, meanwhile, the time ran on and the hour of the +consultation approached. What decision I should have reached, in the +end, it is impossible to say. As matters turned out, I never reached +any decision at all, for, just as the Treasury clock struck a quarter +past five, I heard a light, quick step on our landing and immediately +after a soft but hurried knock at the door. + +I strode quickly across the room and threw the door open. And then I +started back with an exclamation of astonishment. For the visitor--who +stood full in the light of the landing-lamp--was a woman; and the +woman was Mrs. Samway. + +As I stood gazing at her in amazement, she slipped past me into the +room and softly shut the door. And then I saw very plainly that there +was something amiss, for she was as pale as death, and had a dreadful, +frightened, hunted look which haunts me even now as I write. She was +somewhat dishevelled, too, and, though it was a bitter evening, her +plump, shapely hands were ungloved and cold as ice, as I noted when I +took them in mine. + +“Are you alone?” she asked, peering uneasily at the door of the little +office. + +“Yes. Quite alone,” I replied. + +She gazed at me with those strange, penetrating eyes of hers and said +in a half-whisper: “How strange you look with that beard. I should +hardly have known you if I had not expected--” + +She stopped short, and, casting a strange, scared glance over her +shoulder at the dark windows, whispered: + +“Can they see in? Can anyone see us from outside?” + +“I shouldn’t think so,” I replied; but, nevertheless, I stepped over +to the windows and drew the curtains. + +“That looks more comfortable, at any rate,” said I. “And now tell me +how in the name of wonder you knew I was here.” + +She grasped both my wrists and looked earnestly--almost fiercely--into +my eyes. + +“Ask me no questions!” she exclaimed. “Ask me nothing! But listen. I +have come here for a purpose. Has a letter been left here for you?” + +“Yes,” I replied. + +“Asking you to go to a place in Fig-tree Court?” + +“Good God!” I exclaimed. “How on earth--” + +She shook my wrists impatiently in her strong grasp. “Answer me!” she +exclaimed; “answer me!” + +“Yes,” I replied. “I was to go there at half-past five.” + +Again her strong grasp tightened on my wrists. “Humphrey,” she said, +in a low, earnest voice, “you are not to go. Do you hear me? You are +not to go.” And then, as I seemed to hesitate, she continued more +urgently: “I ask you--I beg you to promise me that you won’t.” + +I gazed at her in sheer amazement; but some instinct, some faint +glimmer of understanding, restrained me from asking for any +explanation. + +“Very well,” I said. “I won’t go if you say I’m not to.” + +“That is a promise?” + +“Yes, it’s a promise. Besides, it’s nearly half-past already, so if I +don’t go now, the appointment falls through.” + +“And you won’t go outside these rooms to-night. Promise me that, too.” + +“If I don’t go to this lawyer, I shan’t go out at all.” + +“And to-morrow, too. Give me your word that you won’t let any sort of +pretext draw you out of these rooms to-morrow, or the next day, or, in +fact, until Dr. Thorndyke says you may.” + +For a few moments I was literally struck dumb with astonishment at her +last words, and could do nothing but gaze at her in astounded silence. +At length, recovering myself a little, I exclaimed: + +“My dear Mrs. Samway--,” but she interrupted me. + +“Don’t call me by that horrible name! Give me my own name, Letitia; +or,” she added, a little shyly and in a soft, coaxing tone, “call me +Lettie. Won’t you, Humphrey, just for this once? You needn’t mind. You +wouldn’t if you knew. I should like, when I think of my friend--the +only friend that I care for--to remember that he called me by my own +name when he said good-bye. You’ll think me silly and sentimental, but +you needn’t mind indulging me just once. It’s the last time.” + +“The last time!” I repeated. “What do you mean by that, Lettie, and by +speaking of our saying good-bye? Are you going away?” + +“Yes, I am going away. I don’t suppose you will ever see me again. I +am going out of your life.” + +“Not out of my life, Lettie. We are always friends, even if we never +see one another.” + +“Are we?” she said, looking up at me earnestly. “Perhaps it is so; but +still, this is good-bye. I ought to say it and go; but O God!” she +exclaimed with sudden passion, “I don’t want to go--away from you, +Humphrey, out into the cold and the dark!” + +She buried her face against my shoulder, and I could feel that she was +sobbing though she uttered no sound. + +It was a dreadful situation. Instinctively certain though I was that +her grief had a real and tragic basis, I could offer no word of +comfort. For what was there to say? She was going, clearly, to a life +of wretchedness without hope of any relief or change and without a +single friend to cheer her loneliness. That much I could guess, +vaguely and dimly. But it was enough. And it wrung my heart to witness +her passion of grief and to be able to offer no more than a pressure +of the hand. + +After a few seconds she raised her head and looked in my face, with +the tears still clinging to her lashes. + +“Humphrey,” she said, laying her hands on my shoulders, “I have a few +last words to say to you, and then I must go. Listen to me, dearest +friend, and remember what I say. When I am gone, people will tell you +things and you will come to know others. People will say that I am a +wicked woman, which is true enough, God knows. But if they say that I +have done or connived at wickedness against you, try to believe that +it was not as it seemed, and to forgive me for what I have done amiss. +And say to yourself, ‘This wicked woman would have willingly given her +heart’s blood for me.’ Say that, Humphrey. It is true. I would gladly +give my life to make you safe and happy. And try to think kindly of me +in the evil report that will reach you sooner or later. Will you try, +Humphrey?” + +“My dear Lettie,” I said, “we are friends, now and always. Nothing +that I hear shall alter that.” + +“I believe you,” she said, “and I thank you from my heart. And now I +must go--I _must_ go; and it’s good-bye--good-bye, Humphrey, for the +very last time.” + +She passed her arms around my neck and pressed her wet cheek to mine; +then she kissed me, and, turning away abruptly, walked across to the +door and opened it. On the landing, in the light of the lamp, she +turned once more; and I saw that the hot blush that had risen to her +cheek as she kissed me, had faded already into a deathly pallor, and +that the dreadful, frightened, hunted look had come back into her +face. She stood for a moment with her finger raised warningly and +whispered: + +“Good-bye, dear, good-bye! Shut the door now and shut it quietly”; and +then she passed into the opening of the dark staircase. + +I closed the door softly and turned away towards the window; and, as I +did so, I heard her stumble slightly on the stair a short way down and +utter a little startled cry. I was nearly going out to her, and did, +in fact, stand a moment or two listening; but, as I heard nothing +more, I moved over to the window, and, drawing back the curtain, +looked down on our doorstep to see her go out. My mind was in a whirl +of confused emotions. Profound pity for this lonely, unhappy, +warm-hearted woman contended with amazement at the revelation of her +manifest connection with the mystery that surrounded me; and I stood +bewildered by the tumult of incoherent thought, grasping the curtain +and looking down on the great square stone that I might, at least, +catch a farewell glance at this poor soul who was passing so +unwillingly out of my life. + +The seconds passed. A man came out of our entry, and, turning to the +left, walked at a rapid pace towards the Tudor Street gate. Still she +did not appear. Perhaps she had heard him on the stairs and was +waiting to pass out unnoticed. But yet it was strange. Nearly a minute +had elapsed since she started to descend the stairs. Could I have +missed her? It seemed impossible, since I had come to the window +almost immediately. A vague uneasiness began to take possession of me. +I recalled her white face and frightened eyes, and as I stared down at +the door-step with growing anxiety, I found myself +listening--listening nervously for I knew not what. + +Suddenly I caught a sound--faint and vague, but certainly a sound. And +it seemed to come from the staircase. In a moment I had the door open +and was stealing on tip-toe out on the landing. The house was +profoundly silent. No murmur even penetrated from the distant streets. +I crept across the landing, breathing softly and listening. And then, +from the stillness below, but near at hand came a faint, whispering +sigh or moan. Instantly I sprang forward, all of a tremble and darted +down the stairs. + +At the first turn I saw, projecting round the angle, a hand--a woman’s +hand, plump and shapely and white as marble. With a gasp of terror I +flew round the turn of the staircase and-- + +God in Heaven! She was there! Huddled limply in the angle, her head +resting against the baluster and one hand spread out on her bosom, she +lay so still that she might have been dead but for the shallow rise +and fall of her breast and the wide-staring eyes that turned to me +with such dreadful appeal. I stooped over her and spoke her name, and +it seemed to me that a pitiful little smile trembled for a moment on +the bloodless lips, but she made no answer beyond a faint, broken +sigh, and it was only when she moved her hand slightly that the +overwhelming horror of the reality burst upon me. Then when I saw the +crimson stain upon her fingers and upon the bosom of her dress, the +meaning of that horrible pallor, the sharpening features and strange, +pinched expression flashed upon me with a shock that seemed to arrest +the very blood at my heart. Yet, stunned as I was, I realized +instantly that human skill could avail her nothing; that I could do +nought for her but raise her from the sharp edge of the stair and rest +her head on my arm. And so I held her, whispering endearments +brokenly, and looking as well as I might through the blinding tears +into those inscrutable eyes, that gazed up at me, no longer with that +stare of horror but with a vague and childlike wonder. And, even as I +looked, the change came in an instant. The wide eye-lids relaxed and +drooped, the eyes grew filmy and sightless, the hand slipped from her +breast and dropped with a thud on the stair, and the supple body in my +arms shrank of a sudden with the horrible limpness of death. + +Up to this point my recollection is clear, even vivid, but of what +followed I have only a dim and confused impression. The awfulness--the +unbelievable horror of this frightful thing that had happened left me +so dazed and numb that I recall but vaguely the passage of time of +what went on around me in this terrible dream from which there was to +be no waking. Dimly I recollect kneeling by her side on the silent +staircase--but how long I know not--holding her poor body in my arms +and gazing incredulously at the marble-white face--now with its drowsy +lids and parted lips, grown suddenly girlish and fragile--while the +hot tears dropped down on her dress; choking with grief and horror and +a fury of hate for the foul wretch who had done this appalling thing, +and who was now far away out of reach. I see--dimly still--the livid +marks of accursed fingers lingering yet on the whiteness around the +mouth to tell me why no cry from her had reached me, and the dreadful, +red-edged cut in the bodice, mutely demanding vengeance from God and +man. + +And then of a sudden the silence is shattered by rushing feet and the +clamour of voices. Someone--it is Jervis--leads me forcibly away to +our room and places me in a chair by the table. Presently I see her +lying on our sofa, drowsy-eyed, peaceful, like a marble figure on a +tomb. And I see Thorndyke, with a strange, coppery flush and something +grim and terrible in the set calm of his face, showing the letter, +which I had left on the table, to a tall stranger, who hurries from +the room. Anon come two constables with heads uncovered carrying a +stretcher. I see her laid on the sordid bier and reverently covered. +The dread procession moves out through the doorway, the door is shut +after it, and so, in dreadful fulfilment of her words, she passed out +of my life. + + + + + CHAPTER XX. + THE HUE AND CRY + +The silence of the room remained unbroken for a quite considerable +time after the two bearers had passed out with their dreadful burden. +My two friends sat apart and, with a tact of which I was gratefully +sensible, left me quietly undisturbed by banal words of consolation, +to sustain the first shock of grief and horror and get my emotion +under control. Still dazed and half-incredulous, I sat with my elbows +on the table and my teeth clenched hard, looking dreamily across the +room, half unconsciously observing my two friends as they silently +examined the fatal letter. I saw Thorndyke rise softly and take a +small bottle from a cabinet, and watched him incuriously as he +sprinkled on the paper some of the dark-coloured powder that it +contained. Then I saw him blow the powder from the surface of the +paper into the fire and scan the letter closely through a lens. And +still no word was spoken. Only once, when Jervis, in crossing the +room, let his hand rest for a moment on my shoulder, did any +communication pass between us; and that silent touch told me +unobtrusively--if it were needful to tell me--how well he understood +my grief for the woman who had walked open-eyed into the valley of the +shadow, had offered her heart’s blood that I might pass unscathed. + +In about a quarter of an hour the tall stranger returned, bringing +with him an atmosphere of bustling activity that at once dispelled the +gloomy silence. His busy presence and brisk, matter-of-fact speech, +though distressing to me at the moment, served as a distraction and +brought me out of my painful reverie to the grim realities of this +appalling catastrophe. + +“You were quite right, sir,” said he. “The chambers were an empty set. +Mr. Courtland left them about six weeks ago, so they tell me at the +office. I’ve looked them over carefully, and I think it is pretty +clear what this man meant to do.” + +“Did you go in?” asked Thorndyke. + +“Yes. Mr. Polton went with me and picked the lock, so I was able to go +right through the rooms. And it is evident that this villain was not +acting on the spur of the moment. He’d made a very neat plan, and I +should say that it was pretty near to coming off. He had selected his +chambers with remarkable judgment, and uncommonly well suited they +were to his purpose. In the first place, they were the top +set--nothing above them; no chance strangers passing up or down; and +they were the only set on that landing. Then some previous tenant had +made a little trap or grille in the outer door, a little hole about +six inches square with a sliding cover on the inside. That was the +attraction, I fancy. The landing lamp was alight--he must have lighted +it himself, as the landing was out of use--and I fancy he meant to +watch through the grille for your friend to come and shoot him as he +knocked at the door.” + +“That would be taking more risk than he usually did,” said Thorndyke. + +“You mean that the report of the shot would have been heard. Perhaps +it might. But these modern, small-bore, repeating pistols make very +little noise, though they are uncommonly deadly, especially if you +open the nose of the bullets.” + +“But,” objected Thorndyke, “if he had been heard, there he would have +been, boxed up in the chambers with no means of escape.” + +Our acquaintance shook his head. “No,” said he; “that’s just what he +wouldn’t have been, and there is where he had planned the affair so +neatly. These chambers are a double set. They have a second entrance +that opens on the staircase of the next house. You see the idea. When +he’s fired his shot and made sure that it was all right--or all wrong, +if you prefer it--he would just have slipped through to the other +entrance, let himself out, shut the door quietly and walked down the +stairs. Then, if the shot had been heard, there was he, coming out of +the next house to join the crowd and see what was the matter. It was a +clever scheme, and, as I say, it might very well have come off if this +poor young lady hadn’t given it away. So that’s all about the +chambers; and now”--here he cast a glance in my direction--“I must ask +for a few particulars.” He produced a large, black-covered notebook +and, opening it on the table, looked at me inquiringly. + +“This,” said Thorndyke, “is Mr. Superintendent Miller of the Criminal +Investigation Department. He has charge of this case, so you must tell +him exactly what happened. And try, Jardine, to be as clear and +circumstantial as possible.” + +The Superintendent looked up sharply. “I had an impression,” said he, +“that this gentleman’s name was Howard.” + +“He has used the name of Howard since he has been staying here, for +reasons which no longer exist but which I will explain to you later. +His name is Humphrey Jardine, and he is a bachelor of medicine.” + +Mr. Miller entered these particulars in his book and then said: + +“I suppose it is not necessary to ask if you were actually present +when this poor lady was murdered?” + +“No, I was not.” + +“And I presume you did not see the murderer?” + +“I saw a man, whom I believe to have been the murderer, come out of +our entry and walk quickly towards the Tudor Street Gate. But I can +give you no description of him. I saw him from the window and by the +light of the entry lamp.” + +The Superintendent wrote down my answer and reflected for a few +moments. + +“Perhaps,” said he, “you had better just give us an account of what +happened and we can ask you any questions afterwards. It’s very +painful for you, I know, but it has to be, as you will understand.” + +It was more than painful; it was harrowing to reconstitute that +hideous tragedy, step by step, with the knowledge that the poor +murdered corpse was still warm. But it had to be, and I did it, +haltingly, indeed, and with many a pause to command my voice; but in +the end, I gave the superintendent a full description of the actual +occurrences, though I withheld any reference to those words that my +poor dead friend had spoken for my ear alone. + +When I had read through and signed my statement, Mr. Miller studied +his note-book with an air of dissatisfaction and then turned to +Thorndyke. + +“This is all quite clear, Doctor,” said he, “and just about what you +inferred from that letter. But it doesn’t help us much. The question +is, Who is this man? I’ve an inkling that you know, Doctor.” + +“I have a very strong suspicion as to who he is,” replied Thorndyke. + +“That will do for me,” said Miller. “Your strong suspicion is equal to +another man’s certainty. Do you know his name, sir?” + +“He has recently passed under the name of Samway,” replied Thorndyke. +“What his real name is, I think I shall be able to tell you later. +Meanwhile, I can give you such particulars as are necessary for making +an arrest.” + +The Superintendent looked narrowly at Thorndyke as the latter pressed +the button of the electric bell. + +“Apparently, Doctor,” said he, “you have been making some +investigations concerning this man, and, as it was not in connection +with this crime, it must have been in connection with something else.” + +“Yes,” replied Thorndyke, “you are quite right, Miller, and it will be +a matter of the deepest regret to me to my dying day that +circumstances have hindered those investigations as they have. The +delay has cost this poor woman her life. A few more days and my case +would almost certainly have been complete, and then this terrible +disaster would have been impossible.” + +As Thorndyke finished speaking, the door opened quietly and Polton +entered with a small, neatly-made parcel in his hand. + +“Ah!” said Thorndyke, “you guessed what I wanted, and guessed right, +as you always do, Polton. How many are there in that parcel?” + +“Three dozen, sir,” replied Polton. + +“That ought to be enough for the moment. Hand them to the +Superintendent, Polton. If you want any more, Miller, we can let you +have a further supply, and I am having a half-tone block made which +will be ready to-morrow morning.” + +“Are these portraits of the man you suspect?” asked Miller. + +“No, I haven’t his portrait, unfortunately, but on each card is a +photograph of three of his finger-prints, which are all I have been +able to collect, and on the back is a description which will enable +you easily to identify him. You can post them off to the various +sea-ports and telegraph the description in advance; and I would +recommend you especially to keep a watch on Dover and Folkestone, as I +know that he has been in the habit of using that route.” + +“Speaking of finger-prints,” said Miller, “have you tried that letter +for them?” + +“Yes,” replied Thorndyke, “I powdered it very carefully, but there is +not a single trace of a fingerprint. He must have realized the risk he +was taking and worn gloves when he wrote it.” + +The Superintendent pocketed the parcel with a thoughtful air, and, +after a few moments’ cogitation, turned once more to Thorndyke. + +“You’ve supplied me with the means of arresting the man, Doctor,” said +he, “but that’s all. Supposing I find him and detain him in custody? +What then? + +“I don’t know that he murdered this poor woman. Do you? Dr. Jardine +can’t identify him, and apparently no one else saw him. I have no +doubt that you have substantial grounds for suspecting him, but I +should like to know what they are.” + +Thorndyke reflected for a moment or two before replying. + +“You are quite right, Miller,” he said, at length, “you ought to have +enough information to establish a _prima facie_ case. But I think, +that on this occasion, I can say no more than that, if you produce the +man, you can rely upon me to furnish enough evidence to secure a +conviction. Will that do?” + +“It will do from you, sir,” replied Miller, rising and buttoning his +overcoat. “I will get this description circulated at once. Oh--there +was one more matter: the name of the deceased lady was Samway--the +same as that of the suspected murderer. What was the relationship?” + +“She passed as--and presumably was--his wife.” + +“Ah!” said Miller. “I see. That was how she knew. Well, well. She was +a brave woman, to take the risk that she did, and she deserved +something very different from what she got. But we are taught that +there is a place where people who suffer injustice and misfortune in +this world get it made up to them. I hope it’s true, for her sake--and +for his,” he added abruptly with a sudden change of tone. + +“Naturally you do,” said Thorndyke, “but, meanwhile, our business is +with this world. Spread your net close and wide, Miller. I shall never +forgive you if you let this villain slip. It is our sacred duty to +purge the world of his presence. You do your part, Miller, and be +confident that I will do mine.” + +“You can depend on me to do my best, sir,” said Miller, “though I _am_ +working rather in the dark. I suppose you couldn’t give me any sort of +hint as to what you’ve got up your sleeve. You’ve no doubt, for +instance, that it was really the man Samway who committed this +murder?” + +Thorndyke, according to his usual habit, considered the +Superintendent’s question for awhile before answering. At length he +replied: + +“I don’t know why I shouldn’t take you into my confidence to some +extent, Miller, knowing you as I do. But you will remember that this +_is_ a confidence. The fact is that I am proposing to proceed against +this man on an entirely different charge. But I am not quite ready to +lay an information; and I want you to secure his person on the charge +of murdering his wife while I complete the other case.” + +“Is that another case of murder?” asked Miller. + +“Yes. The facts are briefly these. A certain Septimus Maddock, who was +living with the Samways, died some time ago under what seem to me very +suspicious circumstances. He was nursed by Samway and his wife and by +no one else. The cause of death given on the certificate was, in my +opinion, not the true one, and I am proceeding to verify my theory as +to what was the real cause of death.” + +“I see,” said Miller. “You are applying for an exhumation of the +body?” + +“Well, hardly an exhumation. The man Maddock was cremated.” + +“Cremated!” exclaimed Miller. “Then we’ve done. There isn’t any body +to exhume.” + +“No,” agreed Thorndyke, “there is no body, but there are the ashes.” + +“But, surely,” said Miller, “you can’t get any information out of a +few handfuls of bone ash?” + +“That remains to be proved,” replied Thorndyke. “I have applied for an +authority to make an exhaustive examination of those ashes, and, if my +opinion as to the cause of death is correct, I shall be able to +demonstrate its correctness; and that will involve a charge of murder +against this man Samway. It will also support a charge against him of +attempts to murder Dr. Jardine, and furnish strong evidence connecting +him with the horrible crime that has just been committed. So you see, +Miller, that the important thing is to get possession of him before he +has time to escape from this country, and hold him in custody, if +necessary, while the evidence against him is being examined and +completed. And I must impress on you that no time ought to be lost in +getting the description circulated.” + +“No, that’s true,” said Miller. “I’ll go and telegraph it off at once, +and I’ll send one or two of our best men to watch the likely +seaports.” + +He shook hands with us all round, and, when we had all most fervently +wished him success, he took his departure. + +As soon as he was gone, Jervis turned to his senior, and, looking at +him with a sort of puzzled curiosity, exclaimed: + +“You are a most astounding person, Thorndyke! You really are! I +thought I had begun to see daylight in that Maddock case, and now I +find that I was all abroad. And I can’t, for the life of me, conceive +what in the world you expect to discover by examining a few pounds of +calcined phosphates. Suppose Maddock was poisoned, what evidence will +be obtainable from the ashes? Of the poisons which could possibly have +been used under the known circumstances, not one would leave a trace +after cremation. But, of course, you’ve thought of all that.” + +“Certainly, I have,” replied Thorndyke, “and I agree with you that the +ashes of a body that has been cremated are highly unpromising material +for a primary investigation. But, does it not occur to you that, in a +case where certain circumstantial evidence is available, excellent +corroborative data might be obtained by the examination of the ashes?” + +“No,” replied Jervis, “I can’t say that it does.” + +“It is not too late to consider the question,” said Thorndyke. “I +shall probably not get the authority for a day or two, so you will +have time to turn the problem over in the interval. It is quite worth +your while, I assure you, apart from this particular case, as a mere +exercise in constructive theory. You can acquire experience from +imaginary cases as well as from real ones, as I have often pointed +out; in fact, much of my own experience has been gained in this way. I +think I have mentioned to you that, in my early days, when I had more +leisure than practice, it was my custom to construct imaginary crimes +of an elaborately skilful type, and then--having, of course, all the +facts--to consider the appropriate procedure for their detection. It +was a most valuable exercise, for I was thus able to furnish myself +with an abundance of problems of a kind that, in actual practice, are +met with only at long intervals of years. And since then a quite +considerable number of my imaginary cases have presented themselves, +in a more or less modified form, for solution in the course of +practice, and have come to me with the familiarity of problems that +have already been considered and solved. That is what you should do, +Jervis. Try the synthetic method and then consider what analytical +procedure would be appropriate to your result.” + +“I have,” Jervis replied, gloomily. “I have worked at this confounded +case until I feel like a rat that has been trying to gnaw through a +plate-glass window. Still, I’ll have another try. By the way, where +are you going to make this examination?” + +“I think I shall do it here. I had thought of handing the ashes over +to one of the more eminent analysts, but it will be only a small +operation, well within the capacity of our own laboratory. I think of +asking Professor Woodfield to come here and carry out the actual +analysis. Polton will give him any help that he may want and, of +course, we shall be here to give any further assistance if he should +need it.” + +“Why not have made the analysis yourself?” asked Jervis. “Is there +anything specially difficult or intricate about it?” + +“Not at all,” replied Thorndyke. “But, as the case will have to go +into Court on a capital charge--that is, assuming that my hypothesis +turns out to be correct--I thought it best to have the analysis made +by a man whose name as an authority on chemistry will carry special +weight. Neither the judge nor the jury are likely to have much special +knowledge of chemistry, but they will be able to appreciate the fact +that Woodfield is a man with a world-wide reputation, and they will +respect his opinion accordingly.” + +“Yes,” agreed Jervis, “I think you are quite right. A well-known name +goes a long way with a jury. I hope your experiment will turn out as +you expect, and I hope, too, that some of Miller’s men will manage to +lay that murderous devil by the heels. But I’m afraid they’ll have +their work cut out. He is a clever scoundrel; one must admit that. How +do you suppose he contrived to track Jardine here?” + +“I think,” replied Thorndyke, “that he must have seen us on one of the +two occasions when we went to the mineral water works and followed us +here. Then, when Jardine disappeared from his lodgings, he would +naturally look for him here, this being, in fact, the only place known +to him in connection with Jardine, excepting Batson’s house, on which +he also probably kept a watch.” + +“But how would he have discovered that Jardine actually was here?” + +“There are a number of ways in which he might have ascertained the +fact. A good many persons knew that we had a new resident. We could +not conceal his presence here. Many of our visitors have seen him, and +the porter and hangers-on of the inn will have noticed him taking his +exercise in the morning. Samway, himself, even, may have seen him, and +he would easily have penetrated the disguise if he saw him out of +doors, for there is no disguising a man’s stature. He might have made +enquiries of one of the porters or lamp-lighters, or he might have +employed someone else to make enquiries. The fact that someone was +staying here and that his name was Howard could not have been very +difficult to discover, while, as for ourselves, we are as well known +in the inn as the griffin at Temple Bar. From the circumstance that he +knew of our attendance at the Maidstone Assizes, it seems likely that +he had subsidized some solicitor’s clerk who would know our +movements.” + +“And I suppose,” said I, “as he is gone now, I may as well go back to +my lodgings.” + +“Not at all,” replied Thorndyke. “In the first place, we don’t know +that he is gone, and we do know that he is now absolutely desperate +and reckless. And you must not forget, Jardine, that whether we charge +him with murder in the case of Maddock, with the murder of poor Mrs. +Samway, or the attempted murder of yourself, in either case you are +the chief witness for the prosecution. You are the appointed +instrument of retribution in this man’s case, and you must take the +utmost care of yourself until your mission is accomplished. He knows +the value of your evidence better than you do, and it is still worth +his while to get rid of you if he can. But you, I am sure, are at +least as anxious as we are to see him hanged.” + +“I’d sooner twist his neck with my own hands,” said I. + +“I daresay you would,” said Thorndyke, “and it is perfectly natural +that you should. But it is not desirable. This is a case for a few +fathoms of good, stout, hempen rope, and the common hangman. The +private vengeance of a decent man would be an undeserved honour for a +wretch like this. So you must stay here quietly for a few days more +and give us a little help when we need it.” + +Thorndyke’s decision was not altogether unwelcome. Shaken as I was by +the shock of this horrible tragedy, I was in no state to return to the +solitude of my lodgings. The quiet and tactful sympathy of my two +friends--or I should rather say three, for Polton was as kind and +gentle as a woman--was infinitely comforting, and their sober +cheerfulness and the interest of their talk prevented me from brooding +morbidly over the catastrophe of which I had been the involuntary +cause. And, dreadful as the associations of the place were, I could +not but feel that those of my older resorts would be equally painful. +For me, at present, the Heath would be haunted by the figure of poor +Letitia, walking at my side, telling me her pitiful tale and so +pathetically craving my sympathy and friendship. And the Highgate Road +could not but wring my heart with the recollection of that evening +when we had walked together up the narrow lane--all unconscious of the +black-hearted murderer stealing after us and foiled only by that +futile spy--when, as we said good-bye, I had kissed her and she had +run off blushing like a girl. + +Moreover, if Thorndyke’s chambers were fraught with terrible and +gloomy associations, they were also pervaded by an atmosphere of +resolute, relentless preparation which was itself a relief to me; for, +as the first shock of horrified grief passed, it left me possessed by +a fury of hatred for the murderer and consumed by an inextinguishable +craving for vengeance. Nor was the time of suspense so long as we had +anticipated. On the very next morning a letter arrived from the Home +Office containing the necessary authority to make the proposed +examination and informing Thorndyke that, on the following day, the +police would take possession of the ashes, which would be delivered to +him by an officer who would remain to witness the examination and to +resume possession of the remains when it was concluded. + +I saw very little more of Thorndyke that day, but I gathered that he +was busy making the final arrangements for the important work of the +morrow and in clearing off various tasks so as to leave himself free +from engagements. Nor did I enjoy much of Jervis’s society, for he, +too, was anxious to have the day free for the “Crucial Experiment,” +which was--we hoped--to solve the mystery of Septimus Maddock’s death +and explain the villain Samway’s strange vindictiveness towards me. + +Left to myself, and by no means enamoured of my own society, I +wandered up to the laboratory to see what Polton was doing and to +distract my gloomy thoughts by a little gossip with him on the various +technical processes of which he possessed so much curious information. +I found him arrayed in a white apron, with his sleeves turned up, +busily occupied with what I took to be a slab of dough, which he had +spread on a pastry board and was levelling with a hard-wood +rolling-pin. He greeted me, as I entered with his queer, crinkly +smile, but made no remark; and I stood awhile in silence, watching him +cut the paste in halves, sprinkle it with flour, fold it up and once +more roll it out into a sheet with the wooden pin. + +“Is this going to be a meat pie, Polton?” I asked, at length. + +His smile broadened at my question--for which I suspect he had been +waiting. + +“I don’t think you’d care much for the flavour of it, if it was, sir,” +he answered. “But it does look like dough, doesn’t it. It’s +moulding-wax; a special formula of the Doctor’s own.” + +“I thought that white powder was flour.” + +“So it is, sir; the best wheaten flour. It’s lighter than a mineral +powder and more tenacious. You have to use some powder to reduce the +stickiness of the wax, especially in a soft paste like this, which has +a lot of lard in it.” + +“What are you going to use it for?” I asked. + +“Ah!” exclaimed Polton, pausing to give the paste a vicious whack with +the rolling-pin, “there you are, sir. That’s just what I’ve been +asking myself all the time I’ve been rolling it out. The Doctor, +sir--God bless him--is the most exasperating gentleman in the world. +He fairly drives me mad with curiosity, at times. He will give me a +piece of work to do--something to make, perhaps--with full +particulars--all the facts, you understand, perfectly clear and exact, +with working drawings if necessary. But he never says what the thing +is for. So I make a hypothesis for myself--whole bundles of +hypotheses, I make. And they always turn out wrong. I assure you, +sir,” he concluded with solemn emphasis, “that I spend the best part +of my life asking myself conundrums and giving myself the wrong +answers.” + +“I should have thought,” said I, “that you would have got used to his +ways by now.” + +“You can’t get used to him,” rejoined Polton. “It’s impossible. He +doesn’t think like any other man. Ordinary men’s brains are turned out +pretty much alike from a single mould, like a batch of pottery. But +the Doctor’s brain was a special order. If there was any mould at all, +that mould was broken up when the job was finished.” + +“What you mean is,” said I, “that he has a great deal more +intelligence than is given to the rank and file of humanity.” + +“No, I don’t,” retorted Polton. “It isn’t a question of quantity at +all. It’s a different kind of intelligence. Ordinary men have to +reason from visible facts. He doesn’t. He reasons from facts which his +imagination tells him exists, but which nobody else can see. He’s like +a portrait painter who can do you a likeness of your face by looking +at the back of your head. I suppose it’s what he calls constructive +imagination, such as Darwin and Harvey and Pasteur and other great +discoverers had, which enabled them to see beyond the facts that were +known to the common herd of humanity.” + +I was somewhat doubtful as to the soundness of Polton’s views on the +transcendental intellect, though respectfully admiring of the +thoughtfulness of this curious little handicraftsman; accordingly I +returned to the more concrete subject of wax. + +“Haven’t you any idea what this stuff is going to be used for?” + +“Not the slightest,” he replied. “The Doctor’s instructions were to +make six pounds of it, to make it soft enough to take a squeeze of a +stiff feather if warmed gently, and firm enough to keep its shape in a +half-inch layer with a plaster backing, and to be sure to have it +ready by to-morrow morning. That’s all. I know there’s an important +analysis on to-morrow and I suppose this wax has got something to do +with it. But, as to what moulding wax can have to do with a chemical +analysis, that’s a question that I can’t make head or tail of.” + +Neither could I, though I had more data than Polton appeared to +possess. Nor could Jervis, to whom I propounded the riddle when he +came in to tea. We went up to the laboratory together and inspected, +not only the wax, but the exterior of three large parcels addressed to +Professor Woodfield, care of Dr. Thorndyke, and bearing the labels of +a firm of wholesale chemists. But neither of us could suggest any +solution of the mystery; and the only result of our visit to the +laboratory was that Polton was somewhat scandalized by the conduct of +his junior employer, who consoled himself for his failure by executing +with the wax, a life-sized and highly grotesque portrait of Father +Humperdinck. + + + + + CHAPTER XXI. + THE FINAL PROBLEM + +At exactly half-past eleven in the following forenoon, Professor +Woodfield arrived, bearing a massive cowhide bag which he deposited on +a chair as a preliminary to taking off his hat and wiping his +forehead. He was a big, burly, heavy-browed man, sparing of speech and +rather gruff in manner. + +“Stuff arrived yet?” he asked when he had brought his forehead to a +satisfactory polish. + +“I think it came yesterday morning,” replied Thorndyke. + +“The deuce it did!” exclaimed Woodfield. + +“Yes. Three parcels from Townley and Draper’s--” + +“Oh, you’re talking of the chemicals. I meant the other stuff.” + +“No; the officer hasn’t arrived yet, but I expect he will be here in a +few minutes. Superintendent Miller is a scrupulously punctual man.” + +The professor strode over to the window and glared out in the +direction of Crown Office Row. + +“That man of yours got everything ready?” he asked. + +“Yes,” answered Thorndyke; “and I have looked over the laboratory +myself. Everything is ready. You can begin the instant the ashes are +delivered to us.” + +Woodfield expressed his satisfaction--or whatever he intended to +express--by a grunt, without removing his eyes from the approach to +our chambers. + +“Cab coming,” he announced a few moments later. “Man inside with a +parcel. That the officer?” + +Jervis looked out over the professor’s shoulder. + +“Yes,” said he, “that’s Miller; and, confound it! here’s Marchmont +with old Humperdinck. Shall we bolt up to the laboratory and send down +word that we’re all out of town?” + +“I don’t see why we should,” said Thorndyke. “Woodfield won’t be +inconsolable if we have to leave him to work by himself for a while.” + +The professor confirmed this statement by another grunt, and, shortly +afterwards, the clamour of the little brass knocker announced the +arrival of the first contingent, which, when I opened the door, was +seen to consist of the solicitor and his very reverend client. + +“My dear Thorndyke!” exclaimed Marchmont, shaking our principal’s +hand; “what a shocking affair this is--this murder, I mean. I read +about it in the paper. A dreadful affair!” + +“Yes, indeed,” Thorndyke assented; “a most callous and horrible +crime.” + +“Terrible! Terrible!” said Marchmont. “So unpleasant for you, too, and +so inconvenient. Actually on your own stairs, I understand. But I hope +they’ll be able to catch the villain. Have you any idea who he is?” + +“I have a very strong suspicion,” Thorndyke replied. + +“Ah!” exclaimed Marchmont. “I thought so. The rascal brought his pigs +to the wrong market. What? Like doing a burglary at Scotland Yard. He +couldn’t have known who lived here. Hallo! why, here’s Mr. Miller. +Howdy-do, Superintendent?” + +The officer, for whom I had left the door ajar, entered in his usual +brisk fashion, and, having bestowed a comprehensive salutation on the +assembled company, deposited on the table an apparently weighty +parcel, securely wrapped and decorated with a label bearing the +inscription “This side up.” + +“There, sir,” said he, “there’s your box of mystery; and I don’t mind +telling you that I’m on tenterhooks of curiosity to see what you are +going to make of it.” + +“Professor Woodfield is the presiding magician,” said Thorndyke, “so +we will hand it over to him. I suppose the casket is sealed?” + +“Yes; it was sealed in my presence, and I’ve got to be present when +the seals are broken.” + +“We’ll break the seals up in the laboratory,” said Woodfield, “but we +may as well undo the parcel here.” + +He produced a solid-looking pocket-knife, fitted with a practicable +corkscrew, and, having cut the string, stripped off the wrappings of +the parcel. + +“God bless my soul!” exclaimed Marchmont, as the last wrapping was +removed; “why, it’s a cremation urn! What in the name of Fortune are +you going to do?” + +Miller tapped the lid of the urn with a dramatic gesture. + +“Dr. Thorndyke,” said he, “is going, I hope, to extract from the ashes +in this casket an instrument of vengeance on the murderer of Mrs. +Samway.” + +“Ach!” exclaimed Father Humperdinck, “do not speak of vengeance in ze +bresence of zese boor remains of a fellow greature. Chustice if you +laig, but not vengeance. ‘Vengeance is mine, saiz ze Lordt!’” + +“M’yes,” agreed Miller, “that’s perfectly true, sir, and we quite +understand your point of view. Still, we’ve got our job to do, you +know.” + +“But,” said Marchmont, “I don’t understand. What is the connection? +These appear to be the remains of Septimus Maddock, whoever he may +have been, and he seems to have died last November. What has he to do +with the murder of this poor woman, Samway?” + +“The connection is this,” replied Thorndyke; “the man who murdered +Mrs. Samway murdered the man whose ashes are in this urn. That is my +proposition; and I hope, with the skilful aid of my friend Professor +Woodfield, to prove it.” + +“Well,” said Marchmont, “it is a remarkable proposition and the proof +will be still more remarkable. I certainly thought that a body that +had been cremated was beyond the reach of any possible inquiry.” + +“I am afraid that is so, as a rule,” Thorndyke admitted. “But I hope +to find an exception in this case. Shall we go upstairs and commence +the examination?” + +Woodfield having agreed with gruff emphasis, Miller picked up the +casket and we all proceeded to the laboratory, where Polton, like a +presiding analytical demon, was discovered amidst his beloved +apparatus. The casket was placed on a table, the seals broken and the +cover removed by Woodfield, whereupon we all, with one accord, craned +forward to peer in at what looked like a mass of fragments of snowy +madrepore coral. + +“Ach!” exclaimed Father Humperdinck, “bot it is a solemn zought zat +zese boor ashes vas vunce a living man chust like ourselves.” + +“Yes,” said Marchmont, “it is, and I suppose we shall all be pretty +much alike by the time we reach this stage. Cremation is a leveller, +with a vengeance. Still, I will say this much, these remains are +perfectly unobjectionable in every way, in fact they are almost +agreeable in appearance; whereas, an ordinary disinterment after this +lapse of time would have been a most horrid business.” + +“Yes, indeed,” agreed Thorndyke; “I have had to make a good many +examinations of exhumed bodies, and, as you say, they were very +different from this. If I were not a practitioner of legal +medicine--in which exhumation often furnishes crucial evidence--I +should say that this cleanly and decent method of disposing of the +dead was incomparably superior to any other. Unfortunately it has +serious medico-legal drawbacks. I think, Woodfield, that we will turn +the ashes out on that sheet of paper on the bench, and then, with your +permission, I will pick out the recognizable fragments and examine +them while you are working on the small, powdery portions.” + +He took up the urn--which was an oblong, terracotta vessel some +fourteen inches in length--and very carefully inverted it over the +large sheet of clean white paper. Then, from the dazzling, snowy heap, +he picked out daintily the larger fragments, handling them with the +utmost tenderness--for, of course, they were excessively fragile--and +finally transferring them, one by one, to another sheet of paper at +the other end of the bench. + +The appearance of the remains was not quite as I had expected. Among +the powdery debris was a quite considerable number of larger +fragments, most of which were easily recognizable by the anatomical +eye, while some of the larger long bones almost gave the impression of +having been broken to enable them to be placed in the urn, and +suggested that a partial reconstitution, for the purpose of +determining the stature or other peculiarities of the skeleton was by +no means as impossible as I had supposed. But, large and small alike, +the pieces were strangely light and attenuated, like the ghosts of +bones or artificial counterfeits in porous, spongy coral. + +When Thorndyke had picked out such of the fragments as he wished to +examine, Professor Woodfield glanced casually over the collection, but +suddenly he paused and, stooping over a large piece of the right +innominate bone, narrowly inspected a somewhat shiny yellow stain on +its inner surface. + +“Looks as if you were right, Thorndyke,” he said in his laconic way, +“qualitatively, at any rate. We shall see what the quantitative test +says.” + +I pored over that dull yellow stain--as did Jervis also--but could +make no guess at its nature or conceive any explanation of its +presence. What interested me more was a small depression or cavity in +the bone at the centre of the stain. That it was not the result of +cremation was obvious from the fact that it was surrounded by a small +area of sclerosed or hardened bone, which was quite plainly +distinguishable on the spongy background, and which clearly pointed to +some inflammatory change that had occurred during life. But of its +cause, as of that of the stain itself, I could think of no +intelligible explanation. + +“Have you enough of the small fragments to go on with for the present, +Woodfield?” Thorndyke asked. + +“Plenty,” replied Woodfield. + +“Then,” said Thorndyke, “I will get on with my side of the inquiry. I +shall want the whole-plate camera first, Polton.” + +While his assistant was preparing the camera, he laid several of the +fragments on a baize-covered board and secured them in position by +threads attached to wooden-headed pins like diminutive brad-awls. When +the fragments were fixed immovably, he placed the board in a vertical +position on a stand in a good light, by which time Polton was ready to +make the exposure. + +Meanwhile, Professor Woodfield was proceeding--under the horrified +supervision of Father Humperdinck,--with his part of the +investigation. He was a matter-of-fact man, a chemist to the backbone, +and to him it was evident that the late Septimus Maddock was simply +many pounds of animal phosphates. Quite composedly he shovelled up a +scoopful of the ashes, which he emptied into the pan of a +spring-balance, and, having weighed out a pound and a quarter, shot +the contents of the pan into a large mortar and forthwith began to +grind the fragments to a fine powder, humming a cheerful stave to the +ring of the pestle. But his next proceeding scandalized the worthy +Jesuit still more deeply. Having weighed out certain quantities of +charcoal, sodium carbonate and borax, he pulverized each in a second +mortar, mixed the whole together and shot the mixture into the first +mortar, which contained the ash, stirring the entire contents up into +a repulsive-looking grey powder. + +“But, my dear sir!” exclaimed Father Humperdinck. “You are destroying +ze remains!” + +Woodfield looked at him from under his beetling brows, but went on +stirring. + +“Matter is indestructible,” he replied stolidly; and with this he +tipped the contents of the mortar on to a sheet of paper and +transferred them to a large fireclay crucible. + +“Now, Polton,” said he, “is the furnace ready?” + +Polton disengaged himself for a moment from the camera, and took up a +position by the side of the big fireclay drum with his hand on the gas +cock. Then Woodfield, having dropped three or four large iron nails +into the crucible, carried the latter over to the furnace and lowered +it into the central cavity. The cock was turned on by Polton and a +match applied, whereupon a great purplish flame shot up with a roar +from the mouth of the furnace; and even when this had been confined by +the dropping on of the massive cover, the iron-cased cylinder +continued to emit a muffled, sullen growl. + +While the crucible was heating, I transferred my attention to +Thorndyke. The photographic operations were now concluded and the +moulding wax had just been produced from a warmed incubator. Polton’s +curiosity--and mine--was about to be satisfied. + +Thorndyke began by laying a thick slab of the warm and pliable wax on +the middle of a smooth plate of varnished plaster, at each corner of +which was a small, hemispherical pit, and dusting powdered French +chalk sparingly over the level surface of the wax. Then he took the +large fragment of bone, which bore the mysterious yellow stain, and +laid it on the wax with the stained side uppermost, pressing it very +gently until it gradually sank into the soft, pasty mass. Next, he +took a somewhat smaller slab of wax and, having dusted its surface +with French chalk, laid it on the fragment of bone, pressing it on +gently but firmly, especially in the neighbourhood of the stain. +Having squeezed some irregular-shaped lumps of wax on the back of the +top slab, he fastened a strip of india-rubber round the edge of the +plaster plate, so that it formed an upright rim and turned to Polton. + +“Now mix a bowl of plaster--and mix it extra stiff, so that it will +set quickly and hard.” + +With a soft brush he painted a thin coat of oil on the exposed portion +of the plaster plate, up to the edges of the wax, and including the +little circular hollows. By the time he had done this, Polton +reappeared from the workshop with a basin of liquid plaster, which he +was beating up with a spoon as if preparing a custard or batter +pudding. As soon as the plaster began to thicken, he poured it on the +wax and the oiled slab until it formed a level mass, nearly flush with +the top of the india-rubber rim. In a surprisingly short time, the +smooth, creamy liquid solidified into a substance having the +appearance of icing-sugar, and when Polton had stripped away the +india-rubber rim, exposing the edge of the new plaster slab, this part +of the process was finished. + +“We will put this mould aside for the plaster to harden while we make +the other mould,” said Thorndyke. + +“Aren’t you going to make moulds of all the fragments?” asked Jervis. + +“No,” Thorndyke answered; “the photographs of the rest will be +sufficient, and I don’t think we shall want even those; in fact, what +I am doing now is merely by way of extra precaution. We are obliged to +destroy the fragments in order to make the analysis, so I am just +putting their appearance on record. You never know what an ingenious +defending counsel may spring on you.” + +As Polton produced a second plate of varnished plaster and Thorndyke +began to prepare the wax for the next mould, I turned my attention +once more to Professor Woodfield. He had now deserted the mortar--in +which he had been preparing a further supply of “the stuff”--and taken +up a position by the furnace, with a long pair of crucible tongs in +his hand. On the bench, hard by, was an iron plate, and on this an +oblong block of iron in which were six conical hollows. + +Presently Woodfield glanced at his watch, turned off the gas-cock, +removed the cover of the furnace with his tongs, and, reaching down +into the glowing interior, lifted out the nearly white-hot crucible. +Instantly Marchmont, Humperdinck and Jervis gathered round to watch, +and even Thorndyke left his mould to come and see the result of the +first trial. + +Having stood the crucible on the iron plate while he picked out the +large nails, one by one, Woodfield lifted it and steadily poured its +molten contents into the first hollow in the iron block, which they +soon filled, and overflowing ran along the iron plate in glowing +streams that soon grew dull from contact with the cold surface. I +noticed that, as the crucible was slowly tilted, Thorndyke kept his +eyes fixed on its interior, as also did Jervis and Woodfield; and, +watching closely, I saw just as the vessel was nearly empty, what +looked somewhat like a red-hot oil-globule floating in the last of the +glowing liquid. This passed out as the crucible was tilted further, +and disappeared into the iron mould; when Woodfield, having exchanged +a quick, significant glance with Thorndyke, proceeded forthwith, in +his matter-of-fact way to fill up the still red-hot vessel with +another pound and a quarter of the late Septimus Maddock. + +“I suppose,” said Marchmont, “it is premature to ask you what is the +final object of these very interesting operations?” + +“It’s no use asking me,” replied Woodfield, “because I don’t know. I +am searching for traces of a particular substance, but what may be the +significance of its presence, I haven’t the slightest idea. You’d +better ask Dr. Thorndyke--and he won’t tell you.” + +“No, I know,” said Marchmont. “Thorndyke will never tell you anything +until he can tell you everything. By the way, will the remains be +completely destroyed or will it be possible to recover them?” + +“They are not destroyed at all,” replied Woodfield. “They are all in +the slag that came out of the crucible. We shall simply put the slag +in the urn. There is a little charcoal, soda and borax added, but +nothing is taken away.” + +I could see that to the unchemical mind of Father Humperdinck, this +was far from satisfactory, and I observed him poring, with obvious +disapproval, over the dark-coloured, glassy masses of slag on the iron +plate. “Ashes to Ashes” was an intelligible formula, but “ashes to +slag” was quite another matter, for which no provision had been made +in any known ritual. + +After a rather hurried luncheon, the wax moulds were carefully opened +and the fragments of bone picked out, when it was seen that each +fragment had left a perfect impression on the wax surface into which +it had been pressed. These hollow impressions were now filled with +liquid plaster, and, when the latter had thickened sufficiently, the +two halves of each mould were quickly fitted together and kept in +close contact by a weight. + +During the interval which was necessary to allow of the plaster +setting quite firmly, I had leisure to note that Professor Woodfield +had filled two more of the cavities in the iron mould. Now that the +furnace was thoroughly hot, he was able to work rather more quickly, +and he had economized time by leaving a crucible to heat while we were +at lunch. He was preparing to take the fourth charge from the furnace +when I observed Polton removing the weight from one of the moulds and +hurriedly transferred my patronage to his part of the entertainment. +The mould on which he was operating was the one bearing the +impressions of the stained fragment of the innominate bone, and when +he separated the two halves and exposed the newly-made cast inside one +might have thought that the actual bone had been left in, so perfectly +did the snowy plaster cast reproduce the dazzlingly-white calcined +bone. But, naturally, the stain did not appear in the cast, a defect +which Thorndyke proceeded at once to remedy by making a tracing of the +exact position and extent of the coloured patch and transferring it to +the cast. Then, and not till then, Thorndyke regretfully handed the +original fragment to Professor Woodfield, who impassively dropped it +into the mortar and pounded it into a mere characterless powder. + +After the opening of the second mould and the removal of the casts, +the interest of the investigation lapsed for a time. Woodfield’s +operations were, doubtless, the most important part of the procedure, +but they were not thrilling to look on at. In fact, they became by +unvarying repetition, decidedly tedious, and when the last +charge--containing the uttermost crumb of ash--had been placed in the +furnace and there was nothing to do but stare at the great fireclay +drum, Marchmont and Humperdinck began to yawn in the most portentous +manner. I rather wondered that they did not go, for the investigation +was no business of theirs, and there was little entertainment in +gazing at the outside of the furnace or watching Polton and the +Superintendent gather up the masses of slag from the plate and drop +them into the casket. But I supposed that they, like myself, were +consoling themselves for the tedium of the chemist’s manipulations by +the prospect of satisfying their curiosity as to the final result of +the experiment. + +When, at length, the last charge was ready, Woodfield withdrew the +white-hot crucible from the furnace and stood it on the iron plate. +But this time he did not pour out the contents. Instead, he tilted the +iron mould, and, picking out the conical masses of slag that it +contained, one by one, lowered them with his tongs into the hot +crucible. Then, having thrown in a little fresh flux, he returned the +crucible to the furnace. + +“Why didn’t he pour out the melted stuff this time?” Marchmont asked. + +“Because,” Thorndyke replied, “I want, for certain reasons, to have +the total result of the analysis in a single mass. Each of those +little cones of slag contains the result from a sixth part of the ash; +the crucible now contains the matter extracted from the whole of the +ashes. For my purposes this is more suitable, as you will see in a few +minutes--for we shall not have to leave the crucible in the furnace so +long this time.” + +“I’m glad of that,” said Marchmont, “though this has been a most +interesting, and I may say, fascinating experience. I am delighted to +have had an opportunity of witnessing these most instructive +and--er--aw--” + +The rest of the sentence was rendered somewhat obscure by a colossal +yawn; but very soon the interest of the proceedings was revived by +Woodfield, who approached the furnace with a determined air and +removed its cover with somewhat of a flourish. + +“Now we shall see, Thorndyke,” said he, turning off the gas and +reaching down into the glowing cavity with his tongs. He lifted out +the crucible and, standing it on the iron plate, took out the nails, +tapping each on the side of the pot as he withdrew it. + +“Do you want me to pour it out, or shall I break the pot?” asked +Woodfield. + +“That rests with you,” replied Thorndyke. + +“Better break the pot, then,” said Woodfield. + +This entailed a further spell of expectant waiting, and we all stood +round, gazing impatiently at the crucible as it slowly faded from +bright red to dull red and from this to its natural dull drab. It was +quite a long time before Woodfield considered it cool enough to be +broken, indeed I half suspected him of prolonging our suspense with +deliberate malice. At length he took up a peculiarly-shaped hammer +which Polton had handed to him, and, laying the crucible on its side, +struck it sharply near the bottom with the pointed beak; then he +turned the pot over and struck a similar blow on the opposite side; +upon which the bottom of the crucible broke off cleanly, exposing the +mass of dark, glassy slag, and, embedded in it, a bright button of +metal. + +“What metal is that?” Jervis demanded eagerly. + +The professor struck the button smartly with the hammer, whereupon it +detached itself from the slag and rolled on to the plate. + +“Lead,” said he. “I don’t vouch for its purity, but it is undoubtedly +lead.” + +Jervis turned to Thorndyke with a puzzled look. + +“You can’t be suggesting,” said he, “that this was a case of acute +lead poisoning. The circumstances didn’t admit of it, and besides, the +quantity of lead is impossibly large.” + +“I should suppose,” interposed Miller, “that the doctor was suggesting +a most particularly acute form of lead poisoning, only that it is +impossible to imagine that a cremation certificate would be granted in +a case where a man had been killed by a pistol shot.” + +“I am not so sure of that,” said Thorndyke; “though it is not likely +that a cremation certificate would be applied for under those +circumstances. But I am certainly not suggesting lead poisoning.” + +“What do you say is the weight of this button, Thorndyke?” the +professor asked. + +“That,” replied Thorndyke, “depends on its relation to the total +content of lead in the ashes. What percentage do you suppose has been +lost in the process of reduction?” + +“Not more than ten per cent. I hope. You may take this button as +representing ninety per cent. of the total lead; perhaps a little +more.” + +Thorndyke made a rapid calculation on a scrap of paper. + +“I suggest,” said he, “that the total lead in the ashes was three +hundred and eighty-six grains. Deducting a tenth, say thirty-eight and +a half grains, we have three hundred and forty-seven and a half +grains, which should be the weight of this button.” + +Woodfield picked up the button and striding over to the glass case +which contained the chemical balance, slid up the front, and, placing +the button in one pan, put the weight corresponding to Thorndyke’s +estimate, in the other. On turning the handle that released the +balance, it was seen that the button was appreciably heavier than +Thorndyke had stated, and Woodfield adjusted the weights with a small +pair of forceps until the index stood in the middle of the graduated +arc. + +“The weight is three hundred and forty-nine and a half grains,” said +Woodfield. “That means that my assay was rather better than I thought. +You were quite right, Thorndyke, as you generally are. I wonder what +the object was that weighed three hundred and eighty-six grains. Are +you going to tell us?” + +Thorndyke felt in his waistcoat pocket. “It was an object,” said he, +“very similar to this.” + +As he spoke, he produced a rather large, dark-coloured bullet, which +he handed to Woodfield, who immediately placed it in the pan of the +balance and tested its weight. + +“Just a fraction short of three hundred and eighty-seven grains,” said +he. + +The Superintendent peered curiously into the balance-case, and, taking +the bullet out of the pan, turned it over in his fingers. + +“That’s not a modern bullet,” said he. “They don’t make ’em that size +now, and they don’t generally make ’em of pure lead.” + +“No,” Thorndyke agreed. “They don’t. This is an old French bullet; a +chassepôt of about 1870.” + +“A chassepôt!” exclaimed Humperdinck, with suddenly-awakened +interest. + +“Yes,” said Thorndyke; “and this button”--he picked it up from the +floor of the balance-case as he spoke,--“was once a chassepôt bullet, +too. This, Father Humperdinck,” he added, holding out the little mass +of metal towards the Jesuit, “was the bullet which struck your friend, +Vitalis Reinhardt, near Saarbrück more than thirty years ago.” + +The priest was thunderstruck. For some seconds he gazed from +Thorndyke’s face to the button of lead, with his mouth agape and an +expression of utter stupefaction. + +“But,” he exclaimed, at length, “it is impossible! How can it be, in +the ashes of a stranger?” + +“I take it,” said Marchmont, “that Dr. Thorndyke is suggesting that +this was the body of Vitalis Reinhardt.” + +“Undoubtedly I am,” said Thorndyke. + +“It sounds a rather bold supposition,” Marchmont observed, a little +dubiously. “Isn’t it basing a somewhat startling conclusion upon +rather slender data? The presence of the lead is a striking fact, but +still, taken alone--” + +“But it isn’t taken alone,” Thorndyke interrupted. “It is the final +link in a long chain of evidence. You will hear that evidence later, +but, as it happens, I can prove the identity of these remains from +facts elicited by the examination that we have just made. Let me put +the argument briefly. + +“First, I will draw your attention to these plaster casts, which you +have seen me make from the original bones. Take, to begin with, these +small fragments. Dr. Jervis will tell you what bones they are.” + +He handed the small casts to Jervis, who looked them over--not for the +first time--and passed them to me. + +“I say that they represent two complete fingers and the first, or +proximal, joint of a right thumb. What do you say, Jardine?” + +“That is what I had already made them out to be,” I replied. + +“Very well,” said Thorndyke. “That gives us an important initial fact. +These remains contained two complete fingers and the first joint of a +thumb. But these remains profess to be those of a man named Septimus +Maddock. Now this man is known to have had deformed hands, of the kind +described as brachydactylous. In such hands all the fingers are +incomplete--they have only two joints instead of the normal three--and +the first, or proximal joint of the thumb is absent. Obviously, then, +these remains cannot be those of Septimus Maddock, as alleged. + +“But, if not Maddock’s remains, whose are they? From certain facts +known to me, I had assumed them to be those of Vitalis Reinhardt. Let +us see what support that assumption has received. Reinhardt is known +to have been wounded in the right hip by a chassepôt bullet, and the +bullet was never extracted. Now I find, among these remains, a +considerable portion of the right hip-bone. In that bone is a mark +which plainly shows that it has been perforated and the perforation +repaired, and there is a cavity in which a foreign body of about the +size of a chassepôt bullet has been partly embedded. The chemical +composition of that foreign body is plainly indicated by a stain which +surrounds the cavity; which stain is evidently due to oxide of lead. +Clearly the foreign body was composed of lead, which will have melted +in the cremation furnace and run away, but left a small portion in the +cavity, which small portion, becoming oxidized, the oxide will have +liquefied and become soaked up by the absorbent bone-ash, thus +producing the stain. + +“Finally, we find by assay, that this foreign body actually was +composed of lead and that its weight was--within a negligible amount +of error--three hundred and eighty-six grains, which is the weight of +a chassepôt bullet. + +“I say that the evidence, from the ashes alone, is conclusive. But +this is only corroborative of conclusions that I had already formed on +a quite considerable body of evidence. Are you satisfied, Marchmont? I +mean, of course, only in respect of a _prima facie_ case.” + +“Perfectly satisfied,” replied Marchmont. “And now I understand why +you insisted on my being present at this investigation and bringing +Father Humperdinck; which, I must admit, has been puzzling me the +whole day. By the way, I rather infer, from what you said, that there +has been foul play. Is that so?” + +“I think,” replied Thorndyke, “there can hardly be a doubt that +Reinhardt was murdered by Septimus Maddock.” + +Father Humperdinck’s face suddenly turned purple. + +“And zis man Maddock,” he exclaimed fiercely, “zis murderer of my poor +friendt Vitalis, vere is he?” + +“He is being sought by the police at this moment,” replied Thorndyke. + +“He must be caught!” Father Humperdinck shouted in a furious voice, +“and ven he is caught he must be bunished as he deserves. I shall not +vun moment rest until he is hanged as high as Haman.” Here I caught a +quick glance from Marchmont’s eyes and seemed to hear a faint murmur +which framed the words “Vengeance is mine.” “But,” the Jesuit +continued, after a momentary pause, in the same loud, angry tone: “zis +villain has a double grime gommitted; he has murdered a goot, a +chenerous, a bious man; and he has robbed ze boor, ze suffering and ze +unfortunate.” + +“How has he done that?” asked Marchmont. + +“By murdering ze benefactor of our zoziety,” was the answer. + +“Yes, to be sure,” agreed the solicitor. “I hadn’t thought of that. Of +course, the original will in favour of Miss Vyne probably stands +without modification.” + +At this point Superintendent Miller interposed. + +“You were saying, sir, that the man Maddock is now being sought by the +police. Do you mean under that name?” + +“No,” answered Thorndyke. “I mean under the name of Samway. Septimus +Maddock, alias Isaac Van Damme, is written off as deceased. But +Samway, alias Maddock, alias Burton of Bruges, alias Gill, is his +reincarnation, and, as such, I commend him to your attention; and I +hope, Miller, you will be able to produce him shortly, in the flesh. +The evidence, as you see, is now ready, and all that is lacking is the +prisoner.” + +“He shan’t be lacking long, sir, if any efforts of mine can bring him +to light. I see a case here that will pay for all the work that we can +put into it; and now, with your permission, doctor, I will take +possession of this urn and get off, to see that everything necessary +is being done.” + +The Superintendent, as so often happens with departing guests, +infected our other two visitors with a sudden desire to be gone. +Father Humperdinck, especially, seemed unwilling to lose sight of the +police officer--who was correspondingly anxious to escape--and, having +wished us a very hasty adieu, hurried down the stairs in his wake, +followed, at a greater interval, by his legal adviser. + + + + + CHAPTER XXII. + THORNDYKE REVIEWS THE CASE + +When Professor Woodfield, having deliberately packed his bag and--to +my great relief and Jervis’s--declined Thorndyke’s invitation to stay +and take tea with us, presently took his departure, we descended to +the sitting-room, whither Polton followed us almost immediately with a +tea-tray, having, apparently, boiled the kettle in the adjacent +workshop while the final act of the analysis was in progress. He +placed the tray on a small table by Thorndyke’s chair, and, evidently, +anticipating the inevitable discussion on the results of the analysis, +made up the fire on a liberal scale and retired with unconcealed +reluctance. + +As soon as we were alone, Jervis opened the subject by voicing his and +my joint desire for “more light.” + +“This has been a great surprise to me, Thorndyke,” said he. + +“A complete surprise?” Thorndyke asked. + +“No, I can’t say that. The solution of the problem was one that I had +proposed to myself, but I had rejected it as impossible; and it looks +impossible still, though I now know it to be the true solution.” + +“I quite appreciate your difficulty,” said Thorndyke, “and I see that +if you did not happen to light on the answer to it, the difficulty was +insuperable. That was the really brilliant feature in Maddock’s plan. +But for a single fact which was almost certain to be overlooked, the +real explanation of the circumstances would appear utterly incredible. +Even if suspicion had been aroused later and the true explanation +suggested, there seemed to be one fact with which it was absolutely +irreconcilable.” + +“Yes,” agreed Jervis; “that is what I have felt.” + +“The truth is,” said Thorndyke, “that this crime was planned with the +most diabolical cleverness and subtlety. We realize that when we +consider by what an infinitely narrow margin it failed. Indeed, we can +hardly say that it did fail. As far as we can see, it succeeded +completely, and if the criminal could only have accepted its success, +there seems to be no reason why any discovery should ever have taken +place. Looking back on the case, we see that our experience has been +the same as O’Donnell’s; we had no clue whatever excepting the one +that was furnished by the criminal himself in his unnecessary efforts +to obtain even greater security. Suppose Maddock, having carried out +his plan successfully, had been content to leave it at that, who would +have known, or even suspected, that a crime had been committed? Not a +soul, I believe. But instead of that he must needs do what the +criminal almost invariably does; he must tinker at the crime when all +is going well and surround himself by a number of needless safeguards +by which, in the end, attention is attracted to his doings. He knows, +or believes he knows, that Jardine has in his possession certain +knowledge of a highly dangerous character; he does not ask himself +whether Jardine is aware that he possesses such knowledge, but, +appraising that knowledge at what he, himself, knows to be its value, +he decides to get rid of Jardine as the one element of danger. And +that was where he failed. If he had left Jardine alone, the whole +affair would have passed off as perfectly normal and its details would +soon have been lost sight of and forgotten. Even as it was, he missed +complete success only by a hair’s breadth. But for the most trivial +coincidence, Jardine’s body might be lying undiscovered in that cellar +at this very moment.” + +“That’s a comfortable thought for you, Jardine,” my younger colleague +remarked. + +“Very,” I agreed, with a slight shudder at the recollection of that +horrible death-trap. “But what was the coincidence? I never understood +how you came to be in that most unlikely place at that very opportune +moment.” + +“It was the merest chance,” replied Thorndyke. “I happened to have +called in at the hospital that evening, and, having an hour to spare, +it occurred to me to look in at Batson’s and see if you were getting +on quite happily in your new command. As I had induced you to take +charge, I felt some sort of responsibility in the matter.” + +“It was exceedingly kind of you, sir,” said I. + +“Not in the least,” said Thorndyke. “It was just the ordinary +solicitude of the teacher for a promising pupil. Well, when I arrived +at the house, I found that excellent girl, Maggie, standing on the +doorstep, looking anxiously up and down the street. It seemed that, on +reflection, she was still convinced that the works were untenanted, +and the oddity of the whole set of circumstances had made her somewhat +uneasy. I waited a few minutes and disposed of one or two patients, +and then, as you did not return, after what seemed an unaccountably +long absence, I very easily induced her to show me where the place +was; and when we arrived there, the deserted aspect of the building +and the notice board over the gate seemed rather to justify her +anxiety. + +“I rang the bell loudly, as I daresay you know, but I did not wait +very long. When I failed to get any response, I too, became +suspicious, and proceeded without delay to pick the lock of the +wicket--and it is most fortunate that the wicket was unprovided with a +bolt, which would have delayed me very considerably. You know the +rest. When I shouted your name you must have tried to answer, for I +caught a kind of muffled groan and the sound of tapping, which guided +me and Maggie to your prison. But it was a near thing; for, when I +opened the cellar door, you fell out quite unconscious and accompanied +by a gush of carbon dioxide that was absolutely stifling.” + +“Yes,” said I, “it was touch and go. A few minutes more and it would +have been all up with me. I realized that as soon as I recovered +consciousness. But I couldn’t, for the life of me understand why +anybody should want to murder me, and I am not so very clear on the +subject now. I really knew nothing about Maddock.” + +“You knew more than anyone else knew, and he thought you knew more +than you did. But perhaps it would be instructive to review the case +in detail.” + +“It would be very instructive to me,” said Jervis, “for I don’t, even +now, see how you managed to bridge over those gaps that stopped me in +my attempts to make a hypothesis that covered all the circumstances.” + +“Very well,” said Thorndyke, “then we will begin at the beginning; and +the beginning, for me, was the finding of Jardine, as I have described +it. Here was a pretty plain case of attempted murder, evidently +premeditated and apparently committed by some person who had access to +these works; evidently, also, conceived and planned with considerable +knowledge, skill and foresight, though with how much foresight I did +not realize until I had heard Jardine’s story. When I had Jardine’s +account of the affair, I saw that the crime had been planned with +quite remarkable ingenuity and judgment; in fact, the circumstances +had been so carefully considered, and contingencies so well provided +for that, but for a single tactical error the plan would have +succeeded. That error was in making the pretended emergency a surgical +injury. If the letter to Jardine had stated that a man was in a fit, +instead of suffering from a wound, our friend would have had no need +to call at the surgery for appliances but would have gone straight to +the works. And there, in all probability, his body would still be +lying, for no one would have known whither he had gone; and even if +his body had been accidentally discovered, all traces of the means by +which he had been killed would probably have been removed. There would +have been nothing to show that he had not strayed into the deserted +factory and turned on the gas himself; indeed, it is pretty certain +that matters would have been so arranged as to convey that impression +to the persons who made the discovery.” + +“There was the letter,” said I. “That would have given things away to +some extent.” + +“But you would have had it in your pocket, from which he would, of +course, have removed it. We may be sure that he had not overlooked the +letter. It was the need for surgical appliances that he had +overlooked; but, in spite of this error, the plan was ingenious, +subtle, and clearly not the work of an ignorant man. + +“And here I would point out to you that this latter fact was one of +great importance in searching for the solution of the mystery. We knew +something of our man. He was subtle, resourceful, and absolutely +ruthless. Noting this, I was prepared, in pursuing the case, to find +his other actions characterized by subtlety, resourcefulness and +ruthlessness. His further actions were not going to be those of a +dullard or an ignoramus. + +“But this was not all the information that I had concerning the +personality of this unknown villain. Jervis and I looked over the +cellars that same night within an hour and a half of the rescue and +before anything had been moved. We were then in a position to infer +that the unknown was probably a somewhat tall man and above the +average of strength, as shown by the weight, position and arrangement +of the iron bottles. Moreover, since there was no faintest trace of a +finger-print on any of them, it followed that some precaution against +them--such as gloves--had been adopted; which again suggested either a +professional criminal or a person well acquainted with criminal +methods. + +“So much for the man. As to the rest of the information that I +obtained by looking into the cellar, it seemed at the time meagre +enough; and yet, when considered by the light of Jardine’s statement, +it turned out to be of vital importance. You remember what it was, +Jardine? That cellar contained certain objects. They seemed very +unilluminating and commonplace, but, according to my invariable +custom, I considered them attentively and made a written list of them. +Do you remember what they were?” + +“Yes, quite well. There were ten empty cylinders, a spanner, a +packing-case--” + +“What were the dimensions of the case?” Thorndyke interrupted. + +“Seven feet long by two and a half wide and deep. Then there were a +couple of waterproof sheets and a quantity of straw. That is the lot, +I think, and I’ll be hanged if I can see what any of them--excepting +the three cylinders that were used for my benefit--have to do with the +case. Can you, Jervis?” + +“I’m afraid I can’t,” he replied. “They are all such very ordinary +objects.” + +“Ordinary or not,” said Thorndyke, “there they were; and I made a note +of them on the principle--which I am continually impressing on my +students--that you can never judge in advance what the evidential +value of any fact will be, and on the further principle that, in +estimating evidence, there is no such thing as a commonplace fact or +object. + +“Until I had heard Jardine’s account of the affair there was not much +to be gained by thinking about the possibilities that it presented. +There was, however, one point to be settled, and I dealt with it at +once. My slight inspection of the works had shown that no business was +being carried on in them; and the question was whether they were +completely untenanted or whether there was some person who had regular +access to them. My enquiries resulted, as you know, in the unearthing +of the mysterious Mr. Gill, but what his relation to the affair might +be I was not, at the moment, in a position to judge. + +“Then came our talk with Jardine, from which emerged the fact that the +ordinary motives of murder apparently did not exist in this case, and +that the crime appeared to have its origin in circumstances that had +arisen locally and recently. And, on our proceeding to search for such +conditions as might conceivably generate an adequate motive, we +lighted on a case of cremation. + +“Now, it is my habit, whenever I have to deal with death which has +been followed by cremation, to approach the case with the utmost +caution and scrutinize the circumstances most narrowly. For, admirable +as is this method of disposing of the dead regarded from a hygienic +standpoint, it has the fatal defect of lending itself most perfectly +to the more subtle forms of murder, and especially to the +administration of poison. By cremation all traces of the alkaloids, +the toxines and the other organic poisons are utterly destroyed, while +of the metals, the three whose compounds are most commonly employed +for criminal purposes, arsenic, antimony and mercury--are volatilized +by heat and would be more or less completely dissipated during the +incineration of the body. It is true that the most elaborate +precautions in the form of examination and certification are +prescribed--and usually taken, I presume--before cremation is +performed; but, as every medical jurist knows, precautions taken +before the event are useless, for, to be effective, they have to cover +every possible cause of death, which would be impracticable. Hence, as +suspicion, in case of poisoning, commonly does not arise until some +time after death, I always give the closest consideration to the +antecedent circumstances in cases where cremation has been performed. + +“But in this case of Jardine’s it was at once obvious that the +circumstances called for the minutest inquiry and that no inquiry had +been made. On the face of it the case was a suspicious one; and the +curious incident that Jardine described made it look more suspicious +still and, moreover, suggested a possible motive for the attempt on +his life. Apparently he had seen, or was believed to have seen, +something that he was not desired to see; something that it was not +intended that anyone should see. + +“Now what might that something have been? Apparently it was connected +with the hand or with the part of the arm adjacent to the hand. I +considered the possibilities; and at once they fell into two +categories. That something might have been a wound, an injury, a +hypodermic needle-mark; something, that is to say, related to the +cause of death; or it might have been a mutilation, a deformity, a +finger-ring, a tattoo-mark; something, that is to say, related to the +identity of the deceased. And it followed that the cremation might +have been made use of to conceal either the cause of death or the +identity of the body. But all this was purely speculative. The case +looked suspicious; but there was not a particle of positive evidence +that anything abnormal had occurred. + +“At this point Jardine exploded on us his second mystery; that of the +dead cleric at Hampstead. This gave us, at once, an adequate motive +for getting rid of him; for it had every appearance of a case of +murder with successful concealment of the body, and Jardine was the +only witness who could testify to its having occurred. On hearing of +this I was for a moment disposed to dismiss the cremation case; to +consider that the suspicious elements in it had been magnified by our +imaginations in our endeavours to find an explanation of the assault +on Jardine. Moreover, since we now had a sufficient motive for that +assault the cremation case appeared to be outside the scope of the +inquiry. + +“But there was a difficulty. It was now six weeks since Jardine had +encountered the body in the lane, and during that time he had been +entirely unmolested. The assault had occurred on his moving into a new +neighbourhood, to which he had come unexpectedly and unannounced. +Moreover, the assault had been committed by some person who either had +access to the factory or was, at least, well acquainted with it and +who, therefore, seemed to be connected with the new neighbourhood; and +it was committed within a few days of the cremation incident. +Furthermore, the assault was manifestly premeditated and prepared; but +yet the circumstances--namely, Jardine’s recent and unexpected +appearance in the neighbourhood--were such as to make it certain that +the crime could have been planned only a day or two before its +execution. Which again seemed to connect it with the cremation case +rather than with the Hampstead case. + +“There were two more points. We have seen that Jardine’s would-be +murderer was a subtle, ingenious, resourceful and cautious villain. +But a crime adjusted, to the conditions of cremation is exactly such a +crime as we should expect of such a man; whereas the Hampstead +crime--assuming it to be a crime--appeared to have been a somewhat +clumsy affair, though the successful concealment of the body pointed +to a person of some capacity. So that the former crime was more +congruous with the known personality of the would-be murderer than the +latter. + +“The second point was made on further investigation. The day after our +consultation I looked round the neighbourhood with the aid of a +large-scale map; when I discovered that the yard of the factory in +Norton Street backed on the garden of the Samways’ house in Gayton +Street. This, again, suggested a connection between the cremation case +and the assault on Jardine; and the suggestion was so strong that once +more the cremation incident assumed the uppermost place in my mind. + +“I considered that case at length. Assuming a crime to have been +committed, what was the probable nature of that crime? Now, cremation, +as I have said, tends to destroy two kinds of evidence, namely: that +relating to the cause of death and that relating to the identity of +the body; whence it follows that the two crimes which it may be used +to conceal are murder and substitution. + +“To which of these crimes did the evidence point in the present +instance? Well, we had the undoubted fact that cremation had been +performed pursuant to the expressed wishes of Septimus Maddock, the +man who was alleged to have been cremated. But if it was a case of +murder, the crime must have been hurriedly planned a few days before +the man’s death--that is, after the execution of the will; for we +could assume that Maddock would not have connived at his own murder; +whereas, if it was a case of substitution Maddock, himself, was +probably the actual agent. Considering the circumstances--the +inexplicable, symptomless illness and the unexpected death--the latter +crime was obviously more probable than the former. The illness, in +that case, would be a sham illness deliberately planned to prepare the +way for the introduction of the substituted body. + +“Moreover, the attendant circumstances were more in favour of +substitution than of murder. Of the three doctors who saw the body, +only one had seen the living man; and that one, Batson, was more than +half blind and wholly inattentive and neglectful. For the purpose of +substitution, no more perfectly suitable practitioner could have been +selected. The identity of the body was taken for granted--naturally +enough, I admit--and no verification was even thought of. Then, as to +Jardine’s experience. The hand or wrist is not at all a likely region +on which to find either a fatal injury or the trace of a hypodermic +injection; whereas it is a most important region for purposes of +identification. The hand is highly characteristic in itself even when +normal; and there is no part of the body that is so subject to +mutilation or in which mutilations and deformities are so striking, so +conspicuous, and so characteristic. Lost fingers, stiff fingers, +webbed fingers, supernumerary fingers, contracted palm, deformed +nails, brachydactylia and numerous other abnormal conditions are not +only easily recognized, but--since the hand is usually unclothed and +visible--their existence will be known to a large number of persons. + +“The evidence, in short, was strongly in favour of substitution as +against murder. + +“If, however, the body which was cremated was not that of Maddock, +then it was the body of some other person; that is to say that the +theory of substitution left us with a dead body that was unaccounted +for. And since a dead body implies the death of some person, the +theory of substitution left us with a death unaccounted for and +obviously concealed; that is to say, it raised a strong presumption of +the murder of some unknown person. And here it seemed that our data +came to an end; that we had no material whatever for forming any +hypothesis as to the identity of the person whose dead body we were +assuming to have been substituted for that of Septimus Maddock. + +“But while I was thus turning over the possibilities of this cremation +case, the other--the Hampstead case--continued to lurk in the +background of my mind. It was much less hypothetical. There was +positive evidence of some weight that a crime had been committed. And +the circumstances offered a fully adequate motive for getting rid of +Jardine. Thus it was natural that I should raise the question. Was it +possible that the two cases could be in any way connected? + +“At the first glance, the suggestion looked absolutely wild. But still +I considered it at length; and then it looked somewhat less wild. The +two cases had this in common, that if a crime had been committed, +Jardine was the sole witness. Moreover, the supposition that the two +cases were connected and incriminated the same parties, greatly +intensified the motive for making away with Jardine. But there was +another and much stronger point in favour of this view. If we adopted +the theory of substitution, it was impossible, on looking at the two +cases, to avoid being struck by the very curious converseness of their +conditions. In the Hampstead case we were dealing with a body which +had suddenly vanished, no one could say whither; in the Maddock case +we were dealing with a body which had suddenly appeared, no one could +say whence. + +“When I reflected on this very striking appearance of relation it was +inevitable that I should ask myself the question, Is it conceivable +that these two bodies could have been one and the same? That the body +which was cremated could have been the body which Jardine saw in the +lane? + +“Again, at the first glance, the question looked absurd. The first +body was seen by Jardine more than six weeks before the alleged death +of Maddock; and the body which he saw at the Samways’ house was that +of a man newly dead, with _rigor mortis_ just beginning. It was, +indeed barely conceivable that the Hampstead body was not actually +dead and that the man might have lingered on alive for six weeks. But +this suggestion failed to fit the known facts in two respects. In the +first place, the body which Jardine saw in the lane was, from his +description, pretty unmistakably a dead body, and, in the second, the +sham illness of Maddock and the elaborate, leisurely preparations +suggest a complete control of the time factor, which would be absent +if those preparations were adjusted to a dying man who might expire at +any moment. + +“Rejecting this suggestion, then, the further question arose, Is it +possible that the body that was seen in the lane could, after an +interval of six weeks, have been produced in Gayton Street, perfectly +fresh and in a state of incipient _rigor mortis_? And when the +question was thus fairly stated, the answer was obviously in the +affirmative. For, is it not a matter of common knowledge that the +bodies of sheep are habitually brought from New Zealand to London, +traversing the whole width of the Tropics in the voyage, and are +delivered, after an interval of more than six weeks, perfectly fresh +and in a state of incipient _rigor mortis_? The physical possibility +was beyond question. + +“But if physically possible, was such preservation practicable? Well, +how are the bodies of the sheep preserved? By exposing them +continuously to intense cold. And how is that intense cold produced? +Roughly speaking, by the volatilization of a liquefied gas--ammonia, +in the case of the sheep. But behold! The very man whom we are +suspecting of being the agent in this crime is a man who has command +of large quantities of a liquefied gas, and who has hired a mineral +water factory for no apparent reason and put the premises to no +apparent use.” + +At this point Jervis brought his fist down with a bang on the arm of +his chair. + +“Idiot!” he exclaimed. “Ass, fool, dolt, imbecile that I am! With +those cylinders staring me in the face, too! Of course, it was that +interval of six weeks that brought me up short. And yet I had actually +heard Jardine describe the cloud of carbon dioxide snow that fell on +his face! Don’t you consider me an absolute donkey, Thorndyke?” + +“Certainly not,” replied Thorndyke. “You happened to miss a link and, +of course, the chain would not hold. It occurs to us all now and +again. But, do you see, Jardine, how ‘the stone which the builders +rejected has become the head of the corner’? Don’t you understand how, +when I reached this point, there rose before me the picture of that +cellar with the commonplace objects that it contained? The case, seven +feet by two and a-half--so convenient for preserving a body in a bulky +packing; the two waterproof sheets--so well adapted to holding a mass +of carbon dioxide snow in contact with the body; the mass of +straw--one of the most perfect non-conductors--so admirably fitted for +its use as a protective packing for the frozen body! and lastly, those +ten empty cylinders, of which seven had been used for some purpose +unknown to us? Let this case be a lesson to you, Jardine; not only in +legal medicine but in clinical medicine, too, to take the facts as you +find them--relevant or irrelevant, striking or commonplace--note them +carefully and trust them to find their own places in the inductive +scheme.” + +“It has been a most instructive lesson to me,” said I; “especially +your analysis of the reasoning by which you identified the criminal.” + +“Hum,” said Thorndyke. “I didn’t know I’d got as far as that.” + +“But if the body was preserved in a frozen state, there could not be +much doubt as to who had preserved it.” + +“Possibly not,” Thorndyke agreed. “But I had not proved that it _had_ +been so preserved, but only that it was possible for it to have been; +and that the supposition of its having been so preserved was in +agreement with the known circumstances of the case. But I must impress +on you that up to this point I was dealing in pure hypothesis. My +hypothesis was perfectly sound, perfectly consistent in all its parts, +and perfectly congruous with all the known facts, but it did not +follow therefore that it was true. It was entirely unverified; for +hitherto I had not one single item of positive evidence to support it. + +“Nevertheless, the striking agreement between the hypothesis and the +known facts encouraged me greatly; and, as it was evident that I had +now exhausted the material yielded by the cremation incident, I +decided to take up the clue at the other end; to investigate the +details of the Hampstead affair. To this end I called on Jardine, who +very kindly went over the case with me afresh. And here it was that I +first came within hail of positive evidence. On his wall was pinned an +oil sketch, and on that sketch was a distinct print of a right thumb. +It was beautifully clear; for the paint having been dry on the surface +but soft underneath, had taken the impression as sharply as a surface +of warm wax. + +“Now, you will remember that I took possession of the letter which +summoned Jardine to the mineral water works and I may now say that I +tested it most carefully for finger-prints. But paper is a poor +material on which to develop invisible prints owing to its absorbent +nature and I had very indifferent success. Still, I did not fail +entirely. By the combined use of lycopodium powder and photography I +obtained impressions of parts of two finger-tips and a portion of the +end of a right thumb. They were wretched prints but yet available for +corroboration, since one could see part of the pattern on each and +could make out that the ridge-pattern of the thumb was of the kind +known as a ‘twinned loop.’ + +“Bearing this fact in mind, you will understand that I was quite +interested to find that the print on the sketch--also that of a right +thumb--had a twinned loop pattern. I noted the fact as a coincidence, +but, of course, attached no importance to it until Jardine told me +that the artist who painted the sketch habitually worked in gloves; +and even then I merely made a mental note that I would ascertain who +and what the artist was. + +“I need not go over our examination of the scene of the crime. I need +only say that I was deeply interested in following the track along +which the body had been carried because I was on the look-out for +something; and that something was a house or other building in which +the body might have been temporarily deposited. + +“My hypothesis seemed to demand such a building. For, since the body +was quite fresh and _rigor mortis_ was only beginning when Jardine saw +it at Gayton Street, it must have been frozen very shortly after +death. Now, it obviously could not have been carried from Hampstead to +Gayton Street on a man’s back; the alternative is either a vehicle +waiting at an appointed place--and necessarily not far away--or a +house or other building to which the body could be taken. But the +vehicle would, under the circumstances be almost impracticable. It +would hardly be possible to make an appointment with any exactness as +to time; and the presence of a waiting or loitering vehicle would, at +such an hour--it was about midnight, you will remember--be almost +certain to arouse suspicion and inquiry. + +“On the other hand, a house to which the body could be conveyed would +meet the conditions perfectly. When once the body was deposited there, +the danger of pursuit would be practically at an end; and it would be +quite possible to have a supply of the liquid gas ready for use on its +arrival. This is assuming long premeditation and very deliberate +preparation; an assumption supported by Gill’s peculiar tenancy of the +factory. + +“I, therefore, kept a sharp look-out for a likely house or building; +and, as Jardine and I came out of Ken Wood by the turnstile, behold! a +house which answered the requirements to perfection. It was a solitary +house; there was no other house near; and it lay right on the track +along which the body had apparently been carried. Instantly, I decided +to investigate the recent history of that house and its tenants; but +Jardine saved me the trouble. From him I learned that, at the time of +the assumed murder, it had been inhabited by the artist whom he had +mentioned, but that it had now been empty for a week or two. + +“Here were news indeed! This artist, who habitually wore gloves and +whose right thumb-print was a twinned loop, had been living in this +house at the time of the assumed murder, but had been living elsewhere +at the time of the cremation! It was a striking group of facts, and I +eagerly availed myself of the opportunity of looking over the house. + +“At first, the examination was quite barren and disappointing. The +man’s habits, as shown by the few discarded articles of use or other +traces, were of no interest to me--and still less to Jardine; and of +traces of his personality there were none. I searched all the rejected +canvases and every available scrap of paper in the hope of collecting +some fresh finger-prints, but without the smallest result. In fact, +the examination looked like being an utter failure up to the very +last, when we entered the stable-loft; but here I came upon one or two +really significant traces of occupation. + +“The first of these was a smooth, indented line on the floor, as if +some heavy, metallic object had been dragged along it, with other, +rougher lines, apparently made by a heavy wooden case. Then there was +a quantity of straw, not new straw such as you might expect to find in +a stable-loft, but straw that had evidently been used for packing. +And, finally, there was a pair of canvas pliers which appeared to have +been strained by a violent effort to rotate from right to left some +hard, metallic body, three quarters of an inch wide, with sharp +corners and apparently square in section; some body, in fact, that in +shape, in size and apparently in material, was identical with the +square of the cock on one of the liquid gas bottles; which appeared to +have been connected with a screw thread and had clearly required great +force to turn it with this inadequate appliance. + +“The evidence collected from the loft, suggesting that a large case +had been moved in and out and that a gas cylinder had been opened, you +will say was of the flimsiest. And so it was. But the effects of +evidence are cumulative. To estimate the value of these observations +made in the loft, you must add them to the facts just obtained +concerning the artist himself, the position of his house and the date +on which he vacated it; and these coincidences and agreements must be +added to--or, more strictly, multiplied into--the body of coincidences +and agreements which I have already described. + +“But the evidence collected at the house was the least important part +of the day’s ‘catch.’ On returning to Jardine’s rooms I ventured to +borrow the sketch and took it home with me; and when I compared the +thumb-print on it with the photograph of the thumb-print on the +letter--employing the excellent method of comparison that is in use at +Scotland Yard--there could be no possible doubt (disregarding for the +moment, the chances of forgery) that they were the prints of one and +the same thumb. + +“Here, then, at last I had stepped out of the region of mere +hypothesis. Here was an item of positive evidence, and one, moreover, +of high probative value. It proved, beyond any reasonable doubt, the +existence of some connection between the house on the Heath and the +factory in Norton Street; and it established a strong presumption that +the artist and the man at the factory were the same person; the weak +point in this being the absence of proof that the thumb-print on the +painting was made by the artist. + +“And here, Jardine, I would draw your attention to the interesting way +in which, when a long train of hypothetical reasoning has at length +elicited an actual, demonstrable truth, that truth instantly reacts on +the hypothesis, lifting it as a whole on to an entirely different +plane of probability. I may compare the effect to that of a crystal, +dropped into a super-saturated solution of a salt, such as sodium +sulphate. So long as it is at rest, the solution remains a clear +liquid; but drop into it the minutest crystal of its own salt, and, in +a few moments the entire liquid has solidified into a mass of +crystals. + +“So it was in the present case. In the instant when it became an +established fact that the house at Hampstead and the factory in Norton +Street had been occupied by the same person, the entire sequence of +events which I had hypothetically constructed, sprang from the plane +of mere conceivability to that of actual probability. It was now more +likely than unlikely that the unknown cleric had been murdered, that +his body had been conveyed to the artist’s house, that it had there +been frozen, transferred to the factory, preserved there for some +weeks, passed over the wall to the Samways’ house, and finally +cremated under the name of Septimus Maddock. + +“All that now remained to be done was the verification and +identification of the body. As to the first, I examined the will at +Somerset House and found it, as the American detectives suspected, a +mere notification to the New York authorities that Septimus Maddock +was dead. I wrote to the detective agency and in due course came +O’Donnell with the answers to my questions; from which we learned for +certain that the artist was Septimus Maddock and that the assumed +peculiarity of the hands consisted of brachydactylia. And then came +the good Father Humperdinck to enable us to give a name to the body +and to furnish us with that unlooked for means of identification. +Henceforward, all was plain sailing with only one possible source of +failure; the possibility that the bullet might have been subsequently +extracted. But this was highly improbable. We knew that the wound had +healed completely, and it was pretty certain that the bullet was lying +quietly encysted or embedded in the bone. Still, I will confess that I +have never in my life been more relieved than I was when my eyes +lighted on that dent in the ilium with the stain of lead oxide round +it.” + +“So I can imagine,” said Jervis. “It was a triumph; and you deserved +it. I have never known even my revered senior to work out the theory +of a crime more neatly or with less positive matter to work from. And +I suppose you have a pretty clear and connected idea of the actual +sequence of events.” + +“I think so,” replied Thorndyke, “although much of it is necessarily +conjectural. I take it that Maddock, while hiding in Bruges under the +name of Burton, made the acquaintance of Reinhardt, and saw in the +rich, friendless, eccentric bachelor a suitable subject for a crime +which he had probably already considered in general terms. I should +think that they were probably somewhat alike in appearance and that +the idea of personation was first suggested by the circumstance that +they both wore gloves habitually. Maddock will have learned of +Reinhardt’s intended visit to England and immediately begun his +preparations. His scheme--and a most ingenious one it was, I must +confess--was clearly to cause Reinhardt to disappear in one locality +and produce his body after a considerable interval in another at some +distance; and the house on the Heath was apparently taken with this +object and to be near Reinhardt’s haunts. I take it, that on the night +of the murder, Reinhardt had an appointment to visit him at that +house, but that, having learned at Miss Vyne’s of the sudden illness +of Brother Bartholomew, he suddenly altered his plans and refused to +go. Then Maddock--who had probably waited for him on the road--seeing +his scheme on the point of being wrecked, walked with him as he was +going home and took the risk of killing him in Millfield Lane. The +risk was not great, considering the time of night and the solitary +character of the place, and the distance from the house was not too +great for a strong man, as Maddock seems to have been, to carry the +body. + +“Death was almost certainly produced by a stab in the back; and +Maddock was probably just about to carry the body away when destiny, +in the form of Jardine, appeared. Then Maddock must have lurked, +probably behind the fence which had the large hole in it, until +Jardine went away, when he must instantly have picked up the body, +carried it down the lane, pushed it over the fence--detaching the +reliquary as he did so--carried it away to the house, stripped it and +proceeded at once to freeze it, having provided a bottle of the gas in +readiness. + +“The next morning he will have gone to Marchmont’s office--probably +dressed in Reinhardt’s clothes, from thence to Charing Cross, and, +with Reinhardt’s luggage, gone straight on to Paris, leaving the body +packed in an abundance of the carbonic acid snow. At Paris he will +have made his arrangements with Desiré and then disappeared, +returning in disguise to England to carry out the rest of the plan. +And a wonderfully clever plan it was, and most ingeniously and +resolutely executed. If it had succeeded--and it was within a hair’s +breath of succeeding--the hunted criminal, Maddock, would have been +beyond the reach of Justice for ever, and the fictitious Reinhardt +might have lived out his life in luxury and absolute security.” + +As Thorndyke concluded, he rose from his chair, and, stepping over to +a cabinet, drew from some inner recess a cigar of melanotic complexion +and repulsive aspect. + +Jervis looked at it and chuckled. + +“Thorndyke’s one dissipation,” said he. “At the close of every +successful case he proceeds, as a sort of thanksgiving ceremony, to +funk us out of these chambers with the smoke of a Trichinopoly +cheroot. But listen! Don’t light it yet, Thorndyke. Here comes some +harmless and inoffensive stranger.” + +Thorndyke paused with the cigar in his fingers. A quick step ascended +the stairs and then came a sharp, official rat-tat from the little +brass knocker. Thorndyke laid the cigar on the mantelpiece and strode +over to the door. I saw him take in a telegram, open it, glance at the +paper and dismiss the messenger. Then, closing the door, he came back +to the fireside with the “flimsy” in his hand. + +“There, Jardine,” said he, laying it on my knee; “there is your order +of release.” + +I picked up the paper and read aloud its curt message. + + + “Maddock arrested Folkestone now in custody Bow Street. + + “Miller.” + + +“That means to say,” said Thorndyke, “that the halter is already +around his neck. I think I may light my Trichinopoly now.” + +And he did so. + + +There is little more to tell. This has been a history of coincidences +and one more coincidence brings it to a close. The very day on which +my formal engagement to Sylvia was made public, chanced to be the day +on which the execution of Septimus Maddock was described in the +papers. On that day, too, the portrait of poor Letitia, painted by +that skilful and murderous hand, was placed in the handsome ebony +frame that I had caused to be made for it. As I write these closing +words, it hangs before me, flanked on either side by the little jar of +violets that are renewed religiously from day to day by my wife or me. +The pale, inscrutable eyes look out on me, her friend whom she loved +so faithfully and who so little merited her love; but as I look into +them, the picture fades and shows me the same face glorified, waxen, +pallid, drowsy-eyed, peaceful and sweet--the dead face of the woman +who gave her heart’s blood as the price of my ransom, and who was +fated then to pass--out of my life indeed, but out of my heart’s +shrine and my most loving remembrance, never. + + THE END + + + + + TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES + +The edition hosted on Project Gutenberg Australia (publisher and date +not given) was consulted for some of the changes given below. + +Minor spelling inconsistencies (e.g. footstep/foot-step, hair’s +breadth/hairs-breadth, inadmissable/inadmissible, runaway/run-away, +etc.) have been preserved. + +Alterations to the text: + +Punctuation: fix some quotation mark pairings/nestings, some missing +periods and commas, etc. + +Change five instances of “the Samway’s house” to “the Samways’ house.” + +[Chapter I] + +(“Which way were you going when you came on the body.”) change the +period to a question mark. + +[Chapter III] + +Change “Quite the orthodox _get up_.” to _get-up_. + +[Chapter IV] + +(“No facial signs? Nothing unusual in his _color_ or expression?”) to +_colour_. + +(“By _jove_!” exclaimed Batson, “this business has upset) to _Jove_. + +[Chapter V] + +“Camden Town is not a very attractive _neighborhood_” to +_neighbourhood_. + +“her appearance suggested was strength--sheer, muscular, strength” +delete the last comma. + +[Chapter VI] + +(“I suppose I can do the surgery work?” said I.) change the question +mark to a comma. + +“and a man named _O’Conner_ confirmed his certificate after examining” +to _O’Connor_. + +“and bring in a crowd of beastly _reports_ humming about the place” to +_reporters_. + +[Chapter VII] + +(“The worthy Gill,” said _Jarvis_, “seems to have been) to _Jervis_. + +[Chapter VIII] + +“letting one’s fancy furnish them with one’s own household _gods_” to +_goods_. + +“shut in by these high fences. I heard quick footsteps behind me” +change the period to a comma. + +“I can tell you much about this man excepting _the_ he was” to _that_. + +[Chapter IX] + +“The next question is, how was the body taken away.” change the period +to a question mark. + +[Chapter X] + +“scope of the acquaintance; on which, Miss Vyne remarked that” delete +the comma. + +[Chapter XIII] + +“as if to inspect the end of the shop window, and Sylvia exclaimed.” +change the period to a colon. + +[Chapter XIV] + +“I want to know how you came to be in _Folkstone_ and in that” to +_Folkestone_. + +(“I didn’t think you had noticed my negligé _get up_.”) to _get-up_. + +“front of the window while a discreet, reticence is maintained” delete +the comma. + +(“By the way, where did you see us? I didn’t see you?”) change the +second question mark to a period. + +[Chapter XV] + +“but don’t you think it would be simpler… and shadow him!” change +the exclamation mark to a question mark. + +“But wouldn’t it be simpler to run the Johnnie in, in any case.” +change the period to a question mark. + +“and highly corrugated smile, he opened his mouth and _spake_” to +_spoke_. + +“the Doctor tells me, to take _Sanctuary_ for a time with us” to +_sanctuary_. + +“saw my watch hanging from a nail, with a rating _tabled_ pinned above +it” to _table_. + +(And,” he continued, as Polton retired with a gratified smile “I am) +add comma after _smile_. + +[Chapter XVI] + +“But our career in the field, was not a long one.” delete the comma. + +“The habit began when he had some _affection_ of the skin” to +_affliction_. + +“bestowed on Jervis and me a _ceremoniout_ bow and moved towards” to +_ceremonious_. + +[Chapter XVII] + +“And what answers do you _sugest_ to the questions that Marchmont” to +_suggest_. + +“what took place in the sacred _precints_ of my principal’s chambers” +to _precincts_. + +[Chapter XVIII] + +(“Reasoning, you know; Mr. O’Donnell,” he continued, “is somewhat) +change the semicolon to a comma. + +[Chapter XX] + +“and, after a few _moment’s_ cogitation, turned once more to” to +_moments’_. + +[Chapter XXI] + +(“zis _villian_ has a double grime gommitted; he has murdered a goot”) +to _villain_. + +[Chapter XXII] + +“evidently, anticipating the inevitable discussion, on the results of” +delete the second comma. + +“The case, seven feet by two and _a-Half_--so convenient for” to +_a-half_. + + [End of text] + + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76796 *** diff --git a/76796-h/76796-h.htm b/76796-h/76796-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..462f135 --- /dev/null +++ b/76796-h/76796-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,16529 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + A silent witness | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +/* Headers and Divisions */ + h1, h2, h3, h4 {margin:4em 0em 1em 0em; page-break-before:always; text-align:center;} + +/* General */ + + body {margin:0% 5% 0% 5%;} + + .nobreak {page-break-before:avoid;} + + p {margin:0em 0em 0em 0em; text-align:justify; text-indent:1em;} + .center {margin:0em 0em 0em 0em; text-align:center; text-indent:0em;} + .noindent {text-indent:0em;} + + .toc_l {font-variant:small-caps; margin:0em 0em 0em 2em; text-indent:-2em;} + + .rt1 {margin:0em 1em 0em 0em; text-align:right; text-indent:0em;} + + .chap_sub {font-size:80%;} + .font80 {font-size:80%;} + .sc {font-variant:small-caps;} + +/* special formatting */ + + .stanza {margin:1em 0em 0em 0em; text-indent:0em;} + .i0 {display:inline-block; margin:0em 0em 0em 2em; text-indent:-2em;} + + blockquote {margin:1em 2em 1em 2em;} + + .mt1 {margin-top:1em;} + .mt4 {margin-top:4em;} + +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76796 ***</div> + +<h1> +A SILENT<br> +WITNESS +</h1> + +<p class="center"> +BY R. AUSTIN FREEMAN<br> +<span class="font80"><i>Author of</i> The Red Thumb Mark,<br> +The Eye of Osiris, <i>etc.</i></span> +</p> + +<p class="center mt4"> +<i>New York</i><br> +DODD, MEAD & COMPANY<br> +1929 +</p> + + +<h2> +[COPYRIGHT] +</h2> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="sc">Published in U.S.A., 1929<br> +By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, Inc.</span> +</p> + + +<h2> +CONTENTS +</h2> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch01">I. The Beginning of the Mystery</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch02">II. The Finding of the Reliquary</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch03">III. “Who is Sylvia?”</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch04">IV. Septimus Maddock, Deceased</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch05">V. The Lethal Chamber</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch06">VI. A Council of War</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch07">VII. An Unseen Enemy</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch08">VIII. “It’s an Ill Wind—”</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch09">IX. Thorndyke Takes up the Scent</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch10">X. The Unheeded Warning</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch11">XI. A Chapter of Accidents</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch12">XII. Miss Vyne</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch13">XIII. A Mysterious Stranger</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch14">XIV. A Lonely Woman</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch15">XV. Exit Dr. Jardine</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch16">XVI. Enter Father Humperdinck</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch17">XVII. The Palimpsest</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch18">XVIII. A Visitor from the States</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch19">XIX. Tenebrae</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch20">XX. The Hue and Cry</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch21">XXI. The Final Problem</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch22">XXII. Thorndyke Reviews the Case</a> +</p> + + +<h2> +A SILENT WITNESS +</h2> + +<h3 class="nobreak" id="ch01"> +CHAPTER I.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE BEGINNING OF THE MYSTERY</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> history upon which I am now embarking abounds in incidents so +amazing that, as I look back on them, a something approaching to +scepticism contends with my vivid recollections and makes me feel +almost apologetic in laying them before the reader. Some of them +indeed are so out of character with the workaday life in which they +happened that they will appear almost incredible; but none is more +fraught with mystery than the experience that befell me on a certain +September night in the last year of my studentship and ushered in the +rest of the astounding sequence. +</p> + +<p> +It was past eleven o’clock when I let myself out of my lodgings at +Gospel Oak; a dark night, cloudy and warm and rather inclined to rain. +But, despite the rather unfavourable aspect of the weather, I turned +my steps away from the town, and walking briskly up the Highgate Road, +presently turned into Millfield Lane. This was my favourite walk and +the pretty winding lane, meandering so pleasantly from Lower Highgate +to the heights of Hampstead, was familiar to me under all its aspects. +</p> + +<p> +On sweet summer mornings when the cuckoos called from the depths of +Ken Wood, when the path was spangled with golden sunlight, and saucy +squirrels played hide and seek in the shadows under the elms (though +the place was within earshot of Westminster and within sight of the +dome of St. Paul’s); on winter days when the Heath wore its mantle of +white and “the ring of gliding steel” came up from the skaters on the +pond below; on August evenings, when I would come suddenly on +sequestered lovers (to our mutual embarrassment) and hurry by with +ill-feigned unconsciousness. I knew all its phases and loved them all. +Even its name was delightful, carrying the mind back to those more +rustic days when the wits foregathered at the Old Flask Tavern and +John Constable tramped through this very lane with his colour-box +slung over his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +It was very dark after I had passed the lamp at the entrance to the +lane. Very silent and solitary too. Not a soul was stirring at this +hour, for the last of the lovers had long since gone home and the +place was little frequented even in the daytime. The elms brooded over +the road, shrouding it in shadows of palpable black, and their leaves +whispered secretly in the soft night breeze. But the darkness, the +quiet and the solitude were restful after the long hours of study and +the glare of the printed page, and I strolled on past the ghostly pond +and the little thatched cottage, now wrapped in silence and darkness, +with a certain wistful regret that I must soon look my last on them. +For I had now passed all my examinations but the final “Fellowship,” +and must soon be starting my professional career in earnest. +</p> + +<p> +Presently a light rain began to fall. Foreseeing that I should have to +curtail my walk, I stepped forward more briskly, and, passing between +the posts, entered the narrowest and most secluded part of the lane. +But now the rain suddenly increased, and a squall of wind drove it +athwart the path. I drew up in the shelter of one of the tall oak +fences by which the lane is here inclosed, and waited for the shower +to pass. And as I stood with my back to the fence, pensively filling +my pipe, I became for the first time sensible of the utter solitude of +the place. +</p> + +<p> +I looked about me and listened. The lane was darker here than +elsewhere; a mere trench between the high fences. I could dimly see +the posts at the entrance and a group of large elms over-shadowing +them. In the other direction, where the lane doubled sharply upon +itself, was absolute, inky blackness, save where a faint glimmer from +the wet ground showed the corner of the fence and a projecting stump +or tree-root jutting out from the corner and looking curiously like a +human foot with the toes pointed upward. +</p> + +<p> +The rain fell steadily with a soft, continuous murmur; the leaves of +the elm-trees whispered together and answered the falling rain. The +Scotch pines above my head stirred in the breeze with a sound like the +surge of the distant sea. The voices of Nature, hushed and solemn, +oblivious of man like the voices of the wilderness; and over all and +through all, a profound, enveloping silence. +</p> + +<p> +I drew up closer to the fence and shivered slightly, for the night was +growing chill. It seemed a little lighter now in the narrow, +trench-like lane; not that the sky was less murky but because the +ground was now flooded with water. The posts stood out less vaguely +against the back-ground of wet road, and the odd-looking stump by the +corner was almost distinct. And again it struck me as looking +curiously like a foot—a booted foot with the toe pointing upwards. +</p> + +<p> +The chime of a church clock sounded across the Heath, a human voice, +this, penetrating the desolate silence. Then, after an interval, the +solemn boom of Big Ben came up faintly from the sleeping city. +</p> + +<p> +Midnight! and time for me to go home. It was of no use to wait for the +rain to cease. This was no passing shower, but a steady drizzle that +might last till morning. I re-lit my pipe, turned up my collar, and +prepared to plunge into the rain. And as I stepped out, the +queer-looking stump caught my eye once more. It was singularly like a +foot; and it was odd, too, that I had never noticed it before in my +many rambles through the lane. +</p> + +<p> +A sudden, childish curiosity impelled me to see what it really was +before I went, and the next moment I was striding sharply up the +sodden path. Of course, I expected the illusion to vanish as I +approached. But it did not. The resemblance increased as I drew +nearer, and I hurried forward with something more than curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +It <i>was</i> a foot! I realized it with a shock while I was some paces +away; and, as I reached the corner, I came upon the body of a man +lying in the sharp turn of the path; and the limp, sprawling posture, +with one leg doubled under, told its tale at a glance. +</p> + +<p> +I laid my finger on his wrist. It was clammy and cold, and not a +vestige of a pulse could I detect. I struck a wax match and held it to +his face. The eyes were wide-open and filmy, staring straight up into +the reeking sky. The dilated pupils were insensitive to the glare of +the match, the eyeballs insensitive to the touch of my finger. +</p> + +<p> +Beyond all doubt the man was dead. +</p> + +<p> +But how had he died? Had he simply fallen dead from some natural +cause, or had he been murdered? There was no obvious injury, and no +sign of blood. All that the momentary glimmer of the match showed was +that his clothes were shiny with the wet; a condition that might +easily, in the weak light, mask a considerable amount of bleeding. +</p> + +<p> +When the match went out, I stood for some moments looking down on the +prostrate figure as it lay with the rain beating down on the upturned +face, professional interest contending with natural awe of the tragic +presence. The former prompted me to ascertain without delay the cause +of death; and, indeed, I was about to make a more thorough search for +some injury or wound when something whispered to me that it is not +well to be alone at midnight in a solitary place with a dead +man,—perchance a murdered man. Had there been any sign of life, my +duty would have been clear. As it was, I must act for the best with a +due regard to my own safety. And, reaching this conclusion, I turned +away, with a last glance at the motionless figure and set forth +homeward at a rapid pace. +</p> + +<p> +As I turned out of Millfield Lane into Highgate Rise I perceived a +policeman on the opposite side of the road standing under a tree, +where the light from a lamp fell on his shining tarpaulin cape. I +crossed the road, and, as he civilly touched his helmet, I said: “I am +afraid there is something wrong up the lane, Constable; I have just +seen the body of a man lying on the pathway.” +</p> + +<p> +The constable woke up very completely. “Do you mean a dead man, sir?” +he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he is undoubtedly dead,” I replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Whereabouts did you see the body?” enquired the constable. +</p> + +<p> +“In the narrow part of the lane, just by the stables of Mansfield +House.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s some distance from here,” said the constable. “You had better +come with me and report at the station. You’re sure the man was dead, +sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I have no doubt about it. I am a medical man,” I added, with +some pride (I had been a medical man about three months, and the +sensation was still a novel one). +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, are you, sir?” said the officer, with a glance at my half-fledged +countenance; “then, I suppose you examined the body?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sufficiently to make sure that the man was dead, but I did not stay +to ascertain the cause of death.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir; quite so. We can find that out later.” +</p> + +<p> +As we talked, the constable swung along down the hill, without hurry, +but at a pace that gave me very ample exercise, and I caught his eye +from time to time, travelling over my person with obvious professional +interest. When we had nearly reached the bottom of the hill, there +appeared suddenly on the wet road ahead, a couple of figures in +waterproof capes. +</p> + +<p> +“Ha!” said the constable, “this is fortunate. Here is the inspector +and the sergeant. That will save us the walk to the station.” +</p> + +<p> +He accosted the officers as they approached and briefly related what I +had told him. +</p> + +<p> +“You are sure the man was dead, sir?” said the inspector, scrutinizing +me narrowly; “but, there, we needn’t stay here to discuss that. You +run down, sergeant and get a stretcher and bring it along as quickly +as you can. I must trouble you, sir, to come with me and show me where +the body is. Lend the gentleman your cape, sergeant; you can get +another at the station.” +</p> + +<p> +I accepted the stout cape thankfully, for the rain still fell with +steady persistency, and set forth with the inspector to retrace my +steps. And as we splashed along through the deep gloom of the lane, +the officer plied me with judicious questions. +</p> + +<p> +“How long did you think the man had been dead?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Not long, I should think. The body was still quite limp.” +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t see any marks of violence?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. There were no obvious injuries.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which way were you going when you came on the body?” +</p> + +<p> +“The way we are going now, and, of course, I came straight back.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you meet or see anyone in the lane?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a soul,” I answered. +</p> + +<p> +He considered my answers for some time, and then came the question +that I had been expecting. +</p> + +<p> +“How came you to be in the lane at this time of night?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was taking a walk,” I replied, “as I do nearly every night. I +usually finish my evening’s reading about eleven, and then I have some +supper and take a walk before going to bed, and I take my walk most +commonly in Millfield Lane. Some of your men must remember having met +me.” +</p> + +<p> +This explanation seemed to satisfy him for he pursued the subject no +farther, and we trudged on for awhile in silence. At length, as we +passed through the posts into the narrow part of the lane, the +inspector asked: “We’re nearly there, aren’t we?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I replied: “the body is lying in the bend just ahead.” +</p> + +<p> +I peered into the darkness in search of the foot that had first +attracted my notice, but was not yet able to distinguish it. Nor, to +my surprise, could I make it out as we approached more nearly; and +when we reached the corner, I stopped short in utter amazement. +</p> + +<p> +The body had vanished! +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” asked the inspector. “I thought this was the +place you meant.” +</p> + +<p> +“So it is,” I answered. “This is the place where the body was lying; +here, across the path, with one foot projecting round the corner. +Someone must have carried it away.” +</p> + +<p> +The inspector looked at me sharply for a moment. “Well, it isn’t here +now,” said he, “and if it has been taken away, it must have been taken +along towards Hampstead Lane. We’d better go and see.” Without waiting +for a reply, he started off along the lane at a smart double and I +followed. +</p> + +<p> +We pursued the windings of the lane until we emerged into the road by +the lodge gates, without discovering any traces of the missing corpse +or meeting any person, and then we turned back and retraced our steps; +and as we, once more, approached the crook in the lane where I had +seen the body, we heard a quick, measured tramp. +</p> + +<p> +“Here comes the sergeant with the stretcher,” observed the inspector; +“and he might have saved himself the trouble.” Once more the officer +glanced at me sharply, and this time with unmistakable suspicion. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s no body here, Robson,” he said, as the sergeant came up, +accompanied by two constables carrying a stretcher. “It seems to have +disappeared.” +</p> + +<p> +“Disappeared!” exclaimed the sergeant, bestowing on me a look of +extreme disfavour; “that’s a rum go, sir. How could it have +disappeared?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! that’s the question!” said the inspector. “And another question +is, was it ever here? Are you prepared to make a sworn statement on +the subject, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly I am,” I replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said the inspector, “we will take it that there was a body +here. Put down that stretcher. There is a gap in the fence farther +along. We will get through there and search the meadow.” +</p> + +<p> +The bearers stood the stretcher up against a tree and we all proceeded +up the lane to the place where the observant inspector had noticed the +opening in the fence. The gravel, though sodden with the wet, took but +the faintest impressions of the feet that trod it, and, though the +sergeant and the two constables threw the combined light of their +lanterns on the ground, we were only able to make out very faintly the +occasional traces of our own footsteps. +</p> + +<p> +We scrutinized the break in the fence and the earth around with the +utmost minuteness, but could detect no sign of anyone having passed +through. The short turf of the meadow, on which I had seen sheep +grazing in the daytime, was not calculated to yield traces of anyone +passing over it, and no traces of any kind were discoverable. When we +had searched the meadow thoroughly and without result, we came back +into the lane and followed its devious course to the “kissing-gate” at +the Hampstead Lane entrance. And still there was no sign of anything +unusual. True, there were obscure footprints in the soft gravel by the +turnstile, but they told us nothing; we could not even be sure that +they had not been made by ourselves on our previous visit. In short, +the net result of our investigations was that the body had vanished +and left no trace. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a very extraordinary affair,” said the inspector, in a tone of +deep discontent, as we walked back. “The body of a full-grown man +isn’t the sort of thing you can put in your pocket and stroll off with +without being noticed, even at midnight. Are you perfectly sure the +man was really dead and not in a faint?” +</p> + +<p> +“I feel no doubt whatever that he was dead,” I replied. +</p> + +<p> +“With all respect to you, sir,” said the sergeant, “I think you must +be mistaken. I think the man must have been in a dead faint, and after +you came away, the rain must have revived him so that he was able to +get up and walk away.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think so,” said I, though with less conviction; for, after +all it was not absolutely impossible that I should have been mistaken, +since I had discovered no mortal injury, and the sergeant’s suggestion +was an eminently reasonable one. +</p> + +<p> +“What sized man was he?” the inspector asked. +</p> + +<p> +“That I couldn’t say,” I answered. “It is not easy to judge the height +of a man when he is lying down and the light was excessively dim. But +I should say he was not a tall man and rather slight in build.” +</p> + +<p> +“Could you give us any description of him?” +</p> + +<p> +“He was an elderly man, about sixty, I should think, and he appeared +to be a clergyman or a priest, for he wore a Roman collar with a +narrow, dark stripe up the front. He was clean shaven, and, I think, +wore a clerical suit of black. A tall hat was lying on the ground +close by and a walking-stick which looked like a malacca, but I +couldn’t see it very well as he had fallen on it and most of it was +hidden.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you saw all this by the light of one wax match,” said the +inspector. “You made pretty good use of your eyes, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“A man isn’t much use in my profession if he doesn’t,” I replied, +rather stiffly. +</p> + +<p> +“No, that’s true,” the inspector agreed. “Well, I must ask you to give +us the full particulars at the station, and we shall see if anything +fresh turns up. I’m sorry to keep you hanging about in the wet, but it +can’t be helped.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course it can’t,” said I, and we trudged on in silence until we +reached the station, which looked quite cheerful and homelike despite +the grim blue lamp above the doorway. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Doctor,” said the inspector, when he had read over my statement +and I had affixed my signature, “if anything turns up, you’ll hear +from us. But I doubt if we shall hear anything more of this. Dead or +alive, the man seems to have vanished completely. Perhaps the +sergeant’s right after all, and your dead man is at this moment +comfortably tucked up in bed. Good-night, Doctor, and thank you for +all the trouble you have taken.” +</p> + +<p> +By the time that I reached my lodgings I was tired out and miserably +cold; so cold that I was fain to brew myself a jorum of hot grog in my +shaving pot. As a natural result, I fell fast asleep as soon as I got +to bed and slept on until the autumn sunshine poured in through the +slats of the Venetian blind. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch02"> +CHAPTER II.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE FINDING OF THE RELIQUARY</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">I awoke</span> on the following morning to a dim consciousness of something +unusual, and, as my wits returned with the rapidity that is natural to +the young and healthy, the surprising events of the previous night +reconstituted themselves and once more set a-going the train of +speculation. Vividly I saw with my mind’s eye the motionless figure +lying limp and inert with the pitiless rain beating down on it; the +fixed pupils, the insensitive eyeballs, the pulseless wrist and the +sprawling posture. And again I saw the streaming path, void of its +dreadful burden, the suspicious inspector, the incredulous sergeant; +and the unanswerable questions formulated themselves anew. +</p> + +<p> +Had I, after all, mistaken a living man for a dead body? It was in the +highest degree improbable, and yet it was not impossible. Or had the +body been spirited away without leaving a trace? That also was highly +improbable and yet, not absolutely impossible. The two contending +improbabilities cancelled one another. Each was as unlikely as the +other. +</p> + +<p> +I turned the problem over again and again as I shaved and took my +bath. I pondered upon it over a late and leisurely breakfast. But no +conclusion emerged from these reflections. The man, living or dead, +had been lying motionless in the lane all the time that I was +sheltering, and probably for some time before. In the interval of my +absence he had vanished. These were actual facts despite the open +incredulity of the police. How he had come there, what had occasioned +his death or insensibility, how he had disappeared and whither he had +gone; were questions to which no answer seemed possible. +</p> + +<p> +The fatigues of the previous night had left me somewhat indolent. +There was no occasion for me to go to the hospital to-day. It was +vacation time; the school was closed; the teaching staff were mostly +away, and there was little doing in the wards. I decided to take a +holiday and spend a quiet day rambling about the Heath, and, having +formed this resolution, I filled my pipe, slipped a sketch-book into +my pocket, and set forth. +</p> + +<p> +Automatically my feet turned towards Millfield Lane. It was, as I have +said, my usual walk, and on this morning, with last night’s +recollections fresh in my mind, it was natural that I should take my +way thither. +</p> + +<p> +Very different was the aspect of the lane this morning from that which +I had last looked upon. The gloom and desolation of the night had +given place to the golden sunshine of a lovely autumn day. The elms, +clothed already in the sober livery of the waning year, sighed with +pensive reminiscence of the summer that was gone; the ponds repeated +the warm blue of the sky; and the lane itself was a vista of +flickering sunlight and cool, reposeful shadow. +</p> + +<p> +The narrow continuation beyond the posts was wrapped as always, in a +sombre shade, save where a gleam of yellow light streamed through a +chink between the boards of the fence. I made my way straight to the +spot where the body had lain and stooped over it, examining each +pebble with the closest scrutiny. But not a trace remained. The hard, +gravelly soil retained no impress either of the body or even of our +footsteps; and as for the stain of blood, if there had ever been any, +it would have been immediately removed by the falling rain, for the +ground here had a quite appreciable slope and must have been covered +last night by a considerable flowing stream. +</p> + +<p> +I went on to the break in the fence—it was on the right-hand side of +the path—and was at once discouraged by the aspect of the ground; for +even our rough tramplings had left hardly a trace behind. After an +aimless walk across the meadow, now occupied by a flock of sheep, I +returned to the lane and walked slowly back past the place where I had +sheltered from the rain. And then it was that I discovered the first +hint of any clue to the mystery. I had retraced my steps some little +distance past the spot where I had seen the body, when my eye was +attracted by a darkish streak on the upper part of the high fence. It +was quite faint and not at all noticeable on the weather-stained oak, +but it chanced to catch my eye and I stopped to examine it. The fence +which bore it was the opposite one to that in which the break +occurred, and, since I had sheltered under it, the side of it which +looked towards the lane must have been the lee side and thus less +exposed to the rain. +</p> + +<p> +I looked at the stain attentively. It extended from the top of the +fence—which was about seven feet high—half-way to the ground, fading +away gradually in all directions. The colour was a dull brown, and the +appearance very much that of blood which had run down a wet surface. +The board which bore the stain was traversed by a vertical crack near +one edge, so that I was able to break off a small piece without much +difficulty; and on examining that portion of the detached piece which +had formed the side of the crack, I found it covered with a +brownish-red, shiny substance, which I felt little doubt was dried +blood, here protected by the crack and so less altered by contact with +water. +</p> + +<p> +Naturally, my next proceeding was to scrutinize very carefully the +ground immediately beneath the stain. At the foot of the fence, a few +tussocks of grass and clumps of undergrown weeds struggled for life in +the deep shade. The latter certainly had, on close examination, the +appearance of having been trodden on, though it was not very evident. +But while I was considering an undoubted bruise on the stalk of a +little dead-nettle, my eye caught the glint of some bright object +among the leaves. I picked it out eagerly and held it up to look at +it; and a very curious object it was; evidently an article of +jewellery of some kind, but quite unlike anything I had ever seen +before. It appeared to be a little elongated, gold case, with eight +sides and terminating at either end in a blunt octagonal pyramid with +a tiny ring at its apex, so that it seemed to have been part of a +necklace. Of the eight flat sides, six were ornamented with sunk +quatrefoils, four on each side; the other two sides were plain except +that each had a row of letters engraved on it—A.M.D.G. on one side, +and S.V.D.P. on the other. There was no hall-mark and, as far as I +could see, no means of opening the little case. It seemed to have been +suspended by a thin silk cord, a portion of which remained attached to +one ring and showed a frayed end where it had broken or chafed +through. +</p> + +<p> +I wrapped the little object and the detached fragment of the fence in +my handkerchief (for I had broken off the latter with the idea of +testing it chemically for blood-pigment), and then resumed my +investigations. The appearances suggested that the body had been +lifted over the fence, and the question arose, What was on the other +side? I listened attentively for a few seconds, and then, hearing no +sound of footsteps, I grasped the top of the fence, gave a good spring +and hoisting myself up, sat astride and looked about me. The fence +skirted the margin of a small lake much overgrown with weeds, amidst +which I could see a couple of waterhens making off in alarm at my +appearance, and beyond the lake rose the dark mass of Ken Wood. The +ground between the fence and the lake was covered with high, reedy +grass, which, immediately below my perch, bore very distinct +impressions of feet, and an equally distinct set of tracks led away +towards the wood—or from the wood to the fence; it was impossible to +say which. But in any case, as there were no other tracks, it was +certain that the person who made them had climbed over the fence. I +dropped down on the grass and, having examined the ground attentively +without discovering anything fresh, set off to follow the tracks. +</p> + +<p> +For some distance they continued through high grass in which the +impressions were very distinct: then they entered the wood, and here +also, in the soft humus, lightly sprinkled with fallen leaves, the +footprints were deep and easy to follow. But presently they struck a +path, and, as they did not reappear on the farther side, it was +evident that the unknown person had proceeded along it. The path was +an old one, well made of hard gravel, and, where it passed through the +deeper shade of the wood, was covered with velvety moss and grey-green +lichen; on which I made out with some difficulty, the imprints of +feet. But these were no longer distinct; they did not form a connected +track; nor was it possible to distinguish them from the footprints of +other persons who might have passed along the path. Even these I soon +lost where I had halted irresolutely under a noble beech that rose +from a fantastic coil of roots, and was considering how, if at all, I +should next proceed, when, there appeared round a curve of the path a +man in cord breeches and gaiters, evidently a keeper. He touched his +hat civilly and ventured to enquire my business. +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid I have no business here at all,” I replied, for I did not +think it expedient to tell him what had brought me into the wood. “I +suppose I am trespassing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir, it is private property,” he rejoined, “and being so near +London we have to be rather particular. Perhaps you would like me to +show you the way out on to the Heath.” +</p> + +<p> +I accepted his offer with many thanks for his courteous method of +ejecting a trespasser, and we walked together through the beautiful +woodland until the path terminated at a rustic turnstile. +</p> + +<p> +“That will be your way, sir,” he said, as he let me out, indicating a +track that led down to the Vale of Health. I thanked him once more and +then asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Is that a private house or does it belong to your estate?” I pointed +to a small house or large cottage that stood within a fenced enclosure +not far from the edge of the wood. +</p> + +<p> +“That, sir,” he replied, “was formerly a keeper’s lodge. It is now let +for a short term to an artist gentleman who is making some pictures of +the Heath, but I expect it will be pulled down before long, as there +is some talk of the County Council taking over that piece of land to +add to the public grounds. Good-morning, sir,” and the keeper, with a +parting salute, turned back into the wood. +</p> + +<p> +As I took my way homeward by the Highgate Ponds I meditated on the +relation of my new discoveries to the mystery of the preceding night. +It was a strange affair, and sinister withal. +</p> + +<p> +That the tracks led from the lane to the wood and not from the wood to +the lane, I felt firmly convinced; and equally so that the body of the +unknown priest or clergyman had undoubtedly been spirited away. But +whither had it been carried? Presumably to some sequestered spot in +the wood. And what better hiding-place could be found? There, buried +in the soft leaf-mould, it might lie undisturbed for centuries, +covered only the deeper as each succeeding autumn shed its russet +burden on the unknown grave. +</p> + +<p> +And what, I wondered, was the connection between this mysterious +tragedy and the queer little object that I had picked up? Perhaps +there was none. Its presence at that particular spot might be nothing +but a coincidence. I took it from my handkerchief and examined it +afresh. It was a very curious object. As to its use or meaning, I +could only form vague surmises. Perhaps it was some kind of locket, +enclosing a wisp of hair; the hair perhaps of some dead child or wife +or husband or even lover. It was impossible to say. Of course, this +question could be settled by taking it to pieces, but I was loth to +injure the pretty little bauble; besides it was not mine. In fact, I +felt that I ought to notify publicly that I had found it, though the +circumstances did not make this very advisable. But if it had any +connection with the tragedy, what was the nature of that connection? +Had it dropped from the dead man or from the murderer—as I assumed +the other man to be? Either was equally possible, though the two +possibilities had very different values. +</p> + +<p> +Then the question arose as to what course I should pursue. Clearly it +would be my duty to inform the police of the mark on the fence and the +tracks through the grass. But should I hand over the mysterious +trinket to them? It seemed the correct thing to do, and yet there +might after all be no connection between it and the crime. In the end +I left the matter to be decided by the attitude of the police +themselves. +</p> + +<p> +I called at the station on my way home and furnished the inspector +with an account of my new discoveries; of which he made a careful +note, assuring me that the affair should be looked into. But his +manner expressed frank disbelief, and was even a trifle hostile; and +his emphatic request that I would abstain from mentioning the matter +to anyone left me in no doubt that he regarded both my communications +as wild delusions if not as a deliberate hoax. Consequently, though I +frequently reproached myself afterwards with the omission, I said +nothing about the trinket, and when I left the station I carried it in +my pocket. +</p> + +<p> +No communication on the subject of this mysterious affair ever reached +me from the police. That they did actually make some perfunctory +investigations, I learned later, as will appear in this narrative. But +they gave no publicity to the affair and they sought no further +information from me. For my own part, I could, naturally, never forget +so strange an experience; but time and the multitudinous interests of +my opening life tended to push it farther into the background of +memory, and there it might have remained for ever had not subsequent +events drawn it once more from its obscurity. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch03"> +CHAPTER III.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">“WHO IS SYLVIA?”</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> winter session had commenced at the hospital, but at Hampstead +the month of October had set in with something like a return to +summer. It is true that the trees had lost something of their leafy +opulence, and that here and there, amidst the sober green, patches of +russet and gold had made their appearance, as if Nature’s +colour-orchestra were tuning up for the final symphony. But, +meanwhile, the sun shone brightly and with a genial heat, and if, day +by day, he fell farther from the zenith, there was nothing to show it +but the lengthening noonday shadows, the warmer blue of the sky and +the more rosy tint of the clouds that sailed across it. +</p> + +<p> +Other and more capable pens than mine have set forth the charm of +autumn and the beauties of Hampstead—queen of suburbs of the world’s +metropolis; therefore will I refrain, and only note, as relevant to +the subject, the fact that on many a day, when the work of the +hospital was in full swing, I might have been seen playing truant very +agreeably on the inexhaustible Heath or in the lanes and fields +adjacent thereto. In truth, I was taking the final stage of my +curriculum rather lazily, having worked hard enough in the earlier +years, and being still too young by several months to be admitted to +the fellowship of the College of Surgeons; promising myself that when +the weather broke I would settle down in earnest to the winter’s work. +</p> + +<p> +I have mentioned that Millfield Lane was one of my favourite haunts; +indeed, from my lodgings, it was the most direct route to the Heath, +and I passed along it almost daily; and never, now, without my +thoughts turning back to that rainy night when I had found the +dead—or unconscious—man lying across the narrow footway. One +morning, as I passed the spot, it occurred to me to make a drawing of +the place in my sketch-book, that I might have some memorial of that +strange adventure. The pictorial possibilities of the lane just here +were not great, but by taking my stand at the turn, on the very spot +where I had seen the body lying, I was able to arrange a simple +composition which was satisfactory enough. +</p> + +<p> +I am no artist. A neat and intelligible drawing is the utmost that I +can produce. But even this modest degree of achievement may be very +useful, as I had discovered many a time in the wards or +laboratories—indeed, I have often been surprised that the instructors +of our youth attach such small value to the power of graphic +expression; and it came in usefully now, though in a way that was +unforeseen and not fully appreciated at the moment. I had dealt +adequately with the fence, the posts, the tree-trunks and other +well-defined forms and was beginning a less successful attack on the +foliage, when I heard a light, quick step approaching from Hampstead +Lane. Intuition—if there is such a thing—fitted the foot-step with a +personality, and, for once in a way, was right; as the new-comer +reached the sharp bend of the path, I saw a girl of about my own age, +simply and serviceably dressed and carrying a pochade box and a small +camp-stool. She was not an entire stranger to me. I had met her often +in the lane and on the Heath—so often in fact that we had developed +that profound unconsciousness of one another’s existence that almost +amounts to recognition—and had wondered vaguely who she was and what +sort of work she did on the panels in that mysterious box. +</p> + +<p> +As I drew back to make way for her, she brushed past, with a single, +quick, inquisitive glance at my sketch-book, and went on her way, +looking very much alive and full of business. I watched her as she +tripped down the lane and passed between the posts out into the +sunlight beyond, to vanish behind the trunks of the elms; then I +returned to my sketch and my struggles to express foliage with a touch +somewhat less suggestive of a birch-broom. +</p> + +<p> +When I had finished my drawing, I sauntered on rather aimlessly, +speculating for the hundredth time on the meaning of those discoveries +of mine in this very lane. Was it possible that the man whom I had +seen was not dead, but merely insensible? I could not believe it. The +whole set of circumstances—the aspect of the body, the blood-stain on +the fence, the tracks through the high grass and the mysterious gold +trinket—were opposed to any such belief. Yet, on the other hand, one +would think that a man could not disappear unnoticed. This was no +tramp or nameless vagrant. He was a clergyman or a priest, a man who +would be known to a great number of persons and whose disappearance +must surely be observed at once and be the occasion of very stringent +enquiries. But no enquiries had apparently been made. I had seen no +notice in the papers of any missing cleric, and clearly the police had +heard nothing or they would have looked me up. The whole affair was +enveloped in the profoundest mystery. Dead or alive, the man had +vanished utterly; and whether he was dead or alive, the mystery was +equally beyond solution. +</p> + +<p> +These reflections brought me, almost unconsciously, to another of my +favourite walks; the pretty footpath from the Heath to Temple Fortune. +I had crossed the stile and stepped off the path to survey the +pleasant scene, when my eye was attracted by a number of streaks of +alien colour on the leaves of a burdock. Stooping down, I perceived +that they were smears of oil-paint, and inferred that someone had +cleaned a palette on the herbage; an inference that was confirmed a +moment later by what looked like the handle of a brush projecting from +a clump of nettles. When I drew it out, however, it proved to be not a +brush, but a very curious knife with a blade shaped like a diminutive +and attenuated trowel; evidently a painting-knife and also evidently +home-made, at least in part, for the tang had been thrust into a +short, stout brush-handle and secured with a whipping of waxed thread. +I dropped it into my outside breast pocket and went on my way, +wondering if by chance it might have been dropped by my fair +acquaintance; and the thought was still in my mind when its object +hove in sight. Turning a bend in the path, I came on her quite +suddenly, perched on her little camp-stool in the shadow of the hedge, +with the open sketching-box on her knees, working away with an +industry and concentration that seemed to rebuke my own idleness. +Indeed, she was so much engrossed with her occupation that she did not +notice me until I stepped off the path and approached with the knife +in my hand. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder,” said I, holding it out and raising my cap, “if this +happens to be your property. I picked it up just now among the nettles +near the barn.” +</p> + +<p> +She took the knife from me and looked at it inquisitively. “No,” she +replied, “it isn’t mine, but I think I know whose it is. I suspect it +belongs to an artist who has been doing a good deal of work about the +Heath. You may have seen him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have seen several artists working about here during the summer. +What was this one like?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” she answered with a smile, “he was like an artist. Very much +like. Quite the orthodox get-up. Wide brimmed hat, rather long hair +and a ragged beard. And he wore sketching spectacles—half-moon-shaped +things, you know—and kid gloves—which were not quite so orthodox.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very inconvenient, I should think.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so very. I work in gloves myself in the cold weather or if the +midges are very troublesome. You soon get used to the feel of them; +and the man I am speaking of wouldn’t find them in the way at all +because he works almost entirely with painting-knives. That is what +made me think that this knife was probably his. He had several, I +know, and very skillfully he used them, too.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have seen his work, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” she admitted, “I’m afraid I descended once or twice to play +the ‘snooper.’ You see, his method of handling interested me.” +</p> + +<p> +“May I ask what a ‘snooper’ is?” I enquired. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you know? It’s a student’s slang name for the kind of person +who makes some transparent pretext for coming off the path and passing +behind you to get a look at your picture by false pretences.” +</p> + +<p> +For an instant there flashed into my mind the suspicion that she was +administering a quiet “back-hander,” and I rejoined hastily: +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you are not including me in the genus ‘snooper.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed softly. “It did sound rather like it. But I’ll give you +the benefit of the doubt in consideration of your finding the +knife—which you had better keep in trust for the owner.” +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t you keep it? You know the probable owner by sight and I don’t; +and meanwhile you might experiment with it yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” she replied, dropping it into her brush-tray, “I’ll keep +it for the present at any rate.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a brief pause, and then I ventured to remark, “That looks a +very promising sketch of yours. And how well the subject comes.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad you like it,” she replied, quite simply, viewing her work +with her head on one side. “I want it to turn out well, because it’s a +commission, and commissions for small oil paintings are rare and +precious.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you find small oil pictures very difficult to dispose of?” I +asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Not difficult. Impossible, as a rule. But I don’t try now. I copy my +oil sketches in water-colour, with modifications to suit the market.” +</p> + +<p> +Again there was a pause; and, as her brush wandered towards the +palette, it occurred to me that I had stayed as long as good manners +permitted. Accordingly, I raised my cap, and, having expressed the +hope that I had not greatly hindered her, prepared to move away. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, not at all,” she answered; “and thank you for the knife, though +it isn’t mine—or, at any rate, wasn’t. Good-morning.” +</p> + +<p> +With this and a pleasant smile and a little nod, she dismissed me; and +once more I went my idle and meditative way. +</p> + +<p> +It had been quite a pleasant little adventure. There is always +something rather interesting in making the acquaintance of a person +whom one has known some time by sight but who is otherwise an unknown +quantity. The voice, the manner, and the little revelations of +character, which confirm or contradict previous impressions, are +watched with interest as they develop themselves and fill in, one by +one, the blank spaces of the total personality. I had, as I have said, +often met this industrious maiden in my walks and had formed the +opinion that she looked a rather nice girl; an opinion that was +probably influenced by her unusual good looks and graceful carriage. +And a rather nice girl she had turned out to be; very dignified and +self-possessed, but quite simple and frank—though, to be sure, her +gracious reception of me had probably been due to my sketch-book; she +had taken me for a kindred spirit. She had a pleasant voice and a +faultless accent, with just a hint of the fine lady in her manner; but +I liked her none the less for that. And her name was a pretty name, +too, if I had guessed it correctly; for, on the inside of the lid of +her box, which was partly uncovered by the upright panel, I had read +the letters “Syl.” The panel hid the rest, but the name could hardly +be other than Sylvia; and what more charming and appropriate name +could be bestowed upon a comely young lady who spent her days amidst +the woods and fields of my beloved Hampstead? +</p> + +<p> +Regaling myself with this somewhat small beer, I sauntered on along +the grassy lane, between hedgerows that in the summer had been +spangled with wild roses and that were now gay with the big, oval +berries, sleek and glossy and scarlet, like overgrown beads of red +coral; away, across the fields to Golder’s Green and thence by +Millfield Lane, back to my lodgings at Gospel Oak, and to my landlady, +Mrs. Blunt, who had a few plaintive words to say respecting the +disastrous effects of unpunctuality—and the resulting prolonged +heat—on mutton cutlets and fried potatoes. +</p> + +<p> +It had been an idle morning and apparently void of significant events; +but yet, when I look back on it, I see a definite thread of causation +running through its simple happenings, and I realize that, all +unthinking, I had strung on one more bead to the chaplet of my +destiny. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch04"> +CHAPTER IV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">SEPTIMUS MADDOCK, DECEASED</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">It</span> was getting well on into November when I strolled one afternoon +into the hospital museum, not with any specific object but rather +vaguely in search of something to do. During the last few days I had +developed a slight revival of industry—which had coincided, oddly +enough, with a marked deterioration of the weather—and, pathology +being my weakest point, the museum had seemed to call me (though not +very loudly, I fear) to browse amongst its multitudinous jars and dry +preparations. +</p> + +<p> +There was only one person in the great room; but he was a very +important person; being none other than our lecturer on Medical +Jurisprudence, Dr. John Thorndyke. He was seated at a small table +whereon was set out a collection of jars and a number of large +photographs, of which he appeared to be making a catalogue; but intent +as he was on his occupation, he looked up as I entered and greeted me +with a genial smile. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think of my little collection, Jardine?” he asked, as I +approached deferentially. Before replying, I ran a vaguely enquiring +eye over the group of objects on the table and was mighty little +enlightened thereby. It was certainly a queer collection. There was a +flat jar which contained a series of five differently-coloured mice, +another with a similar series of three rats, a human foot, a +hand—manifestly deformed—a series of four fowls’ heads and a number +of photographs of plants. +</p> + +<p> +“It looks,” I replied, at length, “like what the auctioneers would +call a miscellaneous lot.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” Dr. Thorndyke agreed, “it is a miscellaneous collection in a +sense. But there is a connecting idea. It illustrates certain +phenomena of inheritance which were discovered and described by +Mendel.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mendel!” I exclaimed. “Who is he? I never heard of him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I daresay not,” said Thorndyke, “though he published his results +before you were born. But the importance of his discoveries is only +now beginning to be appreciated.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose,” said I, “the subject is too large and complex for a short +explanation to be possible.” +</p> + +<p> +“The subject is a large one, of course,” he replied; “but, put in a +nutshell, Mendel’s great discovery amounts to this; that, whereas +certain characters are inherited only partially and fade off gradually +in successive generations, certain other characters are inherited +completely and pass unchanged from generation to generation. To take a +couple of illustrative cases: If a negro marries a European, the +offspring are mulattoes—forms intermediate between the negro and the +European. If a mulatto marries a European, the offspring are +quadroons—another intermediate form; and the next generation gives us +the octoroon—intermediate again between the quadroon and the +European. And so, from generation to generation, the negro character +gradually fades away and finally disappears. But there are other +characters which are inherited entire or not at all, and such +characters appear in pairs which are positive or negative to one +another. Sex is a case in point. A male marries a female and the +offspring are either male or female, never intermediate. The +sex-character of only one parent is inherited, and it is inherited +completely. The characters of maleness and femaleness pass down +unchanged through the ages with no tendency to diminish or to shade +off into one another. That is a case of Mendelian inheritance.” +</p> + +<p> +I ran my eyes over the collection and they presently lighted on the +rather abnormal-looking foot, hanging, white and shrivelled in the +clear spirit. I lifted the jar from the table and then, noticing for +the first time, that the foot had a supernumerary toe, I enquired what +point the specimen illustrated. +</p> + +<p> +“That six-toed foot,” Thorndyke replied, “is an example of a deformity +that is transmitted unchanged for an indefinite number of generations. +This brachy-dactylous hand is another instance. The brachy-dactylia +reappears in the offspring either completely or not at all. There are +no intermediate conditions.” +</p> + +<p> +He picked up the jar, and, having wiped the glass with a duster, +exhibited the hand which was suspended within; and a strange-looking +hand it was; broad and stumpy, like the hand of a mole. +</p> + +<p> +“There seem to be only two joints to each finger,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. The fingers are all thumbs, and the thumb is only a demi-thumb. +A joint is suppressed in each digit.” +</p> + +<p> +“It must make the hand very clumsy and useless,” I remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“So one would think. It isn’t exactly the type of hand for a Liszt or +a Paganini. And yet we mustn’t assume too much. I once saw an armless +man copying pictures in the Luxembourg, and copying them very well, +too. He held his brush with his toes; and he was so handy with his +feet that he not only painted really dextrously, but managed to take +his hat off to a lady with quite a fine flourish. So you see, Jardine, +it is not the hand that matters, but rather the brain that actuates +it. A very indifferent hand will serve if the motor centres are of the +right sort.” +</p> + +<p> +He replaced the jar on the table, and then, after a short pause, +turning quickly to me, he asked: +</p> + +<p> +“What are you doing at present, Jardine?” +</p> + +<p> +“Principally idling, sir,” I replied. +</p> + +<p> +“And not a bad thing to do either,” he rejoined with a smile, “if you +do it thoroughly and don’t keep it up too long. How would you like to +take charge of a practice for a week or so?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know that I should particularly care to, sir,” I answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not? It would be a useful experience and would bring you useful +knowledge; knowledge that you have got to acquire sooner or later. +Hospital conditions, you know, are not normal conditions. +</p> + +<p> +“General practice is normal medical practice, and the sooner you get +to know the conditions of the great world the better for you. If you +stick to the wards too long you will get to be like the nurses; who +seem to think that, +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“ ‘All the world’s a hospital,</span><br> +<span class="i0">And men and women only patients.’ ”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +I reflected for a few moments. It was perfectly true. I was a +qualified medical man, and yet of the ordinary routine of private +practice I had not the faintest knowledge. To me, all sick people were +either in-patients or out-patients. +</p> + +<p> +“Had you any particular practice in your mind, sir?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. I met one of our old students just now. He is at his wit’s end +to find a <i>locum tenens</i>. He has to go away to-night or to-morrow +morning, but he can’t get anyone to look after his work. Won’t you go +to his relief? It’s an easy practice, I believe.” +</p> + +<p> +I turned the question over in my mind and finally decided to try the +venture. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right,” said Dr. Thorndyke. “You’ll help a professional +brother, at any rate, and pick up a little experience. Our friend’s +name is Batson, and he lives in Jacob Street, Hampstead Road. I’ll +write it down.” +</p> + +<p> +He handed me a slip of paper with the address on it and wished me +success; and I started at once from the hospital, already quite +elated, as is the way of the youthful, at the prospect of a new +experience. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Batson’s establishment in Jacob Street was modest to the verge of +dingyness. But Jacob Street, itself, was dingy, and so was the +immediate neighbourhood; a district of tall, grimy houses that might +easily have seen better days. However, Dr. Batson himself was spruce +enough and in excellent spirits at my arrival, as was evident when he +bounced into the room with a jovial greeting, bringing in with him a +faint aroma of sherry. +</p> + +<p> +“Delighted to see you, Doctor!” he exclaimed in his large brisk voice +(that “doctor” was a diplomatic hit on his part. They don’t call +newly-qualified men “doctor” at the hospital.) “I met Thorndyke this +morning and told him of my predicament. A busy man is the Great +Unraveller, but never too busy to do a kindness to his friends. Can +you take over to-night?” +</p> + +<p> +“I could,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“Then do. I want particularly to be off by the eight-thirty from +Liverpool Street. Drop in and have some grub about six-thirty; I shall +have polished off the day’s work by then and you’ll just come in for +the evening consultations.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are there any cases that you will want me to see with you?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no,” Batson replied, rather airily I thought. “They’re all plain +sailing. There’s a typhoid, he’s doing well—fourth week; and there’s +a tonsilitis and a psoas abscess—that’s rather tedious, but still, +it’s improving—and an old woman with a liver. You won’t have any +difficulty with them. There’s only one queer case; a heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“Valvular?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No, not valvular; I can tell you that much. I know what it isn’t, but +I’m hanged if I know what it is. Chappie complains of pain, shortness +of breath, faintness and so on, but I can’t find anything to account +for it. Heart-sounds all right, pulse quite good, no dropsy, no +nothing. Seems like malingering, but I don’t see why he should +malinger. I think I’ll get you to drop in this evening and have a look +at him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you keeping him in bed?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Batson, “I am now; not that his general condition seems to +demand it. But he has had one or two fainting attacks, and yesterday +he must needs fall down flop in his bedroom when there was nobody +there, and, by way of making things more comfortable, he drops his +medicine bottle and falls on the fragments. He might have killed +himself, you know,” Batson added in an aggrieved tone; “as it was, a +long splinter from the bottom of the bottle stuck into his back and +made quite a deep little wound. So I’ve kept him in bed since, out of +harm’s way; and there he is, deuced sorry for himself but, as far as I +can make out, without a single tangible symptom.” +</p> + +<p> +“No facial signs? Nothing unusual in his colour or expression?” +</p> + +<p> +Batson laughed and tapped his gold-rimmed spectacles. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! There you are! When you’ve got minus five <span class="sc">d</span> and some irregular +astigmatism and a pair of glasses that don’t correct it, all human +beings look pretty much alike; a trifle sketchy, don’t you know. <i>I</i> +didn’t see anything unusual in his face, but <i>you</i> might. Time will +show. Now you cut along and fetch your traps, and I’ll skip round and +polish off the sufferers.” +</p> + +<p> +He launched me into the outer greyness of Jacob Street and bounced off +in the direction of Cumberland Market, leaving me to pursue my way to +my lodgings at Gospel Oak. +</p> + +<p> +As I threaded the teeming streets of Camden Town I meditated on the +new experience that was opening to me, and, with youthful egotism, I +already saw myself making a brilliant diagnosis of an obscure heart +case. Also I reflected with some surprise on the calm view that Batson +took of his defective eyesight. A certain type of painter, as I had +observed, finds in semi-blindness a valuable gift which helps him to +eliminate trivial detail and to impart a noble breadth of effect to +his pictures; but to a doctor no such self-delusion would seem +possible. Visual acuteness is the most precious item in his equipment. +</p> + +<p> +I crammed into a large Gladstone bag the bare necessaries for a week’s +stay, together with a few indispensable instruments, and then mounted +the jingling horse-tram of those pre-electric days, which, in due +course, deposited me at the end of Jacob Street, Hampstead Road. Dr. +Batson had not returned from his round when I arrived, but a few +minutes later he burst into the surgery humming an air from “The +Mikado.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ha! Here you are then! Punctual to the minute!” He hung his hat on a +peg, laid his visiting-list on the desk of the dispensing counter and +began to compound medicine with the speed of a prestidigitateur, +talking volubly all the time. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s for the old woman with the liver, Mrs. Mudge, Cumberland +Market, you’ll see her prescription in the day book. S’pose you don’t +know how to wrap up a bottle of medicine. Better watch me. This is the +way.” He slapped the bottle down on a square of cut paper, gave a few +dextrous twiddles of his fingers and held out for my inspection a +little white parcel like the mummy-case of a deceased medicine bottle. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s quite easy when you’ve had a little practice,” he said, deftly +sticking the ends down with sealing-wax, “but you’ll make a frightful +mucker of it at first.” Which prophecy was duly fulfilled that very +evening. +</p> + +<p> +“What time had I better see that heart case?” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you won’t have to see it at all. Man’s dead. Message left half an +hour ago. Pity, isn’t it? I should have liked to hear what you thought +of him. Must have been fatty heart. I’ll write out the certificate +while I think of it. Maggie! Where’s that note that Mrs. Samway left?” +</p> + +<p> +The question was roared out vaguely through the open door to a servant +of unknown whereabouts, and resulted in the appearance of a somewhat +scraggy housemaid bearing an opened note. +</p> + +<p> +“Here we are,” said Batson, snatching the note out of its envelope and +opening the book of certificate forms; “Septimus Maddock was the +chappie’s name, age fifty-one, address 23, Gayton Street, cause of +death—that’s just what I should like to know—primary cause, +secondary causes—I wish these infernal government clerks had got +something better to do than fill printed forms with silly conundrums. +I shall put “Morbus Cordis”; that ought to be enough for them. Mrs. +Samway—that’s his landlady, you know—will probably call for the +certificate during the evening.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aren’t you going to inspect the body?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Lord, no! Why should I! It isn’t necessary, you know. I’m not an +undertaker. Wish I was. Dead people good deal more profitable than +live ones.” +</p> + +<p> +“But surely,” I exclaimed, “the death ought to be verified. Why the +man may not be dead at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know,” said Batson, scribbling away like a minor poet, “but that +isn’t my business. Business of the Law. Law wastes your time with a +heap of silly questions that don’t matter and leaves out the question +that does. Asks exact time when I last saw him alive, which doesn’t +matter a hang, and doesn’t ask whether I saw him dead. Bumble was +right. Law’s an ass.” +</p> + +<p> +“But still,” I persisted, “leaving the legal requirements out of +consideration, oughtn’t you for your own sake, and as a public duty, +to verify the death? Supposing the man were not really dead?” +</p> + +<p> +“That would be awkward for him,” said Batson, “and awkward for me, +too, if he came to life before they buried him. But it doesn’t really +happen in real life. Premature burial only occurs in novels.” +</p> + +<p> +His easy-going confidence jarred on me considerably. How could he, or +anyone else, know what happened? +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see how you arrive at that,” I objected. “It could only be +proved by wholesale disinterment. And the fact remains that, if you +don’t verify a reported death you have no security against premature +burial—or even cremation.” +</p> + +<p> +Batson started up and stared at me, his wide-open, pale-blue eyes +looking ridiculously small through his deep, concave spectacles. +</p> + +<p> +“By Jove!” he exclaimed, “I am glad you mentioned that—about +cremation, I mean, because that is what will probably happen. I +witnessed the chappie’s will a couple of days ago, and I remember now +that one of the clauses stipulated that his body should be cremated. +So I shall have to verify the death for the purpose of the cremation +certificate. We’d better pop round and see him at once.” +</p> + +<p> +With characteristic impulsiveness he sprang to his feet, snatched his +hat from its peg, and started forth, leaving me to follow. +</p> + +<p> +“Beastly nuisance, these special regulations,” said Batson, as he +ambled briskly up the street. “Give a lot of trouble and cause a lot +of delay.” +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t the ordinary death certificate sufficient in a case of +cremation?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“For purposes of law it is, though there is some talk of new +legislation on the subject, but the Company are a law unto themselves. +They have made the most infernally stringent regulations, and, as +there is no crematorium near London excepting the one at Woking, you +have to abide by their rules. And that reminds me—” here Batson +halted and scowled at me ferociously through his spectacles. +</p> + +<p> +“Reminds you?” I repeated. +</p> + +<p> +“That they require a second death certificate, signed by a man with +certain special qualifications.” He stood awhile frowning and +muttering under his breath and then suddenly turned and bounced off in +a new direction. +</p> + +<p> +“Going to catch the other chappie and take him with us,” he explained, +as he darted out into the Hampstead Road. “Be off my mind then. A +fellow named O’Connor, Assistant Physician to the North London +Hospital. He’ll do if we can catch him at home. If not, you’ll have to +manage him.” +</p> + +<p> +Batson looked at his watch—holding it within four inches of his +nose—and broke into a trot as we entered a quiet square. Halfway up +he halted at a door which bore a modest brass plate inscribed “Dr. +O’Connor,” and seizing the bell-knob, worked it vigorously in and out +as if it were the handle of an air-pump. +</p> + +<p> +“Doctor in?” he demanded briskly of a startled housemaid; and, without +waiting for an answer, he darted into the hall, down the whole length +of which he staggered, executing a sort of sword-dance, having caught +his toe on an unobserved door-mat. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor was in and he shortly appeared in evening dress with an +overcoat on his arm, and apparently in as great a hurry as Batson +himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t it do to-morrow?” he asked, when Batson had explained his +difficulties and the service required. +</p> + +<p> +“Might as well come now,” said Batson persuasively; “won’t take a +minute and then I can go away in peace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” said O’Connor, wriggling into his overcoat. “You go along +and I’ll follow in a few minutes. I’ve got to look in on a patient on +my way up west, and I shall be late for my appointment as it is. Write +the address on my card, here.” +</p> + +<p> +He held out a card to my principal, and when the latter had scribbled +the address on it, he bustled out and vanished up the square. Batson +followed at the same headlong speed, and, again overlooking the mat, +came out on the pavement like an ill-started sprinter. +</p> + +<p> +Gayton Street, at which we shortly arrived, was a grey and dingy +side-street exactly like a score of others in the same locality, and +Number 23 differed from the rest of the seedy-looking houses in no +respect save that it was perhaps a shade more dingy. The door was +opened in answer to Batson’s indecorously brisk knock by a woman—or +perhaps I should say a lady—who at once admitted us and to whom +Batson began, without preface, to explain the situation. +</p> + +<p> +“I got your note, Mrs. Samway. Was going to bring my friend, here, +round to see the patient. Very unfortunate affair. Very sad. +Unexpected, too. Didn’t seem particularly bad yesterday. What time did +it happen?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t say exactly,” was the reply. “He seemed quite comfortable +when I looked in on him the last thing at night, but when I went in +about seven this morning he was dead. I should have let you know +sooner, but I was expecting you to call.” +</p> + +<p> +“H’m, yes,” said Batson, “very unfortunate. By the way, Mr. Maddock +desired that his remains should be cremated, I think?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, so my husband tells me. He is the executor of the will, you +remember, in the absence of any relatives. All Mr. Maddock’s relations +seem to be in America.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you got the certificate forms?” asked Batson. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. My husband got all the papers from the undertaker this +afternoon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, Mrs. Samway, then we’ll just take a look at the body—have +to certify that I’ve seen it, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Samway ushered us into a sitting-room where she had apparently +been working alone, for an unfinished mourning garment of some kind +lay on the table. Leaving us here, she went away and presently +returned with a sheaf of papers and a lighted candle, when we rose and +followed her to a back room on the ground floor. It was a smallish +room, sparely furnished, with heavy curtains drawn across the window, +and by one wall a bed, on which was a motionless figure covered by a +sheet. +</p> + +<p> +Our conductress stood the candlestick on a table by the bed and +stepped back to make way for Batson, who drew back the sheet and +looked down on the body in his peering, near-sighted fashion. The +deceased seemed to be a rather frail-looking man of about fifty, but, +beyond the fact that he was clean shaven, I could form very little +idea of his appearance, since, in addition to the usual bandage under +the chin to close the mouth, a tape had been carried round the head to +secure a couple of pads of cotton wool over the eyes to keep the +eyelids closed. +</p> + +<p> +As Batson applied his stethoscope to the chest of the dead man, I +glanced at our hostess not without interest. Mrs. Samway was an +unusual-looking woman, and I thought her decidedly handsome though not +attractive to me personally. She seemed to be about thirty, rather +over the medium height and of fine Junoesque proportions, with a small +head very gracefully set on the shoulders. Her jet-black hair, +formally parted in the middle, was brought down either side of the +forehead in wavy, but very smooth, masses and gathered behind in a +neat, precisely-plaited coil. The general effect reminded me of the +so-called “Clytie,” having the same reposefulness though not the +gentleness and softness of that lovely head. But the most remarkable +feature of this woman was the colour of her eyes, which were of the +palest grey or hazel that I have ever seen; so pale in fact that they +told as spots of light, like the eyes of some lemurs or those of a cat +seen in the dusk; a peculiarity that imparted a curiously intense and +penetrating quality to her glance. +</p> + +<p> +I had just noted these particulars when Batson, having finished his +examination, held out the stethoscope to me. +</p> + +<p> +“May as well listen, as you’re here,” said he, and, turning to our +hostess, he added: “Let us see those papers, Mrs. Samway.” +</p> + +<p> +As he stepped over to the table, I took his place on a chair by the +bedside and proceeded to make an examination. It was, of course, only +a matter of form, for the man was obviously dead; but having insisted +so strongly on the necessity of verifying the death I had to make a +show of becoming scepticism. Accordingly I tested, both by touch and +with the stethoscope, the region of the heart. Needless to say, no +heart-sounds were to be distinguished, nor any signs of pulsation; +indeed, the very first touch of my hand on the chilly surface of the +chest was enough to banish any doubt. No living body could be so +entirely destitute of animal heat. +</p> + +<p> +I laid down the stethoscope and looked reflectively at the dead man, +lying so still and rigid, with his bandaged jaws and blindfolded eyes, +and speculated vaguely on his personality when alive and on the hidden +disease that had so suddenly cut him off from the land of the living; +and insensibly—by habit I suppose—my fingers strayed to his clammy, +pulseless wrist. The sleeve of his night-shirt was excessively long, +almost covering the fingers, and I had to turn it back to reach the +spot where the pulse would normally be felt. In doing this, I moved +the dead hand slightly and then became aware of a well-marked <i>rigor +mortis</i>, or death stiffening in the arm of the corpse; a condition +which I ought to have observed sooner. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment, happening to look up, I caught the eye of Mrs. Samway +fixed on me with a very remarkable expression. She was leaning over +Batson as he filled up the voluminous certificate, but had evidently +been watching me, and the expression of her pale, cat-like eyes left +no doubt in my mind that she strongly resented my proceedings. In some +confusion, and accusing myself of some failure in outward decorum, I +hastily drew down the dead man’s sleeve and rose from the bedside. +</p> + +<p> +“You noticed, I suppose,” said I, “that there is fairly well-marked +<i>rigor mortis</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t,” said Batson, “but if you did it’ll do as well. Better +mention it to O’Connor when he comes. He ought to be here now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is O’Connor?” asked Mrs. Samway. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he is the doctor who is going to sign the confirmatory +certificate.” +</p> + +<p> +Again a gleam of unmistakable anger flashed from our hostess’ eyes as +she demanded: +</p> + +<p> +“Then who is this gentleman?” +</p> + +<p> +“This is Dr. Humphrey Jardine,” said Batson. “ ’Pologize for not +introducing him before. Dr. Jardine is taking my practice while I’m +away. I’m off to-night for about a week.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Samway withered me with a baleful glance of her singular eyes, +and remarked stiffly: +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t quite see why you brought him here.” +</p> + +<p> +She turned her back on me, and I decided that Mrs. Samway was somewhat +of a Tartar; though, to be sure, my presence was a distinct intrusion. +I was about to beat a retreat when Batson’s apologies were interrupted +by a noisy rat-tat at the street door. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, here’s O’Connor,” said Batson, and, as Mrs. Samway went out to +open the door, he added: “Seem to have put our foot in it, though I +don’t see why she need have been so peppery about it. And O’Connor +needn’t have banged at the door like that, with death in the house. +He’ll get into trouble if he doesn’t look out.” +</p> + +<p> +Our colleague’s manner was certainly not ingratiating. He burst into +the room with his watch in his hand protesting that he was three +minutes late already, “and,” he added, “if there is one thing that I +detest, it’s being late at dinner. Got the forms?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied Batson, “here they are. That’s my certificate on the +front page. Yours is overleaf.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. O’Connor glanced rapidly down the long table of questions, +muttering discontentedly. “ ‘Made careful external examination?’ H’m. +‘Have you made a post mortem?’ No, of course, I haven’t. What an +infernal rigmarole! If cremation ever becomes general there’ll be no +time for anything but funerals. Who nursed the deceased?” +</p> + +<p> +“I did,” said Mrs. Samway. “My husband relieved me occasionally, but +nearly all the nursing was done by me. My name is Letitia Samway.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was the deceased a relation of yours?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; only a friend. He lived with us for a time in Paris and came to +England with us.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was his occupation?” +</p> + +<p> +“He was nominally a dealer in works of art. Actually he was a man of +independent means.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you any pecuniary interest in his death?” +</p> + +<p> +“He has left us about seventy pounds. My husband is the executor of +the will.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see. Well, I’d better have a few words with you outside, Batson, +before I make my examination. It’s all a confounded farce, but we must +go through the proper forms, I suppose.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, by all means,” said Batson. “Don’t leave any loop-hole for +queries or objections.” He rose and accompanied O’Connor out into the +hall, whence the sound of hurried muttering came faintly through the +door. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as we were alone, I endeavoured to make my peace with Mrs. +Samway by offering apologies for my intrusion into the house of +mourning. +</p> + +<p> +“For the time being,” I concluded, “I am Dr. Batson’s assistant, and, +as he seemed to wish me to come with him, I came without considering +that my presence might be objected to. I hope you will forgive me.” +</p> + +<p> +My humility appeared entirely to appease her; in a moment her stiff +and forbidding manner melted into one that was quite gracious and she +rewarded me with a smile that made her face really charming. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course,” she said, “it was silly of me to be so cantankerous and +so rude, too. But it did look a little callous, you know, when I saw +you playing with his poor, dead hand; so you must make allowances.” +She smiled again, very prettily, and at this moment my two colleagues +re-entered the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, then,” said O’Connor, “let us see the body and then we shall +have finished.” +</p> + +<p> +He strode over to the bed, and, turning back the sheet, made a rapid +inspection of the corpse. +</p> + +<p> +“Ridiculous farce,” he muttered. “Looks all right. Would, in any case +though. Parcel of red tape. What’s the good of looking at the outside +of a body? Post-mortem’s the only thing that’s any use. What’s this +piece of tape-plaster on the back?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” said Batson, “that is a little cut that he made by falling on a +broken bottle. I stuck the plaster on because you can’t get a bandage +to hold satisfactorily on the back. Besides, he didn’t want a bandage +constricting his chest.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, of course not,” O’Connor agreed. “Well, it’s all regular and +straightforward. Give me the form and I’ll fill it up and sign it.” He +seated himself at the table, looked once more at his watch, groaned +aloud and began to write furiously. +</p> + +<p> +“The Egyptians weren’t such bad judges, after all,” he remarked as he +laid down the pen and rose from his chair. “Embalming may have been +troublesome, but when it was done it was done for good. The deceased +was always accessible for reference in case of a dispute, and all this +red tape was saved. Good-night, Mrs. Samway.” He buttoned up his coat +and bustled off, and a minute or so later we followed. +</p> + +<p> +“By Jove!” exclaimed Batson, “this business has upset my arrangements +finely. I shall have to buck up if I’m going to catch my train. +There’s all the medicine to be made up and sent out yet, to say +nothing of dinner. But dinner will have to wait until the business is +all settled up. Don’t you hurry, Jardine. I’ll just run on and get to +work.” He broke into an elephantine trot and soon disappeared round a +corner, and, when I arrived at the surgery, I found him posting up the +day-book with the speed of a parliamentary reporter. +</p> + +<p> +Batson’s dexterity with medicine-bottles and wrapping paper filled me +with admiration and despair. I made a futile effort to assist, but in +the end, he snatched away the crumpled paper in which I was struggling +to enswathe a bottle, dropped it into the waste-paper basket, snatched +up a clean sheet and—slap! bang! in the twinkling of an eye, he had +transformed the bottle into a neat, little white parcel as a conjuror +changes a cocked hat into a guinea-pig. It was wonderful. +</p> + +<p> +My host was a cheerful soul, but restless. He got up from the table no +less than six times to pack some article that he had just thought of; +and after dinner, when I accompanied him to his bedroom, I saw him +empty his trunk no less than three times to make sure that he had +forgotten nothing. He quite worried me. Your over-quick man is apt to +wear out other people’s nerves more than his own. I began to look +anxiously at the clock, and felt a real relief when the maid came to +announce that the cab was at the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, good-bye, Doctor!” he sang out cheerily, shaking my hand +through the open window of the cab. “Don’t forget to keep the +stock-bottles filled up. Saves a world of trouble. And don’t take too +long on your rounds. Ta! ta!” +</p> + +<p> +The cab rattled away and I went back into the house, a full-blown +general practitioner. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch05"> +CHAPTER V.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE LETHAL CHAMBER</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">A young</span> and newly-qualified doctor, emerging for the first time into +private practice, is apt to be somewhat surprised and disconcerted by +the new conditions. Accustomed to the exclusively professional and +scientific atmosphere of the hospital, the sudden appearance of the +personal element as the predominant factor rather takes him aback. He +finds himself in a new and unexpected position. No longer a mere, +impersonal official, a portion of a great machine, he is the paid +servant of his patients: who are not always above letting him feel the +conditions of his service. The hospital patient, drilled into a +certain respectful submissiveness by the discipline of the wards, has +given place to an employer, usually critical, sometimes truculent and +occasionally addicted to a disagreeable frankness of speech. +</p> + +<p> +The <i>locum tenens</i>, moreover, is peculiarly susceptible to these +conditions, especially if, as in my case, his appearance is youthful. +Patients resent the substitution of a stranger for the familiar +medical attendant and are at no great pains to disguise the fact. The +“old woman with the liver” (to adopt Batson’s pellucid phrase) hinted +that I was rather young, adding encouragingly that I should get the +better of that in time; while the more morose typhoid bluntly informed +me that he hadn’t bargained for being attended by a medical student. +</p> + +<p> +Taken as a whole, I found private practice disappointing and soon +began to wish myself back in the wards and to sigh for my quiet, +solitary rambles on Hampstead Heath. +</p> + +<p> +Still, there were rifts in the cloud. Some of the patients appreciated +the interest that I took in their cases, evidently contrasting it with +the rather casual attitude of my principal, and some were positively +friendly. But, in general, my reception was such as to make me +slightly apprehensive whenever a new patient appeared. +</p> + +<p> +On the fourth evening after Batson’s departure, Mrs. Samway was +announced and I prepared myself for the customary snub. But I was +mistaken. Nothing could be more gracious than her manner towards me, +though the object of her visit occasioned me some embarrassment. +</p> + +<p> +“I have called, Dr. Jardine,” she said, “to ask you if you could let +me have the account for poor Mr. Maddock. My husband is the executor, +you know, and, as we shall be going back to Paris quite shortly, he +wants to get everything settled up.” +</p> + +<p> +I was in rather a quandary. Of the financial side of practice I was +absolutely ignorant and I thought it best to say so. “But,” I added, +“Dr. Batson will be back on Friday evening, if you can wait so long.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that will do quite well,” she replied, “but don’t forget to tell +him that we want the account at once.” +</p> + +<p> +I promised not to forget, and then remarked that she would, no doubt, +be glad to be back in Paris. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she answered, “I shall be rather sorry. Of course Camden Town is +not a very attractive neighbourhood, but it is close to the heart of +London; and then there are some delightful places near and quite +accessible. There is Highgate, for instance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; but it is getting very much built over, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Unfortunately it is; but yet there are some very pleasant places +left. The old village is still charming. So quaint and old world. And +then there is Hampstead. What could be more delightful than the Heath? +But perhaps you don’t know Hampstead?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes I do,” said I; “my rooms are at Gospel Oak, quite near the +Heath, and I think I know every nook and corner of the neighbourhood. +I am pining for a stroll on the Heath at this very moment.” +</p> + +<p> +“I daresay you are,” she said sympathetically. “This is a depressing +neighbourhood if you can’t get away from it. We found it very dismal, +at first, after Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you live in Paris?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Not permanently,” she replied. “But we spend a good deal of time +there. My husband is a dealer in works of art, so he has to travel +about a good deal. That is how we came to know Mr. Maddock.” +</p> + +<p> +“He was a dealer too, wasn’t he?” I enquired. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, in a way. But he had means of his own and his dealing was a mere +excuse for collecting things that he was not going to keep. He had a +passion for buying, and then he used to sell the things in order to +buy more. But I am afraid I am detaining you with my chatter?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, not at all,” I said eagerly, only too glad to have an +intelligent, educated person to talk to; “you are the last caller, and +I hope I have finished my day’s work.” +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly she stayed quite a long time, chatting on a variety of +subjects and finally on that of cremation. +</p> + +<p> +“I daresay,” she said, “it is more sanitary and wholesome than burial, +but there is something rather dreadful about it. Perhaps it is because +we are not accustomed to the idea.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you go to the funeral?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Mr. Maddock had no friends in England but my husband and me, so +we both went. It was very solemn and awesome. The coffin was laid on +the catafalque while a short service was read, and then two metal +doors opened and it was passed through out of our sight. We waited +some time and presently they brought us a little terra-cotta urn with +just a handful or two of white ash in it. That was all that was left +of our poor friend Septimus Maddock. Don’t you think it is rather +dreadful?” +</p> + +<p> +“Death is always rather dreadful,” I answered. “But when we look at +the ashes of a dead person, we realize the total destruction of the +body; whereas the grave keeps its secrets. If we could look down +through the earth and see the changes that are taking place, we should +probably find the slow decay more shocking than the swift consumption +by fire. Fortunately we cannot. But we know that the final result is +the same in both.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Samway shuddered slightly, and drew her wraps more closely about +her. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she said with a faint sigh; “the same end awaits us all—but it +is better not to think about it.” +</p> + +<p> +We were both silent for awhile. I sat with my gaze bent rather +absently on the case-book before me, turning over her last somewhat +gloomy utterance, until, chancing to look up, I found her pale, +penetrating eyes fixed on me with the same strange intentness that I +had noticed when she had looked at me as I sat by the body of Maddock. +As she met my glance, she looked down quickly but without confusion, +and with a return to her habitual reposefulness. +</p> + +<p> +Half-unconsciously I returned her scrutiny. She was a +remarkable-looking woman. A beautiful woman, too, but of a type that +is, in our time and country, rare: an ancient or barbaric type in +which womanly beauty and grace are joined to manifest physical +strength. I felt that some unusual racial mixture spoke in her +inconsistent colouring; her clear, pink skin, her pale eyes and the +jet-black hair that rippled down either side of her low forehead in +little crimpy waves, as regular and formal as the “archaic curls” of +early Greek sculpture. +</p> + +<p> +But predominant over all other qualities was that of strength. Full +and plump, soft and almost ultra-feminine, lissom and flexible in +every pose and movement, yet, to me, the chief impression that her +appearance suggested was strength—sheer, muscular strength; not the +rigid bull-dog strength of a strong man, but the soft and supple +strength of a leopard. I looked at her as she sat almost limply in her +chair, with her head on one side, her hands resting in her lap and a +beautiful, soft, womanly droop of the shoulders; and I felt that she +could have started up in an instant, active, strong, formidable, like +a roused panther. +</p> + +<p> +I was going on, I think, to make comparisons between her and that +other woman who was wont to trip so daintily down Millfield Lane, when +she raised her eyes slowly to mine; and suddenly she blushed scarlet. +</p> + +<p> +“Am I a <i>very</i> remarkable-looking person, Dr. Jardine?” she asked +quietly, as if answering my thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +The rebuke was well merited. For an instant a paltry compliment +fluttered on my lips; but I swallowed it down. She wasn’t that kind of +woman. +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid I have been staring you out of countenance, Mrs. Samway,” +I said apologetically. +</p> + +<p> +“Hardly that,” she replied with a smile; “but you certainly were +looking at me very attentively.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” I said, recovering myself, “after all, a cat may look at a +king, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed softly—a very pretty, musical laugh—and rose, still +blushing warmly. +</p> + +<p> +“And so,” she retorted, “by the same reasoning, you think a king may +look at a cat. Very well, Dr. Jardine. Good-night.” +</p> + +<p> +She held out her hand; a beautifully-shaped hand, though rather +large—but, as I have said, she was not a small woman; and as it +clasped mine, though the pressure was quite gentle, it conveyed, like +her appearance, an impression of abundant physical strength. +</p> + +<p> +I accompanied her to the door and watched her as she walked up the +dingy street with an easy, erect, undulating gait; even as might have +walked those women who are portrayed for the wonder of all time on the +ivory-toned marble of the Parthenon frieze. I followed with my eyes +the dignified, graceful figure until it vanished round the corner, and +then went back to the consulting-room dimly wondering why a woman of +such manifest beauty and charm should offer so little attraction to +me. +</p> + +<p> +Batson’s practice, among its other drawbacks, suffered from a deadly +lack of professional interest. Whether this was its normal condition, +or whether his patients had got wind of me and called in other and +more experienced practitioners, I know not; but certainly, after the +stirring work of the hospital, the cases that I had to deal with +seemed very small beer. Hence the prospect of a genuine surgical case +came as a grateful surprise and I hailed it with enthusiasm. +</p> + +<p> +It was on the day before Batson’s expected return that I received the +summons; which was delivered to me in a dirty envelope as I sat by the +bedside of the last patient on my list. +</p> + +<p> +“Is the messenger waiting?” I asked, tearing open the envelope. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Doctor. He just handed in the note and went off. He seemed to be +in a hurry.” +</p> + +<p> +I ran my eye over the message, scrawled in a rather illiterate hand on +a sheet of common notepaper, and read: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">Sir</span>, +</p> + +<p> +“Will you please come at once to the Mineral Water Works in Norton +Street. One of our men has injured himself rather badly. +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +“Yours truly,<br> +“<span class="sc">J. Parker.</span> +</p> + +<p> +“P.S.—He is bleeding a good deal, so please come quick.” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +The postscript gave a very necessary piece of information. An injury +which bled would require certain dressings and surgical appliances +over and above those contained in my pocket case; and to obtain these +I should have to take Batson’s house on the way. Slipping the note +into my pocket, I wished my patient a hasty adieu and strode off at a +swinging pace in the direction of Jacob Street. +</p> + +<p> +The housemaid, Maggie, helped me to find the dressings and pack the +bag—for she was a handy, intelligent girl though no beauty; and +meanwhile I questioned her as to the whereabouts of Norton Street and +the mineral water factory. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I know the place well enough, sir,” said she, “though I didn’t +know the works were open. Norton Street is only a few minutes’ walk +from here. It’s quite close to Gayton Street, in fact these works are +just at the back of the Samways’ house. You go up to the corner by the +market and take the second on the right and then—” +</p> + +<p> +“Look here, Maggie,” I interrupted, “you’d better come and show me the +way, as you know the place. There’s no time to waste on fumbling for +the right turning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, sir,” she replied, and the bag being now packed with all +necessary instruments and dressings, we set forth together. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this a large factory?” I asked, as she trotted by my side, to the +astonished admiration of Jacob Street, and the neighbourhood in +general. +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir,” she replied. “It’s quite a small place. The last people +went bankrupt and the works were empty and to let for a long time. I +thought they were still to let, but I suppose somebody has taken them +and started the business afresh. It’s round here.” +</p> + +<p> +She piloted me round a corner into a narrow by-street, near the end of +which she halted at the gate of a yard or mews. Above the entrance was +a weather-beaten board bearing the inscription, “International Mineral +Water Company” and a half-defaced printed bill offering the premises +to let; and at the side was a large bell-pull. A vigorous tug at the +latter set a bell jangling within, and, as Maggie tripped away up the +street, a small wicket in the gate opened, disclosing the dimly-seen +figure of a man standing in the inner darkness. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you the doctor?” he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +I answered “Yes,” and, being thereupon bidden to enter, stepped +through the opening of the wicket, which the man immediately closed, +shutting out the last gleam of light from the street lamp outside. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s rather dark,” said the unseen custodian, taking me by the arm. +</p> + +<p> +“It is indeed,” I replied, groping with my feet over the rough +cobbles; “hadn’t you better get a light of some kind?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will in a minute,” was the reply. “You see, all the other men have +gone home. We close at six sharp. This is the way. I’ll strike a +match. The man is down in the bottling-room.” +</p> + +<p> +My conductor struck a match by the light of which he guided me through +a doorway, along a passage or corridor and down a flight of stone +steps. At the bottom of the steps was a flagged passage, out of which +opened what looked like a range of cellars. Along the passage I walked +warily, followed by the stranger and lighted, very imperfectly, by the +matches that he struck; the glimmer of which threw a gigantic and +ghostly shadow of myself on the stone floor, but failed utterly to +pierce the darkness ahead. I was exactly opposite the yawning doorway +of one of the cellars when the match went out, and the man behind me +exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a moment, Doctor! Don’t move until I strike another light.” +</p> + +<p> +I halted abruptly; and the next moment I received a violent thrust +that sent me staggering through the open doorway into the cellar. +Instantly, the massive door slammed and a pair of heavy bolts were +shot in succession on the outside. +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil is the meaning of this?” I roared, battering and +kicking furiously at the door. Of course, there was no answer, and I +quickly stopped my demonstrations, for it dawned on me in a moment +that the factory was untenanted save by the ruffian who had admitted +me; that I had been decoyed here of a set purpose, though what that +purpose was I could not imagine. +</p> + +<p> +But it was not long before I received a pretty broad hint as to the +immediate intentions of my host. A gentle thumping at the door of my +cellar attracted my attention and caused me to lay my ear against the +wood. The sound that I heard was quite unmistakable. The crevices of +the door were being filled, apparently with pieces of rag, which my +friend was ramming home, presumably with a chisel. In fact the door +was being “caulked” to make the joints airtight. +</p> + +<p> +The object of this proceeding was clear enough. I was shut up in an +air-tight cavity in which I was to be slowly suffocated. That was +quite obvious. Why was I to be suffocated, I could form no sort of +guess excepting that I had fallen into the hands of a homicidal +lunatic. But I was not greatly alarmed. The air in a good-sized cellar +will last a considerable time, and I could easily poke out anything +that my friend might stuff into the keyhole. Then, when the men +arrived in the morning, I could kick on the cellar door, and they +would come and let me out. There was nothing to be particularly +frightened about. +</p> + +<p> +But stay! Were there any men? The injured man was evidently a myth. +Supposing the other men were a myth too! I recalled Maggie’s remark, +that she “had thought the place was to let still.” Perhaps it was. +That would be rather more serious. +</p> + +<p> +At this point my cogitations were broken in upon by sounds from the +adjoining cellar; the sound of someone moving about and dragging some +heavy body. And it struck me at once as strange that I should hear +these sounds so distinctly, seeing the massive door of my own cellar +was closely sealed and the walls were of solid brick, as I ascertained +by rapping at them with my knuckles. But I had no time to consider +this circumstance, for there suddenly arose a new sound, whereat, I +must confess my heart fairly came into my mouth; a loud, penetrating +hiss like the shriek of escaping steam. It seemed to come from some +part of the cellar in which I was immured; from a spot nearly +overhead; and it was immediately echoed by a similar sound in the +adjoining cellar and then by a third. Even as the last sound broke +forth, the door of the adjoining cellar slammed, the bolts were shot +and then faintly mingled with the discordant hissing, I could hear the +dull thumping that told me that the cracks of that door, too, were +being caulked. +</p> + +<p> +It was a frightful situation. The hissing sound was obviously caused +by the escape of gas under high pressure, and that gas must be +entering my cellar through some opening. I felt for my match-box, and, +groping along the wall towards the point whence the loudest +sound—and, indeed, all the sounds—proceeded, I struck a match. The +glimmer of the wax vesta made everything clear. Close to the ceiling, +about seven feet from the ground, was an opening in the wall about six +inches square; and pouring through this in a continuous stream was a +cloud of white particles that glistened like snowflakes. As I stood +under the opening, some of them settled on my face; and the more than +icy coldness of the contact, told the whole, horrible tale in a +moment. +</p> + +<p> +This white powder <i>was</i> snow—carbonic acid snow. The hissing sound +came from three of those great iron bottles, charged under pressure +with liquefied carbonic acid, which are used by mineral water +manufacturers for aërating the water. The miscreant (or lunatic) who +had imprisoned me had turned on the taps, and the liquid was escaping +and congealing into snow with the cold produced by its own rapid +evaporation and expansion. Of course the snow would quickly absorb +heat, and, without again liquefying, evaporate into the gaseous form. +In a very short time both cellars would be full of the poisonous gas, +and I—well, in a word, I was shut up in a lethal chamber. +</p> + +<p> +It has taken me some time to write this explanation, which, however, +flashed through my brain in the twinkling of an eye as the light of +the match fell on that sinister cloud of snowflakes. In a moment I had +my coat off, and was stuffing it for dear life into the opening. It +was but a poor protection against the gas, which would easily enough +find its way through the interstices of the fabric; but it would stop +the direct stream of snow and give me time to think. +</p> + +<p> +On what incalculable chances do the great issues of our lives depend! +If I had been a short man I must have been dead in half an hour; for +the opening through which the cloud of snow was pouring was well over +seven feet above the floor and would have been quite out of my reach. +Even as it was, with my six feet of stature and corresponding length +of arm, it was impossible to ram my coat into the opening with the +necessary force, for I had to stand close to the wall with my arm +upraised at a great mechanical disadvantage. Still, as I have said, +imperfect as the obstruction was, it served to stop the inrushing +cloud of snow. It would take some time for the heavy gas in the +adjoining cellar to rise to the level of the opening, and, meanwhile, +I could be devising other measures. +</p> + +<p> +I lit another match and looked about me. The cellar was much smaller +than I had thought and was absolutely empty. The floor was of +concrete, the walls of rough brickwork and the ceiling of plaster, all +cracked and falling in. There was plenty of ventilation there, but +that was of no interest to me. Carbonic acid gas is so heavy that it +behaves almost like a liquid, and it would have filled the cellar and +suffocated me even if the top of my prison had been open to the sky. +The adjoining cellar was already filling rapidly, and when the gas in +it reached the level of the opening, it would percolate through my +coat and come pouring down into my cellar. But that, as I have said, +would take some time—if the dividing wall was moderately sound. This +important qualification, as soon as it occurred to me, set me +exploring the wall with the aid of another match; and very +unsatisfactory was the result. It was a bad wall, built of inferior +brick and worse mortar, and was marked by innumerable holes where +wall-hooks and other fastenings had been driven in between the bricks. +My brief survey convinced me that, so far from being gas-tight, the +wall was as pervious as a sponge, and that whatever I meant to do to +preserve my life, I must set about without delay. +</p> + +<p> +But what was I to do? That was the urgent, the vital question. Escape +was evidently impossible. There were no means of stopping up the +numberless holes and weak places in the wall. The only vulnerable spot +was the door. If I could establish some communication with the outer +air, I could, for a time at least, disregard the poisonous gas with +which I should presently be surrounded. +</p> + +<p> +The first thing to be considered was the keyhole. That must be +unstopped at once. Fumbling in my bag—for I had grown of a sudden +niggardly with my matches—I found a good-sized probe, which I +insinuated into the keyhole; and, in a moment, my hopes in that +direction were extinguished. For the end of the probe impinged upon +metal. The keyhole was not stopped with rag, but with a plate of metal +fixed on the outside. With rapidly-growing alarm, but with a tidiness +born of habit, I put the probe back in the bag and began feverishly to +review the situation and consider my resources. And then I had an +idea, only a poor, forlorn hope, but still an idea. +</p> + +<p> +There is a certain ingenious type of pocket-knife, devised principally +in the interest of the cutlery trade, that innocent persons (usually +of the female persuasion) are wont to bestow as presents on their +masculine friends. Such a knife I chanced to possess. It had been +given to me by an aunt, and sentimental considerations had induced me +to give it an amount of room in my trousers’ pocket that I continually +grudged. However, there it was at this critical moment, with its +corkscrew, gimlet, its bewildering array of blades, its hoof-pick, +tooth-pick, tweezers, file, screw-driver and assorted unclassifiable +tools; a ponderous lump of pocket-destroying uselessness—and yet, the +appointed means of saving my life. +</p> + +<p> +The gimlet was the first tool that I called into requisition. Very +gingerly—for these tools are commonly over-tempered and brittle—I +bored in the thick plank a hole at about the level of my mouth; and as +I worked I turned over my further plans. When the gimlet was through +the door, I selected a tool on whose use I had often speculated—a +sharp-edged spike, like a diminutive and very stumpy bayonet—which I +proceeded to use broach-wise to enlarge the hole. When this tool +worked loose, I exchanged it for the screw-driver, with which I +managed to broach the hole out to about half an inch in width. And +this was as large as I could make it, and it was not large enough. +True, one could breathe fairly comfortably through a half-inch hole, +but, with the deadly gas circulating around, a freer opening was very +desirable. +</p> + +<p> +Then I bethought me that the magic knife contained a saw—a wretched, +thick-bladed affair, but still a saw—which would actually cut wood if +you gave it time. This implement suggested a simple plan which I +forthwith put into execution, working as rapidly as I could without +running the risk of breaking the tools. My plan was to make a second +hole some two inches diagonally below the first, and from each hole to +carry two saw-cuts at right angles to one another. The two pairs of +cuts would intersect and take a square piece out of the door, giving +me a little window through which I could breathe in comfort. +</p> + +<p> +It was a trifling task, but yet, with the miserable tools I had, it +took a considerable time to execute; the more since the saw blade was +wider than the holes, excepting at its point. However, it was +accomplished at last, and I had the satisfaction of pushing out the +little separated square of wood and feeling that I now had free access +to the pure air outside my dungeon. +</p> + +<p> +But it was none too soon. As I rested from my labours, it occurred to +me to test the condition of the air inside. Lighting a wax match, I +held the little taper so that the flame ascended steadily, and then +lowered it slowly. As it descended the flame changed colour somewhat, +and about eighteen inches from the floor it went out quite suddenly. +There was, then, a layer of the pure gas about eighteen inches deep +covering the floor, and, no doubt, rising pretty rapidly. +</p> + +<p> +This was rather startling, and it warned me to have recourse without +delay to my breathing hole. For though carbonic acid gas behaves +somewhat as a liquid, it is not a liquid: like other gases, it has the +power of diffusing upwards, and the air of the cellar must be already +getting unsafe. Accordingly, after carefully wiping the surface of the +door with my handkerchief, I applied my mouth, with some distaste, to +the opening and took in a deep draught of undoubtedly pure air. +</p> + +<p> +The position in which I had to stand with my mouth to the hole was an +irksome one, and I foresaw that it would presently become very +fatiguing. Moreover, when the gas reached the level of my head, it +would be difficult to prevent some of it from finding its way into my +mouth and nostrils; and if it did, I should most assuredly be +poisoned. This consideration suggested the necessity of making another +hole at a lower level to let out the gas and allow me to rest myself +by a change of position. But this new task had to be carried out with +my mouth glued to the breathing hole; and very awkward and tiring I +found it and very slow was the progress that I made. This second hole +was smaller than the first, for time was precious, and I reflected +that I could easily enlarge it by fresh saw-cuts, each two of which +would take out a triangular piece of wood. +</p> + +<p> +But it was tedious work, and its completion left me with aching arms; +indeed, I was beginning to ache all over from the constrained +position. Taking a deep breath and shutting my mouth, I stood up and +stretched myself. Then I lit a match and looked at my watch. Half-past +eight. I had been over two hours in the cellar. And meanwhile the +patients were waiting for me at the surgery, and, no doubt, murmuring +at the delay. How soon would my absence lead to enquiries? Or were +enquiries being made even now? +</p> + +<p> +Looking at the match that I still held in my hand, I noticed that its +flame was pallid and bluish; and as I lowered it slowly, it went out +when it was a little over two feet from the floor. The gas, then, was +still rising, though not so rapidly as I had feared, but from the +altered colour of the flame, it was evident that the air of the +cellar, generally, contained enough diffused gas to be actively +poisonous. +</p> + +<p> +After a time, the erect position began to grow insupportably +fatiguing. I felt that I must sit down for a few minutes’ rest, even +though prudence whispered that it was highly unsafe. I struggled for +awhile, but eventually, conquered by fatigue, sat down on the floor +with my mouth applied closely to the lower breathing-hole. I persuaded +myself that I would sit only just long enough to recover some of my +strength, but minute after minute sped by and still I felt an +unaccountable reluctance to rise. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly I became conscious of a vague feeling of drowsiness; of a +desire to lean back against the wall and doze. It was only slight, but +its significance was so appalling that I scrambled to my feet in a +panic, and, putting my mouth to the upper breathing-hole, took several +deep inspirations. But I soon realized that the upright position was +impossible. The drowsy feeling continued and there was growing with it +a lassitude and weakness of the limbs that threatened to leave me only +the choice between sitting or falling. A wave of furious anger swept +over me and roused me a little; a burst of hatred of the cowardly +wretch who had decoyed me, as I now suspected, to my death. Then this +feeling passed and was succeeded by chilly fear, and I sank down once +more into a sitting position with my mouth pressed to the lower +opening. +</p> + +<p> +The time ran on unreckoned by me. Gradually, by imperceptible degrees, +my mental state grew more and yet more sluggish. Anger and fear and +ever-dwindling hope flitted by turns across the slowly-fading field of +my consciousness. Intervals of quiet indifference—almost of placid +comfort—began to intervene, with increasing lassitude and a growing +desire for rest. To lie down; that was what I wanted. To lay my head +upon the stony floor and sink into sweet oblivion. +</p> + +<p> +At last I must have actually dozed, though, fortunately, without +removing my mouth from the breathing-hole, for I had no sense of the +passage of time, when I was suddenly aroused by the loud and +continuous jangling of a bell. +</p> + +<p> +I listened with a sort of dull eagerness and keeping awake with a +conscious effort. +</p> + +<p> +The bell pealed wildly and without a pause for what seemed to me quite +a long time. +</p> + +<p> +Then it ceased, and again my consciousness began to grow dim. After an +interval, I know not how long, there came to me dimly and only +half-perceived, the closing of a door, the patter of quick footsteps, +and then the voice of a man calling me by name. +</p> + +<p> +I struggled to get on to my feet, but could not move. But I still held +the clasp-knife and was able to rap with it feebly on the door. Again +I heard the voice—it sounded nearer now, and yet infinitely far +away—and again I rapped on the door and shouted through the +breathing-hole; a thin, muffled cry, such as one utters in a troubled +dream. And then the drowsiness crept over me again and I heard no +more. +</p> + +<p> +The next thing of which I was conscious was a sounding thwack on the +cheek with something wet that felt like a dead fish. I opened my eyes +and looked vaguely into two faces that were close to mine and seemed +to be lighted by a lamp or candle. The faces were somehow familiar, +but yet I failed clearly to recognize them, and, after staring +stupidly for a few moments, I began to doze again. Then the dead fish +returned to the assault and I again opened my eyes. Another vigorous +flop caused me to open my mouth with an unparliamentary gasp. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! That’s better,” said a familiar and yet “unplaced” voice. “When a +man is able to swear, he is fairly on the road to recovery.” Flop! +</p> + +<p> +The renewed attentions of the dead fish (which turned out, later, to +be merely a wet towel) evoked further demonstrations on my part of +progressing recovery, accompanied by a nervous titter in a female +voice. Gradually the clouds rolled away, and to my returning +consciousness, the faces revealed themselves as those of Maggie, the +housemaid, and Dr. Thorndyke. Even to my muddled wits, the presence of +the latter was somewhat of a puzzle, and, in the intervals of +anathematizing the deceased fish—which I had not yet identified—I +found myself hazily speculating on the problem of how my revered +teacher came to be in this place, and what place this was. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, now, Jardine,” said Dr. Thorndyke, emptying a jug of water on +my face, and receiving a volley of spluttered expletives in exchange, +“pull yourself together. How did you get in that cellar?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hang’ ’f I know,” said I, composing myself for another nap. But here +the wet towel came once more into requisition, and that with such +vigour that, in a fit of exasperation, I sat up and yawned. +</p> + +<p> +“I think you’d better fetch a cab,” said Thorndyke, as Maggie wrung +out the towel afresh; “but leave the gate open when you go out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wasser cab for?” I asked sulkily. “Can’t I walk?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you can, it will be better,” said Thorndyke. “Let us see if you +are able to stand.” He hoisted me on to my feet and he and Maggie, +taking each an arm, walked me slowly up and down the cobbled yard, +which I now began to recognize as appertaining to the Mineral Water +Works. At first I staggered very drunkenly, but by degrees the drowsy +feeling wore off and I was able to walk with Thorndyke’s assistance +only. +</p> + +<p> +“I think we might venture out now,” said he, at length, piloting me +towards the gate, and when I had stumbled rather awkwardly through the +wicket, we set forth homeward. +</p> + +<p> +On my arrival home, Thorndyke ordered a supply of strong coffee and a +light meal, after which—it being obvious that I was good for nothing +in a professional sense, he suggested that I should go to bed. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t worry about the practice,” said he. “I will send for my friend +Jervis, and, between us, we will see that everything is looked after. +If Maggie will give me a sheet of paper and an envelope I will write a +note to him; and then she can take a hansom to my chambers and give +the note either to Dr. Jervis or my man Polton. Meanwhile, I will stay +here and see that you don’t go to sleep prematurely.” +</p> + +<p> +He wrote the note; and Maggie, having made such improvements in her +outward garb as befitted the status of a rider in hansoms, took charge +of it and departed with much satisfaction and dignity. Thorndyke made +a few enquiries of me as to the circumstances that had led to my +incarceration in the cellar, but finding that I knew no more than +Maggie—whom he had already questioned—he changed the subject; nor +would he allow me again to refer to it. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Jardine,” he said. “Better think no more of it for the present. +Have a good night’s rest and then, if you are all right in the +morning, we will go into the matter and see if we can put the puzzle +together.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch06"> +CHAPTER VI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">A COUNCIL OF WAR</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">I awoke</span> somewhat late on the following morning; indeed, I was but +half awake when there came a somewhat masterful and peremptory tap at +my bedroom door, followed by the appearance in the room of a rather +tall gentleman of some thirty years of age. I should have diagnosed +him instantly as a doctor by his self-possessed, proprietary manner of +entering, but he left me no time for guessing as to his identity. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-morning, Jardine,” he said briskly, jingling the keys and small +change in his trousers’ pockets, “my name is Jervis. Second violin in +the Thorndyke orchestra. I’m in charge here <i>pro tem</i>. How are you +feeling?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’m all right. I was just going to get up. You needn’t trouble +about the practice. I’m quite fit.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad to hear it,” said Jervis, “but you’d better keep quiet all +the same. My orders are explicit, and I know my place too well to +disobey. Thorndyke’s instructions were that you are not to make any +visits or go abroad until after the inquest.” +</p> + +<p> +“Inquest?” I exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. He’s coming here at four o’clock to hold an inquiry into the +circumstances that led to your being locked up in a cellar, and until +then I’m to look after the practice and keep an eye on you. What time +do you expect the offspring of the flittermouse?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who?” I demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“Batson. He’s coming back to-day, isn’t he?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. About six o’clock to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you’ll be able to clear out. So much the better. The +neighbourhood doesn’t seem very wholesome for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose I can do the surgery work,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“You’d better not. Better follow Thorndyke’s instructions literally. +But you can tell me about the patients and help me to dispense. And +that reminds me that a person named Samway called just now, a rather +fine-looking woman—reminded me of a big, sleek tabby cat. She +wouldn’t say what she wanted. Do you know anything about her?” +</p> + +<p> +“I expect she came about her account. But she’ll have to see Batson. I +told her so, only a night or two ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” said Jervis, “then I’ll be off now, and you take things +easy and just think over what happened last night, so as to be ready +for Thorndyke.” +</p> + +<p> +With this he bustled away, leaving me to rise and breakfast at my +leisure. +</p> + +<p> +His advice to me to think over the events of the previous night was +rather superfluous. The experience was not one that I was likely to +forget. To have escaped from death by the very slenderest chance was +in itself a matter to occupy one’s thoughts pretty completely, apart +from the horrible circumstances, and then there was the mystery in +which the whole affair was enveloped, a mystery which utterly baffled +any attempt to penetrate it. Turn it over as I would—and it was +hardly out of my thoughts for a minute at a time all day—no glimmer +of light could I perceive, no faintest clue to any explanation of that +hideous and incomprehensible crime. +</p> + +<p> +At four o’clock punctually to the minute, Dr. Thorndyke arrived, and, +having quickly looked me over to see that I was none the worse for my +adventure, proceeded to business. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you finished the visits, Jervis?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; and sent off all the medicine. There’s nothing more to do until +six.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said Thorndyke, “we might have a cup of tea in the +consulting-room and talk this affair over. I am rather taking +possession of you, Jardine,” he added, “but I think we ought to see +where we are quite clearly, even if we decide finally to hand the case +over to the police. Don’t you agree with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” I agreed, highly flattered by the interest he was taking +in my affairs; “naturally, I should like to get to the bottom of the +mystery.” +</p> + +<p> +“So should I,” said he, “and to that end, I propose that you give us a +completely circumstantial account of the whole affair. I have had a +talk with your very intelligent little maid, Maggie, and now I want to +hear what happened after she left you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think I have much to tell that you don’t know,” said I; +“however, I will take up the story where Maggie left off,” and I +proceeded to describe the events in detail, much as I have related +them to the reader. +</p> + +<p> +Thorndyke listened to my story with profound attention, making an +occasional memorandum but not uttering a word until I had finished. +Then, after a rapid glance through his memoranda, he said: +</p> + +<p> +“You spoke of a note that was handed in to you. Have you got that +note?” +</p> + +<p> +“I left it on the writing-table, and it is probably there still. Yes, +here it is.” I brought it over to the little table on which our tea +was laid and handed it to him; and as he took it from me with the +dainty carefulness of a photographer handling a wet plate, I noted +mentally that the habit of delicate manipulation contracted in the +laboratory makes itself evident in the most trifling of everyday +actions. +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” he remarked, turning the envelope over and scrutinizing it +minutely, “that this is addressed to ‘Dr. H. Jardine.’ It appears, +then, that he knows your Christian name. Can you account for that?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I can’t. The only letter I have had here was addressed ‘Dr. +Jardine,’ and I have signed no certificates or other documents.” +</p> + +<p> +He made a note of my answer, and, drawing the missive from its +envelope, read it through. +</p> + +<p> +“The handwriting,” he remarked, “looks disguised rather than +illiterate, and the diction is inconsistent. The blatantly incorrect +adverb at the end does not agree with the rest of the phraseology and +the correct punctuation. As to the signature, we may neglect that, +unless you are acquainted with anyone in these parts of the name of +Parker.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well. Then if you will allow me to keep this note, I will file +it for future reference. And now I will ask you a few questions about +this adventure of yours, which is really a most astonishing and +mysterious affair; even more mysterious, I may add, than it looks at +the first glance. But we shall come to that presently. At the moment +we are concerned with the crime itself—with a manifest attempt to +murder you—and the circumstances that led up to it; and there are +certain obvious questions that suggest themselves. The first is: Can +you give any explanation of this attempt on your life?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I can’t,” I replied. “It is a complete mystery to me. I can only +suppose that the fellow was a homicidal lunatic.” +</p> + +<p> +“A homicidal lunatic,” said Thorndyke, “is the baffled investigator’s +last resource. But we had better not begin supposing at this stage. +Let us keep strictly to facts. You do not know of anything that would +explain this attack on you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then the next question is: Had you any property of value on your +person?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. Five pounds would cover the value of everything I had about me, +including the instruments.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then that seems to exclude robbery as a motive. The next question is: +Does any person stand to benefit considerably by your death? Have you +any considerable expectations in the way of bequests, reversions or +succession to landed property or titles?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” I replied with a faint grin. “I shall come in for a thousand or +two when my uncle dies, but I believe the London Hospital is the +alternative legatee, and I suppose we would hardly suspect the +hospital governors of this little affair. Otherwise, the only person +who would benefit by my death would be the undertaker who got the +contract to plant me.” +</p> + +<p> +Thorndyke nodded and made a note of my answer. +</p> + +<p> +“That,” said he, “disposes of the principal motives for premeditated +murder. There remains the question of personal enmity—not a common +motive in this country. Have you, as far as you know, an enemy or +enemies who might conceivably try to kill you?” +</p> + +<p> +“As far as I know, I have not an enemy in the world, or anyone, even, +who would wish to do me a bad turn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said Thorndyke, “that seems to dispose of all the ordinary +motives for murder; and I may say that I have only put these questions +as a matter of routine precaution—<i>ex abundantiâ cautelae</i>, as +Jervis says, when he is in a forensic mood—because certain other +facts which I have learned seem to exclude any of these motives +except, perhaps, robbery from the person.” +</p> + +<p> +“You haven’t been long picking up those other facts,” remarked Jervis. +“Why the affair only happened last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have only made a few simple enquiries,” replied Thorndyke. “This +morning I called on Mr. Highfield, whose name, as solicitor and agent +to the landlords, I copied from the notice on the gate at the works +last night. He knows me slightly so I was able to get from him the +information that I wanted. It amounts to this. +</p> + +<p> +“About four months ago, a Mr. Gill wrote to him and offered a lump sum +for the use of the mineral water works for six months. Highfield +accepted the offer and drew up an agreement, as desired, granting Gill +immediate possession of the premises and the small stock and plant, of +which the residue was to be taken back at a valuation by the landlords +at the expiration of the term. +</p> + +<p> +“I noted Gill’s address, as it appeared on the agreement, and sent my +man, Polton, to make enquiries. The address is that of a West +Kensington lodging house at which Gill was staying when he signed the +agreement. He had been there only three weeks, he left two days after +the date of the agreement and the landlady does not know where he went +or anything about him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sounds a bit fishy,” Jervis remarked. “Did he tell Highfield what he +wanted the premises for?” +</p> + +<p> +“I understand that something was said about some assay work in +connection with certain—or rather uncertain—mineral concessions. But +of course that was no affair of Highfield’s. His business was to get +the rent, and, having got it, his interest in Mr. Gill lapsed. But you +see the bearing of these facts. Gill’s connection with these works +does, as Jervis says, look a little queer, especially after what has +happened. But, seeing that he made his arrangements four months ago, +at a time when Jardine had no thought of coming into this +neighbourhood, it is clear that those arrangements could have no +connection with this particular attempt. Gill obviously did not take +those works with the intention of murdering Jardine. He took them for +some other purpose; quite possibly the purpose that he stated. And we +must not assume that Gill was the perpetrator of this outrage at all. +Could you identify the man who let you in?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” I replied. “Certainly not. I hardly saw him at all. The place +was pitch dark, and whenever he struck a match he was either behind me +or in front with his back to me. The only thing I could make out about +him was that he had some sort of coarse wash-leather gloves on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ha!” exclaimed Thorndyke. “Then we were right, Jervis.” +</p> + +<p> +I looked in surprise from one to the other of my friends, and was on +the point of asking Thorndyke what he meant, when he continued. +</p> + +<p> +“That closes another track. If you couldn’t identify the man, a +description of Gill, if we could obtain it, would not help us. We must +begin at some other point.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems to me,” said Jervis, “that we haven’t much to go upon at +all.” +</p> + +<p> +“We haven’t much,” agreed Thorndyke, “but still we have something. We +find that the motive of this attempt was apparently not robbery, nor +the diversion of inheritable property, nor personal enmity. It must +have been premeditated, but yet it could not have been planned more +than a week in advance, for Jardine has only been in this +neighbourhood for that time, and his coming was unexpected. The +appearances very strongly suggest that the motive, whatever it was, +has been generated recently and probably locally. So we had better +make a start from that assumption.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it possible,” Jervis suggested, “that this man Gill may be some +sort of anarchist crank? Or a sort of thug? It is actually conceivable +that he may have taken these premises for the express purpose of +having a secure place where he could perpetrate murders and conceal +the bodies.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is quite conceivable,” said Thorndyke, “and when we go and look +over the works—which I propose we do presently—we may as well bear +the possibility in mind. But it is merely a speculative suggestion. To +return to your affairs, Jardine, has your stay here been quite +uneventful?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly,” I replied. +</p> + +<p> +“No unusual or obscure cases? No injuries?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, nothing out of the common,” I replied. +</p> + +<p> +“No deaths?” +</p> + +<p> +“One. But the man died before I took over.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing unusual about that? Everything quite regular?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, perfectly,” I answered; and then with a sudden qualm, as I +recalled Batson’s uncertainty as to the actual cause of death, I +added, “At least I hope so.” +</p> + +<p> +“You hope so?” queried Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Because it’s too late to go into the question now. The man was +cremated.” +</p> + +<p> +At this a singular silence fell. Both my friends seemed to stiffen in +their chairs, and both looked at me silently but very attentively. +Then Thorndyke asked, “Did you have anything to do with that case?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I replied. “I went with Batson to examine the body.” +</p> + +<p> +“And are you perfectly satisfied that everything was as it should be?” +</p> + +<p> +I was on the point of saying “yes.” And then suddenly there arose +before my eyes the vision of Mrs. Samway looking at me over Batson’s +shoulder with that strange, inscrutable expression. And again, I +recalled her unexplained anger and then her sudden change of mood. It +had impressed me uncomfortably at the time, and it impressed me +uncomfortably now. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know that I am, now that I come to think it over,” I replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” asked Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” I said, a little hesitatingly, “to begin with, I don’t think +the cause of death was quite clear. Batson couldn’t find anything +definite when he attended the man, and I know that the patient’s death +came as quite a surprise.” +</p> + +<p> +“But surely,” exclaimed Thorndyke, “he took some measures to find out +the cause of death!” +</p> + +<p> +“He didn’t. He assumed that it was a case of fatty heart and certified +it as ‘Morbus cordis’; and a man named O’Connor confirmed his +certificate after examining the body.” +</p> + +<p> +“After merely inspecting the exterior?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +My two friends looked at one another significantly, and Thorndyke +remarked, with a disapproving shake of the head: +</p> + +<p> +“And this is what all the elaborate precautions amount to in practice. +A case which might have been one of the crudest and baldest poisoning +gets passed with hardly a pretence of scrutiny. And so it will always +be. Routine precautions against the unsuspected are no precautions at +all. That is the danger of cremation. It restores to the poisoner the +security that he enjoyed in the old days when there were no such +sciences as toxicology and organic chemistry, when it was impossible +for him to be tripped up by an exhumation and an analysis.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t think it likely that this was a case of poisoning, do you?” +I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I know nothing about the case,” he replied, “excepting that there was +gross neglect in issuing the certificates. What do you think about it +yourself? Looking back at the case, is there anything besides the +uncertainty that strikes you as unsatisfactory?” +</p> + +<p> +I hesitated, and again the figure of Mrs. Samway rose before me with +that strange, baleful look in her eyes. Finally I described the +incident to my colleagues. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Samway!” exclaimed Jervis. “Is that the handsome Lucrezia Borgia +lady with the mongoose eyes who called here this morning? By Jove! +Jardine, you are giving me the creeps.” +</p> + +<p> +“I understand,” said Thorndyke, “that you were making as if to feel +the dead man’s pulse?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is no doubt, I suppose, that he really was dead?” +</p> + +<p> +“None whatever. He was as cold as a fish, and, besides there was quite +distinct <i>rigor mortis</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“That seems conclusive enough,” said Thorndyke, but he continued to +gaze at his open note-book with a profoundly speculative and +thoughtful expression. +</p> + +<p> +“It certainly looks,” said Jervis, “as if Jardine had either seen +something or had been about to see something that he was not wanted to +see; and the question is what that something could have been.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I agreed, gloomily; “that is what I have just been asking +myself. There might have been a wound or injury of some kind, or there +might have been the marks of a hypodermic needle on the wrist. I wish +I knew what she meant by looking at me in that way.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Jervis, “we shall never know now. The grave gives up its +secrets now and again, but the crematorium furnace never. Whether he +died naturally or was murdered, Mr. Maddock is now a little heap of +ashes with no message for anyone this side of the Day of Judgment.” +</p> + +<p> +Thorndyke looked up. “That seems to be so,” said he, “and really, we +have no substantial reasons for thinking that there was anything +wrong. So we come back to your own affairs, Jardine, and the question +is, What would you prefer to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“In what respect?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“In regard to this attempt on your life. You have told us that you +have not an enemy in the world. But it appears as if you had; and a +very dangerous one, too. Now would you like to put the case into the +hands of the police, or would you rather that we kept our own counsel +and looked into it ourselves?” +</p> + +<p> +“I should like you to decide that,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“The reason that I ask,” said Thorndyke, “is this: the machinery of +the police is adjusted to professional crime—burglary, coining, +forgery, and so forth—and their methods are mostly based on +‘information received.’ The professional ‘crook’ is generally well +known to the police, and, when wanted for any particular ‘job,’ can be +found without much difficulty and the information necessary for his +conviction obtained from the usual sources. But in cases of obscure, +non-professional crime the police are at a disadvantage. The criminal +is unknown to them; there are no confederates from whom to get +information; consequently they have no starting-point for their +enquiries. They can’t create clues; and they, very naturally, will not +devote time, labour and money to cases in which they have nothing to +go on. +</p> + +<p> +“Now this affair of yours does not look like a professional crime. No +motive is evident and you can give no information that would help the +police. I doubt if they would do much more than give you some rather +disagreeable publicity, and they might even suspect you of some kind +of imposture.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gad!” I exclaimed. “That’s just what they would do. It’s what they +did last time, and this affair would write me down in their eyes a +confirmed mystery-monger.” +</p> + +<p> +“Last time?” queried Thorndyke. “What last time is that? Have there +been any other attempts?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not on me,” I replied. “But I had an adventure one night about six or +seven weeks ago that has made the Hampstead police look on me, I +think, with some suspicion”; and here I gave my two friends a +description of my encounter with the dead (or insensible) cleric in +Millfield Lane, and my discoveries on the following morning. +</p> + +<p> +“But my dear Jardine!” Thorndyke exclaimed when I had finished, “what +an extraordinary man you are! It seems as if you could hardly show +your nose out of doors without becoming involved in some dark and +dreadful mystery.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said I, “I hope I have now exhausted my gifts in that respect. +I am not thirsting for more experiences. But what do you think about +that Hampstead affair? Do you think I could possibly have been +mistaken? Could the man have been merely insensible, after all, as the +police suggested?” +</p> + +<p> +Thorndyke shook his head. “I don’t think,” he replied, “that it is +possible to take that view. You see the man had disappeared. Now he +could not have got away unassisted, in fact he could not have walked +at all. One would have to assume that some persons appeared directly +after you left and carried him away; and that they appeared and +retired so quickly as not to be overtaken by you on your return a few +minutes later with the police. That is assuming too much. And then +there are the traces which you discovered on the following day, which +seem to suggest strongly that a body had been carried away to Ken +Wood. It is a thousand pities that you encountered that keeper, if you +could have followed the tracks while they were fresh you might have +been able to ascertain whither it had been carried. But now, to return +to your latest experience, what shall we do? Shall we communicate with +the police, or shall we make a few investigations on our own account?” +</p> + +<p> +“As far as I am concerned,” I replied eagerly, “a private +investigation would be greatly preferable. But wouldn’t it take up +rather a lot of your time?” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Jardine, you needn’t apologize,” said Jervis. “Unless I am much +mistaken, my respected senior has ‘struck soundings,’ as the nautical +phrase has it. He has a theory of your case, and he would like to see +it through. Isn’t that so, Thorndyke?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” Thorndyke admitted, “I will confess that the case piques my +curiosity somewhat. It is an unusual affair and suggests some curious +hypotheses which might be worth testing. So, if you agree, Jardine, +that we make at least a few preliminary investigations, I suggest +that, as soon as Batson returns, we three go over to what the +newspapers would call ‘the scene of the tragedy’ and reconstitute the +affair on the spot.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what about Batson?” I asked. “Shall we tell him anything?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think we must,” said Thorndyke, “if only to put him on his guard; +for your unknown enemy may be his enemy, too.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment the street door banged loudly, a quick step danced +along the hall, and Batson himself burst into the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord!” he exclaimed, halting abruptly at the door and gazing in +dismay at our little council. “What’s the matter? Anything happened?” +</p> + +<p> +Thorndyke laughed as he shook the hand of his quondam pupil. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, Batson,” said he, “don’t make me out such a bird of +ill-omen.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was afraid something awkward might have occurred, police job or +inquest or something of that sort.” +</p> + +<p> +“You weren’t so very far wrong,” said Thorndyke. “When you are at +liberty I’ll tell you about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m at liberty now,” said Batson, dropping into a chair and glaring +at Thorndyke through his spectacles. “No scandal, I hope.” +</p> + +<p> +Thorndyke reassured him on this point and gave him a brief account of +my adventure and our proposed visit to the works; to which he listened +with occasional ejaculations of astonishment and relief. +</p> + +<p> +“By Gum!” he exclaimed, “what a mercy you got there in time. If you +hadn’t there’d have been an inquest and a devil of a fuss. I should +never have heard the last of it. Ruined the practice and worried me +into a lunatic asylum. Oh, and about those works. I wouldn’t go there +if I were you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” Thorndyke asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you may have to answer some awkward questions, and we don’t +want this affair to get about, you know. No use raising a dust. Rumpus +of any kind plays the deuce with a medical practice.” +</p> + +<p> +Thorndyke smiled at my principal’s frank egoism. “Jervis and I went +over last night,” said he, “and had a hasty look round and we found +the place quite deserted. Probably it is so still.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you won’t be able to get in. How jer get in last night?” +</p> + +<p> +“I happened to have a piece of stiff wire in my pocket,” Thorndyke +replied impassively. +</p> + +<p> +“Ha!” said Batson. “Wire, eh? Picklock in fact. I wouldn’t, if I were +you. Devil of a bobbery if anyone sees you. Hallo! There goes the +bell. Patient. Let him wait. ’Tisn’t six yet, is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Two minutes past,” replied Thorndyke, rising and looking at his +watch. “Perhaps we had better be starting as it’s now dark, and the +business at the works, if there is any, is probably over for the day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hang the works!” exclaimed Batson. “I wouldn’t go nosing about there. +What’s the good? Jardine’s alright and the chappie isn’t likely to be +on view. You’ll only raise a stink for nothing and bring in a crowd of +beastly reporters humming about the place. There’s that damn bell +again. Well, if you won’t stay, perhaps you’ll look me up some other +time. Always d’lighted to see you. Jervis too. You’re not going, +Jardine. I’ve got to settle up with you and hear your report.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll look in later,” said I; “when you’ve finished the evening’s +work.” +</p> + +<p> +“Right you are,” said Batson, opening the door and adroitly edging us +out. “Sorry you can’t stay. Good-night! Good-night!” +</p> + +<p> +He shepherded us persuasively and compellingly down the hall, with a +skill born of long practice with garrulous patients, and, having +exchanged us on the doorstep for a stout woman with two children, +returned into the house with his prey and was lost to sight. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch07"> +CHAPTER VII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">AN UNSEEN ENEMY</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">From</span> my late principal’s house we walked away quickly down the +lamplit street, all, I think, dimly amused at the circumstances of our +departure. +</p> + +<p> +“Is Batson always like that?” Thorndyke asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Always,” I replied. “Hurry and bustle are his normal states.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dear, dear,” commented Thorndyke, “what a terrible amount of time he +must waste. Of course, one can understand now how that cremation +muddle came about. Your incurable hustler is always thinking of the +things he has got to do next instead of the thing that he is doing at +the moment. By the way, Jardine, I am taking it for granted that you +would like to inspect these premises. It is not essential. Jervis and +I had a preliminary look round last night, and I daresay we picked up +most of the facts that are likely to be of importance if we should be +going farther into the matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think it would be as well for me to take a look at the place and +show you exactly where and how the affair happened.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think so too,” said Thorndyke. “It was all pretty evident, but you +might be able to show us something that we had overlooked. Here we +are. I wonder if Mr. Gill is on the premises—supposing him still to +frequent them.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked up and down the street, and, taking a key from his pocket, +inserted it into the lock. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, how on earth did you get the key?” I asked. Thorndyke looked at +me slyly. +</p> + +<p> +“We keep a tame mechanic,” said he, as he turned the key and opened +the wicket. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but how did he get the pattern of the lock?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +Thorndyke laughed softly. “It is only a simple trade lock. The fact +is, Jardine, that in our branch of practice we have occasionally to +take some rather irregular proceedings. For instance, I usually carry +a small set of picklocks—fortunately for you. That is how I got in +last night. Then I never go abroad without a little box of moulding +wax; a most invaluable material, Jardine, for collecting certain kinds +of evidence. Well, with a slip of wood and a bit of wax I was able to +furnish my man with the necessary data for filing up a blank key. One +doesn’t want to be seen using a picklock. Now, can you show us the +way?” +</p> + +<p> +He flashed a pocket electric lamp on the ground, and we advanced over +the rough cobbles until we reached a door at the side. +</p> + +<p> +“This is where I went in,” said I. “It opens into a sort of corridor, +and at the end is a door opening on some steps that lead down to the +passage below.” +</p> + +<p> +Thorndyke tried the handle of the door and pushed, but it was +evidently locked or bolted. +</p> + +<p> +“I left this door unlocked last night,” said he; “so it is clear that +someone has been here since. I hardly expected that. I thought our +friend would have cleared off for good. But it is possible that Gill +had nothing to do with the attempt. The premises may have been used by +someone who happened to know that they were unoccupied. It would have +been quite easy for such a person to gain admittance; as you see.” +</p> + +<p> +While speaking, he had produced from his pocket a little bunch of +skeleton keys, with one of which he now quietly unlocked the door. +</p> + +<p> +“These builders’ locks,” said he, “are merely symbolic of security. +You are not expected to unfasten them without authority, but you can +if you like and happen to have a bit of stiff wire.” +</p> + +<p> +We entered the corridor, and, as we proceeded, looked into the rooms +that opened out of it. One of them was meagrely furnished as an +office, but the thick layer of dust on the desk and stools showed +clearly that it had been long disused; the other rooms were empty and +desolate, and showed no trace of use or occupation. +</p> + +<p> +“The worthy Gill,” said Jervis, “seems to have been able, like +Diogenes, to get on with a very modest outfit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” agreed Thorndyke, “it is a little difficult to guess what his +occupation is. The place looks as if it had never been used at all. +Shall I go first?” +</p> + +<p> +He halted for a moment, passing the light of his lamp over the massive +door at the head of the steps, and then began to descend. It was +certainly a horrible and repulsive place, especially to my eyes, with +the recollection of my late experience fresh in my mind. The rough +brick walls, covered with the crumbling remains of old white-wash, the +black masses of cobwebs that drooped like funereal stalactites from +the ceiling, the fungi that sprouted in corners, and the snail-tracks +that glistened in the lamplight on the stone floor, all contributed to +a vault-like sepulchral effect that was most unpleasantly suggestive +of what might have been and very nearly had been. +</p> + +<p> +My late prison was easily distinguished by the two holes in the door. +We looked in; but that cellar was completely empty save for a few +chips of wood and a pinch or two of sawdust; memorials of my sojourn +in the lethal chamber at which I could hardly look without a shudder. +Then we passed on to the next cellar—the one adjoining my prison—and +this was an object of no little curiosity to me. Here, while I was +securely bolted into my cell, that unknown villain had, deliberately +and in cold blood, made all the arrangements for my murder; +arrangements which he little suspected that I should survive to look +upon. +</p> + +<p> +Thorndyke, too, was interested. He stood at the open door, looking in +as if considering the positions of various objects. As in fact he was. +</p> + +<p> +“Someone has been here since last night, Jervis,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” agreed Jervis. “That gas bottle has been taken down from the +opening. You see, Jardine,” he continued, “he had stood that big +packing-case up on end and laid the gas bottle along the top, with its +nozzle just opposite the hole. Two other bottles were standing upright +with their nozzles upwards.” +</p> + +<p> +“I understand,” said Thorndyke, “that you heard three bottles only +turned on?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I answered; “there was the one opposite the hole and two +others.” +</p> + +<p> +“I ask,” Thorndyke said, “because there are, as you see, seven other +bottles, lying by the wall. Those are all empty. We tried them when we +came here last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know nothing about those others,” said I. “The three bottles that I +have mentioned I heard distinctly, and after he had turned on the +third, the man went out of the cellar and closed up the door.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said Thorndyke, “the other seven were presumably used for some +other—and let us hope, more legitimate—purpose. I wonder why our +friend has been at the trouble of moving the cylinders.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps,” suggested Jervis, “he thought that the arrangement might be +a little too illuminating for the police, if they should happen to pay +a visit to the place. He may not be aware that the apparatus had +already been inspected <i>in situ</i> by us. Or, again, the cylinders may +have been moved by someone else. We are assuming that he is a lawful +occupant of the premises; but he may be a mere secret intruder like +ourselves, who has discovered that the place is more or less +unoccupied and has made use of the premises and plant for his own +benevolent purposes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” agreed Thorndyke, “that is perfectly true. But we can put the +matter to the test, at least negatively. If the cylinders have been +moved by an innocent stranger they will bear the prints of hands.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why shouldn’t the man himself leave the prints of his hands on +the cylinders?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Because, my dear Jardine, he is too knowing a bird. Jervis and I went +carefully over the cylinders last night in the hope of getting a few +finger-prints to submit to Scotland Yard; but not a vestige could we +find. Our friend had seen to that. We assumed that he had operated in +gloves and your description of him confirmed our assumption. Which, in +its way, is an interesting fact, for a man who is knowing enough to +take these precautions has probably had some previous experience of +crime, or, at least, has some acquaintance with the ways of criminals. +The suggestion, in fact, is that, although this is not an ordinary +professional crime, the perpetrator may be a professional criminal. +And the further suggestion is, of course, that of very deliberate +premeditation.” +</p> + +<p> +While he had been speaking he had produced from his pocket a small, +flattened bottle fitted with a metal cap and filled with a yellowish +powder. Removing the cap and uncovering a perforated inner cap, like +that of an iodoform dredger, he proceeded to shake a cloud of the +light powder over the three upper cylinders, jarring them with his +foot to make the powder spread. Then he blew sharply on them, one +after the other, when the powder disappeared from their surfaces, +leaving visible one or two shapeless whitened smears but never a trace +of a finger-print or even the shape of a hand. +</p> + +<p> +Thorndyke rose and slipped the bottle back in his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“Apparently,” said he, “the cylinders were moved by our unknown +friend, with the same careful precautions as on the first occasion. A +wary gentleman, this, Jervis. He’ll give us a run for our money, at +any rate.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” agreed Jervis, “he doesn’t mean to give himself away. He +preserves his incognito most punctiliously. I’ll say that for him.” +</p> + +<p> +“And meanwhile,” said Thorndyke, “we had better proceed with our +measures for drawing him out of this modest retirement. I want you, +Jardine, to look round this cellar and tell us if any of the things +that you see in it reminds you of anything that has happened to you, +or suggests any thought or reflection.” +</p> + +<p> +I looked round, I am afraid rather vacantly. A more unsuggestive +collection of objects I have never looked upon. +</p> + +<p> +“There are the gas cylinders,” I said, feebly; “but I have told you +about them. I don’t see anything else excepting a few oddments of +rubbish.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then take a good look at the rubbish,” said he. “Remember that it may +be necessary at some future time for you to recall exactly what this +cellar was like, and what it contained. You may even have to make a +sworn statement. So cast your eye round and tell us what you see.” +</p> + +<p> +I did so, wondering inwardly what the deuce I was expected to see and +what might be the importance of my seeing it. +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” said I, “a mouldy-looking cellar about fifteen feet by +twelve, with very bad brick walls, a plaster ceiling in an advanced +stage of decay, and a concrete floor. In the left hand wall is a hole +about six inches square opening into the adjoining cellar. The +contents are ten gas cylinders, all apparently empty, a key or spanner +which seems to have been used to turn the cocks, a large packing-case, +which, to judge by its shape, seems to have contained gas cylinders—” +</p> + +<p> +“The word ‘large,’ ” interrupted Thorndyke, “is not a particularly +exact one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, a packing-case about seven feet long by two and a half +feet wide and deep.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s better,” said Thorndyke. “Always give your dimensions in +quantitative terms if possible. Go on.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are a couple of waterproof sheets,” said I. “I don’t see quite +what they can have been used for.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind their use,” said Thorndyke. “Note the fact that they are +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have,” said I; “and that seems to complete the list with the +exception of the straw in which I suppose the gas cylinders were +packed. There is a large quantity of that, but not more than would +seem necessary for the purpose. And that seems to complete the +inventory, and, I may say, that none of these things conveys any +suggestion whatever to my mind.” +</p> + +<p> +“Probably not,” said Thorndyke, “and it is quite possible that none of +these things has any particular significance at all. But as they are +the only facts offered us, we must make the best of them. There is one +other cellar that we have not yet looked into, I think.” +</p> + +<p> +We came out, and, walking along the passage, came to another door +which stood slightly ajar. Thorndyke opened it, and, throwing in the +light of his lamp, revealed a considerable stack of long iron gas +bottles, and one or two packing-cases similar to the one I had already +seen. +</p> + +<p> +“I presume,” said he, “that these are full cylinders; the store from +which our friend got his supply, but we may as well make sure.” +</p> + +<p> +He ran back into the adjoining cellar, and returned with the spanner, +with which he proceeded to turn the cock of one of the topmost +cylinders; upon which a loud hiss and a thin, snowy cloud showed that +his surmise was correct. +</p> + +<p> +He had just closed the cock and stepped out into the passage to take +back the spanner, when I saw him stop suddenly as if listening. And +then he sniffed once or twice. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” asked Jervis; but Thorndyke, without replying, ran +quickly along the passage and up the steps, and I heard him trying the +door at the top. +</p> + +<p> +“Bring up one of the empty cylinders,” he said quietly. “They have +bolted us in and apparently set fire to the place.” +</p> + +<p> +We did not require much urging to act quickly. Picking up one of the +long, ponderous iron cylinders, we ran with it along the passage +towards the light of Thorndyke’s lamp. As we ascended the steps I +became plainly aware of the smell of burning wood and of a crackling +sound, faintly audible through the massive door. +</p> + +<p> +“There is only one bolt,” said Thorndyke; “I noticed it as we came in. +I will throw my light on the part of the door where it is fixed, and +you two must batter on that spot with the cylinder.” +</p> + +<p> +The door was, as I have said, a massive one, but it would have been a +massive door indeed that could have withstood the blows of that +ponderous iron cylinder, wielded by two strong men whose lives +depended on their efforts. At the very first crash of the +battering-ram, a tiny chink opened and at each thundering blow, the +building shook. Furiously we pounded at the thick, plank-built door, +and slowly the chink widened as the screws of the bolt tore out of the +woodwork. And as the chink opened, a thin reek of pungent smoke +filtered in, and the cold light of Thorndyke’s lantern became +contrasted with a red glare from without. And then suddenly, the door, +under the heavy battering, burst from its fastenings and swung open. A +blinding, choking cloud of smoke and sparks rolled in upon us, through +which we could see in the corridor outside a pile of straw and crates +and broken packing-cases, blazing and cracking furiously. It looked as +if we were cut off beyond all hope. +</p> + +<p> +Jervis and I had dropped the now useless cylinder and were gazing in +horror at the blazing mass that filled the corridor and cut off our +only means of escape, when we were recalled by the voice of Thorndyke, +speaking in his usual quiet and precise manner. +</p> + +<p> +“We must get the full cylinders up as quickly as possible,” said he; +and, running down the steps he made straight for the end cellar, +whither we followed him. Picking up one of the cylinders, we carried +it quickly to the top of the steps. +</p> + +<p> +“Lay it down,” said Thorndyke, “and fetch another.” +</p> + +<p> +Jervis and I ran back to the cellar, and taking up another cylinder, +brought it along the passage. As we were ascending the steps, there +suddenly arose a loud, penetrating hiss, and as we reached the top, we +saw Thorndyke disengaging the spanner from the cock of the cylinder +out of which a jet of liquid was issuing, mingled with a dense, snowy +cloud. +</p> + +<p> +An instantaneous glance, as we laid down the fresh cylinder, reassured +me very considerably. The icy, volatile liquid and the falling cloud +of intensely cold carbonic acid snow had produced an immediate effect; +as was evident in a blackened, smouldering patch in the midst of the +blazing mass. With reviving hope I followed Jervis once more down the +steps and along the passage to the end cellar, from which we brought +forth a third cylinder. +</p> + +<p> +By this time the passage was so filled with smoke that it was +difficult either to see or to breathe, and the bright light that had +at first poured in through the open doorway had already pulled down so +far that Thorndyke’s figure, framed in the opening, loomed dim and +shadowy amidst the smoke and against the dusky red background. We +found him, when we reached the top of the steps, holding the great gas +bottle and directing the stream of snow and liquid on to those parts +of the wood and straw from which flames still issued. +</p> + +<p> +“It will be all right,” he said in his calm, unemotional way; “the +fire had not really got an effective start. The straw made a great +show, but that is nearly all burnt now, and all this carbonic acid gas +will soon smother the burning wood. But we must be careful that it +doesn’t smother us too. The steps will be the safest place for the +present.” +</p> + +<p> +He opened the cock of the new cylinder and, having placed it so that +it played on the most refractory part of the burning mass, backed to +the steps where Jervis and I stood looking through the doorway. The +fire was, as he has said, rapidly dying down. The volumes of gas +produced by the evaporation of the liquid and the melting snow, cut +off the supply of air so that, in place of the flames that had, at +first, looked so alarming, only a dense reek of smoke arose. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said Thorndyke, after we had waited on the steps a couple of +minutes more, “I think we might make a sortie and put an end to it. If +we can get the smouldering stuff off that wooden floor down on to the +stone, the danger will be over.” +</p> + +<p> +He led the way cautiously into the corridor, and, once more bringing +his electric lamp into requisition, began to kick the smouldering +cases and crates and the blackened masses of straw down the steps on +to the stone floor of the passage, whither we followed them and +scattered them with our feet until they were completely safe from any +chance of re-ignition. +</p> + +<p> +“There,” said Jervis, giving a final kick at a small heap of smoking +straw, “I should think that ought to do. There’s no fear of that stuff +lighting up again. And, if I may venture to make the remark, the +sooner we are off these premises the happier I shall be. Our friend’s +methods of entertaining his visitors are a trifle too strenuous for my +taste. He might try dynamite next.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I agreed; “or he might take pot shots at us with a revolver +from some dark corner.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is much more likely,” said Thorndyke, “that he has cleared off in +anticipation of the alarm of fire. Still, it is undeniable that we +shall be safer outside. Shall I go first and show you a light?” +</p> + +<p> +He piloted us along the corridor and up the cobbled yard, putting away +his lamp as he unlocked the wicket. There was no sign of anyone about +the premises nor, when we had passed out of the gate, was there anyone +in sight in the street. I looked about, expecting to see some sign of +the fire; but there was no smoke visible, and only a slight smell of +burning wood. The smoke must have drifted out at the back. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” Thorndyke remarked, “it has been quite an exciting little +episode. And a highly satisfactory finish, as things turned out; +though it might easily have been very much the reverse. But for the +fortunate chance of those gas-bottles being available, I don’t think +we should be alive at this moment.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” agreed Jervis. “We should be in much the same condition by this +time as Batson’s late patient, Mr. Maddock, or at least, well on our +way to that disembodied state. However, all’s well that ends well. Are +you coming our way, Jardine?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will walk a little way with you,” said I. “Then I must go back to +Batson to settle up and fetch my traps.” +</p> + +<p> +I walked with them to Oxford Street, and we discussed our late +adventure as we went. +</p> + +<p> +“It was a pretty strong hint to clear out, wasn’t it?” Jervis +remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied Thorndyke; “it didn’t leave us much option. But the +affair can’t be left at this. I shall have a watch set on those +premises, and I shall make some more particular enquiries about Mr. +Gill. By the way, Jardine, I haven’t your address. I’d better have it +in case I want to communicate with you; and you’d better have my card +in case anything turns up which you think I ought to know.” +</p> + +<p> +We accordingly exchanged cards, and, as we had now reached the corner +of Oxford Street, I wished my friends adieu and thoughtfully retraced +my steps to Jacob Street. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch08"> +CHAPTER VIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">“IT’S AN ILL WIND—”</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">London</span> is a wonderful place. From the urban greyness of Jacob Street +to the borders of Hampstead Heath was, even in those days of the slow +horse tram, but a matter of minutes—a good many minutes, perhaps, but +still, considerably under an hour. Yet, in that brief and leisurely +journey, one exchanged the grim sordidness of a most unlovely street +for the solitude and sweet rusticity of open and charming country. +</p> + +<p> +A day or two after my second adventure in the mineral water works, I +was leaning on the parapet of the viaduct—the handsome, red brick +viaduct with which some builder, unknown to me, had spanned the pond +beyond the Upper Heath, apparently with purely decorative motive, and +in a spirit of sheer philanthropy. For no road seemed to lead anywhere +in particular over it, and there was no reason why any wayfarer should +wish to cross the pond rather than walk round it; indeed, in those +days it was covered by a turfy expanse seldom trodden by any feet but +those of the sheep that grazed in the meadows bordering the pond. I +leaned on the parapet, smoking my pipe with deep contentment, and +looking down into the placid water. Flags and rushes grew at its +borders, water-lilies spread their flat leaves on its surface and a +small party of urchins angled from the margin, with the keen joy of +the juvenile sportsman who suspects that his proceedings are unlawful. +</p> + +<p> +I had lounged on the parapet for several minutes, when I became aware +of a man, approaching along the indistinct track that crossed the +viaduct, and, as he drew near, I recognized him as the keeper whom I +had met in Ken Wood on the morning after my discovery of the body in +Millfield Lane. I would have let him pass with a smile of recognition, +but he had no intention of passing. Touching his hat politely, he +halted, and, having wished me good-morning, remarked: +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t tell me, sir, what it was you were looking for that +morning when I met you in the wood.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” I replied, “but apparently, someone else has.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir, you see,” he said, “the sergeant came up the next day with +a plain-clothes man to have a look round, and, as the sergeant is an +old acquaintance of mine, he gave me the tip as to what they were +after. I am sorry, sir, you didn’t tell me what you were looking for.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” he replied, “we might have found something if we had looked +while the tracks were fresh. Unfortunately there was a gale in the +night that fetched down a lot of leaves, and blew up those that had +already fallen, so that any foot-marks would have got hidden before +the sergeant came.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did the police officers seem to think about it?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, to speak the truth,” the keeper replied, “they seemed to think +it was all bogey.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean to say,” I asked, “that they thought I had invented the +whole story?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, sir,” he replied, “not that. They believed you had seen a man +lying in the lane, but they didn’t believe that he was a dead man, and +they thought your imagination had misled you about the tracks.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, I suppose they didn’t find anything?” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“No, they didn’t, and I haven’t been able to find anything myself, +though I’ve had a good look round.” And then, after a brief pause: “I +wonder,” he said, “if you would care to come up to the Wood and have a +look at the place yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +I considered for a moment. I had nothing to do for I was taking a day +off, and the man’s proposal sounded rather attractive. Finally, I +accepted his offer, and we turned back together towards the Wood. +</p> + +<p> +Hampstead—the Hampstead of those days—was singularly rustic and +remote. But, within the wood, it was incredible that the town of +London actually lay within the sound of a church bell or the flight of +a bullet. Along the shady paths, carpeted with moss and silvery +lichen, overshadowed by the boughs of noble beeches; or in leafy +hollows, with the humus of centuries under our feet, and the +whispering silence of the woodland all around, we might have been +treading the glades of some primeval forest. Nor was the effect of +this strange remoteness less, when presently, emerging from the +thicker portion of the wood, we came upon a moss-grown, half-ruinous +boathouse on the sedgy margin of a lake, in which was drawn up a +rustic-looking, and evidently, little-used punt. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s wonderful quiet about here, sir,” the keeper remarked, as a +water-hen stole out from behind a clump of high rushes and scrambled +over the leaves of the water-lilies. +</p> + +<p> +“And presumably,” I remarked, “it’s quieter still at night.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re right, sir,” the keeper replied. “If that man had got as far +as this, he’d have had mighty little trouble in putting the body where +no one was ever likely to look for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose,” said I, “that you had a good look at the edges of the +lake?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he answered. “I went right round it, and so did the police, for +that matter, and we had a good look at the punt, too. But, all the +same, it wouldn’t surprise me if, one fine day, that body came +floating up among the lilies; always supposing, that is,” he added, +“that there really was a body.” +</p> + +<p> +“How far is it,” I asked, “from the lake to the place where you met me +that morning?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s only a matter of two or three minutes,” he answered, “we may as +well walk that way and you can see for yourself.” Accordingly, we set +forth together, and, coming presently upon one of the moss-grown +paths, followed it past a large summerhouse until we came in sight of +the beech beyond which I had encountered him while I was searching for +the tracks. As we went, he plied me with questions as to what I had +seen on the night in the lane, and I made no scruple of telling him +all that I had told the police, seeing that they, on their side, had +made no secret of the matter. +</p> + +<p> +Of course, it was idle, after this long period—for it was now more +than seven weeks since I had seen the body—to attempt anything in the +nature of a search. It certainly did look as if the man who had stolen +into that wood that night had been bound for the solitary lake. The +punt, I had noticed, was only secured with a rope, so that the +murderer—for such I assumed he must have been—could easily have +carried his dreadful burden out into the middle, and there sunk it +with weights, and so hidden it for ever. It was a quick, simple and +easy method of hiding the traces of his crime, and, if the police had +not thought it worth while to search the water with drags, there was +no reason why the buried secret should not remain buried for all time. +</p> + +<p> +After we had walked for some time about the pleasant, shady wood, less +shady now that the yellowing leaves were beginning to fall with the +passing of autumn, the keeper conducted me to the exit by which I had +left on the previous occasion. +</p> + +<p> +As I was passing out of the wicket, my eye fell once more on the +cottage which I had then noticed, and, recalling the remark that my +fair acquaintance had let fall concerning the artist to whom the +derelict knife was supposed to belong, I said: “You mentioned, I +think, that that house was let to an artist.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was,” he replied; “but it’s empty now, the artist has gone away.” +</p> + +<p> +“It must be a pleasant little house to live in,” I said, “at any rate, +in summer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he replied, “a country house within an hour’s walk of the Bank +of England. Would you like to have a look at it, sir? I’ve got the +keys.” +</p> + +<p> +Now I certainly had no intention of offering myself as a tenant, but, +yet, to an idle man, there is a certain attractiveness in an empty +house of an eligible kind, a certain interest in roaming through the +rooms and letting one’s fancy furnish them with one’s own household +goods. I accepted the man’s invitation, and, opening the wide gate +that admitted to the garden from a byroad, we walked up to the door of +the house. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s quite a nice little place,” the keeper remarked. “There isn’t +much garden, you see, but then, you’ve got the Heath all around; and +there’s a small stable and coachhouse if you should be wanting to go +into town.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did the last tenant keep any kind of carriage?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think so,” said the keeper, “but I fancy he used to hire a +little cart sometimes when he had things to bring in from town; but I +don’t know very much about him or his habits.” +</p> + +<p> +We walked through the empty rooms together looking out of the windows +and commenting on the pleasant prospects that all of them commanded, +and talking about the man who had last lived in the house. +</p> + +<p> +“He was a queer sort of fellow,” said the keeper. “He and his wife +seem to have lived here all alone without any servant, and they seem +often to have left the house to itself for a day or two at a time; but +he could paint. I have stopped and had a look when he has been at +work, and it was wonderful to see how he knocked off those pictures. +He didn’t seem to use brushes, but he had a lot of knives, like little +trowels, and he used to shovel the paint on with them, and he always +wore gloves when he was painting; didn’t like to get the paint on his +hands, I suppose.” +</p> + +<p> +“It sounds as if it would be very awkward,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“Just what I should have thought,” the keeper agreed. “But he didn’t +seem to find it so. This seems to be the place that he worked in.” +</p> + +<p> +Apparently the keeper was right. The room, which we had now entered, +was evidently the late studio, and did not appear to have been cleaned +up since the tenant left. The floor was littered with scraps of paper +on which a palette-knife had been cleaned, with empty paint-tubes and +one or two broken and worn-out brushes, and, in a packing-case, which +seemed to have served as a receptacle for rubbish, were one or two +canvases that had been torn from their stretchers and thrown away. I +picked them out and glanced at them with some interest, remembering +what my fair friend had said. For the most part, they were mere +experiments or failures, deliberately defaced with strokes or daubs of +paint, but one of them was a quite spirited and attractive sketch, +rough and unfinished, but skilfully executed and undefaced. I +stretched out the crumpled canvas and looked at it with considerable +interest. It represented Millfield Lane, and showed the large elms and +the posts and the high fence under which I had sheltered in the rain. +In fact, it appeared to have been taken from the exact spot on which +the body had been lying, and from which I had made my own drawing; not +that there was anything in the latter coincidence, for it was the only +sketchable spot in the lane. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s really quite a nice sketch,” I said; “it seems a pity to leave +it here among the rubbish.” +</p> + +<p> +“It does, sir,” the keeper agreed. “If you like it, you had better +roll it up and put it in your pocket. You won’t be robbing anyone.” +</p> + +<p> +As it seemed that I was but rescuing it from a rubbish-heap, I +ventured to follow the keeper’s advice, and, rolling the canvas up, +carefully stowed it in my pocket. And shortly after as I had now seen +all that there was to see, which was mighty little, we left the house, +and, at the gate, the keeper took leave of me with a touch of his hat. +</p> + +<p> +I made my way slowly back towards my lodgings by way of the Spaniard’s +Road and Hampstead Lane, turning over in my mind as I went, the +speculation suggested by my visit to the wood. Of the existence of the +lake I had not been previously aware. Now that I had seen it, I felt +very little doubt that it was known to the mysterious murderer—for +such I felt convinced he was—who must have been lurking in the lane +that night when I was sheltering under the lee of the fence. The route +that he had then taken appeared to be the direct route to the lake. +That he was carrying the body, I had no doubt whatever; and, seeing +that he had carried it so far, it appeared probable that he had some +definite hiding-place in view. And what hiding-place could be so +suitable as this remote piece of still water? No digging, no +troublesome and dangerous preparation would be necessary. There was +the punt in readiness to bear him to the deep water in the middle; a +silent, easily-handled conveyance. A few stones, or some heavy object +from the boat-house, would be all that was needful; and in a moment he +would be rid for ever of the dreadful witness of his crime. +</p> + +<p> +Thus reflecting—not without dissatisfaction at the passive part that +I had played in this sinister affair—I passed through the turnstile, +or “kissing-gate,” at the entrance to Millfield Lane. Almost +certainly, the murderer or the victim or both, had passed through that +very gate on the night of the tragedy. The thought came to me with +added solemnity with the recollection of the silent wood and the dark, +still water fresh in my mind, and caused me unconsciously to tread +more softly and walk more sedately than usual. +</p> + +<p> +The lane was little frequented at any time and now, at mid-day, was +almost as deserted as at midnight. Very remote it seemed, too, and +very quiet, with a silence that recalled the hush of the wood. And yet +the silence was not quite unbroken. From somewhere ahead, from one of +the many windings of the tortuous lane, came the sound of hurried +footsteps. I stopped to listen. There were two persons, one treading +lightly, the other more heavily, apparently a man and a woman. And +both were running—running fast. +</p> + +<p> +There was nothing remarkable in this, perhaps; but yet the sound smote +on my ear with a certain note of alarm that made me quicken my pace +and listen yet more intently. And suddenly there came another sound; +a muffled, whimpering cry like that of a frightened woman. Instantly I +gave an answering shout and sprang forward at a swift run. +</p> + +<p> +I had turned one of the numerous corners and was racing down a +straight stretch of the lane when a woman darted round the corner +ahead, and ran towards me, holding out her hands. I recognized her at +a glance, though now she was dishevelled, pale, wild-eyed, breathless +and nearly frantic with terror, and rage against her assailant spurred +me on to greater speed. But when I would have passed her to give chase +to the wretch, she clutched my arm frantically with both hands and +detained me. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me go and catch the scoundrel!” I exclaimed; but she only clung +the tighter. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she panted, “don’t leave me! I am terrified! Don’t go away!” +</p> + +<p> +I ground my teeth. Even as we stood, I could hear the ruffian’s +footsteps receding as rapidly as they had advanced. In a few moments +he would be beyond pursuit. +</p> + +<p> +“Do let me go and stop that villain!” I implored. “You’re quite safe +now, and you can follow me and keep me in sight.” +</p> + +<p> +But she shook her head passionately, and, still clutching my sleeve +with one hand, pressed the other to her heart. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, no!” she gasped, with a catch in her voice that was almost a +sob, “I can’t be alone! I am frightened. Oh! Please don’t go away from +me!” +</p> + +<p> +What could I do? The poor girl was evidently beside herself with +terror, and exhausted by her frantic flight. It would have been cruel +to leave her in that state. But all the same, it was infuriating. I +had no idea what the man had done to terrify her in this way. But that +was of no consequence. The natural impulse of a healthy young man when +he learns that a woman has been ill-used is to hammer the offender +effectively in the first place, and then to inquire into the affair. +That was what I wanted to do; but it was not to be. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” I said, by way of compromise, “let us walk back together. +Perhaps we may be able to find out which way the man went.” +</p> + +<p> +To this she agreed. I drew her arm through mine—for she was still +trembling and looked faint and weak—and we began to retrace her steps +towards Highgate. Of course the man was nowhere to be seen, and by the +time that we had turned the sharp corner where I had found the body of +the priest, the man was not only out of sight, but his footsteps were +no longer audible. +</p> + +<p> +Still we went on for some distance in the hopes of meeting someone who +could tell us which way the miscreant had gone. But we met nobody. +Only, some distance past the posts, we came in sight of a sketching +box and a camp-stool, lying by the side of the path. +</p> + +<p> +“Surely those are your things?” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she answered. “I had forgotten all about them. I dropped them +when I began to run.” +</p> + +<p> +I picked up the box and the stool, and debated with myself whether it +was worth while to go on any farther. From where we stood, nothing was +to be seen, for the lane was still enclosed on both sides by a seven +foot fence of oak boards. But the chance of overtaking the fugitive +was not to be considered; by this time he was probably out of the lane +on the Heath or in the surrounding meadows; and meanwhile, my +companion, though calmer and less breathless, looked very pale and +shaken. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know that it’s any use,” I said, “to tire you by going any +farther. The man is evidently gone.” +</p> + +<p> +She seemed relieved at my decision, and it then occurred to me to +suggest that she should sit down awhile on the bank under the high +fence to recover herself, and to this, too, she assented gladly. +</p> + +<p> +“If it wouldn’t distress you,” I said, “would you mind telling me what +had happened?” +</p> + +<p> +She pondered for a few seconds and then answered: “It doesn’t sound +much in the telling and I expect you will think me very silly to be so +much upset.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure I shan’t,” I said, with perfect confidence in the +correctness of my statement. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” she said, “what happened was this as nearly as I can remember: +I was coming up the path from the ponds and I had to pass a man who +was leaning against the fence by the stile. As I came near to him, he +looked at me, at first, in quite an ordinary way, and then, he +suddenly began to stare in a most singular and disturbing fashion, not +at me, so much, as at this little crucifix which I wear hung from my +neck. As I passed through the turnstile, he spoke to me: ‘Would you +mind letting me look at that crucifix?’ he asked. It was a most +astonishing piece of impertinence, and I was so taken aback that I +hardly had the presence of mind to refuse. However, I did, and very +decidedly, too. Then he came up to me, and, in a most threatening and +alarming manner, said: ‘You found that crucifix. You picked it up +somewhere near here. It’s mine, and I’ll ask you to let me have it, if +you please.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Now this was perfectly untrue. The crucifix was given to me by my +father when I was quite a little child, and I have worn it ever since +I have been grown up—ever since he died, in fact, six years ago. I +told the man this, but he made no pretence of believing me, and was +evidently about to renew his demand, when two labourers appeared, +coming down the lane. I thought this a good opportunity to escape, and +walked away quickly up the lane; it was very silly of me; I ought to +have gone the other way.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course you ought,” I agreed, “you ought to have got out into a +public road at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I see that now,” she said. “It was very foolish of me. However, +I walked on pretty quickly, for there was something in the man’s face +that had frightened me, and I was anxious to get home. I looked back, +from time to time, and, when I saw no sign of the man, I began to +recover myself; but just as I had got to the most solitary part of the +lane, just about where we are now, shut in by these high fences, I +heard quick footsteps behind me. I looked back and saw the man coming +after me. Then, I suppose, I got in a sudden panic, for I dropped my +sketching things and began to run. But as soon as I began to run, the +man broke into a run too. I raced for my life, and when I heard the +man gaining on me, I suppose I must have called out. Then I heard your +shout from the upper part of the lane and ran on faster than ever to +gain your protection. That’s all, and I suppose you think that I have +been making a great fuss about nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think anything of the kind,” I said, “and neither would our +absent friend if I could get hold of him. By the way, what sort of +person was he?—a tramp?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, quite a respectable looking person; in fact, he would have +passed for a gentleman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you give any sort of description of him, not that verbal +descriptions are of much use except in the case of a hunchback or a +Chinaman or some other easily identifiable creature.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, they are not,” she agreed, “and I don’t think that I can tell you +much about this man excepting that he was clean-shaved, of medium +height, quite well dressed, and wore a round hat and slate-coloured +suede gloves.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid we shan’t get hold of him from that description,” I said. +“The only thing that you can do is to avoid solitary places for the +present and not to come through this lane again alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she said. “I suppose I must, but it’s very unfortunate. One +cannot always take a companion when one goes sketching even if it were +desirable, which it is not.” +</p> + +<p> +As to the desirability, in the case of a good-looking girl, of +wandering about alone in solitary places, I had my own opinions; and +very definite opinions they were. But I kept them to myself. And so we +sat silent for awhile. She was still pale and agitated, and perhaps +her recital of her misadventure had not been wholly beneficial. At the +moment that this idea occurred to me, a crackling in my breast-pocket +reminded me of the forgotten canvas, and I bethought me that perhaps a +change of subject might divert her mind from her very disagreeable +experience. Accordingly, I drew the canvas out of my pocket, and, +unrolling it, asked her what she thought of the sketch. In a moment +she became quite animated. +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” she exclaimed, “this looks exactly like the work of that artist +who was working on the Heath a little while ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is his,” I replied, considerably impressed and rather astonished +at her instantaneous recognition; “but I didn’t know you were so +familiar with his work.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not very familiar with it,” she replied; “but, as I told you, I +sometimes managed to steal a glance or two when I passed him. You see, +his technique is so peculiar that it’s easily recognized, and it +interested me very much. I should have liked to stop and watch him and +get a lesson.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is rather peculiar work,” I said, looking at the canvas with new +interest. “Very solid and yet very smooth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. It is typical knife-work, almost untouched with the brush. That +was what interested me. The knife is a dangerous tool for a +comparative tyro like myself, but yet one would like to learn how to +use it. Did he give you this sketch?” +</p> + +<p> +I smiled guiltily. “The truth is,” I admitted, “I stole it.” +</p> + +<p> +“How dreadful of you!” she said, “I suppose that you could not be +bribed to steal another?” +</p> + +<p> +“I would steal it for nothing if you asked me,” I answered, “and +meanwhile, you had better take possession of this one. It will be of +more use to you than to me.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head: “No, I won’t do that,” she said, “though it is +most kind of you. You paint, I think, don’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m only the merest amateur,” I replied. “I annexed the sketch for +the sake of the subject. I have rather an affection for this lane.” +</p> + +<p> +“So had I,” said she, “until to-day. Now, I hate it, but, might I ask +how you managed your theft?” +</p> + +<p> +I told her about the empty cottage and the rejected canvases in the +rubbish box. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid none of the others would be of any use to you because he +had drawn a brushful of paint across each of them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that wouldn’t matter,” she said. “The brush-strokes would be on +dry paint and could easily be scraped off. Besides, it is not the +subject but the technique that interests me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I will get into the cottage somehow and purloin the remaining +canvases for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but I mustn’t give you all this trouble,” she protested. +</p> + +<p> +“It won’t be any trouble,” I said. “I shall quite enjoy a deliberate +and determined robbery. But where shall I send the spoil?” +</p> + +<p> +She produced her card-case, and, selecting a card, handed it to me, +with a smile: “It seems, to me,” she said, “that I am inciting you to +robbery and acting as a receiver of stolen goods, but I suppose +there’s no harm in it, though I feel that I ought not to give you all +this trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +I made the usual polite rejoinder as I took from her the little +magical slip of pasteboard that, in a moment, transformed her from a +stranger to an acquaintance, and gave her a local habitation and a +name. Before bestowing it in my pocket-book, I glanced at the neat +copper-plate and read the inscription: “Miss Sylvia Vyne. The +Hawthorns. North End.” +</p> + +<p> +The effect of our conversation had answered my expectations. Her +agitation had passed off, the colour had come back to her cheeks, and, +in fact, she seemed quite recovered. Apparently she thought so +herself, for she rose, saying that she now felt well enough to walk +home, and held out her hand for the colour-box and stool. +</p> + +<p> +“I think,” said I, “that if you won’t consider me intrusive, I should +like to see you safely out on to an inhabited road at least.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall accept your escort gratefully,” she replied, “as far as the +end of the lane, or farther if it is not taking you too much out of +your way.” +</p> + +<p> +Needless to say, I would gladly have escorted so agreeable and winsome +a protegée from John o’ Groats to Land’s End and found it not out of +my way at all; and when she passed out of the gate into Hampstead +Lane, I clung tenaciously to the box and stool and turned towards “The +Spaniards” as though no such thing as a dismissal had ever been +contemplated. In fact, with the reasonable excuse of carrying the +impedimenta, I maintained my place by her side in the absence of a +definite congé; and so we walked together, talking quite easily, +principally about pictures and painting, until, in the pleasant little +hamlet, she halted by a garden gate, and, taking her possessions from +me, held out a friendly hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye,” she said. “I can’t thank you enough for all your help and +kindness. I hope I have not been very troublesome to you.” +</p> + +<p> +I assured her that she had been most amenable, and, when I had once +more cautioned her to avoid solitary places, we exchanged a cordial +hand-shake and parted, she to enter the pleasant, rustic-looking +house, and I to betake myself back to my lodgings, lightening the way +with much agreeable and self-congratulatory reflection. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch09"> +CHAPTER IX.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THORNDYKE TAKES UP THE SCENT</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">At</span> my lodgings, which I reached at an unconscionably late hour for +lunch, I found a little surprise awaiting me; a short note from Dr. +Thorndyke asking me if I should be at liberty early on the following +afternoon to show him the spot on which I had found the mysterious +body. Of course, I answered by return, begging him to come straight on +from the hospital to an early lunch, over which we could discuss the +facts of the case before setting out. Having dispatched my letter, I +called at the offices of the house agent who had the letting of the +cottage on the Heath, to see if he had duplicate keys. Fortunately he +had, and was willing to entrust them to me on the understanding that +they should be returned some time during the next day. I did not, +however, go on to the cottage, for it occurred to me that Thorndyke +would probably wish to visit the wood, and I could make my visit and +purloin the canvases then. +</p> + +<p> +A telegram on the following morning informed me that Thorndyke would +be with me at twelve o’clock, and, punctually to the minute, he +arrived. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you don’t mind me swooping down on you in this fashion,” he +said, as the servant showed him into the room. +</p> + +<p> +I assured him, very truthfully, that I was delighted to be honoured by +a visit from him, and he then proceeded to explain. +</p> + +<p> +“You may wonder, Jardine, why I am busying myself about this case, +which is really no business of mine, or, at least, appears to be none; +but the fact is, that as a teacher and a practitioner of Medical +Jurisprudence, I find it advisable to look into any unusual cases. Of +course, there is always a considerable probability that I may be +consulted concerning any out of the way case; but, apart from that, I +have the ordinary specialist’s interest in anything remarkable in my +own speciality.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should think,” said I, “that it would be well for me to give you +all the facts before we start.” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly, Jardine,” he replied, “that is what I want. Tell me all you +know about the affair and then we shall be able to test our +conclusions on the spot.” +</p> + +<p> +He produced a large scale ordnance map, and, folding it under my +direction, so that it showed only the region in which we were +interested, he stood it up on the table against the water bottle, +where we could both see it, and marked on it with a pencil each spot +as I described it. +</p> + +<p> +It is not necessary for me to record our conversation. I told him the +whole story as I have already told it to the reader, pointing out on +the map the exact locality where each event occurred. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a most remarkable case, Jardine,” was his thoughtful comment +when I had finished, “most remarkable; curiously puzzling and +inconsistent too. For you see that on the one hand, it looks like a +casual or accidental crime, and yet, on the other, strongly suggests +premeditation. No man, one would think, could have planned to commit a +murder in what is, after all, a public thoroughfare; and yet, the long +distance which the body seems to have been carried, and the apparently +selected hiding-place, seem to suggest a previously considered plan.” +</p> + +<p> +“You think that there is no doubt that the man was really dead?” I +asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Had you any doubt at the time yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +“None at all,” I replied, “it was only the disappearance of the body, +and, perhaps, the sergeant’s suggestion, that made me think it +possible that I might have been mistaken.” +</p> + +<p> +Thorndyke shook his head. “No, Jardine,” said he, “the man was dead. +We are safe in assuming that; and on that assumption our +investigations must be based. The next question is, how was the body +taken away? Did you measure the fence?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, but I should say it is about seven feet high.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what kind of fence is it? Are there any footholds?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can show you exactly what the fence is like,” I answered. “That +sketch, which I have pinned up on the wall, was apparently painted +from the exact spot on which the body lay. That fence on the +right-hand side is the one under which I sheltered and is exactly like +the one over which the body seems to have been lifted.” +</p> + +<p> +Thorndyke rose and walked over to the sketch, which I had fixed to the +wall with drawing-pins. +</p> + +<p> +“Not a bad sketch, this, Jardine,” he remarked; “very smartly put in, +apparently mostly with the knife. Where did you get it?” +</p> + +<p> +I had to confess that the canvas was unlawfully come by, and told him +how I had obtained it. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t know the artist’s name?” said Thorndyke, looking closely at +the sketch. +</p> + +<p> +“No. In fact, I know nothing about him, excepting that he worked +mostly with a small painting-knife, and usually wore kid gloves.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t mean that he worked in gloves?” said Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“So I am told,” said I. “I never saw him.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s very odd,” said Thorndyke. “I have heard of men wearing a glove +on the palette-hand to keep off the midges, and many men paint in +gloves in exceptionally cold weather. But this sketch seems to have +been painted in the summer.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose,” said I, “the midges don’t confine their attentions to the +palette-hand. And after all, to a man who worked entirely with the +knife, a glove wouldn’t be really in the way.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Thorndyke agreed, “that is true.” He looked closely at the +sketch, and even took out his pocket lens to help his vision, which +seemed almost unnecessary. It appeared that he was as much interested +in the unknown artist’s peculiar technique as was my friend, Miss +Sylvia Vyne. +</p> + +<p> +“By the way,” said he, when he had resumed his seat at the table, “you +were telling me about some kind of gold trinket that you had picked up +at the foot of the fence. Shall we have a look at it?” +</p> + +<p> +I fetched the little gold object from the dispatch box in which I had +locked it up, and handed it to him. He turned it over in his fingers, +read the letters that were engraved on it, and examined the little +piece of silk cord that was attached to one ring. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no doubt,” said he, “as to the nature of this object, nor of +its connection with the dead man. This is evidently a reliquary, and +these initials engraved upon it bear out exactly your description of +the body. S.V.D.P. evidently means St. Vincent de Paul, who, as you +probably know, was a saint who was distinguished for his works of +charity. You have mentioned that the dead man wore a Roman collar, +with a narrow, dark stripe up the front. That means that he was the +lay-brother of some religious order, probably some philanthropic +order, to whom St. Vincent de Paul would be an object of special +devotion. The other letters, A.M.D.G., are the initials of the words +<i>Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam</i>—the motto of the Society of Jesus. But as +St. Vincent de Paul was not a Jesuit saint, the motto probably refers +to the owner of the reliquary, who may have been a Jesuit or a friend +of the Society. It was apparently attached—perhaps to the neck—by +this silk cord, which seems to have been frayed nearly through, and +probably broke when the body was drawn over the top of the fence.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose I ought to have shown it to the police,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you ought,” he replied, “but, as you haven’t, I think we +had better say nothing about it now.” +</p> + +<p> +He handed it back to me, and I dropped it into my pocket, intending to +return it presently to the dispatch box. A few minutes later, we +sallied forth on our journey of exploration. +</p> + +<p> +It is not necessary to describe this journey in detail since I have +already taken the reader over the ground more than once. We went, of +course, to the place where I had found the body and walked right +through to Hampstead Lane. Then we returned, and reconstituted the +circumstances of that eventful night, after which, I conducted +Thorndyke to the place where I assumed that the body had been lifted +over the fence. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose,” I said, “we must go round and pick up the track from the +other side.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked up and down the lane and smiled. “Would your quondam +professor lose your respect for ever, Jardine, if you saw him climb +over a fence in a frock coat and a topper?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” I answered, “but it might look a little quaint if anyone else +saw you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think we will risk that,” he said. “There is no one about, and I +should rather like to try a little experiment. Would you mind if I +hoisted you over the fence? You are something of an out-size, but +then, so am I, too, which balances the conditions.” +</p> + +<p> +Of course I had no objection, and, when we had looked up and down the +lane and listened to make sure that we had no observers, Thorndyke +picked me up, with an ease that rather surprised me, and hoisted me +above the level of the fence. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it all clear on the other side?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I answered, “there’s no one in sight.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I want you to be quite passive,” he said, and with this, he +hoisted me up further until I hung with my own weight across the top +of the fence. Leaving me hanging thus, he sprang up lightly, and, +having got astride at the top, dropped down on the other side, when he +once more took hold of me and drew me over. +</p> + +<p> +“It wasn’t so very difficult,” he said. “Of course, it would have been +more so to a shorter man, but, on the other hand, it is extremely +unlikely that the body was anything like your size and weight.” +</p> + +<p> +We now followed the track up to the wood, which we entered by an +opening in the fence, through which I assumed that the murderer had +probably passed. I conducted Thorndyke by the nearest route to the +boat-house, and, when he had thoroughly examined the place and made +notes of the points that appeared to interest him, I showed him the +way out by the turnstile. +</p> + +<p> +It was here when we came in sight of the cottage that I bethought me +of my promise to Miss Vyne, and somewhat sheepishly explained the +matter to Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“It won’t take me a minute to go in and sneak the things,” I said +apologetically, and was proposing that he should walk on slowly, when +he interrupted me. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll come in with you,” said he. “There may be something else to +filch. Besides, I am rather partial to empty houses. There is +something quite interesting, I think, in looking over the traces of +recent occupation, and speculating on the personality and habits of +the late occupiers. Don’t you find it so?” +</p> + +<p> +I said “Yes,” truthfully enough, for it was a feeling of this kind +that had first led me to look over the cottage. But my interest was +nothing to Thorndyke’s; for no sooner had I let him in at the front +door, than he began to browse about through the empty rooms and +passages, for all the world like a cat that has just been taken to a +new house. +</p> + +<p> +“This was evidently the studio,” he remarked, as we entered the room +from which I had taken the canvas. “He doesn’t seem to have had much +of an outfit, as he appears to have worked on his sketching-easel; you +can see the indentations made by the toe-points, and there are no +marks of the castors of a studio easel. You notice, too, that he sat +on a camp-stool to work.” +</p> + +<p> +It did not appear to me to matter very much what he had sat on, but I +kept this opinion to myself and watched Thorndyke curiously as he +picked up the empty paint tubes and scrutinized them one after the +other. His inquisitiveness filled me with amused astonishment. He +turned out the rubbish box completely, and having looked over every +inch of the discarded canvases, he began systematically to examine, +one by one, the pieces of paper on which the late resident had wiped +his palette-knife. +</p> + +<p> +Having rolled up and pocketed the waste canvases, I expressed myself +as ready to depart. +</p> + +<p> +“If you’re not in a hurry,” said Thorndyke, “I should like to look +over the rest of the premises.” +</p> + +<p> +He spoke as though we were inspecting some museum or exhibition, and, +indeed, his interest and attention, as he wandered from room to room, +were greater than that of the majority of visitors to a public +gallery. He even insisted on visiting the little stable and +coach-house, and when he had explored them both, ascended the rickety +steps to the loft over the latter. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose,” said I, “this was the lumber room or store. Judging by +the quantity of straw it would seem as if some cases had been unpacked +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Probably,” agreed Thorndyke. “In fact, you can see where the cases +have been dragged along, and also, by that smooth indented line, where +some heavy metallic object has been slid along the floor. Perhaps if +we look over the straw, we may be able to judge what those cases +contained.” +</p> + +<p> +It didn’t seem to me to matter a brass farthing what they contained, +but again I made no remark; and together we moved the great mass of +straw, almost handful by handful, from one end of the loft to the +other, while Thorndyke, not only examined the straw but even closely +scrutinized the floor on which it lay. +</p> + +<p> +As far as I could see, all this minute and apparently purposeless +searching was entirely without result, until we were in the act of +removing the last armful of straw from the corner; and even then the +object that came to light did not appear a very remarkable one under +the circumstances, though Thorndyke seemed to find what appeared to me +a most unreasonable interest in it. The object was a pair of +canvas-pliers, which Thorndyke picked up almost eagerly and examined +with profound attention. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you make of that, Jardine?” he asked, at length, handing the +implement to me. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a pair of canvas-pliers,” I replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Obviously,” he rejoined, “but what do you suppose they have been used +for?” +</p> + +<p> +I opined that they had been used for straining canvases, that being +their manifest function. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” objected Thorndyke, “he would hardly have strained his canvases +up here. Besides, you will notice that they have, in fact, been used +for something else. You observe that the handles are slightly bent, as +if something had been held with great force, and if you look at the +jaws, you will see that that something was a metallic object about +three-quarters of an inch wide with sharp corners. Now, what do you +make of that?” +</p> + +<p> +I looked at the pliers, inwardly reflecting that I didn’t care +twopence what the object was, and finally said that I would give it +up. +</p> + +<p> +“The problem does not interest you keenly,” Thorndyke remarked with a +smile; “and yet it ought to, you know. However, we may consider the +matter on some future occasion. Meanwhile, I shall follow your +pernicious example and purloin the pliers.” +</p> + +<p> +His interest in this complete stranger appeared to me very singular, +and it seemed for the moment to have displaced that in the mysterious +case which was the object of his visit to me. +</p> + +<p> +“A strange, vagabond sort of man that artist must have been,” he +remarked, as we walked home across the Heath, “but I suppose one picks +up vagabond habits in travelling about the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you gather that he had travelled much, then?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“He appears to have visited New York, Brussels and Florence, which is +a selection suggesting other travels.” +</p> + +<p> +I was wondering vaguely how Thorndyke had arrived at these facts, and +was indeed about to ask him, when he suddenly changed the subject by +saying: +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose, Jardine, you don’t wander about this place alone at +night?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do sometimes,” I replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I shouldn’t,” he said; “you must remember that a very determined +attempt has been made on your life, and it would be unreasonable to +suppose that it was made without some purpose. But that purpose is +still unaccomplished. You don’t know who your enemy is, and, +consequently, can take no precautions against him excepting by keeping +away from solitary places. It is an uncomfortable thought, but at +present, you have to remember that any chance stranger may be an +intending murderer. So be on your guard.” +</p> + +<p> +I promised to bear his warning in mind, though I must confess his +language seemed to me rather exaggerated; and so we walked on, +chatting about various matters until we arrived at my lodgings. +</p> + +<p> +Thorndyke was easily persuaded to come in and have tea with me, and +while we were waiting for its arrival, he renewed his examination of +the sketch upon the wall. +</p> + +<p> +“Aren’t you going to have this strained on a stretcher?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +I replied “yes,” and that I intended to take it with me the next time +I went into town. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me take it for you,” said Thorndyke. “I should like to show it to +Jervis to illustrate the route that we have marked on the map. Then I +can have it left at any place that you like.” +</p> + +<p> +I mentioned the name of an artist’s-colourman in the Hampstead Road, +and, unpinning the canvas, rolled it up and handed it to him. +</p> + +<p> +He took it from me and, rolling it up methodically and carefully, +bestowed it in his breast pocket. Then he brought forth the map, and, +as we drank our tea and talked over our investigations, we checked our +route on it and marked the position of the cottage. Shortly after tea +he took his leave, and I then occupied an agreeable half-hour in +composing a letter to Miss Vyne to accompany the loot from the +deserted house. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch10"> +CHAPTER X.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE UNHEEDED WARNING</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Thorndyke’s</span> warning, so emphatically expressed, ought to have been +alike unnecessary and effective. As a matter of fact, it was neither. +I suppose that to a young man, not naturally timorous, the idea of a +constantly lurking danger amidst the prosaic conditions of modern +civilization is one that is not readily accepted. At any rate, the +fact is that I continued to walk abroad by day and by night with as +much unconcern as if nothing unusual had ever befallen me. It was not +that the recollection of those horrible hours in the poisoned cellar +had in any way faded. That incident I could never forget. But I think, +that in the back of my mind, there still lingered the idea of a +homicidal lunatic; though that idea had been so scornfully rejected by +Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +But before I describe the amazing experience by which I once more came +within a hair’s breadth of sudden and violent death, I must refer to +another incident; not because it seemed to be connected with that +alarming occurrence, but because it came first in the order of time, +and had its own significance later. +</p> + +<p> +It was a couple of days after Thorndyke’s visit that I walked down the +Hampstead Road with the intention of fetching the sketch from the +artist’s-colourman’s. The shop was within a few hundred yards of Jacob +Street, and as I crossed the end of that street, I was just +considering whether I ought to look in on Batson, when a lady bowed to +me and made as if she would stop. It was Mrs. Samway. Of course, I +stopped and shook hands, and while I was making the usual polite +enquiries, I felt myself once more impressed with the unusualness of +the woman. Even in her dress she was unlike other women, though not in +the least eccentric or bizarre. At present, she was clothed from head +to foot in black; but a scarlet bird’s wing in the coquettish little +velvet toque, and a scarlet bow at her throat, gave an effect of +colour that, unusual as it was, harmonized completely and naturally +with her jet-black hair and her strange, un-English beauty. +</p> + +<p> +“So you haven’t started for Paris yet,” I remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she replied; “my husband has gone and may, perhaps, come back. +At any rate, I am staying in England for the present.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I may possibly have the pleasure of seeing you again,” I said, +and she graciously replied that she hoped it might be so, as we shook +hands and parted. +</p> + +<p> +A few minutes later, in the artist’s-colourman’s shop, I had another +chance meeting and a more agreeable one. The proprietor had just +produced the sketch, now greatly improved in appearance by being +strained on a stretcher, when the glass door opened and a young lady +entered the shop. Imagine my surprise when that young lady turned out +to be none other than Miss Vyne. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” I exclaimed, as we mutually recognized each other, “what an +extraordinary coincidence!” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see that it is very extraordinary,” she replied. “Most of the +Hampstead people come here because it’s the nearest place where you +can get proper artist’s materials. Is that the sketch you were telling +me about?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I answered; “and it’s the pick of the loot. But it isn’t too +late to alter your mind. Say the word and it’s yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” she replied, with a smile, “I am not going to say the word, +but I want to thank you for rescuing those other treasures for me.” +</p> + +<p> +She had, as a matter of fact, already thanked me in a very pretty +little note, but I was not averse to her mentioning the subject again. +We stepped back to the door, and in the brighter light, looked at the +sketch together. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a pity,” she remarked, “that he handled it so carelessly before +the paint was hard. Those finger-marks wouldn’t matter a bit on a +brush-painted surface; but on the smooth knife-surface they are rather +a disfigurement.” +</p> + +<p> +She placed the sketch in my hand, and I backed nearer to the glass +door to get a better light. Happening to glance up, I noticed that a +sudden and very curious change had come over her; a look of haughty +displeasure and even anger, apparently directed at somebody or +something outside the shop. +</p> + +<p> +For a few moments I took no notice; then, half-unconsciously, I looked +round just as some person moved away from the door. I looked once more +at Miss Vyne. She was quite unmistakably angry. Her cheeks were +flushed and there was a resentful light in her eyes that gave her an +expression quite new to me. +</p> + +<p> +I suppose she caught my enquiring glance for she exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“Did you see that woman? I never heard of such impertinence in my +life.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did she do?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“She came right up to the doorway and looked over your shoulder; and +then stared at me in the most singular and insolent manner. I could +have slapped her face.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not through the glass door,” I suggested; on which her anger subsided +in a ripple of laughter as quickly as it had arisen. “What was this +objectionable person like?” I asked. “Was she a char-woman or a +slavey?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, not at all,” replied Miss Vyne. “Quite a ladylike looking person, +except for her manners. Rather tastefully dressed, too; a black and +vermilion scheme of colour.” +</p> + +<p> +The reply startled me a little. “Had she a scarlet bird’s wing in her +hat?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and a scarlet bow at her throat. I hope you are not going to say +that you know her.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a rather delicate situation. I could not actually disavow the +acquaintance, but I did not feel inclined to have a black and scarlet +fly introduced into the sweet-smelling ointment of my intercourse with +the fair Sylvia; so I explained with great care the exact scope of the +acquaintance; on which Miss Vyne remarked that “she supposed that +doctors could not be held responsible for the people they knew”; and +proceeded to make her purchases. +</p> + +<p> +I did not take the sketch away with me after all, for it occurred to +me that I might as well leave it to be framed; but instead, I carried +forth with me the parcel containing Miss Vyne’s purchases. I had not +far to carry it, for she was returning at once to Hampstead. I was +tempted to return, for the sake of enjoying a chat with her, too, but +discreetly withstood the temptation, and, having escorted her to a +tram, I turned my face south and walked away at a leisurely pace into +the jaws of an all-unsuspected danger. +</p> + +<p> +It was some hours, however, before anything remarkable happened. +</p> + +<p> +My immediate objective was Lincoln’s Inn Fields, where, at the College +of Surgeons, a lecture on Epidermic Appendages was to be delivered by +the Hunterian Professor; and there, in the college theatre, I spent a +delightful hour while the genial professor took his hearers with him +on a personally-conducted tour among structures that ranged from the +plumage of the sun-bird to the dermal plates of the crocodile, from +the silken locks of beauty to the quills of the porcupine or the mail +of the armadillo. +</p> + +<p> +When I came out, the dusk was just closing in. It was a slightly foggy +evening. The last glow of the sunset in the western sky lighted up the +haze into a rosy background, against which the shadowy buildings were +relieved in shapes of cloudy grey. It was a lovely effect; an effect +such as London alone can show, and fugitive as a breath on a mirror. +As I sauntered westward up the Strand I presently bethought me that, +before the light should have faded completely, I would see how the +effect looked by the riverside. Walking quickly down Buckingham +Street, I came out on to the Embankment and looked into the west. But +the light was nearly gone, the shadows of evening were closing in +fast, and the fog, creeping up the river, ushered in the night. +</p> + +<p> +I leaned on the parapet and watched the last glimmer die away; watched +the darkness deepen on the river and the faint lights on the barges +moored on the southern shore at first twinkle pallidly and then fade +out as the fog thickened. I lit my pipe and looked down at the dark +water swirling past, and gradually fell into a train of half-dreamy +meditation. +</p> + +<p> +Not for the first time since the occurrence, my thoughts turned to +Mrs. Samway. Why had she stared at Miss Vyne in that singular +manner—if indeed it was really Mrs. Samway, and if she really had +stared in the manner alleged? It was an odd affair; but, after all, it +did not very much matter. And with this, my thoughts rambled off in a +new direction. +</p> + +<p> +It was to the cottage on the Heath that they wandered this time, and +the picture of Thorndyke’s cat-like prowlings and pryings arose before +me. That was very queer, too. Was it possible that this learned and +astute man habitually went about eagerly probing into the personal +habits and trivial actions of chance strangers? The apparently puerile +inquisitiveness that he had displayed seemed totally out of character +with all that I knew about the man; but then it often happens that the +private life of public men develops personal traits that are +surprising and disappointing to those who have only known them in +connection with their public activities. +</p> + +<p> +I had become so completely immersed in my thoughts as to be almost +oblivious of what was happening around. Indeed, there was mighty +little happening. The gathering darkness and the thin fog limited my +view to a few square yards. Now and again, a muffled hoot from the +lower river spoke of life and movement on the water, and at long +intervals an occasional wayfarer would pass along the pavement behind +me. +</p> + +<p> +My reflections had reached the point recorded above, when a person +emerged from the obscurity near to the parapet and approached as if to +pass close behind me. I only caught the dusky shape indistinctly with +the tail of my eye; so indistinctly that I could not say certainly +whether it was that of a man or a woman, for I was still gazing down +at the dark water. He or she approached quietly, swerving towards me +across the wide pavement, and was in the act of passing quite close to +me when the thing happened. Of a sudden, I felt my knees clasped in a +powerful grip, and at the same moment I was lifted off my feet and +thrust forward over the parapet. Instinctively, I clutched at the +stonework, but its flat surface offered nothing for my fingers to +grasp. Then my assailant let go, and the next instant I plunged +head-first into the icy water. +</p> + +<p> +It was fortunate for me that the tide was nearly full, else must I, +almost certainly, have broken my neck. As it was, my head struck on +the firm mud at the bottom with such force, that for some moments I +was half-stunned. Nevertheless, I must have struck out automatically, +for when I began to recover my wits my head was above water, and I was +swimming as actively as my clinging garments would let me. But, +apparently, in those moments of dazed semi-consciousness, I must have +struck out towards the middle of the river, for now I was encompassed +by a murky void in which nothing was visible save one or two reddish, +luminous patches—presumably, the lamps on the Embankment. +</p> + +<p> +Towards one of these I turned and struck out vigorously. The water was +desperately cold, and hampered as I was with my clothing, I felt that +I should not be able to keep myself afloat very long, strong swimmer +as I was. The dim, red nebulæ of the unseen lamps moved past slowly, +showing me that I was drifting down on the ebb-tide. Before me, I +knew, was the long, inhospitable wall of the Embankment. True, there +were some steps, if I was not mistaken, by Cleopatra’s Needle, but the +question was whether I had not drifted past them already. I had given +one or two lusty shouts as soon as I had cleared my chest of the +mouthful of water that I got in my first plunge, and I was now letting +off another yell, when, out of the darkness behind me, came a +prolonged hoot. +</p> + +<p> +I looked round quickly in the direction whence the sound had come, and +then became aware of the churning of a propeller. Almost at the same +moment, a dim, ruddy smudge of light broke through the darkness over +the river, and began rapidly to brighten until it took the form of the +twin mast-head lights of a tug with a vessel in tow. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment I hesitated. My first impulse was to avoid the danger of +being run down; but suddenly I altered my mind. For, as the tug bore +down on me, with a roaring of water and a loud clank of machinery, I +saw that she was not absolutely end-on, for her green starboard light, +which had been for a moment visible, suddenly disappeared. Of what +happened during the next few moments, I have but a confused +recollection. A splashing and churning, with the loud wash of water, +the throb of the engines and a glare of light which blazed before my +eyes for a moment, to vanish in an instant into pitchy darkness; a +huge, black object, felt rather than seen to sweep past before me; and +then my hand clutched a wooden projection, and I felt myself dragged +violently through the water. The projection that I had laid hold of +was the lee-board of a sailing barge, as I discovered when the rush of +the water banged me against it; and much ado I had to hold on, with +the water dragging at me and spouting up over my head. But, with what +strength was left to me, I reached out with the other hand and clawed +hold of the dwarf bulwark over which the water was lapping; and so, +with a last violent effort, contrived to drag myself up on to the +deck. +</p> + +<p> +I essayed to stand up, and did, in fact, succeed, but as my sensations +suggested those of a leaden statue with india-rubber legs, I sat down +hastily on the hatch-cover to avoid going overboard. And there I sat +for a minute or two leaning against the lowered mast with my teeth +chattering, and seeming to grow more and more chilled and exhausted +every moment. +</p> + +<p> +Numb as my mind was by this time, my medical instincts told me that +this would not do. Somehow I must get warmth and shelter, for I might +as well have been drowned at once as die of exposure and cold. I +looked round lethargically. There was no sign of anyone on board. +Another barge was towing alongside, and the bows of two others were +dimly visible astern. On those rear-most barges there must certainly +have been someone steering. But they were inaccessible to me, and I +had not the energy to shout; nor could anyone have got across to me if +I had. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly my eye fell on the little chimney that rose by the cabin +scuttle. A thin stream of smoke issued from it and blew away astern. +Perhaps, then, the crew were below, or, if not, at least there was a +fire. I crawled aft, holding on with my hands, and, pushing back the +scuttle, backed cautiously down the ladder closing the scuttle after +me. +</p> + +<p> +There seemed to be nobody below, and the cabin was in darkness, save +for the glow of the fire that burned in the little grate. The air was +probably warm, though to me it felt icy; but, at least, there was no +wind to play on my wet clothes. +</p> + +<p> +I sat down on the locker as near to the fire as I could, and rested my +elbows on the little triangular table. Chilled to the marrow and +utterly exhausted, I was sensible of a growing desire to sleep; a +desire which I repressed, as I believed, with noble resolution. But +apparently my efforts in this respect were not so successful as I had +supposed, for the next incident opened with suspicious suddenness. +</p> + +<p> +A vigorous shake, which dislodged one of my elbows, introduced the +episode. +</p> + +<p> +I looked up, blinking sulkily, at a bright and most objectionably +dazzling light, which further inspection showed to proceed from a +hurricane lamp held by a rather dirty hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Here, wake up, mister,” said a hoarse voice, “this here ain’t the +Hotel Cecil, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +I sat up and stared vaguely at the speaker, or at least, the holder of +the lamp, but could not think of anything appropriate to say. Then +another voice emerged from nowhere in particular. +</p> + +<p> +“ ’E’s been overboard, that’s what ’e’s been.” +</p> + +<p> +“Any fool can see that,” said the first man; “but the question is, who +is he and what’s he a-doin’ in my cabin? Who are yer, mister?” +</p> + +<p> +Now, that would seem to be a perfectly simple and straightforward +question. But it is not so simple as it seems. To a complete stranger, +the bare mention of a name is unilluminating. Further explanations are +needed. And at that moment I did not feel equal to explanations. +Besides, I was not so very clear on the subject myself. Consequently, +I preserved a silence which, perhaps, was wooden rather than golden. +</p> + +<p> +“D’ye ’ear?” persisted the first man. “I’m a-arskin’ you a question.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the good of arskin’ questions of a man what’s been a-rammin’ +’is crumpet aginst the bottom of the river?” protested the other man. +</p> + +<p> +“What d’ye mean?” demanded the first mariner. +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t you see?” retorted the other, “as ’e’s took the ground ’ard? +Look at ’is ’ed.” +</p> + +<p> +Here the first mariner—Lucifer, or lamp-bearer—wiped his hand over +the top of my head and then examined the tip of his forefinger +critically as though it were the arming of a deep-sea lead. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re right, Abel,” said he. “That’s mud off the bottom, that is. He +must have took a regular header. Sooicide perhaps, and altered his +mind. Found it a bit damper’n what he expected. Put the kittle on, +Abe.” +</p> + +<p> +From this moment, the two mariners treated me as if I had been a +lay-figure. Silently, they peeled off my wet clothes, and dried my +skin with vigorous friction as if it had been a wet deck. They not +only asked no further questions, but when I would have spoken they +urged me to economize my wind. They inducted me into stiff and hairy +garments of uncouth aspect, and finally, Abe set before me on the +table a large earthenware mug, the contents of which steamed and +diffused through the cabin a strong odour of Dutch gin. +</p> + +<p> +“You git outside that, mister,” said the luminiferous mariner (who +turned out subsequently to be the skipper), “and then you’d best turn +in.” +</p> + +<p> +The treatment was not strictly orthodox, but I obeyed without demur. +Most people would have done the same under the circumstances. But the +process of “getting outside” it took time, for the grog was boiling +hot and had been brewed with a flexible wrist. By the time that I had +emptied the mug I was not only revived, but (so far as my memory +serves) rather disposed to be garrulously explanatory and facetious. I +even felt a slight inclination to sing. But my friends would stand no +nonsense. As soon as the mug was fairly empty, they bundled me, neck +and crop, into a sort of elongated cupboard and proceeded to pile on +me untold quantities of textile fabrics, including a complete suit of +oilskins. Then they commanded me to go to sleep; which I believe I +must have done almost instantly. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch11"> +CHAPTER XI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Awakening</span> in a strange place is always a memorable experience; +especially to the young, in whom the capacity for novel sensations has +not yet been exhausted by repetition. When I emerged, somewhat +gradually, from the unconsciousness of sleep, my first impressions +concerned themselves with the unusual appearance of the bedroom wall +and its remarkable proximity to my nose. I further noticed that the +bedstead had become inexplicably tilted and that the house appeared to +be swaying; and as I mused on these phenomena with the vagueness of +the half-awake, a loud voice, proceeding apparently from the floor +above, roared out the mystic words, “Lee O!” whereupon there ensued a +sound like the shaking of colossal table cloths and the loud clanking +of chains, and my bedstead took a sharp tilt to the opposite side. +This roused me pretty completely, and, turning over in the bunk, I +looked out into the barge’s cabin. +</p> + +<p> +It was broad daylight and evidently not early, for a square patch of +sunlight crept to and fro on the little table, whence presently it +slipped down to the floor and slithered about unsteadily, as if +Phœbus had overdone his morning dram and could not drive his chariot +straight. I watched it lazily for some time and then, becoming +conscious of a vacancy within, crept out from under the mountain of +bedclothes and made my way to the ladder. +</p> + +<p> +As I put my head through the companion hatch, a man who stood at the +wheel regarded me stolidly. +</p> + +<p> +“So you’ve woke up, have yer?” said he. “Thought you was going right +round the clock. Abel! he’s woke up. Tell young Ted to stand by with +them heggs and that there ’addick.” +</p> + +<p> +Here Abel looked round from behind the luff of the mainsail, and +having verified the statement, conveyed the order to some invisible +person in the fore-peak. Then he came aft with an obvious air of +business. The time for explanations had arrived. +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly I proceeded to “pitch them my yarn,” as they expressed it; +to which they listened with polite attention and manifest +disappointment, clearly regarding the story as a fabrication from +beginning to end. And no wonder. The whole affair was utterly +incredible even to me; to them it must have seemed sheer nonsense. +Their own verdict of “sooicide” during very temporary insanity with +sudden mental recovery, under the influence of cold water, was so much +more rational. Not that they obtruded their views. They listened +patiently and said nothing; and nothing that they could have said +could have been more expressive. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile I looked about me with no little surprise. Some miles away +to the south lay a stretch of low land, faint and grey, with a single +salient object, apparently a church with two spires. In every other +direction was the unbroken sea horizon. +</p> + +<p> +“You seem to have made a pretty good passage,” I remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ve had sixteen hours to do it in,” replied the skipper, “and +spring tides and a nice bit of breeze. If it ’ud only hold—which I’m +afraid it won’t—we’d be in Folkestone Harbour this time to-morrow, or +even sooner. Folkestone be much out of your way?” +</p> + +<p> +I smiled at the artlessness of the question. It was undeniable that +the route from Charing Cross to Hampstead by way of Folkestone was +slightly indirect. But there was no need to insist on the fact. My +hospitable friends had acted for the best and their prudence was +justified by the result; for here I was, not a whit the worse for my +ducking save that I badly wanted a bath. +</p> + +<p> +“Folkestone will suit me quite well,” I replied, “if there is enough +money left in my pockets to pay my fare home.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all right,” said the skipper. “I cleared out your pockets +myself. You’ll find the things in a mug in the starboard locker. +Better overhaul ’em when you go below and see if you’ve dropped +anything. Here comes young Ted with your grub.” +</p> + +<p> +As he spoke the apprentice rose through the fore-hatch like a stage +apparition—if one can imagine an apparition burdened with a tin +tea-pot, two “heggs” and an “ ’addick”—and came grinning along the +weather side-deck, to vanish through the cabin hatchway. I followed +gleefully, and, almost before young Ted had finished the somewhat +informal table arrangements, fell to on the food with voracious joy. +</p> + +<p> +“If you want any more eggs or anythink,” said the apprentice, “all +you’ve got to do is just to touch the electric bell and the waiter’ll +come and take your orders,” and having delivered this delicate shaft +of irony he presented me with an excellent back view of a pair of +brown dreadnoughts as he retired up the ladder. +</p> + +<p> +As I consumed the rough but excellent breakfast I reflected on the +strange events that had placed me in my present odd situation. For the +first time, I began fairly to realize that I was in some way involved +in a nexus of circumstances that I did not in the least understand. I +had an enemy; a vindictive enemy, too, in whose eyes mere human life +was a thing of no account. But who could he be? I knew of no one on +whom I had ever inflicted the smallest injury. I bore no man any +grudge and had never to my knowledge had unfriendly dealings with any +human creature. Was this inveterate enemy of mine anyone whom I knew? +Or was he some stranger whose path I had crossed without knowing it, +and whom I should not recognize even if I saw him? +</p> + +<p> +This last supposition was highly disquieting, especially as it seemed +rather probable; for if my enemy was unknown to me, what precautions +could I take? +</p> + +<p> +Then, again, there was the question! What was the occasion of this +extraordinary vendetta? What had I done to this man that he should +pursue me with such deadly purpose? As to Jervis’s suggestion, that I +had seen something at the Samways’ house that I was not wanted to see, +there was nothing in it; for, as a matter of fact, I had seen nothing. +There was nothing to see. The man Maddock was certainly dead. As to +what he died of, that was Batson’s affair; but even in that there was +no sign of anything suspicious. The man himself had consulted Batson, +and had thought so badly of himself that he had made his will in +Batson’s presence. The patient himself was fully aware of his serious +condition; it was only Batson, with his eternal hurry and bustle and +his defective eyesight, who had missed observing it. The only +circumstance that supported Jervis’s view was that the acts of +violence seemed to be connected with the locality of Batson’s house. +</p> + +<p> +Of course there remained the mystery of the dead priest or +lay-brother. But with that these attempts seemed to have no +connection. Nor was there any reason why the murderer should pursue +me. I had seen the body, it is true; but nobody believed me and no +proceedings were being taken. Nor could I have identified the murderer +if I had been confronted with him. Clearly, he had nothing to fear +from me. +</p> + +<p> +From the causes of my present predicament I passed to the immediate +future. I should have to get back from Folkestone, and I ought to send +a telegram to my landlady, Mrs. Blunt, who would probably be in a +deuce of a twitter about me. I raised the lid of the locker, and, +reaching out the big earthenware mug, emptied its contents on the +table. All my portable property seemed to be there, including the +little gold reliquary, which I had carelessly carried in my pocket +ever since I had shown it to Thorndyke. My available funds were some +four or five pounds; amply sufficient to get me home and to discharge +my liability to the skipper as well. I swept the things back into the +mug, which I returned to the locker, and having cut myself another +thick slice of bread, proceeded with the largest breakfast that I have +ever eaten. +</p> + +<p> +The skipper’s forebodings were justified by the course of events. When +I came on deck the breeze had died down to a mere faint breath, hardly +sufficient to keep the big red main-sail asleep—as the pretty old +nautical phrase has it. The skipper was still at the wheel and Abel +was anxiously taking soundings with a hand-lead. +</p> + +<p> +“You won’t do it, Bill,” said the latter, coiling up the lead-line +with an air of finality, “this ’ere breeze is a-petering right out.” +</p> + +<p> +The skipper said nothing, but stared gloomily at the land which was +now right ahead and much nearer than when I had last looked; and from +the land his eye travelled to a sand-bank from which rose a tall post +at the top of which was an inverted cone. +</p> + +<p> +“Ought to a-gone about a bit sooner, Bill,” pursued Abel; whereupon +the skipper turned on him fiercely. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the good o’ saying that now?” he demanded. “If you’d a-told me +the wind was going to drop, I’d a-gone about sooner. What water is +there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Five fathom here,” replied Abel; “that means one and a quarter on the +Woolpack. You’d best shove her nose round now, Bill.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, all right!” retorted the skipper, “Lee O! This is going to be an +all-night job, this is,” and with this gloomy prediction, he spun the +wheel round viciously, and once more headed away from the land. +</p> + +<p> +Prophecy appeared to be the skipper’s specialty and, like most +prophets, he tended to view the future with an unfavourable eye. +Gradually the breeze died away into a dead calm, so that we had +presently to let go the anchor to avoid drifting on to a great +sand-bank which now lay between us and the land. And here we remained +not only for the rest of the day and the succeeding night, as the +skipper had promised, but throughout the whole of the next day and +following night. +</p> + +<p> +I have already remarked on the incalculable chances by which the +course of a man’s life is determined. Looking back now, I see that the +skipper’s little miscalculation and his failure to cross the Woolpack +Shoal into the inshore channel, was an antecedent determining the most +momentous consequences for me. For had the barge been becalmed in the +inshore channel, I could, and should, have landed in the boat and +returned home forthwith; and if I had, certain events would not have +happened and my life might have run a very different course. As it +was, miles of sea and the great bank known as the Margate Sand, lay +between me and the shore; whence I was committed to the wanderings and +dallyings of the barge as irrevocably as if we were crossing the +Pacific. +</p> + +<p> +We lay, then, in the Queen’s Channel, outside Margate Sand, for two +whole days and nights; during which time the skipper and Abel slept +much and smoked more, and young Ted, having cleaned and dried my +clothes, inducted me into the art of bottom-fishing. On the third day, +a faint breath of breeze enabled us to crawl round the North Foreland, +and the skipper having elected to pass outside the Goodwin, managed to +get becalmed again in the neighbourhood of the East Goodwin Lightship. +A little breeze at night enabled us to move on a few miles farther; +and so we continued to crawl along at intervals, mainly on the tide, +until nine o’clock in the morning of the fifth day, when we finally +crawled into Folkestone Harbour. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as the barge was brought up to a buoy, young Ted was detailed +to put me ashore in the boat. The skipper and Abel had insisted on +treating me as a guest, and I had perforce to accept the position. But +young Ted had no such pride; and when I ran up the wooden steps by the +old fish-market, I left him on the stage below, staring with an +incredulous grin at a gold coin in his none-too-delicate palm. +</p> + +<p> +I was not sorry to be landed in this unfashionable quarter of the +town, for in spite of young Ted’s efforts, my turn-out left much to be +desired, especially in the matter of shirt-cuffs and collar, and I +was, moreover, hatless and somewhat imperfectly shaved. Accordingly, I +slunk inconspicuously past the market and the groups of lounging +fishermen, and when I saw a well-dressed, lady-like woman preceding me +into the little narrow street, known as the Stade, I slackened my pace +so as not to overtake her. She sauntered along with a leisurely air as +if she were waiting for something or somebody, and this and the fact +that she carried a light canvas portmanteau and a rug, suggested to me +that she was probably travelling by the cross-channel boat which was +due to start presently. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly my attention was diverted from her by a loud chattering and a +series of shouts. A small crowd of men and women ran excitedly past +the end of the little street. The clattering rapidly drew nearer; and +then a horse, with a light van, swept round the corner and passing +under an archway, advanced at a furious gallop. Evidently the horse +had bolted and now, mad with terror, dashed forward with trailing +reins, zigzagging erratically and making the van sway to and fro, so +that it took up the whole of the narrow street. The few wayfarers +darted into doorways and sheltered corners, and I was about to secure +my own safety in a similar manner, when I noticed that the woman in +front of me had apparently become petrified with terror, for she stood +stock still, gazing helplessly at the approaching horse. It was no +time for ceremony. The infuriated animal and the swaying van were +thundering up the street like an insane Juggernaut. With a hasty +apology, I seized the woman from behind, and half-dragged, +half-carried her to the opening of a little yard beside a sail-loft. +And even then, I was hardly quick enough, for as the van roared past, +some projecting object struck me between the shoulders and sent me +flying, face downwards, on to a pile of tarred drift-net. +</p> + +<p> +I had had the presence of mind to let go, as I was struck, so that my +fair protegée was not involved in my downfall; but in a moment, she +was stooping over me, and with many expressions of concern, +endeavouring to help me to rise. Beyond a thump in the back, however, +I was not hurt in the least, but picked myself up, grinning and turned +to reassure her. And then I really did get a shock; for as I turned, +the woman gave a shriek and fell back on the steps of the sail-loft, +gasping, and staring at me with an expression of the utmost +astonishment and terror. I supposed the accident had upset her nerves; +but to be sure, my own received, as I have said, a pretty severe +shock. For the woman was Mrs. Samway. +</p> + +<p> +We remained for a moment or two gazing at one another in mute +astonishment. Then I recollected myself, and advanced to shake hands; +but to my discomfiture, she shrank away from me and began to sob and +laugh in an unmistakably hysterical fashion. I must confess that I was +somewhat surprised at these manifestations in so robust a woman as +Mrs. Samway. Unreasonably so, indeed, for all women-kind are more or +less prone to hysteria; but whereas the normal woman tends to laugh +and cry, the weaker vessels develop inexplicable diseases, with a +tendency to social reform and emancipation. +</p> + +<p> +I put on my best bedside manner, at once matter-of-fact and +persuasive. “You seem quite upset,” I said, “and all about nothing, +for the poor beggar of a horse must be half a mile away by now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she answered shakily, “it’s ridiculous of me, but it was so +sudden and so—” here she laughed noisily, and as the laugh ended in a +portentous sniff, I hastened to continue the conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it was a bit of a facer to see that beast coming up the street +as if it was Tottenham Corner. Why on earth didn’t you get out of the +way?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure I don’t know,” she answered. “I seemed to be paralyzed and +idiotic and—” here the laughter began again. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” I interrupted cheerfully, “you didn’t get rolled on those +tarred nets, so that’s something to be thankful for.” +</p> + +<p> +This was a rather unlucky shot, for the semblance of facetiousness +started a most alarming train of giggles, interrupted by rather loud +sobs; but at this point, a new curative influence made itself +manifest. Two smack boys halted outside the opening and surveyed her +with frank interest and pleased surprise. Simultaneously, an elderly +mariner appeared at the door of the sail-loft, grasping a black bottle +and a tea-cup, and rather shyly descending the steps, suggested that +“perhaps a drop o’ sperits might do the lady good.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Samway bounced off the steps, her hitherto pale cheeks aflame +with anger. “I am making a fool of myself,” she exclaimed. “Let us go +away from here.” +</p> + +<p> +She walked out into the street, and I, having thanked the old +gentleman for his most efficacious remedy, followed. As soon as I +caught her up, she turned on me quickly and held out her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, Dr. Jardine,” she said, “and thank you so very much for +risking your life for a—for a wretched giggling woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you’re not going to send me packing like this,” I protested, +“when we’ve hardly said good morning. Besides, you’re not fit to be +left. But you’re not to begin laughing again,” I added, threateningly, +for an ominous twitching of her mouth seemed to herald a relapse, “or +I shall go back and get that black bottle.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head impatiently, but without looking at me. “I would +rather you went away, Dr. Jardine,” she said in an agitated voice. “I +would, really. I wish to be alone. Don’t think me ungracious. I am +really most grateful to you, but I would rather you left me now.” +</p> + +<p> +Of course there was nothing more to be said. She was not really ill or +in need of assistance, and probably her instinct was right. Hysteria +is not one of those affections which waste their sweetness on the +desert air. I shook her hand cordially and, advising her to keep out +of the way of stray vans and horses, once more pursued my way towards +the town, meditating as I went, on the oddity of the whole affair. It +was an astonishing coincidence that I should have run against this +woman in this out of the way place. I had left her but a few days +since apparently firmly rooted in the Hampstead Road, and now, behold, +as I step ashore from the barge, she is almost the first person that I +meet. And yet the coincidence, which had evidently hit her as hard as +it had me, like most coincidences, tended to disappear on closer +inspection. The only really odd feature was my own presence in +Folkestone. As to Mrs. Samway, she had probably been sent for by her +husband, and was crossing by the boat that was now due to start. +</p> + +<p> +Her anxiety to get rid of me was more puzzling, until I suddenly +remembered my bare head, my crumpled collar and generally raffish and +disreputable appearance. The latter was, in fact, at this moment +brought to my notice by a man, with whom, in my preoccupation, I +collided; who first uttered an impatient exclamation and then, +bestowing on me a quick stare of astonishment, muttered a hasty +apology and hurried past. The incident emphasized the necessity for +some reform, and I mended my pace towards the region of shops in a +very ferment of uncomfortable self-consciousness. +</p> + +<p> +With the purchase of a new hat, a collar, a pair of cuffs, a neck-tie, +a pair of gloves and a stick, some faint glimmer of self-respect +revived in me. I was even conscious of a temptation to linger in +Folkestone and spend a few hours by the sea; but a sense of duty, +aided by a large, muddy stain on my coat, finally decided me to return +to town at once. Accordingly, having sent off a telegram to my +landlady and ascertained that a train left for London in about twenty +minutes, I betook myself to the station. +</p> + +<p> +There were comparatively few people travelling by this particular +train; in fact, when I had established myself with the morning paper +in the off-side corner seat of a smoking compartment, I began, with an +Englishman’s proverbial unsociability, to congratulate myself on the +prospect of having the compartment to myself, when my hopes were +dashed by the entrance of an elderly clergyman; who not only broke up +my solitude, but aggravated the offence by quite unnecessarily seating +himself opposite to me. I was almost tempted to move to another +corner, for my length of leg gives an added value to space; but it +seemed a rude thing to do; and as the train moved off at this moment, +I resigned myself to the trifling discomfort. +</p> + +<p> +My clerical friend was a somewhat uncommon-looking man, with a +countenance at once strong and secretive; a rectangular, masterful +face, with a bull-like dew-lap and a small, and very sharp, Roman +nose. On further inspection, I decided that he was either a +High-Church parson or a Roman Catholic priest. His proceedings seemed +to favour the latter hypothesis, for the train was barely out of the +station before he had whisked out of his pocket an +ecclesiastical-looking volume, which he opened at a marked place, and +instantly began to read. I watched him with inquisitive interest, for +his manner of reading was very singular. There was something habitual, +almost mechanical, about it, suggesting an allotted and familiar task, +and a lack of concentration that suggested a corresponding lack of +novelty in the matter. As he read, his lips moved, and now and again I +caught a faint whisper, by which I gathered that he was reading +rapidly; but the most singular phenomenon was, that when his eyes +strayed out of the carriage window, as they did at frequent intervals, +his lips went on sputtering with unabated rapidity. Quite suddenly he +appeared to come to the end of a sort of literary measured mile, for +even as his lips were still moving, he clapped in the book-mark, shut +the volume, and returned it to his pocket with a curious air of +business-like finality. +</p> + +<p> +As his eyes were no longer occupied with the book, my observations had +to be suspended, and my attention was now turned to my own affairs. +Putting my hand in my coat pocket for my pipe and pouch, I became +aware of a state of confusion in the said pocket which I had already +noticed when making my purchases. The fact is, that I had nearly come +away from the barge without my portable property. It was only at the +last moment that the skipper, remembering the mug, had fetched it +hurriedly from the locker and shot its contents bodily into my coat +pocket. The present seemed a good opportunity for distributing the +various articles among their proper receptacles. Accordingly I turned +out the whole pocketful on the seat by my side, and a remarkably +miscellaneous collection they formed; comprising knives, pencils, +match-box, keys, the minor implements of my craft, and various other +objects, useful and useless, including the little gold reliquary. +</p> + +<p> +My neighbour opposite was, I think, quite interested in my +proceedings, though he kept up a dignified pretence of being entirely +unaware of my existence. Only for a while, however. Suddenly he sat +up, very wide awake, and slewing his head round, stared with +undisguised intentness at my little collection. I guessed at once what +it was that had attracted his attention. A cleric would not be +thrilled by the sight of a clinical thermometer or an ophthalmoscope. +It was the reliquary that had caught his eye. That was an article in +his own line of business. +</p> + +<p> +With deliberate mischief, I left the little bauble exposed to view as +I very slowly and methodically conveyed the other things one by one, +each to its established pocket. Last of all, I picked up the reliquary +and held it irresolutely as if debating where I should stow it. And at +this point His Reverence intervened, unable any longer to contain his +curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +“Zat is a very remargable liddle opchect, sir,” he said in excellent +Anglo-German. “Might one bresume to ask vat its use is?” +</p> + +<p> +I handed the reliquary to him and he took it from me with +ill-disguised eagerness. +</p> + +<p> +“I understand,” said I, “that it is a reliquary. But you probably know +more about such things than I do. I haven’t opened it so I can’t say +what is inside.” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded gravely. “Zo! I am glad to hear you zay zat. Brobably zere +is inside some holy relic vich ought not to be touched egzepting by +bious handts.” He turned the case over, and, putting on a pair of +spectacles—which he had not appeared to require for reading—closely +scrutinized the inscriptions, and even the wisp of cord that remained +attached to one of the rings. +</p> + +<p> +“You zay,” he resumed without raising his eyes, “zat you understandt +zat zis is a reliquary. Do you not zen know? Ze berson who gafe it to +you, did he not tell you vat it gondained?” +</p> + +<p> +“It wasn’t given to me at all,” I replied. “In fact, it isn’t properly +mine. I picked it up and am merely keeping it until I find the owner.” +</p> + +<p> +He pondered this statement with a degree of profundity that seemed +rather out of proportion to its matter; and he continued to gaze at +the reliquary, never once raising his eyes to mine. At length, after a +considerable pause and a most unnecessary amount of reflection, he +asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Might one ask, if you shall bardon my guriosity, vere you found zis +liddle opchect?” +</p> + +<p> +I hesitated before replying. My first, and natural, impulse was to +tell him exactly where and under what circumstances I had found the +“opchect.” But the way in which my information had been received by +the police had made me rather chary of offering confidences; besides +which, I had half promised them not to talk about the affair. And, +after all, it was no business of this good gentleman’s where I found +it. My answer was, therefore, not very explicit. +</p> + +<p> +“I picked it up in a lane at Hampstead, near London.” +</p> + +<p> +“At Hampstead!” he repeated. “Zo! Zat would be—a—very good blace to +find such sings. I mean,” he added, hastily, “zere are many beople in +zat blace and some of zem will be of ze old religion.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, this last remark was such palpable nonsense that it set me +speculating on what he had intended to say, for it was obvious that he +had altered his mind in the middle of the sentence and completed it +with the first words that came to hand. However, as I could read no +sense into it at all, I said that “perhaps he was right,” which seemed +an eminently safe rejoinder to an unintelligible statement. +</p> + +<p> +When he had finished his minute examination of the reliquary, he +handed it back to me with such evident reluctance that, if it had been +mine, I should have been tempted to ask him to accept it. But it was +not mine. I was only a trustee. So I made no remark, but watched him +as he, very deliberately, took off his spectacles and returned them to +their case, looking meanwhile, at the floor with an air of deep +abstraction. He appeared to be thinking hard, and I was quite curious +as to what his next remark would be. A considerable interval elapsed +before he spoke again; but at last the remark came, in the form of a +question, and very disappointing it was. +</p> + +<p> +“You are not berhaps very much interested in relics and reliquaries?” +</p> + +<p> +As a matter of fact, I didn’t care two straws for either the one or +the other; but there was no need to put it as strongly as that. +</p> + +<p> +“We are apt,” I replied, “to find a lack of interest in subjects of +which we are ignorant.” (That was a fine sentence. It might have come +straight out of Sandford and Merton.) +</p> + +<p> +“Zat is vat I sink, too,” he rejoined. “Ve do not know; ve do not +care. But zere is a very egsellent liddle book vich egsplains all ze +gustoms and zeremonies gonnected vid relics of ze zaints. I should +like you to read zat book. Vill you bermit me to send you a gobby vich +I haf?” +</p> + +<p> +Of course I said I should be delighted. It was an outrageous +falsehood, but what else could I say? +</p> + +<p> +“Zen,” said he, “I shall haf great pleasure in zending it to you if +you vill kindly tell me how I shall address it.” +</p> + +<p> +I presented him with my card, which he read very attentively before +bestowing it in his pocket-book. +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” he remarked, “zat you are a doctor of medecine. It is a fine +brofession, if one does not too much vorget ze spiritual life in +garing for zat of ze body.” +</p> + +<p> +In this I acquiesced vaguely, and the conversation drifted into +detached commonplaces, finally petering out as we approached Paddock +Wood; where my reverend acquaintance bought a newspaper and underwent +a total eclipse behind it. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as the train started again, I took up my own paper; and the +very first glance at it gave me a shock of surprise that sent all +other matters clean out of my mind. It was an advertisement in the +column headed “Personal” that attracted my attention, an advertisement +that commenced with the word “Missing,” in large type, and went on to +offer Two Hundred Pounds Reward: thus:— +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="center"> +“MISSING. TWO HUNDRED POUNDS REWARD. +</p> + +<p class="noindent mt1"> +“Whereas, on the 14th inst., Dr. Humphrey Jardine disappeared from his +home and his usual places of resort; the above reward will be paid to +any person who shall give information as to his whereabouts, if alive, +or the whereabouts of his body if he is dead. He was last seen at +12.20 p.m. on the above date in the Hampstead Road, and was then +walking towards Euston Road. The missing man is about twenty-six years +of age; is somewhat over six feet in height; of medium complexion; has +brown hair, grey eyes, straight nose and a rather thin face, which is +clean-shaved. He was wearing a dark tweed suit, and soft felt hat. +</p> + +<p> +“Information should be given to Hector Brodribb, Esquire, 65, New +Square, Lincoln’s Inn, by whom the above reward will be paid.” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Here was a pretty state of affairs: It seemed that while I was +placidly taking events as they came; smoking the skipper’s tobacco and +bottom-fishing with young Ted; my escapade had been producing +somewhere a most almighty splash. I read the advertisement again, with +a self-conscious grin, and out of it there arose one or two rather +curious questions. In the first place, who the deuce was Hector +Brodribb? And what concern was I of his? And how came he to know that +I was walking down Hampstead Road at 12.20 on the 14th inst.? +</p> + +<p> +I felt very little doubt it was actually Thorndyke who was tweaking +the strings of the Brodribbian puppet. But even this left the mystery +unsolved. For how did Thorndyke know? This was only the fifth day +after my disappearance, and it would seem that there had hardly been +time for exhaustive enquiries. +</p> + +<p> +Then another highly interesting fact emerged. The only person who had +seen me walk away down Hampstead Road was Sylvia Vyne; whence it +followed that Thorndyke, or the mysterious Brodribb, had in some way +got into touch with her. And reflecting on this, the mechanism of the +enquiry came into view. The connecting-link was, of course, the +sketch. Thorndyke had, himself, left the canvas with Mr. Robinson, the +artist’s-colourman, and he must have called to enquire if I had +collected it. Then, he would have been told of my meeting with Miss +Vyne, and as she was a regular customer, Mr. Robinson would have been +able to give him her address. It was all perfectly simple, the only +remarkable feature being the extraordinary promptitude with which the +inquiry had been carried out. Which went to show how much more clearly +Thorndyke had realized the danger that surrounded me than I had +myself. +</p> + +<p> +These various reflections gave me full occupation during the remainder +of the journey, extending themselves into consideration of how I +should act in the immediate future. My first duty was obviously to +report myself to Thorndyke without delay; after which, I persuaded +myself, it would be highly necessary for me personally to reassure the +fair, and, perhaps, anxious Sylvia. As to how this was to be managed, +I was not quite clear, and in spite of the most profound cogitation, I +had reached no conclusion when the train rumbled into Charing Cross +Station. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch12"> +CHAPTER XII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">MISS VYNE</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">As</span> I stepped out on to the platform with a valedictory bow to my +reverend fellow-passenger, my irresolution came to an end and my duty +became clear. I must, in common decency, report myself at once to +Thorndyke, seeing that he had been at so much trouble on my account. +His card, which he had given me, I had unfortunately—or perhaps +fortunately, as it turned out—left on the mantelpiece at my lodgings; +but I remembered that the address was King’s Bench Walk and assumed +that I should have no difficulty in finding the house. Nor had I, for, +as I entered the Temple by the Tudor Street gate—having overshot my +mark on the Embankment—I was almost immediately confronted by a fine +brick doorway surmounted by a handsome pediment and bearing legibly +painted on its jamb, “First pair, Dr. Thorndyke.” +</p> + +<p> +I ascended the “first pair” of stairs, which brought me to an open oak +door, massive and iron-bound, and a closed inner door, on the brass +knocker of which I executed a flourish that would have done credit to +a Belgravian footman; whereupon the door opened and a small man of +sedate and clerical aspect regarded me with an air of mild enquiry. +</p> + +<p> +“Is Dr. Thorndyke at home?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir. He is at the hospital.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dr. Jervis?” +</p> + +<p> +“Is watching a case in the Probate Court. Perhaps you would like to +leave a message or write a note. A message in writing would be +preferable.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know that it’s necessary,” said I. “My name is Jardine, and +if you tell him that I called that will probably be enough.” +</p> + +<p> +The little man gave me a quick, bird-like glance of obviously +heightened interest. +</p> + +<p> +“If you are Dr. Humphrey Jardine,” said he, “I think a few explanatory +words would be acceptable. The Doctor has been extremely uneasy about +you. A short note and an appointment, either here or at the hospital, +would be desirable.” +</p> + +<p> +With this he stepped back, holding the door invitingly open, and I +entered, wondering who the deuce this prim little cathedral dean might +be, with his persuasive manners and his quaintly precise forms of +speech. He placed a chair for me at the table, and, having furnished +me with writing materials, stood a little way off, unobtrusively +examining me as I wrote. I had finished the short letter, closed it up +and addressed it, and was rising to go, when, almost automatically, I +took out my watch and glanced at it. Of course it had stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“Can you tell me the time?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +My acquaintance drew out his own watch and replied deliberately: +“Seventeen minutes and forty seconds past one.” He paused for a moment +and then added: “I hope, sir, you have not got any water into your +watch.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid I have,” I replied, rather taken aback by the rapidity of +his diagnosis. “But I’ll just wind it up to make sure.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, don’t do that, sir!” he exclaimed. “Allow me to examine it before +you disturb the movement.” He whipped out of his pocket a watchmaker’s +eyeglass, which miraculously glued itself to his eye, and, having +taken a brief glance at the opened watch, produced a minute pocket +screw-driver and a sheet of paper; and, in the twinkling of an eye, as +it seemed to me, the paper was covered with the dismembered structures +which had in their totality formed my timepiece. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s quite a small matter, sir,” was his report, as he rose from his +inspection and pocketed his eye-glass. “Just a speck or two of rust. +If you will take my watch for the present, I will have your own in +going order by the next time you call.” +</p> + +<p> +It seemed an odd transaction; but the little man’s manner, though +quiet, was so decisive that I took his proffered watch, and, affixing +it to my chain, thanked him for his kindness and departed, wondering +if it was possible that this prim, clerical little person could +possibly be the “tame mechanic” of whom Thorndyke had spoken. +</p> + +<p> +Travelling in London was comparatively slow in those days—which, +perhaps, was none the worse for a near and pleasant suburb like +Hampstead; it had turned half-past two when I let myself into my +lodgings with a rather rusty key and almost literally, fell into the +arms of Mrs. Blunt. I feared, for a moment, that she was going to kiss +me. But that was a false alarm. What she actually did was to seize +both my hands and burst into tears with such violence as to cover me +with confusion and cause the servant maid to rise like a domestic, and +highly inquisitive, apparition from the kitchen stairs. I pacified +Mrs. Blunt as well as I could and shook hands heartily with the maid, +who thereupon retired, much gratified, to the underworld, whence +presently issued an odour suggestive of sacrificial rites, not +entirely unconnected with fried onions, and accompanied by an +agreeable hissing sound. +</p> + +<p> +“But wherever have you been all this time?” Mrs. Blunt asked, as she +preceded me up the stairs wiping her eyes, “and why didn’t you send us +a line just to say that you were all right?” +</p> + +<p> +To this question I made a somewhat guarded answer in so far as the +cause of my immersion in the river was concerned; otherwise I gave her +a fairly correct account of my adventures. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well,” was her comment, “I suppose it was all for the best, but +I do think those sailors might have put you on shore somewhere. Dear +me, what a time it has been. I couldn’t sleep at night for thinking of +you, and what Susan and I have eaten between us wouldn’t have kept a +sparrow alive. And Dr. Thorndyke, too, I’m sure he was very anxious +and worried about you, though he is such a quiet, self-contained man +that you can’t tell what he is thinking of. And Lord; what a lot of +questions he do ask, to be sure!” +</p> + +<p> +“By the way, how did he come to know that I was missing?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I told him, of course. When you didn’t come home that +night—which Susan and me sat up for you until three in the morning—I +thought there must be something wrong, you being so regular in your +habits; so next day, the very first thing, I took his card from your +mantelpiece and down I went to his office and told him what had +happened. He came up here that evening to see if you had come home, +and he’s been here every day since to enquire.” +</p> + +<p> +“Has he really?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. In a hansom cab. Every single day. And so has the young lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“The young lady!” I exclaimed. “What young lady?” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Blunt regarded me with something as nearly approaching a wink as +can be imagined in association with an elderly female of sedate +aspect. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” she protested slyly, “as if you didn’t know! What young lady +indeed! Why, Miss Vyne, to be sure; and a very sweet young lady she +is, and talked to me just as simple and friendly as if she’d been an +ordinary young woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know that she isn’t an ordinary young woman?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Blunt was shocked. “Do you suppose, Mr. Jardine, sir,” she +demanded severely, “that I who have been a head parlour-maid in a +county family where my poor husband was coachman, don’t know a real +gentlewoman when I meet one? You surprise me, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +I apologized hastily and suggested that, as so many kind enquiries had +been made, the least I could do was to call and return thanks without +delay. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, sir,” Mrs. Blunt agreed; “but not until you have had your +lunch. It’s a small porterhouse steak,” she added alluringly, being +evidently suspicious of my intentions. The announcement, seconded by +an appetizing whiff from below, reminded me that I was prodigiously +sharp set, having tasted no food since I had come ashore at +Folkestone, and put the grosser physiological needs of the body, for +the moment, in the ascendant. But even as I was devouring the steak +with voracious gusto, my mind occupied itself with plans for a +strategic descent on the abode of the fair Sylvia and with +speculations on the reception I should get; and the noise of water +running into the bath formed a pleasing accompaniment to the final +mouthfuls. +</p> + +<p> +When I had bathed, shaved and attired myself in carefully selected +garments, I set forth, as smart and spruce as the frog that would +a-wooing go—saving the opera hat, which would have been inappropriate +to the occasion. The distance to Sylvia’s house was not great, and a +pair of long and rapidly-moving legs consumed it to such purpose that +it was still quite reasonable calling time when I opened the gate of +“The Hawthorns” and gave a modest pull at the bell. My summons was +answered by a rather foolish-looking maid, by whom I was informed that +Miss Vyne was at home, and when I had given her my name—which she +seemed disposed to confuse with that of a well-known edible fish—she +ushered me down a passage to a room at the back of the house, and, +opening the door, announced me—correctly, I was glad to note; +whereupon I assumed an ingratiating smile and entered. +</p> + +<p> +Now there is nothing more disconcerting than a total failure of +agreement between anticipation and realization. Unconsciously, I had +pictured to myself the easy-mannered, genial Sylvia, seated, perhaps, +at an easel or table, working on one of her pictures, and had prepared +myself for a reception quite simple, friendly and unembarrassing. +Confidently and entirely at my ease, I walked in through the doorway; +and there the pleasant vision faded, leaving me with the smile frozen +on my face, staring in consternation at one of the most appalling old +women that it has ever been my misfortune to encounter. +</p> + +<p> +I am, in general, rather afraid of old women. They are, to my mind, a +rather alarming class of creature; but the present specimen exceeded +my wildest nightmares. It was not merely that she was seated +unnaturally in the exact centre of the room and that she sat with +unhuman immobility, moving no muscle and uttering no sound as I +entered, though that was somewhat embarrassing. It was her strange, +forbidding appearance that utterly shattered my self-possession and +seemed to disturb the very marrow in my bones. +</p> + +<p> +She was a most remarkable-looking person. An immense Roman nose, a mop +of frizzy grey fringe and a lofty surmounting cap or head-dress of +some kind, suggested that monstrous and unreal bird, the helmeted +hornbill; and the bird-like character was heightened by her eyes, +which were small and glittering and set in the midst of a multitude of +radiating wrinkles. +</p> + +<p> +To this most alarming person I made a low bow—and dropped my stick, +of which the maid had neglected to relieve me and for which I had +found no appointed receptacle. As I stooped hastily to pick it up, my +hat slipped from my grasp, and, urged by the devil that possesses +disengaged hats, instantly rolled under a deep ottoman, whence I had +to hook it out with the handle of my stick. I rose, perspiring with +embarrassment, to confront that immovable figure, and found the +glittering eyes fixed on me attentively but without any sign of +expression of human emotion. Haltingly I essayed to stammer out an +explanation of my visit. +</p> + +<p> +“Er—I have—er—called—” Here I paused to collect my ideas and the +old lady watched me stonily without offering any remark; indeed no +comment was needed on a statement so self-evidently true. After a +brief and hideous silence I began again. +</p> + +<p> +“I—er—thought it desirable—er—and in fact necessary +and—er—proper to call—er and—” +</p> + +<p> +Here my ideas again petered out and a horrid silence ensued, amidst +which I heard a still, emotionless voice murmur: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. And you have accordingly called.” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly,” I agreed, grasping eagerly at the slenderest straw of +suggestion. “I have called to—er—well, the fact is that my—er—very +remarkable absence seemed to call for some explanation, especially as +certain enquiries—er—” +</p> + +<p> +At this point I stopped suddenly with a horrible doubt as to whether I +was not saying more than was discreet; and the misgiving was +intensified by that chilly, calm voice, framing the question: +</p> + +<p> +“Enquiries made personally?” +</p> + +<p> +Now this was a facer. I seemed to have put my foot in it at the first +lead off. Supposing Sylvia had said nothing about her little visits to +Mrs. Blunt? It would never do to give her away to this inquisitorial +old waxwork. I endeavoured to temporize. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” I stammered, “not exactly made personally to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“By letter, perhaps?” the voice suggested in the same even, impassive +tone. +</p> + +<p> +“Er—no. Not by letter.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a short embarrassing pause, and then the old lady, as if +summing up the case, said frigidly: +</p> + +<p> +“Not exactly personally and not by letter.” +</p> + +<p> +I was so utterly confounded by her judicial manner, her immovable, +expressionless face and the hypnotic quality of those glittering eyes, +that for the moment I could think of nothing to say. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t let me interrupt you,” said she after some seconds of agonized +silence on my part; whereupon I pulled myself together and made a +fresh start. +</p> + +<p> +“I should, perhaps, have explained that I have been unavoidably absent +from home for some time, and, as I was unable to communicate with my +friends, I have, I am afraid, caused them some anxiety. It was this +that seemed to make it necessary for me to call and give an account of +myself.” +</p> + +<p> +She pondered awhile on this statement—if a graven image can be said +to ponder—and at length enquired: +</p> + +<p> +“You spoke of your friends. Are any of them known to me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” I replied, “I was referring more particularly to your +daughter.” +</p> + +<p> +She continued to regard me fixedly, and, after a brief interval, +rejoined: +</p> + +<p> +“You are referring to my daughter. But I do not recall the existence +of any such person. I think you must be mistaken.” +</p> + +<p> +It seemed extremely probable, and I hastened to amend the description. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon. I should have said Miss Vyne. But perhaps she is +not at home.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are evidently mistaken,” was the paralyzing reply. “I am Miss +Vyne; and I need not add that I am at home.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” I demanded despairingly, “is there not another Miss Vyne?” +</p> + +<p> +“There is not,” she answered. “But it is possible that you are +referring to Miss Sylvia Vyne. Is that so?” +</p> + +<p> +I replied sulkily that it was; and being somewhat nettled by this +unnecessary and rather offensive hair-splitting, offered no further +remark. How the conversation would have proceeded after this, I cannot +even surmise. But it did not proceed at all, for the embarrassing +silence was brought to an end by a very agreeable interruption. The +door opened softly and for one moment Sylvia herself stood framed in +the portal; then, with a little cry, she ran towards me with her hands +held out impulsively and the prettiest smile of welcome. +</p> + +<p> +“So it is really you!” she exclaimed. “That silly little goose of a +maid has only just told me you were here. I <i>am</i> glad to see you. When +did you graciously please to descend from the clouds?” +</p> + +<p> +“I arrived home this afternoon, and as soon as I had changed and had +lunch I came here to report myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“How nice of you,” said Sylvia. “I suppose you guessed how anxious we +should be?” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t presume to think that you would actually be anxious about +me,” I replied, with a furtive eye on the waxwork, “though I knew that +you had been kind enough to express an interest in my fate.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a cold-bloodedly polite way to put it!” laughed Sylvia. +“ ‘Express an interest,’ indeed! We were most dreadfully worried about +you.” +</p> + +<p> +To a somewhat friendless man like myself this sympathetic warmth was +very delightful, and my pleasure was not appreciably damped when a +chill, emotionless voice affirmed: +</p> + +<p> +“The use of the first person singular would, I think, be preferable.” +</p> + +<p> +Sylvia turned on her aunt with mock ferocity. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, really,” she exclaimed. “You are a dreadful impostor, Mopsy, +dear! Just listen to her, Dr. Jardine. And if you had only seen what a +twitter she was in as the time went on and no news came!” +</p> + +<p> +I gasped, and the hair seemed to stir on my scalp. Mopsy! The name was +obviously not applied to me. But could it be—was it possible that +such a name could be associated with that terrific old lady? It was +inconceivable. It was positively profane! It was almost as if one +should presume to address the Deity as “old chap.” I could hardly +believe my ears. +</p> + +<p> +I glanced at her nervously and caught her glittering eye; but the +grotesque face was as immovable as everlasting granite, though, +indeed, by some ventriloquial magic, the word “Rubbish” managed to +disengage itself from her person. +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t rubbish,” retorted Sylvia. “It’s the plain truth. We were +both worried to death about you. And no wonder. Dr. Thorndyke was very +quiet and matter-of-fact, but there was no disguising his fear that +something dreadful had happened to you. And then there was the +advertisement in the papers. Did you see that? Oh, it’s nothing to +grin about. You’ve given us all a nice fright; and me especially, +because, of course, I naturally thought of that ruffian from whom you +rescued me in the lane.” +</p> + +<p> +“But he never saw me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t know. He may have done. At any rate, you owe us an +explanation; so, when the tea comes in you shall give us the true +story of your adventures. I hope you’ve let Dr. Thorndyke know about +your resurrection.” +</p> + +<p> +I reassured her on this point, and as the “goose of a maid” now +brought in the tea, I proceeded to “pitch my yarn” as the skipper had +expressed it, without those reservations that I had considered +necessary in the case of Mrs. Blunt. +</p> + +<p> +The old lady, having been unmasked by Sylvia, developed a slight +tendency to thaw. She even condescended, in a rigid and effigean +fashion, to consume bread and butter; a proceeding that seemed to me +weirdly incongruous, as though one should steal into the British +Museum in off hours and find the seated statue of Amenhotep the Third +in the act of refreshing itself with a sandwich and a glass of beer. +But I was less terrified of her now since I had gathered that a core +of warm humanity was somewhere concealed within that grim exterior; +and even though her little sparkling eyes were fixed on me immovably, +I told my story to the end without flinching. +</p> + +<p> +Sylvia listened to my narration with a rapt attention that greatly +flattered my vanity and made me feel like a very Othello, and when I +had finished, she regarded me for awhile silently and with an air of +speculation. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a queer affair,” she said at length, “and there is a smack of +mystery and romance about it that is rather refreshing in these +commonplace days. But I don’t like it. Adventure is all very well, but +there seems to have been a deliberate attempt to make away with you; +unless you think it may have been a piece of silly horse-play that +went farther than it was meant to.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is quite possible,” I replied untruthfully—for I didn’t think +anything of the sort, and only made this evasive answer to avoid +raising other and more delicate issues. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope that is the explanation,” said Sylvia, “though it sounds +rather a lame one. You would know if you had an enemy who might wish +to get rid of you. I suppose you don’t know of any such person?” +</p> + +<p> +It was a rather awkward question. I didn’t want to tell an untruth, +but, on the other hand, I knew that Thorndyke would not wish to have +my affairs discussed while his investigations were in progress; so I +“hedged” once more, replying, quite truthfully, that I was not +acquainted with anyone who bore me the slightest ill-will. +</p> + +<p> +My adventures done with, the talk drifted into other channels and +presently came round to the little crucifix that had been the occasion +of Sylvia’s disagreeable experience in the lane. In spite of my +confusion, I had noticed, on first entering the room, that the old +lady was wearing suspended from her neck, a small enamelled crucifix, +and had instantly identified it and wondered not a little that she +should be thus disporting herself in borrowed ornaments; but when +Sylvia had arrived, behold, the original crucifix was hanging on its +chain from <i>her</i> neck. From time to time during my recital my eyes had +wandered from one to the other seeking some difference or variation +but finding none, and at length my inquisitive glances caught the +younger lady’s attention. +</p> + +<p> +“I can see, Dr. Jardine,” said she, “that you are eaten up with +curiosity about the crucifix that my Aunt is wearing. Now confess. +Aren’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am,” I admitted. “When I first came in I naturally thought it was +yours. Is it a copy?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly not,” said Miss Vyne, the elder. “They are duplicates.” +</p> + +<p> +Sylvia laughed. “You’d better not talk about copies,” said she. “My +aunt has only acquired her treasure lately, and she is as proud of it +as a peacock; aren’t you, dear?” +</p> + +<p> +“The sensations of a peacock,” replied Miss Vyne, “are unknown to me. +I am very gratified at possessing the ornament.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gratified indeed!” said Sylvia. “I consider such vanity most +unsuitable to a person of your age. But they <i>are</i> very charming, and +there is quite a little story attached to them. My father and a cousin +of his—” +</p> + +<p> +“By marriage,” interposed Miss Vyne. +</p> + +<p> +“You needn’t insist on that,” said Sylvia, “as if poor old Vitalis +were a person to be ashamed of. Well, my father and this cousin were +at a Jesuit school in Belgium—at Louvain, in fact—and among the +teachers in the school was an Italian Jesuit named Giglioli. Now the +respected Giggley—” +</p> + +<p> +“—oli,” interposed Miss Vyne in a severe voice. +</p> + +<p> +“—oli,” continued Sylvia, “had formerly been a goldsmith; and the +Father Superior, with that keen eye to the main chance which you may +have noticed among professed religious, furnished him with a little +workshop and employed him in making monstrances, thuribles and church +plate in general. It was he who made these two crucifixes; and, with +the Father Superior’s consent, he gave one to my father and the other +to the cousin as parting gifts on their leaving school. As the boys +were inseparable friends, the two crucifixes were made absolute +duplicates of one another, with the single exception that each had the +owner’s name engraved on the back. When my poor father died his +crucifix became mine, and a short time ago, his cousin—who is now +getting an old man—took a fancy that he would like the two crucifixes +to be together once more and gave his to my aunt. So here they are, +after all these years, under one roof again.” +</p> + +<p> +As she finished speaking, she detached the crucifix from her neck and, +having given it to me to examine, proceeded to remove its fellow from +the neck of the elder lady—who not only submitted quite passively but +seemed to be unaware of the transaction—and handed that to me also. +</p> + +<p> +I laid them side by side in my palm and compared them, but could not +detect the slightest difference between them. They were complete +duplicates. Each was a Latin cross with trefoiled extremities, wrought +from a single piece of gold and enriched with champlevé enamel. The +body of the cross was filled with a ground of deep, translucent blue, +from which the figure stood out in rather low relief, and the space +between each of the trefoils was occupied by a single Greek +letter—Iota and Chi at the top and bottom respectively, and at the +ends of the horizontal arm Alpha and Omega. On turning them over, I +saw that the back of each bore an engraved inscription carried across +the horizontal arm, that on Sylvia’s reading: “<span class="sc">A.M. Robertus, D.G.</span>,” +while that on the other read: “<span class="sc">A.M. Vitalis, D.G.</span>” +</p> + +<p> +“They are very charming little things,” I said, as I returned them to +Sylvia; “and it was a pretty idea of the old Jesuit to make them both +alike for the two friends. I suppose he didn’t make any more of them +for his other pupils?” +</p> + +<p> +“What makes you ask that?” demanded Sylvia. +</p> + +<p> +“I am thinking of that man in the lane. He must have had some reason +for claiming the crucifix as his, one would think; and as these are +quite unlike any ordinary commercial jewellery, the suggestion is that +the worthy Giglioli was tempted to repeat his successes. What do you +think?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think,” said Miss Vyne, “that the suggestion is inadmissable. +Father Giglioli was an artist, and an artist does not repeat himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am inclined to agree with my aunt,” said Sylvia. “An artist does +not care to repeat a design, excepting for a definite purpose, as in +the case of these duplicates; especially when the thing designed is +intended as a gift.” +</p> + +<p> +To this I gave a somewhat qualified assent, though I found the +argument far from convincing; and, as I had made a very long +visitation, especially for a first call, I now rose to depart. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope I may be allowed to come and see you again,” I ventured to say +as Miss Vyne raised a sort of semaphore arm to my extended hand. +</p> + +<p> +“I see no reason why you should not,” she replied judicially. “You +seem to be a well-disposed young man, though indiscreet. +Good-afternoon.” +</p> + +<p> +I bowed deferentially and then, to my gratification, was escorted as +far as the garden gate by Sylvia; who evidently wished to gather my +impressions of her relative, for, as she let me out, she asked with a +mischievous smile: +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think of my aunt, Dr. Jardine?” +</p> + +<p> +“She is rather a terrifying old lady,” I replied. +</p> + +<p> +Sylvia giggled delightedly. “She does look an awful old griffin, +doesn’t she? But it’s all nonsense, you know. She is really a dear old +thing, and as soft as butter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” I said, “she conceals the fact most perfectly.” +</p> + +<p> +“She does. She is a most complete impostor. I’ll tell you a secret, +Dr. Jardine,” Sylvia added in a mysterious whisper, as we shook hands +over the gate; “she trades on her nose. I’ve told her so. Her nose is +her fortune, and she plays it for all it’s worth. Good-bye—or rather, +au revoir! for you’ve promised to come and see us again.” +</p> + +<p> +With a bright little nod she turned and ran up the garden path, still +chuckling softly at her joke; and I wended homewards, very well +pleased with the circumstances of my visit, despite the soul-shaking +incidents with which it had opened. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch13"> +CHAPTER XIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">A MYSTERIOUS STRANGER</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">On</span> the following morning I betook myself to the hospital intending +to call later in the day at Dr. Thorndyke’s chambers; but that visit +turned out to be unnecessary, for, as I ran my eye over the names on +the attendance board in the entrance hall, I saw that Thorndyke was in +the building, although it was not the day on which he lectured. I +found him, as I had expected, in the museum and was greeted with a +hearty grip of the hand and a welcome, the warmth of which gratified +me exceedingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Jardine,” he said, “you’ve given us all a pretty fine shake-up. +I have never been more relieved in my life than I was when my man +Polton gave me your note. But you seem to have had another fairly +close shave. What a fellow you are, to be sure! You seem to be as +tenacious of life as the proverbial cat.” +</p> + +<p> +“So that little archbishop is your man Polton, is he?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; and a most remarkable man, Jardine, and simply invaluable to me, +though he ought to be in a very different position. But I think he is +quite happy with me—especially now that he has got your watch to +experiment on. You will see that watch again some day, when he has +rated it to half a second. And meanwhile let us go into the curator’s +room and re-constitute your adventures.” +</p> + +<p> +The curator’s room was empty at the moment; empty, that is to say, so +far as human denizens were concerned. Otherwise it was decidedly full; +the usual wilderness of glass jars, sepulchral slate tanks, bones in +all stages of preparation and unfinished specimens, being supplemented +by that all-pervading, unforgettable odour peculiar to curator’s +rooms, compounded of alcohol and mortality, and suggesting a +necropolis for deceased dipsomaniacs. Thorndyke seated himself on a +well-polished stool by the work-bench, and, motioning me to another, +bade me speak on. Which I did in exhaustive detail; giving him a +minute history of my experiences from the time of my parting from +Sylvia to the present moment, not omitting my encounter with Mrs. +Samway and the clerical gentleman in the train. +</p> + +<p> +He listened to my narrative in his usual silent, attentive fashion, +making no comments and asking no questions until I had finished; when +he cross-examined me on one or two points of detail. +</p> + +<p> +“With regard to Mrs. Samway,” he asked; “did you gather that she was +crossing by the Boulogne boat?” +</p> + +<p> +“I inferred that she was, but she said nothing on the subject.” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded and then asked: “Do I understand that you never saw your +assailant at all?” +</p> + +<p> +“I never got the slightest glimpse of him; in fact I could not say +whether the person who attacked me was a man or a woman excepting that +the obvious strength and the method of attack suggest a man.” +</p> + +<p> +To this he made no reply, but sat awhile absorbed in thought. It was +evident that he was deeply interested in the affair, not only on my +account but by reason of the curious problems that it offered for +solution. Indeed, his next remark was to this effect. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a most singular case, Jardine,” he said. “So much of it is +perfectly clear, and yet so much more is unfathomable mystery. But +just now, the speculative interest is overshadowed by the personal. I +am rather doubtful as to what we ought to do. It almost looks as if +you ought not to be at large.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope, sir, you don’t suggest shutting me up,” I exclaimed with a +grin. +</p> + +<p> +“That was in my mind,” he answered. “You are evidently in considerable +danger, and you are not as cautious as you ought to be.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be mighty cautious after this experience,” I rejoined; “and +you have yourself implied that I have nine lives.” +</p> + +<p> +“Even so,” he retorted, “you have played away a third of them pretty +rapidly. If you are not more careful of the other six, I shall have to +put you somewhere out of harm’s way. Do, for goodness’ sake, Jardine, +keep away from unpopulated places and see that no stranger gets near +enough to have you at a disadvantage.” +</p> + +<p> +I promised him to keep a constant watch for suspicious strangers and +to avoid all solitary neighbourhoods and ill-lighted thoroughfares, +and shortly after this we separated to go our respective ways, he back +to the museum and I to the surgical wards. +</p> + +<p> +For some time after this, the record of my daily life furnishes +nothing but a chronicle of small beer. I had resumed pretty regular +attendance at the hospital, setting forth from my lodgings in the +morning and returning thither as the late afternoon merged into +evening; taking the necessary exercise in the form of the long walk to +and from the hospital, and keeping close indoors at night. It began to +look as though my adventures were at an end and life were settling +down to the old familiar jog trot. +</p> + +<p> +And yet the beer was not quite so small as it looked. Coming events +cast their shadows before them, but often enough those shadows wear a +shape ill-defined and vague, and so creep on unnoticed. Thus it was in +these days of apparent inaction, though even then there were certain +little happenings at which I looked askance. Such an episode occurred +within a few days of my return, and gave me considerable food for +thought. I had climbed on to the yellow ’bus in the Tottenham Court +Road and was seated on the top, smoking my pipe, when, as we passed up +the Hampstead Road, I noticed a woman looking into the window of Mr. +Robinson, the artist’s-colourman. Something familiar or distinctive in +the pose of the figure made me glance a second time; and then I think +my eyes must have grown more and more round with astonishment as the +’bus gradually drew me out of range. For the woman was undoubtedly +Mrs. Samway. +</p> + +<p> +It was really a most surprising affair. This good lady seemed to be +ubiquitous; to fly hither and thither and drop from the clouds as if +she were the possessor of a magic carpet. Apparently she had not gone +to Boulogne after all; or if she had, her stay on the Continent must +have been uncommonly short. But if she had not crossed on the boat, +what was she doing in Folkestone? It was all very well to say that she +had as much right to be in Folkestone as I had. That was true enough, +but it was a lame conclusion and no explanation at all. +</p> + +<p> +It was my custom, as I have said, to walk from my lodgings to the +hospital, a distance of some five miles; but this was practicable only +in fine weather. On wet days I took the tram from the “Duke of St. +Alban’s”; and beguiled the slow journey by reading one of my +text-books and observing the manners and customs of my +fellow-passengers. Such a day was the one that followed the +re-appearance of Mrs. Samway. A persistent drizzle put my morning walk +out of the question and sent me reluctant but resigned to seek the +shelter of the tram, where having settled myself with a volume of +Gould’s “Surgical Diagnosis,” I began to read to the accompaniment of +the monotonous rhythm of the horses’ hoofs and the sleepy jingle of +their bells. From time to time I looked up from my book to take a +glance at the other occupants of the steamy interior, and on each +occasion that I did so, I caught the eye of my opposite neighbour +roving over my person as if taking an inventory of my apparel. +Whenever he caught my eye, he immediately looked away; but the next +time I glanced up I was sure to find him once more engaged in a +leisurely examination of me. +</p> + +<p> +There was nothing remarkable in this. People who sit opposite in a +public vehicle unconsciously regard one another, as I was doing +myself; but when I had met my neighbour’s eye a dozen times or more, I +began to grow annoyed at his persistent inspection; and finally, +shutting up my book, proceeded to retaliate in kind. +</p> + +<p> +This seemed to embarrass him considerably. Avoiding my steady gaze, +his eyes flitted to and fro, passing restlessly from one part of the +vehicle to another; and then it was that my medical eye noted a fact +that gave an intrinsic interest to the inspection. The man had what is +called a nystagmus; that is, a peculiar oscillatory movement of the +eyeball. As his eyes passed quickly from object to object, they did +not both come to rest instantaneously, but the right eye stopped with +a sort of vertical stagger as if the bearings were loose. The +condition is not a very common one, and the one-sided variety is +decidedly rare. It is usually associated with some defect of vision or +habitual strain of the eye-muscles, as in miners’ nystagmus; whence my +discovery naturally led to a further survey and speculation as to the +cause of the condition in the present case. +</p> + +<p> +The man was obviously not a miner. His hands—with a cigarette stain, +as I noticed, on the left middle finger—were much too delicate, and +he had not in any way the appearance of a labourer. Then the spasm +must be due to some defect of eyesight. Yet he was not near-sighted, +for, as we passed a church at some distance, I saw him glance out +through the doorway at the clock and compare it with his watch; and +again, I noticed that he took out his watch with his left hand. Then +perhaps he had a blind eye or unequal vision in the two eyes; this +seemed the most likely explanation; and I had hardly proposed it to +myself when the chance was given to me to verify it. Confused by my +persistent examination of him, my unwilling patient suddenly produced +a newspaper from his pocket and, clapping a pair of pince-nez on his +nose, began to read. Those pince-nez gave me the required information, +for I could see that one glass was strongly convex while the other was +nearly plane. +</p> + +<p> +The question of my friend’s eyesight being disposed of, I began to +debate the significance of that stain of the left middle finger. Was +he left-handed? It did not follow, though it seemed likely; and then I +found myself noting the manner in which he held his paper, until, +becoming suddenly conscious of the absurdity of the whole affair, I +impatiently picked up my book and reverted to the diagnosis of <i>renal +calculus</i>. I was becoming, I reflected disparagingly, as inquisitive +as Thorndyke himself; from whom I seemed to have caught some infection +that impelled me thus to concern myself with the trifling +peculiarities of total strangers. +</p> + +<p> +The trivial incident would probably have faded from my recollection +but for another, equally trivial, which occurred a day or two later. I +was returning home by way of Tottenham Court Road and had nearly +reached the crossing at the north end when I suddenly remembered that +I had come to the last of my note-books. The shop at which I obtained +them was in Gower Street, hard by, and as the thought of the books +occurred to me, I turned abruptly and, running across the road, strode +quickly down a by-street that led to the shop. +</p> + +<p> +As I came out into Gower Street I noticed a small, but rapidly +augmenting crowd on the pavement, and, elbowing my way through, found +at its centre a man lying on the ground, writhing in the convulsions +of an epileptic fit. I proceeded to ward off the well-meant attentions +of the usual excited bystanders, who were pulling open his hands and +trying to sit him up, and had thrust the corner of a folded newspaper +between his teeth to prevent him from biting his tongue when a +constable arrived on the scene; upon which, as the officer bore on his +sleeve the badge of the St. John’s Ambulance Society, I gave him a few +directions and began to back out of the crowd. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment, I became aware of a pressure behind me and a +suspicious fumbling, strongly suggestive of the presence of a +pick-pocket. Instantly, I turned to the right about and directed a +searching look at the people behind me, and especially at a bearded, +nondescript person who seemed also to be backing out of the crowd. He +gave me a single, quick glance as I followed him through the press and +then averted his eyes; and as he did so, I noticed, with something of +a start, that his right eye came to rest with a peculiar, rapid +up-and-down shake. He had, in fact, a right-sided nystagmus. +</p> + +<p> +The coincidence naturally struck me with some force. A nystagmus is +not, as I have said, a very common condition; one-sided nystagmus is +actually a rare one; and, of the one-sided instances, only some fifty +per cent. will affect the right eye. The coincidence was therefore +quite a notable one; but had it any particular bearing? I had a +half-formed inclination to follow the man; but he had not actually +picked my pocket or done any other overt act, and one could hardly +follow a person merely because he happened to suffer from an uncommon +nervous affection. +</p> + +<p> +The man was now walking up the street, briskly, but without manifest +hurry; looking straight before him and swinging his stick with +something of a flourish. I watched him speculatively, as I walked in +the same direction, and then suddenly realized that he was carrying +his stick in his left hand, and carrying it, too, with the +unmistakable ease born of habit. Then he was left-handed! And here was +another coincidence; not a remarkable one in itself, but, when added +to the other, so singular and striking that I insensibly quickened my +pace. +</p> + +<p> +As my acquaintance reached the corner of the Euston Road, an omnibus +stopped to put down a passenger. It was about to move on when he +raised his stick, and, following it, stepped on the footboard and +mounted to the roof. I was undecided what to do. Should I follow him? +And, if so, to what purpose? He would certainly notice me if I did and +be on his guard, so that I should probably have my trouble for nothing +and possibly look like a fool into the bargain. And while I was thus +standing irresolute at the corner, the omnibus rumbled away westward +and decided the question for me. +</p> + +<p> +I am not, as the reader may have gathered, a particularly cautious man +or much given to suspicion. But recent events had made me a good deal +more wary and had taught me to look with less charity on chance fellow +creatures; and this left-handed person with the nystagmus occupied my +thoughts to no small extent during the next day or two. Was he the man +whom I had seen in the tram? Apparently not. The latter had been clean +shaven and dressed neatly in the style of a clerk or ordinary City +man, whereas the former wore a full beard and was shabby, almost +beyond the verge of respectability. As to their respective statures, I +could not judge, as I had seen the one man seated and the other +standing; but, superficially, they were not at all alike, and, in all +probability they were different persons. +</p> + +<p> +But this conclusion was not at all inevitable. When I reflected on the +matter, I saw that the resemblances and differences did not balance. +The two men resembled one another in qualities that were inherent and +unalterable, but they differed in qualities that were superficial and +subject to change. A man cannot assume or cast off a nystagmus, but he +can put on a false beard. A left-handed man may endeavour to conceal +his peculiarity, but the superior deftness of the habitually used hand +will make itself apparent in spite of his efforts; whereas he can make +any alterations in his clothing that he pleases. And thus reflecting, +the suspicion grew more and more strong that the two men might very +well have been one and the same person, and that it would be discreet +to keep a bright look-out for a left-handed man with a right-sided +nystagmus. +</p> + +<p> +During all this time I had seen nothing of my new friend Miss Sylvia. +But I had by no means forgotten her. Without wishing to exaggerate my +feelings, I may say that I had taken a strong liking to that very +engaging young lady. She was a pleasant, easy-mannered girl, evidently +good-tempered, and very frank and simple; a girl—as Mr. Sparkler +would have said—“with no bigod nonsense about her.” Her tastes ran +along very similar lines to my own, and she was clever enough to be a +quite interesting companion. Then it was evident that she liked +me—which was in itself an attraction, to say nothing of the credit +that it reflected on her taste—and, in a perfectly modest way, she +had made no secret of the fact. And finally, she was exceptionally +good-looking. Now people may say, as they do, that beauty is only skin +deep—which is perfectly untrue, by the way; but even so, one is more +concerned with the skins of one’s fellow creatures than with their +livers or vermiform appendices. The contact of persons, as of things, +occurs at their respective surfaces. +</p> + +<p> +From which it will be gathered that I was only allowing a decent +interval to elapse before repeating my visit to “The Hawthorns”; +indeed, I was beginning to think that a sufficient interval had +already passed and to contemplate seriously my second call, when my +intentions were forestalled by Sylvia herself. Returning home one +Friday evening, I found on my mantelpiece a short letter from her, +enclosing a ticket for an exhibition of paintings and sculpture at a +gallery in Leicester Square, and mentioning—incidentally—that she +proposed to visit the show on the following morning in order to see +the works by a good light; which seemed such an eminently rational +proceeding in these short winter days, that I determined instantly to +follow her example and get the advantage of the morning light myself. +</p> + +<p> +I acted on this decision with such thoroughness that, when I arrived +at the gallery, I found the attendant in the act of opening the doors, +and, for nearly half an hour I was in sole possession of the premises. +Then, by twos and threes, other visitors began to straggle in, and +among them Sylvia, looking very fresh and dainty and obviously pleased +to see me. +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad you were able to come,” she said, as we shook hands. “I +thought you would, somehow. It is so much nicer to have someone to +talk over the pictures with, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Much more interesting,” I agreed. “I have been taking a preliminary +look round and have already accumulated quite a lot of profound +observations to discharge at you as occasion offers. Shall we begin at +number one?” +</p> + +<p> +We began at number one and worked our way methodically picture by +picture, round the room, considering each work attentively with +earnest discussion and a wealth of comment. As the morning wore on, +visitors arrived in increasing numbers, until the two large rooms +began to be somewhat inconveniently crowded. We had made a complete +circuit of the pictures and were about to turn to the sculpture, which +occupied the central floor space, when Sylvia touched me on the arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us sit down for a minute,” said she. “I want to speak to you.” +</p> + +<p> +I led her to one of the large settees that disputed the floor-space +with the busts and statuettes, and, somewhat mystified by her serious +tone and by the rather agitated manner, which I now noticed for the +first time, seated myself by her side. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +She looked anxiously round the room, and, leaning towards me, said in +a low tone: +</p> + +<p> +“Have you noticed a man who has been keeping near us and listening to +our conversation?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I haven’t,” I replied. “If I had I would have given him a hint to +keep farther off. But there’s nothing in it, you know. In picture +galleries it is very usual for people to hang about and try to +overhear criticisms. This man may be interested in the exhibits.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know. But I don’t think this person was so much interested in +the exhibits. He didn’t look at the pictures, he looked at us. I +caught his eye several times reflected in the picture-glasses, and +once or twice I saw him looking most attentively at this crucifix of +mine. That was what really disturbed me. I wish, now, that I hadn’t +unbuttoned my coat.” +</p> + +<p> +“So do I. You will have to leave that crucifix at home if it attracts +so much undesirable attention. Which is the man? Is he in this room?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t see him now. I expect he has gone into the next room.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then let us go there, too; and if you will point him out to me, I +will pay him back in his own coin.” +</p> + +<p> +We rose and made our way to the door of communication, and, as we +passed into the second room, Sylvia grasped my arm nervously. +</p> + +<p> +“There he is—don’t let him see us looking at him—he is sitting on +the settee at the farther end of the room.” +</p> + +<p> +It was impossible to make a mistake since the settee held only a +single person; a fairly well-dressed, ordinary-looking man, rather +swarthy and foreign in appearance, with a small waxed moustache. He +was sitting nearly opposite the entrance door and seemed, at the +moment, to be reading over the catalogue, which he held open on his +knee; but, as he looked up almost at the moment when we entered, I +turned my back to him and continued my inspection with the aid of the +reflection in a picture-glass. +</p> + +<p> +“He is probably a journalist,” I said. “You see he is scribbling some +notes on the blank leaves of his catalogue; probably some of your +profound criticisms, which will appear, perhaps to-morrow morning, +clothed in super-technical jargon, in a daily paper.” +</p> + +<p> +Here I paused suddenly, for I had made a rather curious observation. +The reflection in a mirror is, as everybody knows, reversed laterally; +so that the right hand of a person appears to be the left, and vice +versa. But in the present case, no reversal seemed to have taken +place. The figure in the reflection was writing with his right hand. +Obviously, then, the real person was writing with his left. +</p> + +<p> +This put a rather different aspect on the affair. Up to the present, I +had been disposed to think that Sylvia had been unduly disturbed; for +there are plenty of ill-bred bounders to be met in any public place +who will stare a good-looking girl out of countenance. But now my +suspicions were all awake. It is true that left-handed men are as +common as blackberries; but still— +</p> + +<p> +“Can you tell me, Miss Vyne,” I asked, as we worked our way towards +the other end of the room, “if this man is at all like the one who +frightened you so in Millfield Lane?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, he is not. I am sure of that. The man in the lane was a good deal +taller and thinner.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said I, “whoever he is, I want to have a good look at him, and +the best plan will be to turn our attention to the sculpture. Shall we +go and look at that rather remarkable pink bust? That will give our +friend a chance of another stare at you, and, if he doesn’t take it, +I will go and inspect him where he sits.” +</p> + +<p> +The bust to which I had referred was executed in a curious rose-tinted +marble, very crystalline and translucent, a material that suited the +soft, girlish features of its subject admirably. It stood on an +isolated pedestal quite near the settee on which the suspicious +stranger was sitting, and I hoped that our presence might lure him +from his retreat. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think,” I said, taking up a position with my back to the +settee, “that I have ever seen any marble quite like this. Have you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” replied Sylvia. “It looks like coarse lump sugar stained pink. +And how very transparent it is; too transparent for most subjects.” +</p> + +<p> +Here she gave a quick, nervous glance at me, and I was aware of a +shadow thrown by some person standing behind me. Had our friend risen +to the bait already? I continued the conversation in good audible +tones. +</p> + +<p> +“Very awkward these isolated pedestals would be for slovenly artists +who scamp the back of their work.” +</p> + +<p> +With this remark I moved round the pedestal as if to examine the back +of the bust, and Sylvia followed. The move brought us opposite the +person who had been standing behind me; and, sure enough, it was the +gentleman from the settee. I continued to talk—rather blatantly, I +fear—commenting on the careful treatment of the hair and the backs of +the ears; and meanwhile took an occasional swift glance at the man +opposite. He appeared to be gazing in wrapt admiration at the bust, +but his glance, too, occasionally wandered; and when it did, the +“point of fixation,” as the oculists would express it, was Sylvia’s +crucifix, which was still uncovered. +</p> + +<p> +Presently I ventured to take a good, steady look at him and was for a +few moments unobserved. His left eye moved, as I could see, quite +smoothly and evenly from point to point; but the right, at each change +of position, gave a little, rapid, vertical oscillation. Suddenly he +became aware of my, now undisguised, inspection of him, and, +immediately, the oscillation became much more marked, as is often the +case with these spasmodic movements. Perhaps he was conscious of the +fact; at any rate, he turned his head away and then moved off to +examine a statuette that stood near the middle of the room. +</p> + +<p> +I looked after him, wondering what I ought to do. That he was the man +whom I had seen on the two previous occasions I had not the slightest +doubt, although I was still unable to identify his features or +anything about him excepting the nystagmus and the left-handed +condition. But there could be no question that he was the same man; +and this very variability in his appearance only gave a more sinister +significance to the affair, pointing clearly, as it did, to careful +and efficient disguise. Evidently he had been, and still was, +shadowing me, and, what was still worse, he seemed to be taking a most +undesirable interest in Sylvia. And yet what could I do? My small +knowledge of the law suggested that shadowing was not a criminal act +unless some unlawful intent could be proved. As to punching the +fellow’s head—which was what I felt most inclined to do—that would +merely give rise to disagreeable, and perhaps dangerous, publicity. +</p> + +<p> +“My lord is pleased to meditate,” Sylvia remarked at length, breaking +in upon my brown study. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon,” I exclaimed. “The fact is I was wondering what we +had better do next. Do you want to see anything else?” +</p> + +<p> +“I should rather like to see the outside of the building,” she +answered. “That man has made me quite nervous.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then we will go at once, and we won’t sign the visitor’s book.” +</p> + +<p> +I led her to the door, and, as we rapidly descended the carpeted +stairs, I considered once more what it were best to do. Had I been +alone I would have kept our watcher in view and done a little +shadowing on my own account; but Sylvia’s presence made me uneasy. It +was of the first importance that this sinister stranger should not +learn where she lived. The only reasonable course seemed to be to give +him the slip if possible. +</p> + +<p> +“What did you make of that man?” Sylvia asked when we were outside in +the square. “Don’t you think he was watching us?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I do. And I may say that I have seen him before.” +</p> + +<p> +She turned a terrified face to me and asked: “You don’t think he is +the wretch who pushed you into the river?” +</p> + +<p> +Now this was exactly what I did think, but it was not worth while to +say so. Accordingly I temporized. +</p> + +<p> +“It is impossible to say. I never saw that man, you know. But I have +reason for thinking that this fellow is keeping a watch on me, and it +occurs to me that, if he appears still to be following us, I had +better put you into a hansom and keep my eye on him until you are out +of sight.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’m not going to agree to that,” she replied with great decision. +“I don’t suppose that my presence is much protection to you, but +still, you are safer while we are together, and I’m not going to leave +you.” +</p> + +<p> +This settled the matter. Of course she was quite right. I was much +safer while she was with me, and if she refused to go off alone, we +must make our escape together. I looked up the square as we turned out +of it towards the Charing Cross Road, but could see no sign of our +follower, and, as we walked on at a good pace, I hoped that we might +get clear away. But I was not going to take any chances. Before +turning homewards, I decided to walk sharply some distance in an +easterly direction and then see if there was any sign of pursuit; for +my previous experiences of this good gentleman led me to suspect that +he was by no means without skill and experience in the shadowing art. +</p> + +<p> +We walked down to Charing Cross and turned eastward along the north +side of the Strand. I had chosen this thoroughfare as offering a good +cover to a pursuer, who could easily keep out of sight among the crowd +of way-farers who thronged the pavement for the first question to be +settled was whether we were or were not being shadowed. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are we going now?” Sylvia asked. +</p> + +<p> +“We are going up Bedford Street,” I answered. “There is a book shop on +the right-hand side where we can loiter unobtrusively and keep a +look-out. If we see nobody, we will try one of the courts off Maiden +Lane where we should be certain to catch anyone who was following. But +we will try the bookstall first because, if our friend is in +attendance, I have a rather neat plan for getting rid of him.” +</p> + +<p> +We accordingly made our way to the bookstall in Bedford Street and +began systematically to look through the second-hand volumes; and as +we pored over an open book, we were able to keep an effective watch on +the end of the street and the Strand beyond. Our vigil was not a long +one. We had been at the stall less than a minute when Sylvia whispered +to me: +</p> + +<p> +“Do you see that man looking in the shop on the farther side of the +Strand?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I replied, “I have noticed him. He has only just arrived, and I +fancy he is our man. If he is, he will probably go into the doorway so +as not to have to keep his back to us.” +</p> + +<p> +Almost as I spoke, the man moved into the deep doorway as if to +inspect the end of the shop window, and Sylvia exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure that is the man. I can see his profile now.” +</p> + +<p> +There could be no doubt of the man’s identity; and, at this moment, as +if to clinch the matter, he took out a cigarette and lighted it, +striking the match with his left hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Come along,” said I. “We will now try my little plan for getting rid +of him. We mustn’t seem to hurry.” +</p> + +<p> +We sauntered up to the corner of Maiden Lane and there stood for a few +moments looking about us. Then we strolled across to the farther side +of Chandos Street, and, as soon as we were out of sight of our +follower, crossed the road and slipped in at the entrance to the Civil +Service Stores. Passing quickly through the provision department, we +halted at the glazed doors, from which we could look out through the +Bedford Street entrance. +</p> + +<p> +“There he is!” exclaimed Sylvia. And there he was, sure enough, +walking rather quickly up the east side of Bedford Street. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said I, “let us make a bolt for it. This way.” +</p> + +<p> +We darted out through the china, furniture and ironmongery +departments, across the whole width of the building and out of the +Agar Street entrance, where we immediately crossed into King William +Street, turned down Adelaide Street, shot through the alley by St. +Martin’s Church, and came out opposite the National Portrait Gallery +just as a yellow omnibus was about to start. We sprang into the moving +vehicle, and, as it rumbled away into the Charing Cross Road, we kept +a sharp watch on the end of King William Street. But there was no sign +of our pursuer. We had got rid of him for the present, at any rate. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you think,” said Sylvia, “that he will suspect that we went +into the Stores?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have no doubt he will, and that is where we have him. He can’t come +away and leave the building unsearched. Most probably he is, at this +very moment, racing madly up and down the stairs and trying to watch +the three entrances at the same time.” +</p> + +<p> +Sylvia chuckled gleefully. “It has been quite good fun,” she said, +“but I am glad we have shaken him off. I think I shall stay indoors +for a day or two and paint, and I hope you’ll stay indoors, too. And +that reminds me that I am out of Heyl’s white. I must call in at +Robinson’s and get a pound tube. Do you mind? It won’t delay us more +than a few minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +Now I would much rather have gone straight on to Hampstead, for our +unknown attendant certainly knew the whereabouts of my lodgings and +might follow us when he failed to find us in the stores. Moreover, I +had, of late, given the neighbourhood of the artist’s-colourman’s shop +a rather wide berth, having seen Mrs. Samway from afar once or twice, +thereabouts, and having surmised that she tended to haunt that +particular part of the Hampstead Road. But the fresh supply of flake +white seemed to be a necessity, so I made no objection, and we +accordingly alighted opposite the shop and entered. Nevertheless, +while Sylvia was making her purchase, I stood near the glass door and +kept a watchful eye on the street. When a tram stopped a short +distance away, I glanced quickly over its passengers, as well as I +could, though without observing anyone who might have been our absent +friend. But just as it was about to move on, I saw a woman run out +from the pavement and enter; and though I got but an indifferent view +of her, I felt an uncomfortable suspicion that the woman was Mrs. +Samway. +</p> + +<p> +Looking back, I do not quite understand why I had avoided this woman +or why I now looked with distaste on the fact that she was travelling +in our direction. She was a pleasant-spoken, intelligent person, and I +had no dislike of her, nor any cause for dislike. Perhaps it was the +recollection of the offence that she had given Sylvia in this very +shop, but a short time since, that made me unwilling to encounter her +now in Sylvia’s company. At any rate, whatever the course may have +been, throughout the, otherwise, pleasant journey, and in spite of an +animated and interesting conversation, the thought of Mrs. Samway +continually recurred, and this notwithstanding that I kept a constant, +unobtrusive look-out for the mysterious spy who might, even now, be +hovering in our rear. +</p> + +<p> +We alighted from the tram at the “Duke of St. Alban’s” and made our +way to North End by way of the Highgate Ponds. As we crossed the open +fields and the Heath, I turned at intervals to see if there was any +sign of our being followed; but no suspicious-looking person appeared +in sight, though on two separate occasions, I noticed a woman ahead of +us, and walking in much the same direction, turn round and look our +way. There was no reason, however, to suppose that she was looking at +us, and, in any case, she was too far ahead to be recognizable. At +last, somewhere in the neighbourhood of the Spaniard’s Road, she +finally disappeared, possibly into the hollow beyond, and I saw no +more of her. +</p> + +<p> +At the gate of “The Hawthorns” I delivered up the heavy tube of paint, +and thus, as it were, formally brought our little outing to an end; +and as we shook hands Sylvia treated me to a parting exhortation. +</p> + +<p> +“Now do take care of yourself and keep out of harm’s way,” she urged. +“You are so large, you see,” she added with a smile, “and such a very +conspicuous object that you ought to take special precautions. And you +must come and see us again quite soon. I assure you my aunt is +positively pining for another conversation with you. Why shouldn’t you +drop in to-morrow and have tea with us?” +</p> + +<p> +Now this very idea had already occurred to me, so I hastened to close +with the invitation; and then, as she retired up the path with another +“good-bye” and a wave of the hand, I turned away and walked back +towards the Heath. +</p> + +<p> +For some minutes I strode on, across furzy hollows or over little +hills, traversed by sunken, sandy paths, occupying myself with +thoughts of the pleasant, friendly girl whom I had just left and +reflections on the strange events of the morning. Presently I mounted +a larger hill, on which was perched a little, old-fashioned house. +Skirting the wooden fence that enclosed it, I turned the corner and +saw before me, at a distance of some forty yards, a rough, rustic +seat. On that seat a woman was sitting; and somehow, when I looked at +her and noted the graceful droop of the figure, it was without any +feeling of surprise—almost that of realized expectation—that I +recognized Mrs. Samway. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch14"> +CHAPTER XIV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">A LONELY WOMAN</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">If</span> I had had any intention of avoiding Mrs. Samway, that intention +must inevitably have been frustrated, for her recognition was as +instantaneous as my own. Almost as I turned the corner, she looked up +and saw me; and a few moments later, she rose and advanced in my +direction, so that, to an onlooker it would have appeared as if we had +met by appointment. There was obviously nothing for it but to look as +pleased as I could manage at such short notice; which I did, shaking +her hand with hypocritical warmth. +</p> + +<p> +“And I suppose, Dr. Jardine,” said she, “you are thinking what a very +odd coincidence it is that we should happen to meet here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t know that it is so very odd. I live about here and I +understood you to say that you often come up to the Heath. At any +rate, our last meeting was a good deal more odd.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed. But the truth is that this is not a coincidence at all. +I may as well confess that I came here deliberately with the intention +of waylaying you.” +</p> + +<p> +This very frank statement took me aback considerably; so much so that +I could think of no appropriate remark beyond mumbling something to +the effect that “it was very flattering of her.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have been trying,” she continued, “to get a few words with you for +some time past; but, although I have lurked in your line of march in +the most shameless manner, I have always managed to miss you. I +thought, from what you told me, that you passed Robinson’s shop on +your way to the hospital.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I do,” I replied mendaciously; for I could hardly tell her that I +had lately taken to shooting up by-streets with the express purpose of +avoiding that particular stretch of pavement. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s rather curious that I never happened to meet you there. However, +I didn’t, so, to-day, I determined to take the bull by the horns and +catch you here.” +</p> + +<p> +This last statement, like the former ones, gave me abundant matter for +reflection. How the deuce had she managed to “catch me here”? I +supposed that she had seen Sylvia and me in the Hampstead Road and had +guessed that we were coming on to this neighbourhood. That was a case +of feminine intuition; which, like the bone-setter’s skill, is a +wonderful thing—when it comes off (and when it doesn’t one isn’t +expected to notice the fact). Then she had gone on ahead—still +guessing at our final destination—and kept us in sight while keeping +out of view herself. It was not so very easy to understand and not at +all comfortable to think of, for there was a disagreeable suggestion +that she had somehow ascertained Sylvia’s place of abode beforehand. +And yet—well, the whole affair was rather mysterious. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t ask why it was that I wanted to waylay you,” she said, at +length, as I made no comment on her last statement. +</p> + +<p> +“There is an old saying,” I replied, “that one shouldn’t look a +gift-horse in the mouth.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is very diplomatic,” she retorted with a laugh. “But I daresay +your knowledge of women makes the question unnecessary.” +</p> + +<p> +“My knowledge of women,” said I, “might be put into a nutshell and +still leave plenty of room for the nut and a good, fat maggot +besides.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I must beware of you. The man who professes to know nothing of +women is the most deep and dangerous class of person. But there is one +item of knowledge that you seem to have acquired. You seem to know +that women like to have pretty things said to them.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you call that knowledge,” said I, “you must apply the same name to +the mere blind impulse that leads a spider to spin a nice, symmetrical +web.” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed softly and looked up at me with an expression of amused +reflection. “I am thinking,” she said, “what a very fine symmetrical +web you would spin if you were a spider.” +</p> + +<p> +“Possibly,” I replied. “But it looks as if the rôle of bluebottle +were the one that is being marked out for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Not a bluebottle, Dr. Jardine. It doesn’t suit you at all. If you +must make a comparison, why not say a Goliath beetle, and have +something really dignified—and not so very inappropriate?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, a Goliath beetle, if you prefer it; not that he would +look very dignified, kicking his heels in the elegant web of the +superlatively elegant feminine spider.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but that isn’t pretty of you at all, Dr. Jardine. In fact it is +quite horrid; and unfair, too; because you are trying to get the +information without asking a direct question.” +</p> + +<p> +“What question am I supposed to ask?” +</p> + +<p> +“You needn’t ask any. I will take pity on your masculine pride and +tell you why I have been lying in wait for you, although I daresay you +have guessed. The truth is, I am simply devoured by curiosity.” +</p> + +<p> +“Concerning what?” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, how can you ask? Just think! One day I meet you in the Hampstead +Road, going about your ordinary business, apparently a fixture, at +least for months. A few days later, a hundred miles from London, I +feel myself suddenly seized from behind; I turn round and there are +you with tragedy and adventure written large all over you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought the tragedy was rather on your side; and so did the ancient +mariner with the black bottle and the tea cup. But—” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t wish to discuss the views of that well-meaning old brute. I +want an explanation. I want to know how you came to be in Folkestone +and in that extraordinary condition. I am sure something strange must +have happened to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why? Haven’t I as much right to be in Folkestone as you have?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is mere evasion. When I see a man who is usually rather +carefully and very neatly dressed, walking in the streets of a seaport +town without hat or a stick and with a collar that looks as if it had +been used to clean out a saucepan, and great stains on his clothes, I +am justified in inferring that something unusual has happened to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t think you had noticed my negligé get-up.” +</p> + +<p> +“At the time I did not. I was very upset and agitated, I had just had +a lot of worry and was compelled to cross to France at a moment’s +notice; and then there was that horrible horse, and the sudden way +that you seized me and then got knocked down; and the—” +</p> + +<p> +“The ancient mariner.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, the ancient mariner; and the knowledge that I was behaving like +an idiot and couldn’t help it—though you were so nice and kind to me. +So you see, I was hardly conscious of what was happening at the time. +But afterwards, when I had recovered my wits a little, I recalled the +astonishing figure that you made, and I have been wondering ever since +what had happened to you. I assure you, Dr. Jardine, you looked as if +you might have swum to Folkestone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did I, by Jove!” I exclaimed with a laugh. “Well, appearances weren’t +so very deceptive. The fact is that I had swum part of the way.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at me incredulously. “Whatever do you mean?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean that you are now looking on a modern and strictly up-to-date +edition of Sinbad the Sailor.” +</p> + +<p> +“That isn’t very explanatory. But I suppose it isn’t meant to be. It +is just a preliminary stimulant to whet my appetite for marvels, and a +most unnecessary one, I can assure you, for I am absolutely agape with +curiosity. Do go on. Tell me exactly what had happened to you.” +</p> + +<p> +Now the truth is that I had already said rather more than was strictly +discreet and would gladly have drawn in my horns. But I had evidently +let myself in for some sort of plausible explanation, and a lack of +that enviable faculty that enables its possessor to tell a really +convincing and workmanlike lie, condemned me to a mere unimaginative +adherence to the bald facts, though I did make one slight and +amateurish effort at prevarication. +</p> + +<p> +“You want a detailed log of Sinbad’s voyages, do you?” said I. “Then +you shall have it. We will begin at the beginning. The port of +departure was the Embankment somewhere near Cleopatra’s Needle. I was +leaning over the parapet, staring down at the water like a fool, when +some practical joker came along, and, apparently thinking it would be +rather funny to give me a fright, suddenly lifted me off my feet. But +my jocose friend hadn’t allowed for the top-heaviness of a person of +my height, and, before you could say ‘knife,’ I had slipped from his +hold and taken a most stylish header into the water. Fortunately for +me, a barge happened at the moment to be towing past, and, when I had +managed to haul myself on board, I fell into the arms of a marine +species of Good Samaritan, who, not having a supply of the orthodox +oil and wine, proceeded to fill me up with hot gin and water, which is +distinctly preferable for internal application. Then the Samaritan +aforesaid clothed me in gorgeous marine raiment and stowed me in a +cupboard to sleep off the oil and wine, which I did after some sixteen +hours, and then awoke to find our good ship on the broad bosom of the +ocean. And so—not to weary you with the incidents of the voyage—I +came to Folkestone, where I found a beautiful lady endeavouring, very +unsuccessfully, to hypnotize a run-away horse; and so to the adventure +of the tarred nets and the ancient mariner with the black bottle.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Samway smiled a little consciously as I mentioned the last +incidents, but the smile quickly faded and left a deeply thoughtful +expression on her face. +</p> + +<p> +“You take it all very calmly,” said she, “but it seems to me to have +been a rather terrible experience. You really had a very narrow escape +from death.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; quite near enough. I’m far from wanting any more from the same +tap.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I don’t quite see why you assume that it was a mere clumsy joke +that sent you into the river by accident.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, what else could it have been?” +</p> + +<p> +“It looks more like a deliberate attempt to drown you. Perhaps you +have some enemy who might want to make away with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t. There isn’t a soul in the world who owes me the slightest +grudge.” +</p> + +<p> +“That seems rather a bold thing to say, but I suppose you know. Still, +I should think you ought to bear this strange affair in mind, and be a +little careful when you go out at night; to avoid the riverside, for +instance. Have you—did you give any information to the police about +this accident, as you call it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord! No! What would have been the use?” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you might have given them some description of the man who +pushed you over.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I never saw him. I don’t even know for certain that it was a man. +It might have been a woman for all that I can tell.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Samway looked up at me with that strangely penetrating expression +that I had seen before in those singular, pale eyes of hers. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t mean that?” she said. “You don’t really think that it could +have been a woman?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think very much about it; but as I never saw the person who +did me the honour of hoisting me overboard, I am clearly not in a +position to depose as to the sex of that person. But if it was a +woman, she must have been an uncommonly strong one.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Samway continued to look at me questioningly. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you seemed to hint at a suspicion that it actually was a +woman. You would surely be able to tell.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose I should if there were time to think about the matter; but, +you see, before I was fairly aware that anyone had hold of me, I was +sticking my head into the mud at the bottom of the river, which is a +process that does not tend very much to clarify one’s thoughts.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I suppose not,” she agreed. “But it is a most mysterious and +dreadful affair. I can’t think how you can take it so calmly. You +don’t seem to be in the least concerned by the fact that you have been +within a hairs-breadth of being murdered. What do your friends think +about it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you see, Mrs. Samway,” I replied evasively, “one doesn’t talk +much about incidents of this kind. It doesn’t sound very credible, and +one doesn’t want to gain a reputation as a sort of modern Munchausen. +I shouldn’t have told you but that you were already partly in the +secret and that you cross-examined me in such a determined fashion.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” she exclaimed, “do you mean to tell me that you have said +nothing to anyone about this extraordinary adventure of yours?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t say that. Of course, I had to give some sort of +explanation to my landlady, for instance, but I didn’t tell her all +that I have told you; and I would rather, if you don’t mind, that you +didn’t mention the affair to anyone. I should hate to be suspected of +romancing.” +</p> + +<p> +“You shan’t be through anything that I may say,” she replied, “though +I should hardly think that anyone who knew you would be likely to +suspect you of inventing imaginary adventures.” +</p> + +<p> +For some minutes after this we walked on without speaking, and, from +time to time, I stole a glance at my companion. And, once again, I +found myself impressed by something distinctive and unusual in her +appearance. Her unquestionable beauty was not like that of most pretty +women, localized and unequal, having features of striking +attractiveness set in an indifferent or even defective matrix. It was +diffused and all pervading, the product of sheer physical excellence. +With most women one feels that the more attractive wares are +judiciously pushed to the front of the window while a discreet +reticence is maintained respecting the unpresentable residue. Not so +with Mrs. Samway. Her small, shapely head, her symmetrical face, her +fine supple figure, and her easy movements, all spoke of a splendid +physique. She was not merely a pretty woman, she was that infinitely +rarer creature, a physically perfect human being; comely with the +comeliness of faultless proportion, graceful with the grace of +symmetry and strength. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly she looked up at me with just a hint of shyness and a little +heightening of the colour in her cheek. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you going to tell me again, Dr. Jardine, that a cat may look at a +king? Or was it that a king may look at a cat?” +</p> + +<p> +“Whichever you please,” I replied. “We will put them on a footing of +equality, excepting that the king might have the better claim if the +cat happened to be an exceptionally good-looking cat. But I wasn’t +really staring at you this time, I was only giving you a sort of +friendly look over. You weren’t quite yourself, I think, when we met +last.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I certainly was not. So you are now making an inspection. May I +ask if I am to be informed of the diagnosis, as I think you call it?” +</p> + +<p> +Now, to tell the truth, I had thought her looking rather haggard and +worn and decidedly thinner; and when her sprightliness subsided in the +intervals of our somewhat flippant talk, it had seemed to me that her +face took on an expression that was weary and even sad. But it would +hardly do to say as much. +</p> + +<p> +“It is quite irregular,” I replied. “The diagnosis is for the doctor; +the patient is only concerned with the treatment. But I’ll make an +exception in your case, especially as my report is quite +unsensational. I thought you looked as if you had been doing rather +too much and not greatly enjoying the occupation. Am I right?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Quite right. I’ve had a lot of worry and bother lately, and not +enough rest and peace.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope all that is at an end now?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know that it is,” she replied, wearily, “or, for that matter, +that it will ever be. Fate or destiny, or whatever we may call it, +starts us upon a certain road, and along that road we must needs +trudge, wherever it may lead.” +</p> + +<p> +I was rather startled at the sudden despondency of her tone. +Apparently the road that Mrs. Samway trod was not strewn with roses. +</p> + +<p> +“Still,” I said, “it is a long road that has no turning.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is,” she agreed, bitterly, “but many have to travel such a road, +to find the turning at last barred by the churchyard gate.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, come!” I protested, “we don’t talk of churchyards at your time of +life. We think of the jolly wayside inns and the buttercups and +daisies and the may-blossom in the hedgerows. Churchyard indeed! We +will leave that to the old folk and the village donkey, if you +please.” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled rather wanly. Her gaiety seemed to have deserted her for +good. +</p> + +<p> +“The wayside inns and the wayside flowers,” said she, “are your +portion—at least, I hope so. They are not for me. And, after all, +there are worse things to think of than a nice quiet churchyard, with +the village donkey browsing among the graves, as you say.” +</p> + +<p> +“I quite agree with you. From the standpoint of the disinterested +spectator, not contemplating freehold investments, nothing can be more +delightfully rustic and peaceful. It is the personal application that +I object to.” +</p> + +<p> +Again she smiled, but very pensively, and for a while we walked on in +silence. Presently she resumed. “I used to think that the shortness of +life was quite a tragedy. That was when I was young. But now—” +</p> + +<p> +“When you were young!” I interrupted. “Why, what are you now? I can +tell you, Mrs. Samway, that there is many a girl of twenty who would +be only too delighted to exchange personalities with you, and who +would stand to make a mighty fine bargain if she could do it. If you +talk like this, I shall have to refer you to the great Leonardo’s +advice to painters.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is that?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“He recommends the frequent use of a looking-glass.” +</p> + +<p> +She gave me a quick glance and then blushed so very deeply that I was +quite alarmed lest I should have given offence. But her next words +reassured me. +</p> + +<p> +“It was nice of you to say that, and most kindly meant. I won’t say +that I don’t care very much how I look, because that would be an +ungracious return for your compliment and it wouldn’t be quite true. +There are times when one is quite glad to feel that one looks +presentable; the present moment, for instance.” +</p> + +<p> +I acknowledged the compliment, with a bow. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” I said. “That was more than I deserved. I only wish that +your fortune was equal to your looks, but I am afraid it isn’t. I have +an uncomfortable feeling that you are not very happy.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid I’m not,” she replied. “Life is rather a lottery, you +know, and the worst of it is that you can only take a single ticket. +So, when you find that you’ve drawn the wrong number and you realize +that there is no second chance—well, it isn’t very inspiriting, is +it?” +</p> + +<p> +I had to admit that it was not; and, after a short pause, she +continued: +</p> + +<p> +“Women are poor dependent creatures, Dr. Jardine; dependent, I mean, +for their happiness on the people who surround them.” +</p> + +<p> +“But that is true of us all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not quite. A man—like yourself, for instance—has his work and his +ambitions that make him independent of others. But, for a woman, +whatever pretences she may make as to larger interests in life, a +husband, a home and one or two nice children form the real goal of her +ambition.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you are not a lone spinster, Mrs. Samway,” I reminded her. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I am not. But I have no children, no proper home, and not a real +friend in the world—unless I may think of you as one.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you always will,” I exclaimed impulsively; for there was, to +me, something very pathetic in the evident loneliness of this woman. +She must, I felt, be friendless indeed if she must needs appeal for +friendship to a comparative stranger like myself. +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad to hear you say that,” she replied, “for I am making you +bear a friend’s burden. I hope you will forgive me for pouring out my +complaints to you in this way.” +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t difficult,” said I, “to bear other people’s troubles with +fortitude. But if sympathy is any good, believe me, Mrs. Samway, when +I tell you that I am really deeply grieved to think that you are +getting so much less out of life than you ought. I only wish that I +could do something more than sympathize.” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe you do,” she said. “I felt, at Folkestone, how kind you +were—as a good man is to a woman in her moments of weakness. That is +why, I suppose, I was impelled to talk to you like this. And that is +why,” she added, after a little pause, “I felt a pang of envy when I +saw you pass with your pretty companion.” +</p> + +<p> +I started somewhat at this. Where the deuce could she have seen us +near enough to tell whether my companion was pretty or not? I turned +the matter over rapidly in my mind, and meanwhile, I said: +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t quite see why you envied me, Mrs. Samway.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t say that I envied <i>you</i>,” she replied, with a faint smile +and the suspicion of a blush. +</p> + +<p> +“Or her either,” I retorted. “We are only the merest acquaintances.” +</p> + +<p> +My conscience smote me somewhat as I made this outrageous statement, +but Mrs. Samway took me up instantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you’ve only known her quite a short time?” +</p> + +<p> +The rapidity with which she had jumped to this conclusion fairly took +my breath away, and I had answered her question before I was aware of +it. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” I added, “I don’t quite see how you arrived at your +conclusion.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought,” she replied, “that you seemed to like one another very +well.” +</p> + +<p> +“So we do, I think. But can’t acquaintances like one another?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, certainly; but if they are a young man and a maiden they are not +likely to remain mere acquaintances very long. That was how I argued.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see. Very acute of you. By the way, where did you see us? I didn’t +see you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course you didn’t. Yet you passed quite close to me on the +Spaniard’s Road, immersed in conversation, and little suspecting that +the green eyes of envy were fixed on you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, now, Mrs. Samway, I can’t have that. They’re not green, you know, +although what their exact colour is I shouldn’t like to say offhand.” +</p> + +<p> +“What! Not after that careful inspection?” +</p> + +<p> +“That didn’t include the eyes. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind if I made +another, just to satisfy my curiosity and settle the question for +good.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do, by all means, if it is such a weighty question.” +</p> + +<p> +We both halted and I stared into the clear depths of her singular, +pale hazel eyes with an impertinent affectation of profound scrutiny, +while she looked up smilingly into mine. Suddenly, to my utter +confusion, her eyes filled and she turned away her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! please forgive me!” she exclaimed. “I beg your pardon—I do beg +your pardon most earnestly for being such a wretched bundle of +emotions. You would forgive me if you knew—what I can’t tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is no need, dear Mrs. Samway,” I said very gently, laying my +hand on her arm. “Are we not friends? And may I not give you my +warmest sympathy without asking too curiously what brings the tears to +your eyes?” +</p> + +<p> +I was, in truth, deeply moved, as a young man is apt to be by a pretty +woman’s tears. But more than this, something whispered to me that my +playful impertinence had suddenly brought home to her the void that +was in her life; the lack of intimate affection at which she had +seemed to hint. And, instantly, all that was masculine in me had risen +up with the immemorial instinct of the male in defence of the female; +for, whatever her faults may have been, Mrs. Samway was feminine to +the finger-tips. +</p> + +<p> +She pressed my hand for a moment and impatiently brushed the tears +from her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I do hope, Dr. Jardine,” she said, looking up at me with a smile, +“that your wife will be a good woman. You’ll be a dreadful victim if +she isn’t, with your quick sympathy and your endless patience with +feminine silliness. And now I won’t plague you any more with my +tantrums. I hope I am not bringing you a great deal out of your way. +You do live in this direction, don’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; and I have been assuming that my direction was yours, too. Is +that right? Are you going back to Hampstead Road?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at once. I’m going to make a call at Highgate first.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you’ll want to go up Highgate Rise or Swain’s Lane; and I will +walk up with you if you’ll let me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think my nearest way will be up the little path that leads out of +Swain’s Lane. You know it, I expect?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. It is locally known as Love Lane: it leads to the crest of the +hill.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is right. You shall see me to the top of it and then I’ll take +myself off and leave you in peace.” +</p> + +<p> +We had by this time crossed Parliament Hill Fields and passed the end +of the Highgate Ponds. A few paces more brought us out at the top of +the Grove and a few more to the entrance of the rather steep and very +narrow lane. For some time Mrs. Samway walked by my side in silence, +and, by the reflective way in which she looked at the ground before +her, seemed to be wrapped in meditation, which I did not disturb. As +we entered the lane, however, she looked up at me thoughtfully and +said: +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder what you think of me, Dr. Jardine.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a fine opening for a compliment, but somehow, compliments +seemed out of place, after what had passed between us. I accordingly +evaded the question with another. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you suppose I think of you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. I hardly know what I think of myself. You would be +quite justified in thinking me rather forward, to waylay you in this +deliberate fashion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I don’t. Your curiosity about that Folkestone affair seems most +natural and reasonable.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad you don’t think me forward,” she said; “but, as to my +curiosity, I am beginning to doubt whether it was that alone that +determined me of a sudden to come here and talk to you. I half suspect +that I was feeling a little more solitary than usual, and that some +instinct told me that you would be kind to me and say nice things and +pet me just a little—as you have done.” +</p> + +<p> +I was deeply touched by her pathetic little confession; so deeply that +I could find nothing to say in return. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t think any the worse of me,” she continued, “for coming to +you and begging a little sympathy and friendship?” +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke, she looked up very wistfully and earnestly in my face, +and rested her hand for a moment on my arm. I took it in mine and drew +her arm under my own as I replied: +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I don’t. Only I think it a wonder and a shame that my poor +friendship and sympathy should be worth the consideration of a woman +like you.” +</p> + +<p> +She pressed my arm slightly, and, after a little interval, said in a +low voice with just the suspicion of a tremor in it: +</p> + +<p> +“You have been very kind to me, Dr. Jardine; more kind than you know. +I am very, very grateful to you for taking what was really an +intrusion so nicely.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was not in the least an intrusion,” I protested; “and as to +gratitude, a good many men would be very delighted to earn it on the +same terms. You don’t seem to set much value on your own exceedingly +agreeable society.” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled very prettily at this, and again we walked on for a while +up the slope without speaking. Once she turned her head as if +listening for some sound from behind us, but our feet were making so +much noise on the loose gravel, and the sound reverberated so much in +the narrow space between the wooden fences that I, at least, heard +nothing. Presently we turned a slight bend and came in sight of the +opening at the top of the hill, guarded by a couple of posts. Within a +few yards of the latter she halted, and withdrawing her hand from my +arm, turned round and faced me. +</p> + +<p> +“We must say ‘Good-bye’ here,” said she. “I wonder if I shall ever see +you again.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment I felt a strong impulse to propose some future meeting at +a definite date, but, fortunately some glimmering of discretion—and +perhaps some thought of Sylvia—restrained me. +</p> + +<p> +“Why shouldn’t you?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. But mine is rather a vagabond existence, and I suppose +you will be travelling about soon. I hope we shall meet again; but if +we do not, I shall always think of you as my friend, and you will have +a kind thought for me sometimes, won’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall indeed. I shall think of you very often and hope that your +life is brighter than it seems to be now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” she said earnestly; “and now ‘Good-bye!’ ” +</p> + +<p> +She held out her hand, and, as I grasped it, she looked in my face +with the wistful, yearning expression that I had noticed before, and +which so touched me to the heart that, yielding to a sudden impulse, I +drew her to me and kissed her. Dim as was the light of the fading +winter’s day, I could see that she had, in an instant, turned scarlet. +But she was not angry; for, as she drew away from me, shyly and almost +reluctantly, she gave me one of her prettiest smiles and whispered +“Good-bye” again. Then she ran out between the posts, and, turning +once again—and still as red as a peony—waved me a last farewell. +</p> + +<p> +I stood in the narrow entrance looking out after her with a strange +mixture of emotions; pity, wonder and admiration and a little doubt as +to my own part in the late transaction. For I had never before kissed +a married woman, and cooling judgment did not altogether approve the +new departure; for if Mr. Samway was not all that he might be, still +he was Mr. Samway and I wasn’t. Nevertheless, I stood and watched my +late companion with very warm interest until she faded into the dusk; +and even then I continued to stand by the posts, gazing out into the +waning twilight and cogitating on our rather strange interview. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly my ear caught a sound from behind me, down the lane; a sound +which, while it set my suspicion on the alert, brought a broad grin to +my face. It was what I suppose I must call a stealthy footstep, but +the stealthiness might have stood for the very type and essence of +futility, for, as I have said, the ground sloped pretty steeply and +was covered with loose pebbles, whereby every movement of the foot was +rendered as audible as a thunderclap. However, absurd as the situation +seemed—if the unseen person was really trying to approach by +stealth—it was necessary to be on my guard. Moreover, if this should +chance to be the person with the nystagmus, the present seemed to be +an excellent opportunity for coming to some sort of understanding with +him. +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly I wheeled about and began to walk back down the lane. +Instantly, the steps—no longer stealthy—began to retire. I quickened +my pace; the unknown and invisible eavesdropper quickened his. Then I +broke into a run, and so did he, notwithstanding which, I think I +should have had him but for an untoward accident. The ground was not +only sloping, but, under the loose gravel, was as hard as stone. +Consequently, the foothold was none of the best, as I presently +discovered, for, as I raced down one of the steepest slopes, the +pebbles suddenly rolled away under my foot and I lost my balance. But +I did not fall instantly. Half recovering, I flew forward, clawing the +air, stamping, staggering, kicking up the gravel, and making the most +infernal hubbub and clatter, before I finally subsided into a sitting +posture on the pebbles. When I rose, the footsteps were no longer +audible, though the lower end of the lane was still some distance +away. +</p> + +<p> +I resumed my progress at a more sedate pace and kept a sharp look-out +for a possible ambush, though the lane was too narrow, even in the +darkness that now pervaded it, to furnish much cover to an enemy. Some +distance down, I came to an opening in the fence, where one or two +boards had become loose, and was half disposed to squeeze through and +explore. But I did not, for, on reflection, it occurred to me that if +the man was not there it would be useless for me to go, while if he +should be hiding behind the fence it would be simply insane of me to +put my head through the hole. +</p> + +<p> +When I emerged into the road at the bottom, I looked about vaguely, +but, of course there was no sign of the fugitive—nor, indeed, could I +have identified him if I had met him. I loitered about undecidedly for +a minute or two, and then, realizing the futility of keeping a watch +on the entrance of the lane for a man whom I could not recognize, and +becoming conscious of a ravenous desire for food I made my way down +the Grove in the direction of my lodgings. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch15"> +CHAPTER XV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">EXIT DR. JARDINE</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">My</span> second visit to “The Hawthorns,” to which I had looked forward +with some eagerness, had, after all, to be postponed indefinitely. I +say “had,” since, under the circumstances, it appeared to be so unsafe +that I could not fairly take the risk that it involved. I had made the +engagement thoughtlessly, and, in my preoccupation with Mrs. Samway, +had not realized the indiscretion to which I had committed myself +until I was brought back sharply to the actual conditions by the +incident in Love Lane which I have mentioned. But, after that, I saw +that it would be the wildest folly to show myself in the vicinity of +Sylvia’s house. Evidently the spy, after we had given him the slip so +neatly, had made direct for my lodgings and lurked in the +neighbourhood, and there it must have been that he had picked me up +again as I passed with Mrs. Samway. Of course it was possible that the +unseen person in the lane was not really shadowing me at all; but his +stealthy approach, his hasty retreat and his mysterious disappearance, +left me in very little doubt on the subject. +</p> + +<p> +I was not very nervous about this enigmatical person on my own +account. In spite of my alarming experiences, I found it difficult to +take him as seriously as I should have done, and still felt a quite +unjustifiable confidence in my capability of taking care of myself. +But on Sylvia’s account I was exceedingly uneasy. The interest that +this man had shown in the unlucky little ornament that she wore, +associated itself in my mind most disagreeably with her mysterious and +terrifying adventure in Millfield Lane, and made me feel that it would +be sheer insanity for me to go from my house to hers and so possibly +give this unknown villain the clue to her whereabouts. +</p> + +<p> +This conclusion, at which I had arrived over-night, was confirmed on +the following morning, for, having taken a brisk walk out in the +direction of Harrow, and having kept a very sharp look-out, I was +distinctly conscious of the fact that there always appeared to be a +man in sight. I never got near him and was not able to recognize him, +but at intervals throughout the morning he continually reappeared in +the distance, even on the comparatively solitary country roads and the +hedge-divided meadows. +</p> + +<p> +It was excessively irritating. Yet what could I do? Even if I could +have identified him with the man who had apparently shadowed me +before, I really had nothing against him. And cogitating on the +matter, with no little annoyance, I determined to take counsel with +Thorndyke, and meanwhile to avoid the neighbourhood of “The +Hawthorns.” +</p> + +<p> +After lunch, I wrote a letter to Sylvia, briefly explaining the state +of affairs, and, having given it to our maid to deliver, I took the +precaution to go out and saunter towards Kentish Town with the object +of engaging the spy’s attention and preventing him from following my +messenger to North End. The rest of the day I spent at home and +occupied my time in writing a long letter to Thorndyke in which I gave +a pretty detailed account of my recent experiences; which letter was +duly posted by Mrs. Blunt herself in time for the evening collection. +</p> + +<p> +I had barely seated myself at the breakfast table on the following +morning when a telegram was brought to me. On opening it I found that +it was from Thorndyke, advising me that a letter had been dispatched +by hand and asking me to stay at home until I had received it; which I +did; and within an hour it arrived and was delivered into my own hands +by a messenger boy. +</p> + +<p> +It was curt and rather peremptory in tone, desiring me to meet him at +one o’clock at Salter’s Club in a turning off St. James’s Street and +concluding with these somewhat remarkable instructions: “I want you to +wear an overcoat and hat of a distinctive and easily recognizable +character and to take every means that you can of being seen and, if +possible, followed to the club. You had better put a few necessaries +in a bag or suit-case and tell your landlady that you may not be home +to-night. Follow these instructions to the letter and bring this note +with you.” +</p> + +<p> +At the latter part of these directions I was somewhat disposed to +boggle, remembering my worthy teacher’s threat to put me somewhere out +of harm’s way. But Thorndyke was a difficult man to disobey. Suave and +persuasive as his manners were, he had a certain final and compelling +way with him that silenced objections and produced a sort of +frictionless obedience without any sense of compulsion. Hence, +notwithstanding a slight tendency to bluster and tell myself that I +would see him hanged before I would submit to being mollycoddled like +an idiot, I found myself, presently, walking down the Grove in a buff +overcoat and a grey felt hat, carrying a green canvas suit-case in +which were packed the necessaries for a brief stay away from home, and +bearing in my pocket the incriminating letter. +</p> + +<p> +I walked slowly as far as the Junction Road in order to give any +pursuer a fair opportunity to take up the chase and to make the +necessary observations on my tasteful turn-out. At the Junction I +waited for a tram and carefully abstained from staring about in a +manner which would have embarrassed any person who might wish +unobserved to share the conveyance with me; and from the terminus at +Euston Road I proceeded in leisurely fashion on foot, still resisting +the temptation to look about and see if I had picked up a companion by +the way. +</p> + +<p> +Salter’s Club was domiciled in a typical West End house situated in a +quiet street of similar houses, graced at one end by a cabstand. I +timed my arrival with such accuracy that a neighbouring church-clock +struck one as I ascended the steps; and on my entering the hall, I was +met by an elderly man in a quiet livery who seemed to expect me, for, +when I mentioned Thorndyke’s name, he asked, “Dr. Jardine, sir?” and, +hardly waiting for my reply, showed me to the cloak-room. +</p> + +<p> +“Dr. Thorndyke,” said he, “will be with you in a few minutes. When you +have washed, I will show you to the dining room where he wished you to +wait for him.” +</p> + +<p> +I was just a little surprised at even this short delay, for Thorndyke +was the soul of punctuality. However, I had not to wait long. I had +been sitting less than three minutes at a small table laid for two in +the deep bay window, scanning the street through the wire-gauze +blinds, when he arrived. +</p> + +<p> +“I needn’t apologize, I suppose, Jardine,” he said, shaking my hand +heartily. “You will have guessed why I have kept you waiting.” +</p> + +<p> +“You flatter me, sir,” I replied with a slight grin. “I haven’t your +powers of instantaneous deduction.” +</p> + +<p> +“You hardly needed them,” he retorted. “Of course I was watching your +approach and observing the corner by which you entered the street to +see who came after you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did anyone come after me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Several persons. I examined them all very carefully with a prism +binocular that magnifies twelve times linear, and an assistant is now +at the same window—the one over this—following the fortunes of those +persons with the same excellent glass.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you spot anyone in particular as looking a likely person?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. The second man who came after you seemed to be sauntering in a +rather unpurposive fashion and looking a little obtrusively +unconcerned. I noticed, too, that he was carrying an umbrella in his +left hand. But we needn’t concern ourselves. If anyone is shadowing +you we are certain to see him. He must expose himself to view from +time to time, for he can’t afford to lose sight of our doorway for +more than a few seconds, and there is practically no cover in this +street.” +</p> + +<p> +“He might hide in a doorway,” I suggested. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, might he! These are all clubs in this street. He’d very soon have +the servants out wanting to know his business. No; he’ll have to keep +on the move and he’ll have to keep mostly in sight of this house. And +meanwhile we are going to take our lunch at our leisure and have a +little talk to while away the time.” +</p> + +<p> +The lunch was on a scale that my youthful appetite approved strongly, +though the number of courses and irrelevant, time-consuming kickshaws +struck me as rather unusual. And I never saw a man eat so slowly and +delay a meal so much as Thorndyke did on that occasion. I believe that +it took him fully twenty minutes to consume a fried sole; and even +then he created a further delay by drawing my attention to the +skeleton on his plate as an illustration of inherited deformity +adjusted to special environmental conditions. But all the time, +whether eating or talking, I noticed that his eye continually +travelled up and down the stretch of street that was visible through +the wire blinds. +</p> + +<p> +“You haven’t told me why you sent for me, sir,” I said, after waiting +patiently for him to open the subject. +</p> + +<p> +“I dare say you have guessed,” he replied; “but we may as well thrash +the matter out now. You realize that you are running an enormous and +unnecessary risk by going abroad with this man at your heels?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I don’t suppose he is following me about from sheer affection.” +</p> + +<p> +“No. I thought it possible that he might be a plain-clothes policeman, +but I have ascertained that he is not. Who he is we don’t know, but we +have the strongest reasons for suspecting his intentions. There have +been three very determined attempts on your life. They were all made +with such remarkable caution and foresight that, though they failed, +practically no traces have been left. Those attempts imply a strong +motive, though to us, an unknown one; and that motive, presumably, +still exists. Your enemy may well be getting desperate, and may be +prepared to take greater risks to get rid of you; and if he is, the +chances are that he will succeed sooner or later. Murder isn’t very +difficult to a cool-headed man who means business.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then what do you propose, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“I propose that you disappear from your ordinary surroundings and come +and stay, for a time, at my chambers in the Temple.” +</p> + +<p> +This was no more than I had expected, but my jaw dropped considerably, +notwithstanding. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s awfully good of you, sir,” I stammered—and so, to be sure, it +was—“but don’t you think it would be simpler to turn the tables on +this Johnnie and shadow him?” +</p> + +<p> +“An excellent idea, Jardine, and one, I may say, that I am acting on +at this moment. But there isn’t so much in it as you seem to think. +Supposing we identify this man and even run him to earth? What then? +We have nothing against him. We know of no crime that has been +committed. We may suspect that the man whom you saw at Hampstead had +been murdered. But we can’t prove it. We can’t produce the body or +even prove that the man was dead. And we couldn’t connect this person +with the affair because nobody was known to be connected with it. I +should like to know who this man is, but I don’t want to put him on +his guard; and above all, I can’t agree to your going about as a sort +of live-bait to enable us to locate him. By the way, that man on the +opposite side of the street is the one whom I selected as being +probably your attendant. Apparently I was right, as this is the third +time he has passed. Do you recognize him?” +</p> + +<p> +I looked attentively at the uncharacteristic figure on the farther +side of the street, but could find nothing familiar in his appearance. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” I replied; “he doesn’t look to me like the same man. He is +dressed differently—but that’s nothing, as he has been dressed +differently on each occasion—and that torpedo beard and full +moustache are quite unlike, though there’s nothing in that either; but +the man looks different altogether—distinctly taller, for instance.” +</p> + +<p> +Thorndyke chuckled. “Good,” said he. “Now look at his feet, as he +passes opposite. Did you ever see an instep set at that angle to the +sole? And does not your anatomical conscience cry out at a foot of +that thickness?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, by Jove!” I exclaimed; “there’s room for a double row of +metatarsals. It is a fake of some kind, I suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +“Cork ‘raisers’ inside high-heeled boots. Through the glasses I could +see that the boots gaped considerably at the instep, as they will when +there is a pad inside as well as a foot. But you notice, also, that +the man is dressed for height. He has a tall hat, a long coat, and his +shoulders are obviously raised by padding. I think there is very +little doubt that he is our man.” +</p> + +<p> +“It must be a dull job,” I remarked, “hanging about by the hour to see +a man come out of a house.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very,” Thorndyke agreed. “I am quite sorry for the worthy person, +especially as we are going to play him a rather shabby trick +presently.” +</p> + +<p> +“What are we going to do?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“We are going to let him in for one of the longest waits he has ever +had, I am afraid. Perhaps I had better give you the particulars of our +<i>modus operandi</i>. First, I shall send down to the stand for a hansom, +which will draw up opposite the club; and thereupon I have no doubt +our friend will hurry down to the cabstand to be in readiness. At any +rate, I shall let him get down to that end of the street before I do +anything more. Then I shall take the liberty of putting on your coat +and hat and go out to the cab with your suit-case in my hand; I shall +stand on the kerb long enough to let our friend get a good view of my +back, I shall get into the cab, give the driver the direction through +the trap to drive to the hospital, and pay the fare in advance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why in advance?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“So that I shall not have to turn round and show my face when I get +out at the hospital entrance. I assume that your friend will follow me +in another hansom. Also that he will alight at the outer gates, +whereas I shall drive into the courtyard right up to the main +entrance, so that he will merely see your hat, coat and suit-case +disappear into the building. Then, as I say, he will be in for an +interminable vigil. I have a lecture to give this afternoon, and, when +I have finished, I shall come away in a black overcoat and tall hat +(which are at this moment hanging up in the curator’s room), leaving +your friend to wait for the reappearance of your coat, hat and +suit-case. I only hope he won’t wait too long.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because he may wear out the patience of my assistant. I have a +plain-clothes man keeping a watch from the window above. If your +friend sets off in pursuit of your garments, as I anticipate, the +plain-clothes man will go straight to the hospital and take up his +post in the porter’s lodge, which, as you know, commands the whole +street outside the gates.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what have I got to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“First of all, you will put your tooth brush in your pocket—never +mind about your razor—and let me try on your hat, in case we have to +pad the lining. Then, when you have seen your friend start off in +pursuit and are sure the coast is clear, you will make straight for my +chambers and wait there for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“And supposing the chappie doesn’t start off in pursuit? Supposing he +twigs the imposture?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then the plain-clothes man will go out and threaten to arrest him for +loitering with intent to commit a felony. That would soon move him on +out of the neighbourhood, and the officer might accompany him some +distance and try to get his address. Meanwhile, you would be off to +King’s Bench Walk.” +</p> + +<p> +“But wouldn’t it be simpler to run the Johnnie in, in any case? Then +we should know all about him.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, it wouldn’t do. The police wouldn’t actually make an arrest +without an information; and, if they did proceed, they would want me +to appear. That wouldn’t suit me at all. Until we obtain some fresh +evidence, I don’t want this man to get any suspicion that the case is +being investigated. And now I think the time has come for a move. Let +us go to the cloak-room and see if your hat fits me sufficiently +well.” +</p> + +<p> +It was not a good fit, being just a shade small; but, as it was a soft +felt, this was not a vital defect. The overcoat fitted well enough, +though a trifle long in the sleeves, and when Thorndyke was fully +arrayed in this borrowed plumage, his back view, so far as I could +judge, was indistinguishable from my own. +</p> + +<p> +“If you will take out your toothbrush and hand me your suit-case,” +said he, “I will send for a hansom, and then we will watch the +progress of events from the dining-room window.” +</p> + +<p> +I handed him the green canvas case and we returned to the dining-room +and there, when he had ordered the cab, we took up a position at the +window, screened from observation by the wire blinds. +</p> + +<p> +“Our friend,” said Thorndyke, “was walking towards the right hand end +of the street when we saw him last. As the cabstand is at the left +hand end, we may hope to look upon his face once again.” +</p> + +<p> +As he spoke, the air was rent by the shriek of the cab-whistle, and +the leading hansom began immediately to bear down on the club. It had +hardly come to rest at our door when a figure appeared from the +opposite direction, advancing at a brisk walk on our side of the road. +I recognized him instantly as the man to whom Thorndyke had directed +my attention, and watched him closely, as he approached, to see if I +could identify him with the man who had shadowed Sylvia and me at the +picture gallery; but, though he passed within a few yards of the +window, and I felt no doubt that he was the same man, I could trace no +definite resemblance. It is true, that while actually passing the +club, he averted his face somewhat; but I had a good view of him +within an easy distance, and the face that I then saw was certainly +not the face of the man at the gallery. The skilfulness of the +make-up—assuming it to be really a disguise—was incredible, and I +remarked on it to Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he agreed, “a really artistic make-up is apt to surprise the +uninitiated. And that reminds me that Polton has instructions to make +a few trifling alterations in your own appearance.” +</p> + +<p> +I stared at him aghast. “You don’t mean to say,” I exclaimed, “that +you contemplate making me up?” +</p> + +<p> +“We won’t discuss the question now,” he replied a little evasively. +“You talk it over with Polton. It is time for me to go now, as our +quarry has considerately acted up to our expectations. He little knows +what confusion of our plans he would have occasioned by simply staying +at the other end of the street.” +</p> + +<p> +The spy had, in fact, now halted opposite the cabstand and was +apparently making some notes in a pocket-book, facing, meanwhile, in +our direction. With a few parting instructions to me, Thorndyke picked +up the suit-case and hurried out, and I saw him dart down the +steps—with his face turned somewhat to the right—and stand for a few +seconds at the edge of the pavement with his back to the cabstand, but +in full view, looking at his watch as if considering some appointment. +Suddenly he sprang into the cab and, pushing up the trap, gave the +driver his instructions and handed up the fare. At the same moment I +saw the unknown shadower hail a hansom, and, scrambling to the +footboard, give some brief directions to the driver. Then Thorndyke’s +cabman touched his horse with the whip, and away he went at a smart +trot; but hardly had the cab turned the first corner when the second +hansom rattled past the club in hot pursuit. +</p> + +<p> +I was about to turn away from the window when a tall, well-dressed man +ran down the steps and immediately signalled to the cabstand with his +stick. Thinking it probable that this was the plain-clothes policeman, +I stopped to watch; and when I had seen him enter the cab and drive +off in the same direction as the other two, I decided that the show +was over and that it was time for me to take my departure; which I +did, after stuffing a couple of envelopes into the lining of +Thorndyke’s hat, to prevent it from slipping down towards my ears. +</p> + +<p> +That my arrival at number <span class="sc">5a</span>, King’s Bench Walk was not quite +unexpected I gathered not only from the fact that the “oak” stood wide +open, revealing the inner door, but from the instantaneous way in +which this latter opened in response to my knock; and something +gleeful and triumphant in Mr. Polton’s manner as he invited me to +enter, stirred my suspicions and aroused vague forebodings. +</p> + +<p> +He helped me out of my—or rather Thorndyke’s—overcoat, and, having +taken the hat from me, peered inquiringly into its interior and fished +out the two envelopes, which he politely offered to me. Then, having +disposed of his employer’s property, he returned to confront me, and, +wrinkling his countenance into a most singular and highly corrugated +smile, he opened his mouth and spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“So you have come, sir, the Doctor tells me, to take sanctuary for a +time with us from the malice of your enemies.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know about that,” I replied; “but there is a cockeyed +transformationist who seems to be dodging about after me, and Dr. +Thorndyke thinks I had better give him the go-by for the present.” +</p> + +<p> +“And very proper, too, sir. Discretion is the better part of valour, +as the proverb says—though I really could never see that it is any +part at all. But no doubt our forefathers, who made the proverb, knew +best. Did the Doctor mention that he had given me certain instructions +about you?” +</p> + +<p> +“He said that I was to talk over some question with you, but I didn’t +quite follow him. What were his instructions?” +</p> + +<p> +Polton rubbed his hands, and his face became more crinkly than ever. +“The Doctor instructed me,” he replied, looking at me hungrily and +obviously making a mental inventory of my features, “to effect certain +slight alterations in your outward personality.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, did he,” said I. “And what does he mean by that? Does he mean +that you are to make me up as an old woman or a nigger minstrel?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all, sir,” replied Polton. “Neither of those characters would +be at all suitable. They would occasion remark, which it is our object +to avoid; and as to a negro minstrel, his presence in chambers would +undoubtedly be objected to by the benchers.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” I expostulated, “why any disguise at all, if I am to be boxed +up in these chambers? The chappie isn’t likely to come and look +through the keyhole.” +</p> + +<p> +“He wouldn’t see anything if he did,” said Polton. “I fitted these +locks. But, you see, sir, many strangers come to these chambers, and +then, too, you might like to take a little exercise about the inn or +the gardens. That would probably be quite safe if you were +unrecognizable, but otherwise, I should think, inadmissible. And +really, sir,” he continued persuasively, “if you do a thing at all you +may as well do it thoroughly. The Doctor wishes you to disappear; then +disappear completely. Don’t do it by halves.” +</p> + +<p> +I could not but admit to myself that this was reasonable advice. +Nevertheless, I grumbled a little sulkily. “It seems to me that Dr. +Thorndyke is making a lot of unnecessary fuss. It is absurd for an +able-bodied man to be sneaking into a hiding-place and disguising +himself like a runaway thief.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can offer no opinion on that, sir,” said Polton; “but you’re wrong +about the Doctor. He is a cautious man but he is not nervous or fussy. +You would be wise to act as he thinks best, I am sure.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” I said; “I won’t be obstinate. When do you want to begin +on me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I should like,” replied Polton, brightening up wonderfully at my +sudden submission, “to have you ready for inspection by the time that +the Doctor returns. If agreeable to you, sir, I would proceed +immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then in that case,” said I, “we had better adjourn to the green-room +forthwith.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you please, sir,” replied Polton; and with this, having opened the +door and cautiously inspected the landing, he conducted me up the +stairs to the floor above, the rooms of which appeared to be fitted as +workshops and laboratories. In one of the former, which appeared to be +Polton’s own special den, I saw my watch hanging from a nail, with a +rating table pinned above it, and proceeded to claim it. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose, sir,” said Polton, reluctantly taking it from its nail and +surrendering it to me, “as you are going to reside on the premises and +I can keep it under observation, you may as well wear it. The present +rate is plus one point three seconds daily. And now I will trouble you +to sit down on this stool and take off your collar.” +</p> + +<p> +I did as he bade me, and, meanwhile, he turned up his cuffs and stood +a little way off, surveying me as a sculptor might survey a bust on +which he was at work. Then he fetched a large cardboard box, the +contents of which I could not see, and fell to work. +</p> + +<p> +His first proceeding was to oil my hair thoroughly, part it in the +middle and brush it smoothly down either side of my forehead. Next he +shaved off the outer third of each eyebrow, and, having applied some +sort of varnish or adhesive, he proceeded to build up, with a number +of short hairs, a continuation of the eyebrows at a higher level. The +result seemed to please him amazingly, for he stepped back and viewed +me with an exceedingly self-satisfied smirk. +</p> + +<p> +“It is really surprising, sir,” said he, “how much expression there is +in the corner of an eyebrow. You look a completely different gentleman +already.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said I, “there’s no need to do any more. We can leave it at +this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, we can’t, sir,” Polton replied hastily, making a frantic dive +into the cardboard box. “Begging your pardon, sir, it is necessary to +attend to the lower part of the face, in case you should wish to wear +a hat, which would cover the hair and throw the eyebrows into shadow.” +</p> + +<p> +Here he produced from the box an undeniable false beard of the torpedo +type and approached me, holding it out as if it were a poultice. +</p> + +<p> +“You are not going to stick that beastly thing on my face!” I +exclaimed, gazing at it with profound disfavour. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, sir,” protested Polton, “pray be patient. We will just try it +on, and the Doctor shall decide if it is necessary.” +</p> + +<p> +With this he proceeded to affix the abomination to my jowl with the +aid of the same sticky varnish that he had used previously, and, +having attached a moustache to my upper lip, worked carefully round +the edges of both with a quantity of loose hair, which he stuck on the +skin with the adhesive liquid and afterwards trimmed off with +scissors. The process was just completed and he had stepped back once +more to admire his work when an electric bell rang softly in the +adjoining room. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s the Doctor,” he remarked. “I’m glad we are ready for him. +Shall we go down and submit our work for his inspection?” +</p> + +<p> +I assented readily, having some hopes that Thorndyke would veto the +beard, and we descended together to the sitting-room, where we found +that Jervis and his principal had arrived together. As to the former, +he greeted my entrance by staggering back several paces with an +expression of terror, and then seated himself on the edge of the table +and laughed with an air of enjoyment that was almost offensive; +particularly to Polton, who stood by my side, rubbing his hands and +smiling with devilish satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“I assume,” Thorndyke said, gravely, “that this is our friend +Jardine.” +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t,” said Jervis. “It’s the shopwalker from Wallis’s. I +recognized him instantly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look here,” I said, with some heat, “it’s all very well for you to +make me up like Charley’s Aunt and then jeer at me, but what’s the use +of it? The fifth of November’s past.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Jardine,” Thorndyke said, soothingly, “you are confusing your +sensations with your appearance. I daresay that make-up is rather +uncomfortable, but it is completely successful, and I must +congratulate Polton; for the highest aim of a disguise is the utterly +common-place, and I assure you that you are now a most +ordinary-looking person. Fetch the looking-glass from the office, +Polton, and let him see for himself.” +</p> + +<p> +I gazed into the mirror which Polton held up to me with profound +surprise. There was nothing in the least grotesque or unusual in the +face that looked out at me, only it was the face of an utter stranger; +and, as Thorndyke had said, a perfectly common-place stranger, at whom +no one would look twice in the street. Grudgingly, I acknowledged the +fact, but still objected to the beard. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think it is really necessary, sir, in addition to the other +disfigurements?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I do,” replied Thorndyke. “It is only a temporary expedient, +because, in a fortnight, your own beard will have grown enough to +serve with a little artificial re-enforcement. And,” he continued, as +Polton retired with a gratified smile, “I am anxious that your +disappearance shall be complete. It is not only a question of your +safety—although that is very urgent and I feel myself responsible for +you, as we are not appealing to the police. There are other issues. +Assuming, as we do assume, that some crime has been committed, the +lapse of time must inevitably cause some of the consequences of that +crime to develop. If the man whose body you saw at Hampstead was +really murdered, he must presently be missed and enquired for. Then we +shall learn who he was and perhaps we may gather what was the motive +of the crime. Then, your secret enemy will be left unemployed and may +produce some fresh evidence—for he can’t wait indefinitely for your +reappearance. And finally, certain enquiries which I am making may set +us on the right track. And, if they do, you must remember, Jardine, +that you are probably the sole witness to certain important items of +evidence; so you must be preserved in safety as a matter of public +policy, apart from your own prejudices in favour of remaining alive.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t know that you were actually working at the case,” I said. +“Have you been following up that man Gill of the mineral water works?” +</p> + +<p> +“I followed him up to the vanishing-point. He has gone and left no +trace; and I have been unable to get any description of him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said I, “if it is allowable to ask the question, in what +direction have you been making enquiries?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have been interesting myself,” Thorndyke replied, “in the other +case; that of your patient Mr. Maddock, as the attacks on you seemed +to be associated with his neighbourhood rather than with that of +Hampstead. I have examined his will at Somerset House and am +collecting information about the persons who benefited by its +provisions. Especially, I am making some enquiries about a legatee who +lives in New York, and concerning whom I am rather curious. I can’t go +into further details just now, but you will see that I am keeping the +case in hand, and you must remember that, at any moment, fresh +information may reach me from other sources. My practice is a very +peculiar one, and there are few really obscure cases that are not, +sooner or later, brought to me for an opinion.” +</p> + +<p> +“And, meanwhile, I am to eat the bread of idleness here and wait on +events.” +</p> + +<p> +“You won’t be entirely idle,” Thorndyke replied. “We shall find you +some work to do, and you will extend your knowledge of medico-legal +practice. You write shorthand fairly well, don’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; and I can draw a little, if that is of any use.” +</p> + +<p> +“Both accomplishments are of use, and, even if they are not, we should +have to exercise them for the sake of appearances. It will certainly +become known that you are here, so we had better make no secret of it, +but find you such occupation as will account for your presence. And, +as you will have to meet strangers now and again, we must find you a +name. What do you think of ‘William Morgan Howard’?” +</p> + +<p> +“It will do as well as any other,” I replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, then William Morgan Howard let it be. And, in case you +might forget your alias, as the crooks are constantly doing, we will +drop the name of Jardine and call you Howard even when we are alone. +It will save us all from an untimely slip.” +</p> + +<p> +To this arrangement also I agreed with a sour smile, and so, with some +physical discomfort in the neighbourhood of the lower jaw, and a +certain relish of the novelty and absurdity of my position, I placed +myself, under the name of Howard, on the roster of Thorndyke’s +establishment. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch16"> +CHAPTER XVI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">ENTER FATHER HUMPERDINCK</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">On</span> the day following my—and Thorndyke’s—masterly retreat from +Salter’s Club, the plain-clothes officer called to make his report; +and even before he spoke, I judged from his rather sheepish expression +that he had failed. And so it turned out. He had waited in the +porter’s lodge, he told us, until midnight keeping a watch on the +watcher, who, for his part, lurked in the street, always keeping in +sight of the hospital, and whiling away the time by gazing into the +shop windows. The spy had evidently failed to recognize Thorndyke, for +when the latter left the hospital in company with one of the +physicians, he had given only a passing glance at the open carriage in +which the two men sat. +</p> + +<p> +After the shops had shut, the persevering shadower had occupied +himself with a sort of dismal sentry-go up and down the street, +disappearing into the darkness and reappearing at regular intervals. +Once or twice, the plain-clothes man went out and followed his quarry +in his perambulations, but, not considering it prudent to expose +himself too much to view, he remained mostly in the Lodge. It was +after one of these sallies that the mischance occurred. Returning to +the Lodge, he saw the spy pass the gates and disappear up the dark +street; he looked, after the usual interval, for him to reappear. But +the interval passed and there was no reappearance. Then the officer +hurried out in search of his quarry, but found only an empty street. +Even the apparently inexhaustible patience of the spy had given out at +last. And so the quest had ended. +</p> + +<p> +I cannot say that Thorndyke impressed me as being deeply disappointed; +in fact, I thought that he seemed, if anything, rather relieved at his +emissary’s failure. This was Jervis’s opinion also, and he had no +false delicacy about expressing it. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” Thorndyke replied, “as the fellow thrust himself right under +my nose, I could hardly do less than make some sort of an attempt to +find out who he is. But I don’t particularly want to know. My +investigations are proceeding from quite another direction; and you +see, Jervis, how awkward it might have been to have this person on our +hands. We could only charge him with loitering with felonious intent, +and we couldn’t prove the intent after all; for we can’t produce any +evidence connecting this man with the three attempted murders. He may +not be the same man at all. And I certainly don’t want to go into the +witness box just now, and still less do I want my new clerk, Mr. +Howard, put into that position. I don’t want to take any action until +I have the case quite complete and am in a position to make a decisive +move.” +</p> + +<p> +“The truth is,” said Jervis, addressing me confidentially in a stage +whisper, “Thorndyke hates the idea of spoiling a really juicy problem +by merely arresting the criminal and pumping his friends. He looks on +such a proceeding much as a Master of Fox-hounds would look on the act +of poisoning a fox.” +</p> + +<p> +Thorndyke smiled indulgently at his junior. “There is such a thing,” +said he, “as failing to poison a fox and only making him too unwell to +leave his residence. A premature prosecution is apt to fail; and then +the prisoner has seen all the cards of his adversaries. At present I +am playing against an unseen adversary, but I am hoping that I, in my +turn, am unseen by him, and I am pretty certain that he has no idea +what cards I hold.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gad!” exclaimed Jervis, “then he is in much the same position as I +am.” And with this the subject dropped. +</p> + +<p> +The first week of my residence in Thorndyke’s chambers was quite +uneventful, and was mainly occupied in settling down to the new +conditions. My letters were sent on by Mrs. Blunt to the hospital +whence they were brought by my principal—as I may now call my quondam +teacher—with the exception of Sylvia’s; which we had agreed were to +be sent to the chambers enclosed in an envelope addressed to +Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +At first, I had feared that the confinement would be unendurable; but +the reality proved to be much less wearisome than I had anticipated. A +horizontal bar rigged up by Polton in the laboratory, gave me the +means of abundant exercise of one kind; and in the early mornings, +before the gates of the inn were opened, I made it my daily practice +to trot round the precincts for an hour at a time, taking the circuit +from our chambers through Crown Office Road to Fountain Court and back +by way of Pump Court and the Cloisters, to the great benefit of my +health and the mild surprise of the porters and laundresses. +</p> + +<p> +Nor was I without occupation in the daytime. Besides an exhaustively +detailed account of all the remarkable experiences that had befallen +me of late which I wrote out at Thorndyke’s request, I had a good deal +of clerical work of one kind and another, and was frequently employed, +when clients called, in exhibiting my skill as a stenographer; taking +down oral statements, or making copies of depositions or other +documents which were read over to me by Thorndyke or Jervis. +</p> + +<p> +It was the exercise of these latter activities that introduced me to a +certain Mr. Marchmont, and through him to some new and rather +startling experiences. Mr. Marchmont was a solicitor, and, as I +gathered, an old client of Thorndyke’s; for, when he called one +evening, about ten days after my arrival, with a bagful of documents, +he made sundry references to former cases by which I understood that +he and Thorndyke had been pretty frequently associated in their +professional affairs. +</p> + +<p> +“I have got a lot of papers here,” he said, opening the bag, “of which +I suppose I ought to have had copies made; but there hasn’t been time +and I am afraid there won’t be, as I have to return them to-morrow. +But perhaps, if you run your eye over them, you will see what it is +necessary to remember and make a few notes.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think,” said Thorndyke, “that my friend, Mr. Howard, will be able +to help us by taking down the essentials in shorthand. Let me +introduce you. Mr. Howard is very kindly assisting me for a time by +relieving me of some of the extra clerical work.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Marchmont bowed, and, as we shook hands, looked at me, as I +thought, rather curiously; then he extracted the papers from his bag, +and, spreading them out on the table, briefly explained their nature. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no need,” said he, “to have copies of them all, but I +thought you had better see them. Perhaps you will glance through them +and see which you think ought to be copied for reference.” +</p> + +<p> +Thorndyke ran his eye over the documents, and, having made one or two +brief notes of the contents of some, which he then laid aside, +collected the remainder and began to read them out to me, while I took +down the matter verbatim, interpolating Marchmont’s comments and +explanations on a separate sheet of paper. The reading and the +discussion occupied a considerable time, and, before the business was +concluded, the Treasury clock had struck half-past nine. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s getting late,” said Marchmont, folding the papers and putting +them back in the bag. “I must be going or you’ll wish me at Halifax, +if you aren’t doing so already.” He snapped the fastening of the bag, +and, grasping the handle, was about to lift it from the table, when he +appeared to recollect something, for he let go the handle and once +more faced my principal. +</p> + +<p> +“By the way, Thorndyke,” said he, “there is a matter on which I have +wanted to consult you for some time past, but couldn’t get my client +to agree. It is a curious affair; quite in your line, I think; a case +of disappearance—not in the legal sense, as creating a presumption of +death, but disappearance from ordinary places of resort with a very +singular change of habits, so far as I can learn. Possibly a case of +commencing insanity. I have been wanting to lay the facts before you, +but my client, who is a Jesuit and as suspicious as the devil, +insisted on trying to ferret out the evidence for himself and wouldn’t +hear of a consultation with you. Of course he has failed completely, +and now, I think, he is more amenable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you in possession of the facts, yourself?” asked Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’m hanged if I am,” replied Marchmont. “The case is concerned +with a certain Mr. Reinhardt, who was a client of my late partner, +poor Wyndhurst. I never had anything to do with him; and it +unfortunately happens that our old clerk, Bell—you remember Bell—who +had charge of Mr. Reinhardt’s business, left us soon after poor +Wyndhurst’s death, so there is nobody in the office who has any +personal knowledge of the parties.” +</p> + +<p> +“You say it is a case of disappearance?” asked Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“Not exactly disappearance, but—well, it is a most singular case. I +can make nothing of it, and neither can my worthy and reverend client, +so as I say, he is now growing more amenable, and I think I shall be +able to persuade him to come round with me and take your opinion on +such facts as we have. Shall you be at home to-morrow evening?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I can make an appointment for to-morrow, after dinner, if you +prefer that time.” +</p> + +<p> +“We won’t call it an appointment,” said Marchmont. “If I can overcome +his obstinacy, I will bring him round and take the chance of your +being in. But I think he’ll come, as he is on his beams’ ends; and if +he does, I fancy you will find the little problem exactly to your +liking.” +</p> + +<p> +With this Mr. Marchmont took his departure, leaving Thorndyke and me +to discuss the various legal aspects of disappearance and the changes +of habit and temperament that usher in an attack of mental alienation. +I could see that the solicitor’s guarded references to an obscure and +intricate case had aroused Thorndyke’s curiosity to no small extent, +for, though he said little on the subject, it evidently remained in +his mind, as I judged by the care with which he planned the disposal +of his time of the following day, and the little preparations that he +made for the reception of his visitors. Nor was Thorndyke the only +expectant member of our little establishment. Jervis also, having +caught the scent of an interesting case, made it his business to keep +the evening free, and so it happened that when eight o’clock struck on +the Temple bell, it found us gathered round the fire, chatting on +indifferent subjects, but all three listening for the expected tread +on the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +“It is to be hoped,” said Jervis, “that our reverend friend won’t jib +at the last moment. I always expect something good from Marchmont. He +doesn’t get flummoxed by anything simple or commonplace. I think we +have had most of our really thrilling cases through him. And seeing +that Jardine has laid in two whole quarto note-blocks and put those +delightful extra touches to his already alluring get-up—” +</p> + +<p> +“There is no such person here as Jardine,” Thorndyke interrupted. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg his pardon. Mr. Howard, I should have said. But listen! There +are two persons coming up the stairs. You had better take your place +at the table, Ja—Howard, and look beastly business-like, or the +reverend gentleman will want you chucked out, and then you’ll lose the +entertainment.” +</p> + +<p> +I hurried across to the table and had just seated myself and taken up +a pen when the brass knocker on our inner door rattled out its +announcement. Thorndyke strode across and threw the door open, and as +Mr. Marchmont entered with his client I looked at the latter +inquisitively. But only for a single instant. Then I looked down and +tried to efface myself utterly, for Mr. Marchmont’s client was none +other than the cleric with whom I had travelled from Folkestone to +London. +</p> + +<p> +The solicitor ushered in his client with an air of but half-concealed +triumph and proceeded with exaggerated geniality to do the honours of +introduction. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me make you known to one another, gentlemen,” said he. “This is +the Very Reverend Father Humperdinck. These gentlemen are Dr. +Thorndyke, Dr. Jervis and Mr. Howard, who will act, on this occasion, +as the recording angel to take down in writing the particulars of your +very remarkable story.” +</p> + +<p> +Father Humperdinck bowed stiffly. He was evidently a little +disconcerted at finding so large an assembly, and glanced at me, in +particular, with undisguised disfavour, while I, my oiled hair, +deformed eyebrows and false beard notwithstanding, perspired with +anxiety lest he should recognize me. But however unfavourably the +reverend father may have viewed our little conclave, Mr. Marchmont, +who had been watching him anxiously, gave him no chance of raising +objections, but proceeded to open the matter forthwith. +</p> + +<p> +“I have not brought any digest or précis of the case,” said he, +“because I know you prefer to hear the facts from the actual parties. +But I had better give you a brief outline of the matter of our +inquiry. The case is concerned with a Mr. Vitalis Reinhardt, who has +been closely associated with Father Humperdinck for very many years +past, and who has now, without notice or explanation, disappeared from +his ordinary places of resort, ceased from communication with his +friends, and adopted a mode of life quite alien from and inconsistent +with his previous habits. Those are the main facts, stated in general +terms.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the inquiry to which you referred?” said Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“Concerns itself with three questions,” replied Marchmont, and he +proceeded to check them off on his fingers. “First, is Vitalis +Reinhardt alive or dead? Second, if he is alive, where is he? Third, +having regard to the singular change in his habits, is his conduct +such as might render it possible to place him under restraint or to +prove him unfit to control his own affairs?” +</p> + +<p> +“To certify him as insane, if I may put it bluntly,” said Thorndyke. +“That question could be decided only on a full knowledge of the nature +of the changes in this person’s habits, with which, no doubt, you are +prepared to furnish us. But what instantly strikes me in your epitome +of the proposed inquiry is this: you raise the question whether Mr. +Reinhardt is alive or dead, and then you refer to certain changes in +his habits; but, since a man must be alive to have any habits at all, +the two questions seem to be mutually irreconcilable in relation to +the same group of facts.” +</p> + +<p> +Father Humperdinck nodded approvingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Zat is chust our great diffigulty,” said he. “Zome zings make me +suspect zat my friend Reinhardt is dead; zome ozzer zings make me feel +certain zat he is alife. I do not know vich to zink. I am gombletely +buzzled.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps,” said Thorndyke, “the best plan would be for Father +Humperdinck to give us a detailed account of his relations with Mr. +Reinhardt and of the latter gentleman’s habits as they are known to +him; after which we could discuss any questions that suggest +themselves and clear up any points that seem to be obscure. What do +you say, Marchmont?” +</p> + +<p> +“It will be a long story,” Marchmont replied, doubtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“So much the better,” rejoined Thorndyke. “It will give us the more +matter for consideration. I would suggest that Father Humperdinck +tells us the story in his own way and that Mr. Howard takes down the +statement. Then we shall have the principal data and can pursue any +issue that seems to invite further investigation.” +</p> + +<p> +To this proposal Marchmont agreed, a little reluctantly, fortifying +himself for the ordeal by lighting a cigar; and Father Humperdinck, +having cast a somewhat disparaging glance at me, began his account of +his missing friend, which I took down verbatim, and which I now +reproduce shorn of the speaker’s picturesque but rather tiresome +peculiarities of pronunciation. +</p> + +<p> +“My acquaintance with Vitalis Reinhardt began more than forty years +ago, when we were both school-boys in the Jesuit’s house at Louvain. +But I did not see much of him then, as I was preparing for the +novitiate while he was on the secular side. In spite of his German +name, Vitalis was looked upon as an English boy, for his father had +married a rich English lady and was settled in England; and Vitalis, +being the only child, had very great expectations. When he left school +I lost sight of him for some years, and it was only after the war had +broken out between Germany and France that we met again. I had then +just been ordained and was attached as chaplain to a Bavarian +regiment; he had come out from England as a volunteer to attend the +sick and wounded; and so we met, soon after the battle of Saarbrück, +in the wards of a temporary hospital. But our career in the field was +not a long one. Less than a month after Saarbrück, our little force +met a French division and had to retreat, leaving a number of men and +guns and all the wounded in the hands of the enemy. Both of us were +among the prisoners, and Vitalis was one of the wounded, for, just as +the retreat began, a French bullet struck him in the right hip. We +were both taken to Paris with the rest of the prisoners, and there, in +the hospital for wounded prisoners, I was allowed to visit him. +</p> + +<p> +“His wound was a severe one. The bullet had entered deeply and lodged +behind the bone of the hip, so that the repeated efforts of the +surgeons to extract it not only failed but caused great pain and made +the wound worse. From day to day poor Vitalis grew thinner and more +yellow, and we could see plainly that if no change occurred, the end +must come quite soon. So the doctors said and so Vitalis himself felt. +</p> + +<p> +“Then it came to me that, if the skill of man failed us, we should ask +for help from above. It happened that I possessed a relic of the +blessed Saint Vincent de Paul, which was contained in a small gold +reliquary, and which I had been permitted by the Father General to +keep. I proposed to Vitalis that we should apply the relic and make a +special appeal to the saint for help, and also that he should promise +to dedicate some part of his great possessions to the service of God. +</p> + +<p> +“He agreed readily, for he had always been a deeply pious man. +Accordingly he made the promises as I had suggested, we offered up +special prayers to the saint, and, with the permission of the +surgeons, I attached the reliquary to the dressings of the wound, +praying that it should avail to draw out the bullet.” +</p> + +<p> +“And did it?” asked Marchmont in a tone which evidently did not escape +the observant Jesuit, for that nimble-witted gentleman turned sharply +on the lawyer and replied with severe emphasis: +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir, it did not. And why? Because there was no need. The very +next day after the reliquary was applied, when the dressings were +changed, a small shred of filthy cloth came out of the wound. <i>That</i> +was the cause of the trouble, not the clean metal bullet. The saint, +you see, sir, knew better than the surgeon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Evidently,” said Marchmont, glancing quickly at me, and the +expression that I caught in the eye of that elderly heathen suggested +that he had actually contemplated a wink and then thought better of +it. +</p> + +<p> +“As soon as the piece of cloth was out of the wound,” Father +Humperdinck resumed, “all the trouble ceased. The fever abated, the +wound healed, and very soon Vitalis was able to get about, none the +worse for his mishap. +</p> + +<p> +“It was natural that he should be grateful to the saint who had saved +his life, for though we look forward to the hereafter, we do not wish +to die. Also was it natural that he should feel a devotion to the holy +relic which had been the appointed instrument of his recovery. He did, +and to gratify him, I obtained the Father General’s permission to +bestow it on him, which gave him great joy, and thenceforth he always +carried the reliquary on his person.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope he kept his promise to the saint,” said Marchmont. +</p> + +<p> +“He did; faithfully, and, indeed, handsomely. No sooner was he +recovered of his wound than he proposed to me the founding of a new +society of brothers of charity to attend the sick and wounded. I +consulted with the Father General of my Society—the Society of +Jesus—and received his sanction to act as director of the new society +or fraternity which was to be affiliated to the Society of Jesus under +the title of ‘The Poor Brothers of Saint Joseph of Aramithea.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not Saint Vincent de Paul?” asked Marchmont. +</p> + +<p> +“Because there was already a society named after that saint, and +because Saint Joseph was a man of eminent charity. But I shall not +weary you with a history of our society. It was founded and blessed by +His Holiness, the Pope, it prospered, and it still prospers to the +glory of God and to the benefit and relief of the sick, the poor, and +the suffering. At first Vitalis paid all the costs, and he has been a +generous benefactor ever since.” +</p> + +<p> +“This is all extremely interesting,” said Marchmont, “but—you will +excuse my asking—has it any bearing on your friend’s disappearance?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir, it has,” replied Father Humperdinck, “as you shall berceive +ven I my narradive gondinue.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Marchmont bowed, and Father Humperdinck, quite undisturbed by the +interruption, “gondinued his narradive.” +</p> + +<p> +“Our first house was established in Belgium, near Brussels, and +Vitalis came to live with us in community. He did not regularly join +the society or take any vows, but he lived with us as one of ourselves +and wore the habit of a lay brother when in the house and the dress of +one when he went abroad. This he has continued to do ever since. +Though bound by no vows, he has lived the life of a professed +religious by choice, occupying an ordinary cell for sleeping and +taking his meals at the refectory table. But not always. From time to +time he has taken little holidays to travel about and mix with the +outer world. Sometimes he would come to England to visit his +relatives, and sometimes he would spend a few weeks in one of the +great cities of the Continent, looking over the museums and +picture-galleries. He was greatly interested in art and liked to +frequent the society of painters and sculptors, of whom he knew +several; and one, in particular—an English painter named Burton, +whose acquaintance he made quite recently—he seemed very much +attached to, for he stayed with him at Bruges for more than a month. +</p> + +<p> +“When he came back from Bruges, he told me that he purposed going to +England to see his relatives and to make certain arrangements with his +lawyers for securing a part of his property to our Society. I had +often urged him to do this, but, hitherto, he had retained complete +control of his property and only paid the expenses of the Society as +they occurred. He was most generous, but, of course, this was a bad +arrangement, because, in the event of his death, we should have been +left without the support that he had promised. It seemed that while he +was at Bruges he had discussed this matter with Mr. Burton, who was a +Catholic, and that the Englishman also had advised him to make a +permanent provision for the Society. It seemed that he had decided to +divide his property between our community and a cousin of his who +lives in England, a project of which I strongly approved. After +staying with us for a month or two, he left for England with the +purpose of making this arrangement. That was in the middle of last +September, and I have not seen him since.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did he complete the arrangements that he had mentioned?” Thorndyke +asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No, he did not. He made certain arrangements as to his property, but +they were very different ones from those he had proposed. But we shall +come to that presently. Let me finish my story. +</p> + +<p> +“A few days after Vitalis left us, our oldest lay brother was taken +very seriously ill. I wrote to Vitalis, who was deeply attached to +Brother Bartholomew, telling him of this, and, as I did not know where +he was staying, I sent the letter to his cousin’s house at Hampstead. +He replied, on the eighteenth of September, that he should return +immediately. He said that he was then booking his luggage and paying +his hotel bill; that he had to see his cousin again, but that he would +try to come by the night train, or if he missed that, he would sleep +at the station hotel and start as early as possible on the following +day, the nineteenth. That was the last I ever heard from him. He never +came and has never communicated with me since.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have made enquiries, of course?” said Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. When he did not come, I wrote to his lawyer, Mr. Wyndhurst, whom +I knew slightly. But Mr. Wyndhurst was dead, and my letter was +answered by Mr. Marchmont. From him I learned that Vitalis had called +on him on the morning of the nineteenth and made certain arrangements +of which he, perhaps, will tell you. Mr. Marchmont ascertained that, +on the same day, Vitalis’s luggage was taken from the cloak room in +time to catch the boat train. I have made inquiries and find that he +arrived at Calais, and I have succeeded in tracing him to Paris, but +there I have lost him. Where he is now I am unable to discover. +</p> + +<p> +“And now, before I finish my story, you had better hear what Mr. +Marchmont has to tell. He has been very close with me, but you are a +lawyer and perhaps know better how to deal with lawyers.” +</p> + +<p> +Thorndyke glanced enquiringly at the solicitor, who, in his turn, +looked dubiously at the end of his waning cigar. +</p> + +<p> +“The fact is,” said he, “I am in a rather difficult position. Mr. +Reinhardt has employed me as his solicitor, and I don’t quite see my +way to discussing his private affairs without his authority.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is a perfectly correct attitude,” said Thorndyke, “and yet I am +going to urge you to tell us what passed at your interview with your +client. I can’t go into particulars at present, but I will ask you to +take it from me that there are sound reasons why you should; and I +will undertake to hold you immune from any blame for having done so.” +</p> + +<p> +Marchmont looked sharply and with evidently awakened interest at +Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I know what that means,” he said, “and I will take you at +your word, having learned by experience what your word is worth. But +before describing the interview, I had better let you know how +Reinhardt had previously disposed of his property. +</p> + +<p> +“About twelve years ago he got Wyndhurst to draft a will for him by +which a life interest in the entire property was vested in his cousin, +a Miss Augusta Vyne, with reversion to her niece, Sylvia Vyne, the +only child of his cousin Robert. This will was duly executed in our +office. +</p> + +<p> +“After that our firm had, until quite recently, no special business to +transact for Mr. Reinhardt beyond the management of his investments. +The whole of his property—which was all personal—was in our hands to +invest, and our relations with him were confined to the transfer of +sums of money to his bank when we received instructions from him to +effect such transfer. He never called at the office, and latterly +there has been no one there who knew him excepting Wyndhurst himself +and the clerk, Bell. +</p> + +<p> +“The next development occurred last September. On the seventeenth I +received a letter from him, written at Miss Vyne’s house at Hampstead, +saying that he had been discussing his affairs with her and that he +should like to call on me and make some slight alterations in the +disposal of the property. I replied on the eighteenth, addressing my +letter to him at Miss Vyne’s house, making an appointment for eleven +o’clock on the morning of the nineteenth. He kept the appointment +punctually, and we had a short interview, at which he explained the +new arrangements which he wished to make. +</p> + +<p> +“He began by saying that he had found it somewhat inconvenient, +living, as he did, on the Continent, to have his account at an English +Bank. He proposed, therefore, to transfer it to a private bank at +Paris, conducted by a certain M. Desiré, or rather to open an account +there, for he did not suggest closing his account at his English +bank.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know anything about this M. Desiré?” asked Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“I did not, but I have since ascertained that he is a person of +credit—quite a substantial man in fact—and that his business is +chiefly that of private banker and agent to the officers of the army. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Mr. Reinhardt went on to say that he had become rather tired of +the monotonous life of a lay brother—which he, after all, was +not—and wished for a little freedom and change. Accordingly he +intended to travel for a time—which was his reason for employing M. +Desiré—and did not propose, necessarily, to keep anyone informed of +his whereabouts. He was a rich man and he had decided to get some +advantage from his wealth, which really did not seem to me at all an +unreasonable decision. He added that he had no intention of +withdrawing his support from the Society of the Poor Brothers; he +merely intended to dissociate himself, personally, from it, and he +suggested that any occasions that might arise for pecuniary assistance +should be addressed to him under cover of M. Desiré. +</p> + +<p> +“Finally, he desired me to transfer one thousand pounds stock to his +new agent seven days from the date of our interview, and gave me an +authority in writing to that effect in which he instructed me to +accept M. Desiré’s receipt as a valid discharge.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you did so?” asked Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly I did. And I hold M. Desiré’s receipt for the amount.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you think it necessary to raise the question of your client’s +identity, seeing that no one in the office knew him personally?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I did not. The question did not arise. There could not possibly +be any doubt on the subject. He was an old client of the firm, and our +correspondence had been carried on under cover of his cousin, Miss +Vyne, who had known him all his life. You remember that I wrote to him +at Miss Vyne’s address, making the appointment for the interview.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what happened next?” +</p> + +<p> +“The next development was a letter from Father Humperdinck asking if I +could give him Mr. Reinhardt’s address. Of course I could not, but I +wrote to M. Desiré asking him if he could give it to me. Desiré +replied that he did not, at the moment, know where Mr. Reinhardt was, +but would, if desired, take charge of any communications and forward +them at the first opportunity. This statement may or may not have been +true, but I don’t think we shall get any more information out of +Desiré. He is Reinhardt’s agent and will act on his instructions. If +Reinhardt has told him not to give anyone his address, naturally he +won’t give it. So there the matter ends, so far as I am concerned.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did Vitalis make no suggestion as to altering his will?” Father +Humperdinck enquired. +</p> + +<p> +“None whatever. Nothing was said about the will. But,” Mr. Marchmont +added, after a cogitative pause, “we must remember that he has another +man of business now. There is no saying what he may have done through +M. Desiré.” +</p> + +<p> +Father Humperdinck nodded gloomily, and Thorndyke, addressing the +solicitor, asked: +</p> + +<p> +“And that is all you have to tell us?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. And I’m not sure that it is not a good deal more than I ought to +have told you. It is Father Humperdinck’s turn now.” +</p> + +<p> +The Jesuit acknowledged the invitation to resume his narrative by a +stiff bow and then proceeded: +</p> + +<p> +“You can now see, sir, that what I said is perfectly correct. The +conduct of my friend Vitalis shows a sudden and unaccountable change. +It is quite inconsistent with his habits and his way of thinking. And +the change is, as I say, so sudden. One day he is coming with the +greatest haste to the bedside of his sick friend, Brother Bartholomew, +the next he is making arrangements for a life of selfish pleasure, +utterly indifferent as to whether that friend is alive or dead. As a +matter of fact, the good brother passed away to his reward the day +after Vitalis should have arrived, without even a message from his old +friend. But now I return to my story. +</p> + +<p> +“When Vitalis failed to appear, and I could get no news of him, I +became very anxious; and, as it happened that the business of our +Society called me to England, I determined to inquire into the matter. +Circumstances compelled me to travel by way of Boulogne and cross to +Folkestone. I say ‘circumstances,’ but I should rather say that I was +guided that way by the hand of Providence, for, in the train that +brought me from Folkestone to London, I had a most astonishing +experience. In the carriage, alone with me, there travelled a young +man, a very strange young man indeed. He was a very large man—or, I +should say, very high—and in appearance rather fierce and wild. His +clothes were good, but they were disordered and stained with mud, as +if he had been drunk at night and had rolled in the gutter. And this, +I think, was the case, for, soon after we had started, he began to +turn out his pockets on the seat of the carriage, as if to see whether +he had lost anything during his debauch. And then it was that I saw a +most astonishing thing. Among the objects that this man took from his +pockets and laid on the seat, was the reliquary that I had given so +many years ago to Vitalis. +</p> + +<p> +“I could not mistake it. Once it had been mine, and I had been +accustomed to see it almost daily since. Moreover the young man had +the effrontery to pass it to me that I might examine it, and I found +on it the very letters which I, myself, had caused to be engraved on +it. When I asked him where he had obtained it, he told me that he had +picked it up at Hampstead, and he professed not to know what it was. +But his answers were very evasive and I did not believe him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nevertheless,” said Mr. Marchmont, “there was nothing improbable in +his statement. Mr. Reinhardt had been at Hampstead and might have +dropped it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Possibly. But he would have taken measures to recover it. He would +not have left England until he had found it. He was a rich man, and he +would have offered a large reward for this his most prized +possession.” +</p> + +<p> +“You say,” said Thorndyke, “that he habitually carried this reliquary +on his person. Can you tell us how he carried or wore it?” +</p> + +<p> +“That,” replied Father Humperdinck, “was what I was coming to. The +reliquary was a small gold object with a ring at each end. It was +meant, I suppose, to be worn round the wrist, or perhaps the neck, by +means of a cord or chain attached to the two rings, or to be inserted +into a chaplet of devotional beads. But this was not the way in which +Vitalis carried it. He possessed a small and very beautiful crucifix +which he set great store by, because it was given to him by one of the +fathers when he left school, and which he used to wear suspended from +his neck by a green silk cord. Now, when I gave him the reliquary, he +caused a goldsmith to link one of its rings to the ring of the +crucifix and he fastened the silk cord to the other ring, and so +suspended both the reliquary and the crucifix from his neck.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did he wear them outside his clothing so that they were visible?” +Thorndyke asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, outside his waistcoat, so that they were not only visible but +very conspicuous when his coat was unbuttoned. It was, of course, very +unsuitable to the dress of a lay brother, and I spoke to him about it +several times. But he was sometimes rather self-willed, as you may +judge by his refusal to settle an endowment on the Society, and, +naturally, as he was not professed, I had no authority over him. But I +shall return presently to the reliquary. Now I continue about this +young man. +</p> + +<p> +“When I had heard his explanation, and decided that he was telling me +lies, I made a simple pretext to discover his name and place of abode. +With the same effrontery, he gave me his card, which I have here, and +which, you will see, is stained with mud, owing, no doubt, to those +wallowings in the mire of which I have spoken.” He drew the card from +his pocket-book and handed it to Thorndyke, who read it gravely, and, +pushing it across the table to me, said, without moving a muscle of +his face: +</p> + +<p> +“You had better copy it into your notes, Mr. Howard, so that we may +have the record complete.” +</p> + +<p> +I accordingly copied out my own name and address with due solemnity +and a growing enjoyment of the situation, and then returned the card +to Father Humperdinck, who pocketed it carefully and resumed: +</p> + +<p> +“Having the name and address of this young man, I telegraphed +immediately to a private detective bureau in Paris, asking to have +sent to me, if possible, a certain M. Foucault, who makes a specialty +of following and watching suspected persons. This Foucault is a man of +extraordinary talent. His power of disguising himself is beyond belief +and his patience is inexhaustible. Fortunately he was disengaged and +came to me without delay, and, when I had given him the name and +address of this young man, Jardine, and described him from my +recollection of him, he set a watch on the house and found that the +man was really living there, as he had said, and that he made a daily +journey to the hospital of St. Margaret’s, where he seemed to have +some business, as he usually stayed there until evening.” +</p> + +<p> +“St. Margaret’s!” exclaimed Marchmont. “Why that is your hospital, +Thorndyke. Do you happen to know this man Jardine?” +</p> + +<p> +“There is, or was, a student of that name, who qualified some little +time ago, and who is probably the man Father Humperdinck is referring +to. A tall man; quite as tall, I should say, as my friend here, Mr. +Howard.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should say,” said Father Humperdinck, “that the man, Jardine, is +taller, decidedly taller. I watched him as I walked behind him up the +platform at Charing Cross, and M. Foucault has shown him to me since. +But that matters not. Have you seen the man, Jardine, lately at the +hospital?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not very lately,” Thorndyke replied. “I saw him there nearly a +fortnight ago, but that, I think, was the last time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” exclaimed Humperdinck. “Exactly. But I shall continue my story. +For some time M. Foucault kept a close watch on this man, but +discovered nothing fresh. He went to the hospital daily, he came home, +and he stayed indoors the whole evening. But, at last, there came a +new discovery. +</p> + +<p> +“One morning M. Foucault saw the man, Jardine, come out of his house, +dressed more carefully than usual. From his house, Foucault followed +him to a picture gallery in Leicester Square and went in after him; +and there he saw him meet a female, evidently by a previous +assignation. AND,” Father Humperdinck continued, slapping the table to +emphasize the climax of his story, +“From—the—neck—of—that—female—was—hanging—<i>Vitalis</i>—<i>Reinhardt’s</i>—<span class="sc">Crucifix</span>!” +</p> + +<p> +Having made this thrilling communication, our reverend client leaned +back to watch its effect on his audience. I am afraid he must have +been a little disappointed, for Thorndyke was habitually impassive in +his exterior, and, as for Jervis and me, we were fully occupied in +maintaining a decent and befitting gravity. But Marchmont—the only +person present who was not already acquainted with the incident—saved +the situation by exclaiming: +</p> + +<p> +“Very remarkable! Very remarkable indeed!” +</p> + +<p> +“It is more than remarkable,” said Father Humperdinck. “It is highly +suspicious. You observe that the reliquary and the crucifix had been +linked together. Now they are separated, and since both the rings of +the reliquary were unbroken, it follows that the ring of the crucifix +must have been cut through and a new one made, by which to suspend +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see anything particularly suspicious in that,” said +Marchmont. “If Jardine found the two articles fixed together, +and—having failed to discover the owner—wished to give the crucifix +to his friend, it is not unnatural that he should have separated +them.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not believe that he found them,” Father Humperdinck replied +doggedly; “but I shall continue my story and you will see. There is +not much more to tell. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems that the man, Jardine, suspected Foucault of watching him, +for presently he left the gallery in company with the female, and, +after being followed for some distance, he managed to escape. As soon +as Foucault found that he had lost him, he went to Jardine’s house and +waited about the neighbourhood, and an hour or two later he had the +good fortune to see him coming from Hampstead towards Highgate, in +company with another female. He followed them until they entered a +narrow passage or lane that leads up the hill, and when they had gone +up this some distance, he followed, but could not get near enough to +hear what they were saying. +</p> + +<p> +“And now he had a most strange and terrible experience. For some time +past he had felt a suspicion that some person—some accomplice of +Jardine’s perhaps—was following and watching him; and now he had +proof of it. At the top of the lane, Jardine stopped to talk to the +female, and Foucault crept on tiptoe towards him; and while he was +doing so, he heard someone approaching stealthily up the lane, behind +him. Suddenly, Jardine began to return down the lane. As it was not +convenient for Foucault to meet him there, he also turned and walked +back; and then he heard a sound as if someone were climbing the high +wooden fence that enclosed the lane. Then Jardine began to run, and +Foucault was compelled also to run but he would have been overtaken if +it had not happened that Jardine fell down. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, just as he heard Jardine fall, he came to a broken place in the +fence, and it occurred to him to creep through the hole and hide while +Jardine passed. He accordingly began to do so, but no sooner had he +thrust his head through the hole than some unseen ruffian dealt him a +violent blow which rendered him instantly insensible. When he +recovered his senses, he found himself lying in a churchyard which +adjoins the lane, but Jardine and the other ruffian were, of course, +nowhere to be seen. +</p> + +<p> +“And now I come to the last incident that I have to relate. The +assault took place on a Saturday; on the Sunday M. Foucault was +somewhat indisposed and unable to go out, but early on Monday he +resumed his watch on Jardine’s house. It was nearly noon when Jardine +came out, dressed as if for travelling and carrying a valise. He went +first to a house near Piccadilly and from thence to the hospital in a +cab. Foucault followed in another cab and saw him go into the hospital +and waited for him to come out. But he never came. Foucault waited +until midnight, but he did not come out. He had vanished.” +</p> + +<p> +“He had probably come out by a back exit and gone home,” said +Marchmont. +</p> + +<p> +“Not so,” replied Humperdinck. “The next day Foucault watched +Jardine’s house, but he did not come there. Then he made enquiries; +but Jardine is not there, and the landlady does not know where he is. +Also the porter at the hospital knows nothing and is not at all +polite. The man Jardine has disappeared as if he had never been.” +</p> + +<p> +“That really is rather queer,” said Marchmont. “It is a pity that you +did not give me all these particulars at first. However, that can’t be +helped now. Is this all that you have to tell us?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is all; unless there is anything that you wish to ask me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think,” said Thorndyke, “that it would be well for us to have a +description of Mr. Reinhardt; and, as we have to trace him, if +possible, a photograph would be exceedingly useful.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have not a photograph with me,” said Father Humperdinck, “but I +will obtain one and send it to you. Meanwhile I will tell you what my +friend Vitalis is like. He is sixty-two years of age, spare, upright, +rather tall—his height is a hundred and seventy-three centimetres—” +</p> + +<p> +“Roughly five feet nine,” interposed Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“His hair is nearly white, he is, of course, clean shaven, he has grey +eyes, a straight nose, not very prominent, and remarkably good teeth +for his age, which he shows somewhat when he talks. I think he is a +little vain about his teeth and he well may be, for there are not many +men of sixty-two who have not a single false tooth, nor even one that +has been stopped by the dentist. As to his clothing, he wears the +ordinary dress of a lay brother, which you are probably familiar with, +and he nearly always wears gloves, even indoors.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is there any reason for his wearing gloves?” Thorndyke asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Not now. The habit began when he had some affliction of the skin, +which made it necessary for him to keep his hands covered with gloves +which contained some ointment or dressing, and afterwards for a time +to conceal the disagreeable appearance of the skin. The habit having +been once formed, he continued it, saying that his hands were more +comfortable covered up than when exposed to the air.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was he dressed in this fashion when he called at your office, +Marchmont?” asked Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Even to the gloves. I noticed, with some surprise, that he did +not take them off even when he wrote and signed the note of which I +told you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was he then wearing the reliquary and crucifix as Father Humperdinck +has described, on the front of his waistcoat?” +</p> + +<p> +“He may have been, but I didn’t notice them, as I fancy I should have +done if they had been there.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you have nothing more to tell us, Father Humperdinck, as to your +friend’s personal appearance?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. I will send you the photograph and write to you if I think of +anything that I have forgotten. And now, perhaps you can tell me if +you think that you will be able to answer those questions that Mr. +Marchmont put to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot, of course, answer them now,” replied Thorndyke. “The facts +that you have given us will have to be considered and compared, and +certain enquiries will have to be made. Are you staying long in +England?” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be here for at least a month; and I may as well leave you my +address, although Mr. Marchmont has it.” +</p> + +<p> +“In the course of a month,” Thorndyke said, as he took the proffered +card, “I think I may promise you that we shall have settled definitely +whether your friend is alive or dead; and if we find that he is alive, +we shall, no doubt, be able to ascertain his whereabouts.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is very satisfactory,” said Father Humperdinck. “I hope you +shall be able to make good your promise.” +</p> + +<p> +With this he rose, and, having shaken hands stiffly with Thorndyke, +bestowed on Jervis and me a ceremonious bow and moved towards the +door. I thought that Marchmont looked a little wistful, as if he would +have liked to stay and have a few words with us alone; indeed, he +lingered for a moment or two after the door was open, but then, +apparently altering his mind, he wished us “good-night” and followed +his client. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch17"> +CHAPTER XVII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE PALIMPSEST</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">It</span> was getting late when our friends left us, but nevertheless, as +soon as they were gone, we all drew our chairs up to the fire with the +obvious intention of discussing the situation and began, with one +accord, to fill our pipes. Jervis was the first to get his tobacco +alight, and, having emitted a voluminous preliminary puff, he +proceeded to open the debate. +</p> + +<p> +“That man, Jardine, seems to be a pretty desperate character. Just +think of his actually wallowing in the mire—not merely rolling, mind +you, but wallowing—and of his repulsive habit of consorting with +females; one after the other, too, in rapid succession. It’s a +shocking instance of depravity.” +</p> + +<p> +“Our reverend friend,” said Thorndyke, “reaches his conclusions by a +rather short route—in some cases, at least; in others, his methods +seem a little indirect and roundabout.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” agreed Jervis, “he’s a devil at guessing. But he didn’t get +much food for the imagination out of the man, Thorndyke. Why were you +so extraordinarily secretive? With what he told you and what you knew +before, you could surely have suggested a line of inquiry. Why didn’t +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Principally because of the man’s personality. I could not have +answered his questions; I could only have suggested one or two highly +probable solutions of the problem that he offered and partial +solutions at that. But I am not much addicted to giving partial +solutions or to handing over the raw material of a promising inquiry. +Certainly, not to a man like this, who seems incapable of a +straightforward action.” +</p> + +<p> +“The reverend father,” said Jervis, “does certainly seem to be a +rather unnecessarily downy bird. And he doesn’t seem to have got much +by his excessive artfulness, after all.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” agreed Thorndyke; “nothing whatever. Quite the contrary, in +fact. Look at his ridiculous conduct in respect of ‘the man Jardine.’ +I don’t complain of his having taken the precaution to obtain that +malefactor’s address; but, when he had got it, if he had not been so +tortuous, so eager to be cunning; if, in short, he had behaved like an +ordinary sensible man, he would have got, at once, all the information +that Jardine had to give. He could have called on Jardine, written to +him, employed a lawyer or applied to the police. Either of these +simple and obvious plans would have been successful; instead of which, +he must needs go to the trouble and expense of engaging this absurd +spy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who found a mare’s nest and got his head thumped,” remarked Jervis. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” continued Thorndyke, “look at his behaviour to Marchmont. +Evidently he put the case into Marchmont’s hands, but, equally +evident, he withheld material facts and secretly tinkered at the case +himself. No, Jervis, I give no information to Father Humperdinck until +I have this case complete to the last rivet. But, all the same, I am +greatly obliged to him, and especially to Marchmont for bringing him +here. He has given us a connected story to collate with our rather +loose collection of facts and, what is perhaps more important, he has +put our investigation on a business footing. That is a great +advantage. If I should want to invoke the aid of the powers that be, I +can do so now with a definite <i>locus standi</i> as the legal +representative of interested parties.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t imagine,” said I, “in what direction you are going to push +your inquiries. Father Humperdinck has given us, as you say, a +connected story, but it is a very unexpected one, to me, at least, and +does not fall into line at all with what we know—that is, if you are +assuming, as I have been, that the man whom I saw lying in Millfield +Lane was Vitalis Reinhardt.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is difficult,” replied Thorndyke, “to avoid that assumption, +though we must be on our guard against coincidences; but the man whom +you saw agreed with the description that has been given to us, we know +that Reinhardt was in the neighbourhood on that day, and you found the +reliquary on the following morning in the immediate vicinity. We seem +to be committed to the hypothesis that the man was Reinhardt unless we +can prove that he was someone else, or that Reinhardt was in some +other place at the time; which at present we cannot.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said I, “in that case, the Bobby must have been right, after +all. The man couldn’t have been dead, seeing that he called on +Marchmont the following day and was afterwards traced to Paris. But I +must say that he looked as dead as Queen Anne. It just shows how +careful one ought to be in giving opinions.” +</p> + +<p> +“Some authority has said,” remarked Jervis, “that the only conclusive +proof of death is decomposition. I believe it was old Taylor who said +so, and I am inclined to think that he wasn’t far wrong.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said Thorndyke, “assuming that the man whom you saw was +Reinhardt, and that he was not dead how do you explain the other +circumstances? Was he insensible from the effects of injury or drugs? +Or was he deliberately shamming insensibility? Was it he who passed +over the fence? and if so, did he climb over unassisted or was he +helped over? And what answers do you suggest to the questions that +Marchmont propounded? You answer his first question: ‘Is Reinhardt +alive?’ in the affirmative. What about the others?” +</p> + +<p> +“As to where he is,” I replied, “I can only say, the Lord knows; +probably skulking somewhere on the Continent. As to his state of mind, +the facts seem to suggest that, in vulgar parlance, he has gone off +his onion. He must be as mad as a hatter to have behaved in the way +that he has. For, even assuming that he wanted to get clear of the +Poor Brothers of Saint Jeremiah Diddler without explicitly saying so, +he adopted a fool’s plan. There is no sense in masquerading as a +corpse one day and turning up smiling at your lawyer’s office the +next. If he meant to be dead, he should have stuck to it and remained +dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“The objection to that,” said Jervis, “is that Marchmont would have +proceeded to get permission to presume death and administer the will.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see. Then I can only suppose that he had got infected by Father +Humperdinck and resolved to be artful at all costs and hang the +consequences.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said Thorndyke, “I understand your view to be that Reinhardt +is at present hiding somewhere on the Continent and that his mind is +more or less affected.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Though as to his being unfit to control his own affairs, I am +not so clear. I fancy there was more evidence in that direction when +he was forking out the bulk of his income to maintain the poverty of +the Poor Brothers. But the truth is, I haven’t any opinions on the +case at all. I am in a complete fog about the whole affair.” +</p> + +<p> +“And no wonder,” said Jervis. “One set of facts seems to suggest most +strongly that Reinhardt must certainly be dead. Another set of facts +seems to prove beyond doubt that he was alive, at least after that +affair in Millfield Lane. He may be perpetrating an elephantine +practical joke on the Poor Brothers; but that doesn’t seem to be +particularly probable. The whole case is a tangle of contradictions +which one might regard as beyond unravelment if it were not for a +single clear and intelligible fact.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is that?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“That my revered senior has undertaken to furnish a solution in the +course of a month; from which I gather that my revered senior has +something up his sleeve.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is nothing up my sleeve,” said Thorndyke, “that might not +equally well be up yours. I have made no separate investigations. The +actual data which I possess were acquired in the presence of one or +both of you, and are now the common property of us all. I am +referring, of course, to the original data, not to fresh matter +obtained by inference from, or further examination of those data.” +</p> + +<p> +Jervis smiled sardonically. “It is the old story,” said he. “The +magician offers you his hat to inspect. +</p> + +<p> +“You observe, ladies and gentlemen, that there is no deception. You +can look inside it and examine the lining, and you can also inspect +the top of my head. I now put on my hat. I now take it off again and +you notice that there is a guinea pig sitting in it. There was no +deception, ladies and gentlemen, you had all the data.” +</p> + +<p> +Thorndyke laughed and shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all nonsense, Jervis,” he said. “It is a false analogy. I have +done nothing to divert your attention. The guinea pig has been staring +you in the face all the time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very rude of him,” murmured Jervis. +</p> + +<p> +“I have even drawn your attention to him once or twice. But, +seriously, I don’t think that this case is so very obscure, though +mind you, it is a mere hypothesis so far as I am concerned, and may +break down completely when I come to apply the tests that I have in +view. But what I mean is, that the facts known to us suggested a very +obvious hypothesis and that the suggestion was offered equally to us +all. The verification may fail, but that is another matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you going to work at the case immediately?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Thorndyke replied. “Jervis and I have to attend at the Maidstone +Assizes for the next few days. We are retained on a case which +involves some very important issues in relation to life assurance, and +that will take up most of our time. So this other affair will have to +wait.” +</p> + +<p> +“And meanwhile,” said Jervis, “you will stay at home like a good boy +and mind the shop; and I suppose we shall have to find you something +to do, to keep you out of mischief. What do you say to making a +longhand transcript of Father Humperdinck’s statement?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you had better do that,” said Thorndyke; “and attach it to the +original shorthand copy. And now we must really turn in or we shall +never be ready for our start in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +The transcription of Father Humperdinck’s statement gave me abundant +occupation for the whole of the following morning. But when that was +finished, I was without any definite employment, and, though I was not +in the least dull—for I was accustomed to a solitary life—I suppose +I was in that state of susceptibility to mischief that is proverbially +associated with unemployment. And in these untoward circumstances I +was suddenly exposed to a great temptation; and after some feeble +efforts at resistance, succumbed ignominiously. +</p> + +<p> +I shall offer no excuses for my conduct nor seek in any way to +mitigate the judgment that all discreet persons will pass upon my +folly. I make no claims to discretion or to the caution and foresight +of a man like Thorndyke. At this time I was an impulsive and rather +heedless young man, and my actions were pretty much those which might +have been expected from a person of such temperament. +</p> + +<p> +The voice of the tempter issued in the first place from our +letter-box, and assumed the sound of the falling of letters thereinto. +I hastened to extract the catch, and sorting out the envelopes, +selected one, the superscription of which was in Sylvia’s now familiar +handwriting. It was actually addressed to Dr. Thorndyke, but a private +mark, on which we had agreed, exposed that naïvely pious fraud and +gave me the right to open it; which I did, and seated myself in the +armchair to enjoy its perusal at my ease. +</p> + +<p> +It was a delightful letter; bright, gossipy and full of frank and +intimate friendliness. As I read it, the trim, graceful figure and +pretty face of the writer rose before me and made me wonder a little +discontentedly how long it would be before I should look on her and +hear her voice again. It was now getting into the third week since I +had last seen her, and, as the time passed, I was feeling more and +more how great a blank in my life the separation from her had caused. +Our friendship had grown up in a quiet and unsensational fashion and I +suppose I had not realized all that it meant; but I was realizing it +now; and, as I conned over her letter, with its little personal notes +and familiar turns of expression, I began to be consumed with a desire +to see her, to hear her speak, to tell her that she was not as other +women to me, and to claim a like special place in her thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +It was towards the end of the letter that the tempter spoke out in +clear and unmistakable language, and these were the words that he +used, through the medium of the innocent and unconscious Sylvia: +</p> + +<p> +“You remember those sketches that you stole for me—‘pinched,’ I think +was your own expression. Well, I have cleaned off the daubs of paint +with which they had been disfigured and put them in rough frames in my +studio. All but one; and I began on that yesterday with a scraper and +a rag dipped in chloroform. But I took off, not only the defacing +marks but part of the surface as well; and then I got such a surprise! +I shan’t tell you what the surprise was, because you’ll see, when you +come out of the house of bondage. I am going to work on it again +to-morrow, and perhaps I shall get the transformation finished. How I +wish you could come and see it done! It takes away more than half the +joy of exploration not to be able to share the discovery with you; in +fact, I have a good mind to leave it unfinished so that we can +complete the transformation together.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, I need not say that, as to the precious sketches, I cared not a +fig what was under the top coat of paint. What I did care for was that +this dear maid was missing me as I missed her; was wanting my sympathy +with her little interests and pleasures and was telling me, half +unconsciously, perhaps, that my absence had created a blank in her +life, as her absence had in mine. And forthwith I began to ask myself +whether there was really any good reason why I should not, just for +this once, break out of my prison and snatch a few brief hours of +sunshine. The spy had been exploded. He was not likely to pick up my +tracks after all this time and now that my appearance was so altered; +and I did not care much if he did, seeing that he had been shown to be +perfectly harmless. The only circumstance that tended to restrain me +from this folly was the one that mitigated its rashness—the change in +my appearance; and even that, now that I was used to it and knew that +my aspect was neither grotesque nor ridiculous, had little weight, for +Sylvia would be prepared for the change and we could enjoy the joke +together. +</p> + +<p> +I was aware, even at the time, that I was not being quite candid with +myself, for, if I had been, I should obviously have consulted +Thorndyke. Instead of which I answered the letter by return, +announcing my intention of coming to tea on the following day; and +having sent Polton out to post it, spent the remainder of the +afternoon in gleeful anticipation of my little holiday, tempered by +some nervousness as to what Thorndyke would have to say on the matter, +and as to what “my pretty friend,” as Mrs. Samway had very +appropriately called her, would think of my having begun my letter +with the words, “My dear Sylvia.” +</p> + +<p> +Nothing happened to interfere with my nefarious plans. +</p> + +<p> +On the following morning, Thorndyke and Jervis went off after an early +breakfast, leaving me in possession of the premises and master of my +actions. I elected to anticipate the usual luncheon time by half an +hour, and, when this meal was disposed of, I crept to my room and +thoroughly cleansed my hair of the grease which Polton still persisted +in applying to it; for, since my hat would conceal it while I was out +of doors, the added disfigurement was unnecessary. I was even tempted +to tamper slightly with my eyebrows, but this impulse I nobly +resisted; and, having dried my hair and combed it in its normal +fashion, I descended on tip-toe to the sitting-room and wrote a short, +explanatory note to Polton, which I left conspicuously on the table. +Then I switched the door-bell on to the laboratory, and, letting +myself out like a retreating burglar, closed the door silently and +sneaked away down the dark staircase. +</p> + +<p> +Once fairly outside, I went off like a lamplighter, and, shooting out +through the Tudor Street gate, made my way eastward to Broad Street +Station, where I was fortunate enough to catch a train that was just +on the point of starting. At Hampstead Heath Station I got out, and, +snuffing the air joyfully, set forth at my best pace up the slope that +leads to the summit; and in little over twenty minutes found myself at +the gate of “The Hawthorns.” +</p> + +<p> +There was no need to knock or ring. My approach had been observed from +the window, and, as I strode up the garden path, the door opened and +Sylvia ran out to meet me. +</p> + +<p> +“It <i>was</i> nice of you to come!” she exclaimed, as I took her hand and +held it in mine. “I don’t believe you ought to have ventured out, but +I am most delighted all the same. Don’t make a noise; Mopsy is having +a little doze in the drawing room. Come into the morning room and let +me have a good look at you.” +</p> + +<p> +I followed her meekly into the front room, where, in the large bay +window, she inspected me critically, her cheeks dimpling with a +mischievous smile. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s something radically wrong about your eyebrows,” she said, +“but, really, you are not in the least the fright that you made out. +As to the beard and moustache, I am not sure that I don’t rather like +them.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you don’t,” I replied, “because, off they come at the first +opportunity—unless, of course, you forbid it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does my opinion of your appearance matter so much then?” +</p> + +<p> +“It matters entirely. I don’t care what I look like to anyone else.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! what a fib!” exclaimed Sylvia. “Don’t I remember how very neatly +turned out you always were when you used to pass me in the lane before +we knew one another?” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly,” I retorted. “We didn’t know one another then. That makes +all the difference in the world—to me, at any rate.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does it?” she said, colouring a little and looking at me +thoughtfully. “It’s very—very flattering of you to say so, Dr. +Jardine.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you don’t mean that as a snub,” I said, rather uneasy at the +form of her reply and thinking of my letter. +</p> + +<p> +“A snub!” she exclaimed. “No, I certainly don’t. What did I say?” +</p> + +<p> +“You called me Dr. Jardine. I addressed you in my letter as +‘Sylvia’—‘My dear Sylvia.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +“And what ought I to have said?” she asked, blushing warmly and +casting down her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Sylvia, if you liked me as well as I like you, I don’t see why +you shouldn’t call me Humphrey. We are quite old friends now.” +</p> + +<p> +“So we are,” she agreed; “and perhaps it <i>would</i> be less formal. So +Humphrey it shall be in future, since that is your royal command. But +tell me, how did you prevail on Dr. Thorndyke to let you come here? Is +there any change in the situation?” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a change in my situation, and a mighty agreeable change, too. +I’m here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now don’t be silly. How did you persuade Dr. Thorndyke to let you +come?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ha—that, my dear Sylvia, is a rather embarrassing question. Shall we +change the subject?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, we won’t.” She looked at me suspiciously for a moment and then +exclaimed in low, tragical tones: +</p> + +<p> +“Humphrey! You don’t mean to tell me that you came away without his +knowledge!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid that is what it amounts to. I saw a loop-hole and I popped +through it; and here I am, as I remarked before.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how dreadful of you! Perfectly shocking! And whatever will he say +to you when you go back?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is a question that I am not proposing to present vividly to my +consciousness until I arrive on the doorstep. I’ve broken out of choky +and I’m going to have a good time—to go on having a good time, I +should say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you consider that you are having a good time now?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t consider. I am sure of it. Am I not, at this very moment +looking at you? And what more could a man desire?” +</p> + +<p> +She tried to look severe, though the attempt was not strikingly +successful, and retorted in an admonishing tone: +</p> + +<p> +“You needn’t try to wheedle me with compliments. You are a very wicked +person and most indiscreet. But it seems to me that some sort of +change has come over you since you retired from the world. Don’t you +think I’m right?” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re perfectly right. I’ve improved. That’s what it is. Matured and +mellowed, you know, like a bottle of claret that has been left in a +cellar and forgotten. Say you think I’ve improved, Sylvia.” +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t,” she replied, and then, changing her mind, she added: “Yes, +I will. I’ll say that you are more insinuating than ever, if that will +do. And now, as you are clearly quite incorrigible, I won’t scold you +any more, especially as you ‘broke out of choky’ to come and see me. +You shall tell me all about your adventures.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t come here to talk about myself, Sylvia. I came to tell you +something—well, about myself, perhaps, but—er—not my adventures you +know or—or that sort of thing—but, I have been thinking a good deal, +since I have been alone so much—about you, I mean, Sylvia—and—er— +Oh! the deuce!” +</p> + +<p> +The latter exclamation was evoked by the warning voice of the gong, +evidently announcing tea, and the subsequent appearance of the +housemaid; who was certainly not such a goose as she was supposed to +be, for she tapped discreetly at the door and waited three full +seconds before entering; and even then she appeared demurely +unconscious of my existence. +</p> + +<p> +“If you please, Miss Sylvia, Miss Vyne has woke up and I’ve taken in +the tea.” +</p> + +<p> +Such was the paltry interruption that arrested the flow of my +eloquence and scattered my flowers of rhetoric to the winds. I +murmured inwardly, “Blow the tea!” for the opportunity was gone; but I +comforted myself with the reflection that it didn’t matter very much, +since Sylvia and I seemed to have arrived at a pretty clear +understanding; which understanding was further clarified by a +momentary contact of our hands as we followed the maid to the +drawing-room. Miss Vyne was on this occasion, as on the last, seated +in the exact centre of the room, and with the same monumental effect; +so that my thoughts were borne irresistibly to the ethnographical +section of the British Museum and especially to that part of it +wherein the deities of Polynesia look out from their cases in +perennial surprise at the degenerate European visitors. If she had +been asleep previously, she was wide enough awake now; but the +glittering eyes were not directed at me. From the moment of our +entering the room they focussed themselves on Sylvia’s face and there +remained rivetted, whereby the heightening of that young lady’s +complexion, which our interview had produced, became markedly +accentuated. It was to no purpose that I placed myself before the +rigid figure and offered my hand. A paw was lifted automatically to +mine, but the eyes remained fixed on Sylvia. +</p> + +<p> +“What did you say this gentleman’s name was?” the waxwork asked +frigidly. +</p> + +<p> +“This is Dr. Jardine,” was the reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, indeed. And who was the gentleman who called some three weeks +ago?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, that was Dr. Jardine; you know it was.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I thought, but my memory is not very reliable. And this is a Dr. +Jardine, too? Very interesting. A medical family, apparently. But not +much alike.” +</p> + +<p> +I was beginning to explain my identity and the cause of my altered +appearance, when Sylvia approached with a cup of tea and a carefully +dissected muffin, which latter she thrust under the nose of the elder +lady; who regarded it attentively and with a slight squint, owing to +its nearness. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s of no use, you know,” said Sylvia, “for you to pretend that you +don’t know him, because I’ve told you all about the +transformation—that is, all I know myself. Don’t you think it’s +rather a clever make-up?” +</p> + +<p> +“If,” said Miss Vyne, “by ‘make-up’ you mean a disguise, I think it is +highly successful. The beard is a most admirable imitation.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the beard is his own; at least, I think it is.” +</p> + +<p> +I confirmed this statement, ignoring Polton’s slight additions. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed,” said Miss Vyne. “Then the wig—it is a wig, I suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, of course it isn’t,” Sylvia replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said Miss Vyne, majestically, “perhaps you will explain to me +what the disguise consists of.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Sylvia, “there are the eyebrows. You can see that they +have been completely altered in shape.” +</p> + +<p> +“If I had committed the former shape of the eyebrows to memory, as you +appear to have done,” said Miss Vyne, “I should, no doubt, observe the +change. But I did not. It seems to me that the disguise which you told +me about with such a flourish of trumpets just amounts to this; that +Dr. Jardine has allowed his beard to grow. I find the reality quite +disappointing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you?” said Sylvia. “But, at any rate, you didn’t recognize him; so +your disappointment doesn’t count for much.” +</p> + +<p> +The old lady, being thus hoist with her own petard, relapsed into +majestic silence; and Sylvia then renewed her demand for an account of +my adventures. +</p> + +<p> +“We want to hear all about that objectionable person who has been +shadowing you, and how you finally got rid of him. Your letters were +rather sketchy and wanting in detail, so you have got to make up the +deficiency now.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus commanded, I plunged into an exhaustive account of those events +which I have already chronicled at length and which I need not refer +to again, nor need I record the cross-examination to which I was +subjected, since it elicited nothing that is not set forth in the +preceding pages. When I had finished my recital, however, Miss Vyne, +who had listened to it in silence, hitherto, put a question which I +had some doubts about answering. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you or Dr. Thorndyke been able to discover who this inquisitive +person is and what is his object in following you about?” +</p> + +<p> +I hesitated. As to my own experiences, I had no secrets from these +friends of mine, excepting those that related to the subjects of +Thorndyke’s investigations, but I must not come here and babble about +what took place in the sacred precincts of my principal’s chambers. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I may tell you,” said I, “that Dr. Thorndyke has discovered +the identity of this man and that he is not the person whom we +suspected him to be. But I mustn’t say any more, as the information +came through professional channels and consequently is not mine to +give.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course you mustn’t,” said Sylvia; “though I don’t mind admitting +that you have put me on tenterhooks of curiosity. But I daresay you +will be able to tell us everything later.” +</p> + +<p> +I agreed that I probably should; and the talk then turned into fresh +channels. +</p> + +<p> +The short winter day was running out apace. The daylight had long +since gone, and I began, with infinite reluctance, to think of +returning to my cage. Indeed, when I looked at my watch, I was +horrified to see how the time had fled. +</p> + +<p> +“My word!” I exclaimed. “I must be off, or Thorndyke will be putting +the sleuth-hounds of the law on my track. And I don’t know what you +will think of me for having stayed such an unconscionable time.” +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t a ceremonial visit,” said Sylvia, as I rose and made my +adieux to her aunt. “We should have liked you to stay much longer.” +</p> + +<p> +Here she paused suddenly, and, clasping her hands, gazed at me with an +expression of dismay. +</p> + +<p> +“Good Heavens! Humphrey!” she exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“Eh?” said Miss Vyne. +</p> + +<p> +“I was addressing Dr. Jardine,” Sylvia explained, in some confusion. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t suppose you were addressing me,” was the withering reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know,” said Sylvia, “that I haven’t shown you those sketches, +after all. You must see them. They were the special object of your +visit.” +</p> + +<p> +This was perfectly untrue, and she knew it; but I did not think it +worth while to contest the statement in Miss Vyne’s presence. +Accordingly I expressed the utmost eagerness to see the trumpery +sketches, and the more so since I had understood that they were on +view in the studio; which turned out to be the case. +</p> + +<p> +“It won’t take a minute for you to see them,” said Sylvia. “I’ll just +run up and light the gas; and you are not to come in until I tell +you.” +</p> + +<p> +She preceded me up the stairs to the little room on the first floor in +which she worked, and, when I had waited a few moments on the landing +she summoned me to enter. +</p> + +<p> +“These are the sketches,” said she, “that I have finished. You see, +they are quite presentable now. I cleaned off the rough daubs of paint +with a scraper and finished up with a soft rag dipped in chloroform.” +</p> + +<p> +I ran my eye over the framed sketches, which, now that the canvases +were strained on stretchers and the disfiguring brush-strokes removed, +were, as she had said, quite presentable, though too rough and +unfinished to be attractive. +</p> + +<p> +“I daresay they are very interesting,” said I, “but they are only bare +beginnings. I shouldn’t have thought them worth framing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not as pictures,” she agreed; “but as examples of a very curious +technique, I find them most instructive. However, you haven’t seen the +real gem of the collection. This is it, on the easel. Sit down, on the +chair and say when you are ready. I’m going to give you a surprise.” +</p> + +<p> +I seated myself on the chair opposite the easel, on which was a canvas +with its back towards me. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said Sylvia. “Are you ready? One, two, three!” +</p> + +<p> +She picked up the canvas, and, turning it round quickly, presented its +face to me. I don’t know what I had expected—if I had expected +anything; but certainly I was not in the least prepared for what I +saw. The sketch had originally represented, very roughly, a dark mass +of trees which occupied nearly the whole of the canvas; but of this +the middle had been cleaned away, exposing an under painting. And this +it was that filled me with such amazement that, after a first startled +exclamation, I could do nothing but stare open-mouthed at the canvas; +for, from the opening in the dark mass of foliage there looked out at +me, distinct and unmistakable, the face of Mrs. Samway. +</p> + +<p> +It was no illusion or chance resemblance. Rough as the painting was, +the likeness was excellent. All the well-known features which made her +so different from other women were there, though expressed by a mere +dextrous turn of the knife; the jet-black, formally-parted hair, the +clear, bright complexion, the pale, inscrutable eyes; all were there, +even to the steady, penetrating expression that looked out at me from +the canvas as if in silent recognition. As I sat staring at the +picture with a surprise that almost amounted to awe, Sylvia looked at +me a little blankly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well!” she exclaimed, at length, “I meant to give you a surprise, +but—what is it, Humphrey? Do you know her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I replied; “and so do you. Don’t you remember a woman who +looked in at you through the glass door of Robinson’s shop?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean that black and scarlet creature? I didn’t recognize her. +I had no idea she was so handsome; for this is really a very beautiful +face, though there is something about it that I don’t understand. +Something—well eerie; rather uncanny and almost sinister. Don’t you +think so?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have always thought her a rather weird woman, but this is the +weirdest appearance she has made. How on earth came her face on that +canvas?” +</p> + +<p> +“It <i>is</i> an odd coincidence. And yet I don’t know that it is. She may +have been some relative of that rather eccentric artist, or even his +wife. I don’t know why it shouldn’t be so.” +</p> + +<p> +Neither did I. But the coincidence remained a very striking one, to +me, at least; much more so than Sylvia realized; though what its +significance might be—if it had any—I could not guess. Nor was there +any opportunity to discuss it at the moment, for it was high time for +me to be gone. +</p> + +<p> +“You will send me a telegram when you get back, to say that you have +arrived home safely, won’t you,” said Sylvia, as we descended the +stairs with our arms linked together. “Of course nothing is going to +happen to you, but I can’t help feeling a little nervous. And you’ll +go down to the station by the High Street, and keep to the main roads. +That is a promise, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +I made the promise readily having decided previously to take every +possible precaution, and, when I had wished Sylvia “good-bye” at some +length, I proceeded to execute it; making my way down the +well-populated High Street and keeping a bright look-out both there +and at the station. Once more I was fortunate in the matter of trains, +and, having taken a hansom from Broad Street to the Temple, was set +down in King’s Bench Walk soon after half-past six. +</p> + +<p> +As I approached our building, I looked up with some anxiety at the +sitting-room windows; and when I saw them brightly lighted, a +suspicion that Thorndyke had returned earlier than usual filled me +with foreboding. I had had my dance and now I was going to pay the +piper, and I did not much enjoy the prospect; in fact, as I ascended +the stairs and took my latch-key from my pocket, I was as nervous as a +school-boy who has been playing truant. However, there was no escape +unless I sneaked up to my bed-room, so, inserting the key into the +lock, I turned it as boldly as I could, and entered. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch18"> +CHAPTER XVIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">A VISITOR FROM THE STATES</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">As</span> I pushed open the inner door and entered the room I conceived the +momentary hope of a reprieve from the wrath to come, for I found my +two friends in what was evidently a business consultation with a +stranger, and was on the point of backing out when Thorndyke stopped +me. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t run away, Howard,” said he. “There are no secrets being +disclosed—at least, I think not. We have finished with your affairs, +Mr. O’Donnell, haven’t we?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, doctor,” was the answer; “you’ve run me dry with the exception +of your own little business.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, come in and sit down, Howard, and let me present you to Mr. +O’Donnell who is a famous American detective and has been telling us +all sorts of wonderful things.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. O’Donnell paused in the act of returning a quantity of papers to a +large attaché case and offered his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“The doctor,” he remarked, “is blowing his trumpet at the wrong end. I +haven’t come here to give information but to get advice. But I guess I +needn’t tell you that.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope that isn’t quite true,” said Thorndyke. “You spoke just now of +my little business; haven’t you anything to tell me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have; but I fancy it isn’t what you wanted to hear. However, we’ll +just have a look at your letter to Curtis and take your questions one +by one. By the way, what made you write to Curtis?” +</p> + +<p> +“I saw, when I inspected Maddock’s will at Somerset House, that he had +left a small legacy to Curtis. Naturally, I inferred that Curtis knew +him and could give me some account of him.” +</p> + +<p> +“It struck you as a bit queer, I reckon, that he should be leaving a +legacy to the head of an American detective agency.” +</p> + +<p> +“The circumstance suggested possibilities,” Thorndyke admitted. +</p> + +<p> +O’Donnell laughed. “I can guess what possibilities suggested +themselves to you, if you knew Maddock. Your letter and the lawyer’s, +announcing the legacy, came within a mail or two of one another. +Curtis showed them both to me and we grinned. We took it for granted +that the worthy testator was foxing. But we were wrong. And so are +you, if that is what you thought.” +</p> + +<p> +“You assumed that the will was not a genuine one?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; we thought it was a fake, put up with the aid of some shyster to +bluff us into giving up Mr. Maddock as deceased. So, as I had to come +across about these other affairs, Curtis suggested that I should look +into the matter. And a considerable surprise I got when I did; for the +will is perfectly regular and so is everything else. That legacy was a +sort of posthumous joke, I guess.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then do I understand that Mr. Curtis was not really a friend of +Maddock’s?” +</p> + +<p> +O’Donnell chuckled. “Not exactly a friend, doctor,” said he. “He felt +the warmest interest in Maddock’s welfare, but they weren’t what you +might call bosom friends. The position was this: Curtis was the chief +of our detective agency; Maddock was a gentleman whom he had been +looking for and not finding for a matter of ten years. At last he +found him; and then he lost him again; and this legacy, I take it, was +a sort of playful hint to show which hole he’d gone down.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was Maddock in hiding all that time?” asked Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“In hiding!” repeated O’Donnell. “Bless your innocent heart, doctor, +he had a nice convenient studio in one of the best blocks in New York +a couple of doors from our agency, and he used to send us cards for +his private views. No, sir, our dear departed friend wasn’t the kind +that lurks out of sight in cellars or garrets. It was Maddock, sure +enough, that Curtis wanted, only he didn’t know it. But I guess I’m +fogging you. I’d better answer the questions that you put to Curtis. +</p> + +<p> +“First, do we know anything about Maddock? Yes, we do. But we didn’t +know that his name was Maddock until a few months ago. Isaac Vandamme +was the name we knew him by, and it seems that he had one or two other +names that he used on occasion. We now know that the gay Isaac was a +particularly versatile kind of crook, and a mighty uncommon kind, too, +the Lord be praised; for, if there were many more like him we should +have to raise our prices some. He wasn’t the kind of fool that makes a +million dollar coup and then goes on the razzle and drops it all. That +sort of man is easy enough to deal with. When he’s loaded up with +dollars everybody knows it, and he’s sure to be back in a week or two +with empty pockets, ready for another scoop. Isaac wasn’t that sort. +When he made a little pile, he invested his winnings like a sensible +man and didn’t live beyond his means; and the only mystery to me is +that, when he died, he didn’t leave more pickings. I see from his +will—which I’ve had a look at—that the whole estate couldn’t have +been above five thousand dollars. He had a lot more than that at one +time.” +</p> + +<p> +“He may have disposed of the bulk of his property by gift just before +his death,” Jervis suggested. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s possible,” agreed O’Donnell. “He’d escape the death dues that +way. However, to return to his engaging little ways. His leading line +was penmanship—forgery—and he did it to an absolute finish. He was +the most expert penman that I have ever known. But where he had us all +was that he didn’t only know <i>how</i> to write another man’s name; he +knew <i>when</i> to write it. I reckon that the great bulk of his forgeries +were never spotted at all, and, of the remainder very few got beyond +the bare suspicion that they <i>were</i> forgeries. In the case of the few +that were actually spotted as forgeries, his tracks were covered up so +cleverly that no one could guess who the forger was.” +</p> + +<p> +“And how did you come to suspect him eventually?” Thorndyke asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said O’Donnell. “There you are. Every crook—even the +cleverest—has a strain of the fool in him. Isaac’s folly took the +form of suspicion. He suspected us of suspecting him. We didn’t; but +he thought we did, and then he started to dodge and make some false +clues for us. That drew our attention to him. We looked into his +record, traced his little wanderings and then we began to find things +out. A nice collection there was, too, by the time we had worked a +month or two at his biography; forgeries, false notes, and, at least, +two murders that had been a complete mystery to us all. We made ready +to drop on Isaac, but, at that psychological moment, he disappeared. +It looked as if he had left the States, and, as we have no great +affection for extradition cases, we let the matter rest, more or less, +expecting that he would turn up again, sooner or later. And then came +this lawyer’s letter and yours, announcing his decease. Of course +Curtis and I thought he was at the old game; that it was a bit of that +sort of extra caution that won’t let well alone. So, as I was coming +over, I thought I’d just look into the affair as I told you; and, to +my astonishment, I found everything perfectly regular; the will +properly proved, the death certificate made out correctly and a second +certificate signed by two doctors.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you go into the question of identity?” asked Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes. I called on one of the doctors, a man named Batson, and +ascertained that it was all correct. Batson’s eyesight seemed to be +none of the best, but he made it quite clear to me that his late +patient was certainly our friend Isaac, or Maddock. So that’s the end +of the case. And if you want to go into it any further you’ve got to +deal with a little pile of bone ash, for our friend is not only dead; +he’s cremated. That’s enough for us. We don’t follow our clients to +the next world. We are not so thorough as you seem to be.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are flattering me unduly,” said Thorndyke. “I’m not so thorough +as that; but our clients, when they betake themselves to the happy +hunting-ground, usually leave a few of their friends behind to +continue their activities. Do you happen to know what Maddock’s +original occupation was? Had he any profession?” +</p> + +<p> +“He was originally an engraver, and a very skilful engraver, too, I +understand. That was what made him so handy in working the flash note +racket. Then he went on the stage for a time, and didn’t do badly at +that; but I fancy he was more clever at making-up and mimicry than at +acting in the dramatic sense. For the last ten years or so he was +practising as a painter—chiefly of landscape, though he could do a +figure subject or a portrait at a pinch. I don’t fancy he sold much, +or made any great efforts to sell his work. He liked painting and the +art covered his real industries, for he used to tour about in search +of subjects and so open up fresh ground for the little operations that +actually produced his income.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was his work of any considerable merit?” Thorndyke asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, in a way, yes. It was rather in the American taste, though +Maddock was really an Englishman. Our taste, as you know, runs to +technical smartness and novelty of handling; and Maddock’s work was +very peculiar and remarkably smart and slick in handling. He used the +knife more than the brush and he used it uncommonly cleverly. In fact, +he was unusually skilful in many ways; and that’s the really +surprising thing about him, when one considers his +extraordinary-looking paws.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was there peculiar about his hands?” asked Thorndyke. “Were they +noticeably clumsy in appearance?” +</p> + +<p> +“Clumsy!” exclaimed O’Donnell. “They were more than that. They were +positively deformed. A monkey’s hands would be delicate compared with +Maddock’s. They were short and thick like the paws of an animal. +There’s some jaw-twisting name for the deformity that he suffered +from; bronchodactilious, or something like that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Brachydactylous,” suggested Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the word; and I daresay you know the sort of paw I mean. It +didn’t look a very likely hand for a first-class penman and engraver +of flash notes, but you can’t always judge by appearances. And now as +to your other questions: You ask what Maddock was like in appearance. +I can only give you the description which I gave to Batson and which +he recognized at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“Had he noticed the peculiarity of the hands?” enquired Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. I asked him about it and he remembered having observed it when +he was attending Maddock. Well, then, our friend was about five feet +nine in height, fairly broad and decidedly strong, of a medium +complexion with grey eyes and darkish brown hair. That’s all I can +tell you about him.” +</p> + +<p> +“You haven’t got his finger-prints, I suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. He was never in prison, so we had no chance of getting them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was he married?” +</p> + +<p> +“He had been; but some years ago his wife divorced him, or he divorced +her. Latterly he has lived as a bachelor.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is nothing else that you can think of as throwing light on his +personality or explaining his actions?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing at all, doctor. I’ve told you all I know about him, and I +only hope the information may be more useful than it looks to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Thorndyke; “your information is not only useful; I +expect to find it quite valuable. Reasoning, you know, Mr. O’Donnell,” +he continued, “is somewhat like building an arch. On a supporting +mould, the builder lays a number of shaped stones, or voussoirs; but +until all the voussoirs are there, it is a mere collection of stones, +incapable of bearing its own weight. Then you drop the last +voussoir—the keystone—into its place, and the arch is complete; and +now you may take away the supports, for it will not only bear its own +weight, but carry a heavy superstructure.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s so, doctor,” said O’Donnell. “But, if I may ask, is this all +gratuitous wisdom or has it any particular bearing?” +</p> + +<p> +“It has this bearing,” replied Thorndyke. “I have myself been, for +some time past, engaged, metaphorically, in the building of an arch. +When you came here to-night, it was but a collection of shaped and +adjusted stones, supported from without. With your kind aid, I have +just dropped the keystone into its place. That is what I mean.” +</p> + +<p> +The American thoughtfully arranged the papers in his case, casting an +occasional speculative glance at Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like to know,” he said presently, “what it was that I told you. +It doesn’t seem to me that I have produced any startling novelties. +However, I know it’s no use trying to squeeze you, so I’ll get back to +my hotel and have a chew at what you’ve told me.” +</p> + +<p> +He shook hands with us all round, and, when Thorndyke had let him out, +we heard him bustling downstairs and away up King’s Bench Walk towards +Mitre Court. +</p> + +<p> +For a minute or more after his departure none of us spoke. Thorndyke +was apparently ruminating on his newly-acquired information, and +Jervis and I on the statement that had so naturally aroused the +detective’s curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +At length Jervis opened the inevitable debate. +</p> + +<p> +“I begin to see a glimmer of daylight through the case of Septimus +Maddock, deceased,” said he; “but it is only a glimmer. Whereas, from +what you said to O’Donnell, I gather that you have the case quite +complete.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hardly that, Jervis,” was the reply. “I spoke metaphorically, and +metaphors are sometimes misleading. Perhaps I overstated the case; so +we will drop metaphor and state the position literally in terms of +good, plain, schoolboy logic. It is this: we had certain facts +presented to us in connection with Maddock’s death. For instance, we +observed that the cause of death was obscure, that the body was +utterly destroyed by cremation and that Jardine, who was an unofficial +witness to some of the formalities, was subsequently pursued by some +unknown person with the unmistakable purpose of murdering him. Those +were some of the observed facts; and the explanation of those facts +was the problem submitted to us; that is to say, we had to connect +those facts and supply others by deduction and research, so that they +should form a coherent and intelligible sequence, of which the motive +for murdering Jardine should form a part. +</p> + +<p> +“Having observed and examined our facts, we next propose a hypothesis +which shall explain them. In this case it would naturally take the +form of a hypothetical reconstruction of the circumstances of +Maddock’s death. That hypothesis must, of course, be in complete +agreement with all the facts known to us, including the attempts to +murder Jardine. Then, having invented a hypothesis which fits our +facts completely, the next stage is to verify it. If the circumstances +of Maddock’s death were such as we have assumed, certain antecedent +events must have occurred and certain conditions must have existed. We +make the necessary inquiries and investigations, and we find that +those events had actually occurred and those conditions had actually +existed. Then it is probable that our hypothesis is correct, +particularly if our researches have brought to light nothing that +disagrees with it. +</p> + +<p> +“With our new facts we can probably amplify our hypothesis; +reconstruct it in greater detail; and then we have to test and verify +it afresh in its amplified and detailed form. And if such new tests +still yield an affirmative result, the confirmation of the hypothesis +becomes overwhelmingly strong. It is, however, still only hypothesis. +But perhaps we light on some final test which is capable of yielding a +definite answer, yes or no. If we apply that test—the ‘Crucial +Experiment’ of the logicians—and obtain an affirmative result, our +inquiry is at an end. It has passed out of the region of hypothesis +into that of demonstrative proof.” +</p> + +<p> +“And are we to understand,” asked Jervis, “that you have brought +Maddock’s case to the stage of complete demonstration?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” answered Thorndyke. “I am still in the stage of hypothesis; and +when O’Donnell came here to-night there were two points which I had +been unable to verify. But with his aid I have been able to verify +them both, and I now have a complete hypothesis of the case which has +been tested exhaustively and has answered to every test. All that +remains to be done is to apply the touchstone of the final +experiment.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose,” said Jervis, “you have obtained a good many new facts in +the course of your investigations?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a great many,” replied Thorndyke; “and what new data I have +obtained, I have, for the most part, communicated to you and Jardine. +I assure you, Jervis, that if you would only concentrate your +attention on the case, you have ample material for a most convincing +and complete elucidation of it.” +</p> + +<p> +Jervis looked at me with a wry smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Jardine-Howard,” said he; “why don’t you brush up your wits and +tell us exactly what happened to the late Mr. Maddock and why some +person unknown is so keen on your vile body. You have all the facts, +you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“So you tell me,” I retorted; “but this case of yours reminds me of +those elaborate picture puzzles that used to weary my juvenile brain. +You had a hatful of irregular-shaped pieces which, if you fitted them +together, made a picture. Only the beggars wouldn’t fit together.” +</p> + +<p> +“A very apt comparison,” said Thorndyke. “You put the pieces together, +and, if they made no intelligible part of a picture, you knew you were +wrong, no matter how well they seemed to fit. On the other hand, if +they seemed to make parts of a picture you had to verify the result by +finding pieces of the exact shape and size of the empty spaces. That +is what I have been doing in this case; trying the data together and +watching to see if they made the expected picture. As I have told you, +O’Donnell’s visit found me with the picture entire save for two empty +spaces of a particular shape and size; and from him I obtained two +pieces that dropped neatly into those spaces and made the picture +complete. All I have to do now is to see if the picture is a true +representation or only a consistent work of imagination.” +</p> + +<p> +“I take it that you have worked the case out in pretty full detail,” +said Jervis. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. If the final verification is successful I shall be able to tell +you exactly what happened in Maddock’s house, what was the cause of +death—and I may say that it was not that given in the +certificates—who the person is who has been pursuing Jardine and what +is his motive, together with a number of other very curious items of +information. And the mention of that person reminds me that our friend +has been disporting himself in public, contrary to advice and to what +I thought was a definite understanding.” +</p> + +<p> +“But surely,” I said, “it doesn’t matter now. We have given that spy +chappie the slip, and, even if he hasn’t given up the chase as +hopeless, we know that he is quite harmless.” +</p> + +<p> +“Harmless!” exclaimed Thorndyke. “Why, my dear fellow, he was your +guardian angel. Didn’t you realize that from Father Humperdinck’s +statement? He shadowed you so closely that no attack on you was +possible; in fact, he actually caught a rap on the head that was +apparently meant for you. You were infinitely safer with him at your +heels than alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“But we’ve given the other fellow the slip, too,” I urged. +</p> + +<p> +“We mustn’t take that for granted,” said Thorndyke. “The French +detective, you remember, came on the scene quite recently, whereas the +other man has been with us from the beginning. He probably saw Jervis +and me enter the mineral water works on the night of the fire, for he +was certainly there; and he may even have followed us home to +ascertain who we were. There are several ways in which he could have +connected you with us and traced you here; so I must urge you most +strongly not to venture out of the precincts of the Temple for the +next few days, in fact, it would be much wiser to keep indoors +altogether. It will be only a matter of days unless I get a quite +unexpected set back, for I hope to have the case finally completed in +less than a week; and when I do, I shall take such action as will give +your friend some occupation other than shadowing you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” I said. “I will promise not to attempt again to escape +from custody. But, all the same, my little jaunt to-day has not been +entirely without result. I have picked up a new fact, and a rather +curious one, I think. What should you say if I suggested that Mrs. +Samway was the wife of that eccentric artist who used to paint on the +Heath? The man, I mean, who always worked in gloves?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have assumed that she was in some such relation to him,” replied +Thorndyke, “but I should like to hear the evidence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Samway,” Jervis said in a reflective tone: “isn’t that the +handsome, uncanny-looking lady with the mongoose eyes, who reminded me +of Lucrezia Borgia?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is the lady. Well, I met with a portrait of her to-day which was +evidently the work of the man with the gloves;” and here I gave them a +description of the portrait and an account of the odd way in which it +had been disinterred from the landscape that had been painted over it, +to which they both listened with close attention. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a queer incident,” said Thorndyke, “and quite dramatic. If one +were inclined to be superstitious one might imagine some invisible +agency uncovering the tracks that have been so carefully hidden and +working unseen in the interests of justice. But haven’t you rather +jumped to your conclusion? The existence of the portrait establishes a +connection, but not necessarily that of husband and wife.” +</p> + +<p> +“I only suggested the relationship; but it seemed a likely one as the +portrait had been painted over and thrown into the rubbish box.” +</p> + +<p> +Jervis laughed sardonically; and even Thorndyke’s impassive face +relaxed into a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Our young friend,” said the former, “doesn’t take as favourable a +view of the married state as one might expect from a gay Lothario who +breaks out of his cage to go a-philandering. But we’ll overlook that, +in consideration of the very interesting information that he has +brought back with him. Not that it conveys very much to me. It is +obviously a new piece to fit into our puzzle, but I’m hanged if I see, +at the moment, any suitable space to drop it into.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think,” said Thorndyke, “that if you consider the picture as a +whole, you will soon find a vacant space. And while you are +considering it, I will just send off a letter, and then we had better +adjourn this discussion. We have to catch the early train to Maidstone +to-morrow, and that, I hope, will be the last time. Our case ought to +be disposed of by the afternoon.” +</p> + +<p> +He seated himself at the writing-table and wrote his letter, while +Jervis stared into the fire with a cogitative frown. When the letter +was sealed and addressed, Thorndyke laid it on the table while he went +to the lobby to put on his hat and coat, and, glancing at it almost +unconsciously, I noted that the envelope was of foolscap size and was +addressed to the Home Office, Whitehall. The name of the addressee +escaped me, for, suddenly realizing the impropriety of thus inspecting +another man’s letter, I looked away hastily; but even then, when +Thorndyke had taken it away to the post, I found myself speculating +vaguely on the nature of the communication and wondering if it had any +relation to the mysterious and intricate case of Septimus Maddock. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch19"> +CHAPTER XIX.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">TENEBRAE</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> resigned composure with which I accepted Thorndyke’s sentence of +confinement within doors was not entirely attributable to discretion +or native virtue. My resolution to follow scrupulously my principal’s +very pointed advice was somewhat like the ascetic resolutions formed +by the gourmet as he rises replete from the banquet table; for, just +as the latter is in a peculiarly favourable condition for the unmoved +contemplation of a—temporary—abstinence from food, so I, having +enjoyed my little dissipation, could now contemplate with fortitude a +brief period of retirement. Moreover, the weather was in my favour, +being—as Polton reported, when he returned, blue-nosed and powdered +with snow, with a fresh supply of tobacco for me—bitterly cold, with +a threatening of smoky fog from the east. +</p> + +<p> +Under these circumstances it was no great hardship to sit in a roomy +armchair with my slippered feet on the kerb and read and meditate as I +basked in the warmth of a glowing fire; though, to be sure, my reading +was perfunctory enough, for the treatise of “The Surface Markings of +the Human Body,” admirable as it was, competed on very unfavourable +terms with other claimants to my attention. In truth, I had plenty to +think about even if I went no farther for matter than to the events of +the previous day. There was my visit to Sylvia, for instance. I had +not said much to her, but what I had said had pledged me to a +life-long companionship; which was a solemn thing to reflect upon even +though I looked forward to the fulfilment of that pledge with nothing +but hopeful pleasure. The dice were thrown. Of course they would turn +up sixes, every one; but still—the dice were thrown. +</p> + +<p> +From my own strictly personal affairs my thoughts rambled by an easy +transition to the singular episode of the buried portrait, and thence +to the subject of that strange palimpsest. Viewed by the light of Mr. +O’Donnell’s revelations, Mrs. Samway’s position was not all that could +have been desired. She and her husband had unquestionably been closely +associated with Maddock; but Maddock was, it seemed, a habitual +criminal. Could this fact have been known to the Samways? Or was it +that the cunning forger and swindler had sheltered himself behind +their respectability. It was impossible for me to say. +</p> + +<p> +Then there was the strange and perplexing case of the man Maddock, +himself. I could make nothing of that, had not, indeed, been aware +that there had been a “case,” until Thorndyke’s investigations had put +me in possession of the fact. And even now I could see nothing on +which to base any suspicion, apart from the attempts on my life, which +we were assuming to be in some way connected with events that had +occurred in Maddock’s house. The cause of death was apparently not +“Morbus Cordis”; which might easily enough be, seeing that the +diagnosis of heart disease was a mere guess on Batson’s part. But if +not Morbus Cordis, what was it? Thorndyke apparently knew, and seemed +to hint that it was something other than ordinary disease. +</p> + +<p> +Could there have been foul play? And, if so, were the Samways involved +in it in any way? It seemed incredible, for had not Maddock himself +suspected that he was in a dangerous state of health. There was +certainly one possibility which I considered with a good deal of +distaste; namely, that Maddock had been in a hypochondriacal state and +that the Samways had taken advantage of his gloomy views as to his +health to administer poison. The thing was actually possible; but I +did not entertain it; for, even if one assumed that poison had been +administered, at any rate, the cremation of the body was not designed +to hide the traces of the crime. The Samways had nothing to do with +that; the cremation had been adopted in preference to burial by +Maddock’s own wish. +</p> + +<p> +So my thoughts flitted from topic to topic, with occasional interludes +of “Surface Markings,” through the lazy forenoon until Polton came to +lay my solitary luncheon. And after this little break in the +comfortable monotony, another spell of meditative idleness set in. +Polton was busy upstairs in the laboratory with some photographic +copying operations and I was disposed to wander up and look on; but my +small friend politely but very firmly vetoed any such proceeding. On +some other occasion he would be delighted to show me the working of +the great copying camera, but, just now, he had a big job in hand, +and, as he was working against time, he would prefer to be alone. He +even suggested that I might attend to any stray callers and make my +own tea on the gas-ring so as to avoid interrupting his work; and when +I had agreed to relieve him to this extent, he thanked me profusely +and retired and I saw no more of him. +</p> + +<p> +For some time after his departure, I stood at the window looking out +across the wide space at Paper Buildings and the end of Crown Office +Row. It was a wretched afternoon. The yellow, turbid sky brooded close +upon the houseroofs and grew darker and more brown moment by moment, +as if the invisible sun had given the day up in despair and gone home +early. A comfortless powdering of snow filtered down at intervals and +melted on the pavements, along which depressed wayfarers hurried with +their coat collars turned up and their hands thrust deep into their +pockets. I watched them commiseratingly, reflecting on the superior +advantages of being within doors and forbidden to go out; and then, +having flung another scoopful of coal on the fire, I betook myself +once more to the armchair, the “Surface Markings” and idle meditation. +</p> + +<p> +It was some time past four when my reflective browsings had begun to +proceed in the direction of the tea-kettle, that I heard a light +footstep on the landing as of someone wearing goloshes. Then a letter +dropped softly into the box, and, as I instantly pushed back my chair +to rise, the footsteps retreated. I crossed the room quickly and +opened the door; but the messenger had already disappeared down the +dark staircase, and had gone so silently on his rubber soles that, +though I listened attentively, I could hear no sound from below. +</p> + +<p> +Having closed the door, I extracted the letter from the box and took +it over to the window to examine it, when I was not a little surprised +to find that it was addressed to W.M. Howard, Esq. This was the first +communication that I had received in my borrowed name, and my surprise +at its arrival was not unreasonable, for, of the few persons who knew +me by that name, none—with the exception, perhaps, of Mr. +Marchmont—was in the least likely to write to me. +</p> + +<p> +But, if the address on the envelope had surprised me, the letter +itself surprised me a good deal more; for though the writer was quite +unknown to me, even by name, he seemed to be in possession of certain +information concerning me which I had supposed to be the exclusive +property of Thorndyke, Jervis, Polton and myself. It bore the address, +29, Fig-tree Court, Inner Temple, and ran thus: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">Dear Sir</span>, +</p> + +<p> +“I am taking the liberty of writing to you to ask for your assistance +as I happen to know that my friends, Drs. Thorndyke and Jervis, are +away at Maidstone and not available at the moment, and I understand +that you have some acquaintance with medical technicalities. +</p> + +<p> +“The circumstances are these. At half-past five to-day I shall be +meeting a solicitor to advise as to action in respect of a case in +which I am retained; and the decision as to our action will be vitally +affected by a certain issue on which I am not competent to form an +opinion for lack of medical knowledge. If Dr. Thorndyke had been +within reach I should have taken his opinion; as he is not, it +occurred to me to ask if you would fill his place on this occasion, it +being, of course, understood that the usual fee of five guineas will +be paid by the solicitor. +</p> + +<p> +“If you should be unable to come to the consultation, do not trouble +to reply, as I am now going out and shall not be returning until +five-thirty, the time of the appointment. I am, +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +“Yours faithfully,<br> +“<span class="sc">Arthur Courtland.</span>” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +The contents of this letter, as I have said, surprised me more than a +little. How, in the name of all that was wonderful, had this stranger, +whose very name was unknown to me, come to be aware that I had any +knowledge of medicine? Not from Thorndyke, I felt perfectly sure; nor +from Jervis, who, notwithstanding a certain flippant facetiousness of +manner, was really an extremely cautious and judicious man. Could it +be that my principal was overseen in his trusted laboratory assistant? +Was it conceivable that the suave and discreet Polton had moments of +leakiness, when, in unofficial talk outside, he let drop the secrets +of which his employer’s unbounded confidence had made him the +repository? I could not believe it. Not only did Polton appear to be +the very soul of discretion; there was Thorndyke himself; he was not +the man to give his confidence to anyone until after the most +exhaustive proof of the safety of so giving it. Nor was he a man who +was likely to be deceived; for nothing escaped his observation, and +nothing that he observed was passed over without careful +consideration. +</p> + +<p> +My lethargy having been shaken off, I addressed myself to the task of +preparing tea; and, as I listened to the homely crescendo of the +kettle’s song, I turned the matter over in all its bearings. By some +means this Mr. Courtland had become aware that I was either a doctor +or a medical student. But by what means? Was it possible that he had +merely inferred from the circumstance of my being associated with +Thorndyke that I was of the same profession? That was just barely +conceivable; but, if he had, then, as Jervis had said of Father +Humperdinck, he must be “a devil at guessing.” +</p> + +<p> +As I made the tea and subsequently consumed it, I continued to +ruminate on the contents of that singular letter. No answer to it was +required. Then what was Mr. Courtland going to do if I did not turn +up? He admitted that the issue, which seemed to be an important one, +was beyond him, and yet he had to give an answer to the solicitor. And +he was prepared to pay five guineas for the advice of a man of whom +he—presumably—knew nothing. That was odd. In fact, the whole tone of +the letter, with its inconsistent mixture of urgency and casual +trusting to chance, seemed irreconcilable with the care and method +that one expects from a professional man. +</p> + +<p> +And there was another point. The time of the consultation was +half-past five. Now within an hour of that time Thorndyke would be +back—or even sooner if he came by the earlier train as he had done on +the previous day—as Mr. Courtland must have known, since he knew +whither my principal had gone, and he must have often attended assizes +himself. Could he not have waited an hour? And again; had this +business been sprung upon him so suddenly that he had had no time to +get Thorndyke’s opinion? And, yet again, why had he written at all, +instead of dropping in at our chambers with the solicitor, as was so +commonly done by Thorndyke’s clients? +</p> + +<p> +All of which were curious and puzzling questions which I put to +myself, one by one, and had to dismiss unanswered. And then I came to +the practical question, to which I had to find an answer, and which +was: Could I, under the existing circumstances, accede to Mr. +Courtland’s request? To go outside the precincts of the Inn was, I +recognized, absolutely forbidden; but I had given no actual promise to +remain in our chambers, nor had I been positively forbidden to leave +them. Thorndyke had advised me to remain indoors, and his advice had +been given so pointedly and with so evident a desire that it should be +followed that I had not hitherto even thought of leaving our premises. +But this was an unforeseen contingency; and the question was, did it +alter my position in regard to Thorndyke’s advice? +</p> + +<p> +I think I have never been so undecided in my life. On the one hand, I +was strongly tempted to keep the appointment. The prospect of +triumphantly handing to Thorndyke a five-guinea fee which I had earned +as his deputy appealed to me with almost irresistible force. On the +other hand, my knowledge of Thorndyke did not support this appeal. I +knew him to be a man to whom a principle was much more important than +any chance benefit gained by its abandonment, and my inner +consciousness told me that he would be better pleased by a strict +adherence to our understanding than by the increment of five guineas. +</p> + +<p> +So my thoughts oscillated, to and fro, now impelling me to risk it and +earn the fee, and now urging me to keep to the letter of my +instructions; and, meanwhile, the time ran on and the hour of the +consultation approached. What decision I should have reached, in the +end, it is impossible to say. As matters turned out, I never reached +any decision at all, for, just as the Treasury clock struck a quarter +past five, I heard a light, quick step on our landing and immediately +after a soft but hurried knock at the door. +</p> + +<p> +I strode quickly across the room and threw the door open. And then I +started back with an exclamation of astonishment. For the visitor—who +stood full in the light of the landing-lamp—was a woman; and the +woman was Mrs. Samway. +</p> + +<p> +As I stood gazing at her in amazement, she slipped past me into the +room and softly shut the door. And then I saw very plainly that there +was something amiss, for she was as pale as death, and had a dreadful, +frightened, hunted look which haunts me even now as I write. She was +somewhat dishevelled, too, and, though it was a bitter evening, her +plump, shapely hands were ungloved and cold as ice, as I noted when I +took them in mine. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you alone?” she asked, peering uneasily at the door of the little +office. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Quite alone,” I replied. +</p> + +<p> +She gazed at me with those strange, penetrating eyes of hers and said +in a half-whisper: “How strange you look with that beard. I should +hardly have known you if I had not expected—” +</p> + +<p> +She stopped short, and, casting a strange, scared glance over her +shoulder at the dark windows, whispered: +</p> + +<p> +“Can they see in? Can anyone see us from outside?” +</p> + +<p> +“I shouldn’t think so,” I replied; but, nevertheless, I stepped over +to the windows and drew the curtains. +</p> + +<p> +“That looks more comfortable, at any rate,” said I. “And now tell me +how in the name of wonder you knew I was here.” +</p> + +<p> +She grasped both my wrists and looked earnestly—almost fiercely—into +my eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Ask me no questions!” she exclaimed. “Ask me nothing! But listen. I +have come here for a purpose. Has a letter been left here for you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Asking you to go to a place in Fig-tree Court?” +</p> + +<p> +“Good God!” I exclaimed. “How on earth—” +</p> + +<p> +She shook my wrists impatiently in her strong grasp. “Answer me!” she +exclaimed; “answer me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I replied. “I was to go there at half-past five.” +</p> + +<p> +Again her strong grasp tightened on my wrists. “Humphrey,” she said, +in a low, earnest voice, “you are not to go. Do you hear me? You are +not to go.” And then, as I seemed to hesitate, she continued more +urgently: “I ask you—I beg you to promise me that you won’t.” +</p> + +<p> +I gazed at her in sheer amazement; but some instinct, some faint +glimmer of understanding, restrained me from asking for any +explanation. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” I said. “I won’t go if you say I’m not to.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is a promise?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it’s a promise. Besides, it’s nearly half-past already, so if I +don’t go now, the appointment falls through.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you won’t go outside these rooms to-night. Promise me that, too.” +</p> + +<p> +“If I don’t go to this lawyer, I shan’t go out at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“And to-morrow, too. Give me your word that you won’t let any sort of +pretext draw you out of these rooms to-morrow, or the next day, or, in +fact, until Dr. Thorndyke says you may.” +</p> + +<p> +For a few moments I was literally struck dumb with astonishment at her +last words, and could do nothing but gaze at her in astounded silence. +At length, recovering myself a little, I exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Mrs. Samway—,” but she interrupted me. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t call me by that horrible name! Give me my own name, Letitia; +or,” she added, a little shyly and in a soft, coaxing tone, “call me +Lettie. Won’t you, Humphrey, just for this once? You needn’t mind. You +wouldn’t if you knew. I should like, when I think of my friend—the +only friend that I care for—to remember that he called me by my own +name when he said good-bye. You’ll think me silly and sentimental, but +you needn’t mind indulging me just once. It’s the last time.” +</p> + +<p> +“The last time!” I repeated. “What do you mean by that, Lettie, and by +speaking of our saying good-bye? Are you going away?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I am going away. I don’t suppose you will ever see me again. I +am going out of your life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not out of my life, Lettie. We are always friends, even if we never +see one another.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are we?” she said, looking up at me earnestly. “Perhaps it is so; but +still, this is good-bye. I ought to say it and go; but O God!” she +exclaimed with sudden passion, “I don’t want to go—away from you, +Humphrey, out into the cold and the dark!” +</p> + +<p> +She buried her face against my shoulder, and I could feel that she was +sobbing though she uttered no sound. +</p> + +<p> +It was a dreadful situation. Instinctively certain though I was that +her grief had a real and tragic basis, I could offer no word of +comfort. For what was there to say? She was going, clearly, to a life +of wretchedness without hope of any relief or change and without a +single friend to cheer her loneliness. That much I could guess, +vaguely and dimly. But it was enough. And it wrung my heart to witness +her passion of grief and to be able to offer no more than a pressure +of the hand. +</p> + +<p> +After a few seconds she raised her head and looked in my face, with +the tears still clinging to her lashes. +</p> + +<p> +“Humphrey,” she said, laying her hands on my shoulders, “I have a few +last words to say to you, and then I must go. Listen to me, dearest +friend, and remember what I say. When I am gone, people will tell you +things and you will come to know others. People will say that I am a +wicked woman, which is true enough, God knows. But if they say that I +have done or connived at wickedness against you, try to believe that +it was not as it seemed, and to forgive me for what I have done amiss. +And say to yourself, ‘This wicked woman would have willingly given her +heart’s blood for me.’ Say that, Humphrey. It is true. I would gladly +give my life to make you safe and happy. And try to think kindly of me +in the evil report that will reach you sooner or later. Will you try, +Humphrey?” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Lettie,” I said, “we are friends, now and always. Nothing +that I hear shall alter that.” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe you,” she said, “and I thank you from my heart. And now I +must go—I <i>must</i> go; and it’s good-bye—good-bye, Humphrey, for the +very last time.” +</p> + +<p> +She passed her arms around my neck and pressed her wet cheek to mine; +then she kissed me, and, turning away abruptly, walked across to the +door and opened it. On the landing, in the light of the lamp, she +turned once more; and I saw that the hot blush that had risen to her +cheek as she kissed me, had faded already into a deathly pallor, and +that the dreadful, frightened, hunted look had come back into her +face. She stood for a moment with her finger raised warningly and +whispered: +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, dear, good-bye! Shut the door now and shut it quietly”; and +then she passed into the opening of the dark staircase. +</p> + +<p> +I closed the door softly and turned away towards the window; and, as I +did so, I heard her stumble slightly on the stair a short way down and +utter a little startled cry. I was nearly going out to her, and did, +in fact, stand a moment or two listening; but, as I heard nothing +more, I moved over to the window, and, drawing back the curtain, +looked down on our doorstep to see her go out. My mind was in a whirl +of confused emotions. Profound pity for this lonely, unhappy, +warm-hearted woman contended with amazement at the revelation of her +manifest connection with the mystery that surrounded me; and I stood +bewildered by the tumult of incoherent thought, grasping the curtain +and looking down on the great square stone that I might, at least, +catch a farewell glance at this poor soul who was passing so +unwillingly out of my life. +</p> + +<p> +The seconds passed. A man came out of our entry, and, turning to the +left, walked at a rapid pace towards the Tudor Street gate. Still she +did not appear. Perhaps she had heard him on the stairs and was +waiting to pass out unnoticed. But yet it was strange. Nearly a minute +had elapsed since she started to descend the stairs. Could I have +missed her? It seemed impossible, since I had come to the window +almost immediately. A vague uneasiness began to take possession of me. +I recalled her white face and frightened eyes, and as I stared down at +the door-step with growing anxiety, I found myself +listening—listening nervously for I knew not what. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly I caught a sound—faint and vague, but certainly a sound. And +it seemed to come from the staircase. In a moment I had the door open +and was stealing on tip-toe out on the landing. The house was +profoundly silent. No murmur even penetrated from the distant streets. +I crept across the landing, breathing softly and listening. And then, +from the stillness below, but near at hand came a faint, whispering +sigh or moan. Instantly I sprang forward, all of a tremble and darted +down the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +At the first turn I saw, projecting round the angle, a hand—a woman’s +hand, plump and shapely and white as marble. With a gasp of terror I +flew round the turn of the staircase and— +</p> + +<p> +God in Heaven! She was there! Huddled limply in the angle, her head +resting against the baluster and one hand spread out on her bosom, she +lay so still that she might have been dead but for the shallow rise +and fall of her breast and the wide-staring eyes that turned to me +with such dreadful appeal. I stooped over her and spoke her name, and +it seemed to me that a pitiful little smile trembled for a moment on +the bloodless lips, but she made no answer beyond a faint, broken +sigh, and it was only when she moved her hand slightly that the +overwhelming horror of the reality burst upon me. Then when I saw the +crimson stain upon her fingers and upon the bosom of her dress, the +meaning of that horrible pallor, the sharpening features and strange, +pinched expression flashed upon me with a shock that seemed to arrest +the very blood at my heart. Yet, stunned as I was, I realized +instantly that human skill could avail her nothing; that I could do +nought for her but raise her from the sharp edge of the stair and rest +her head on my arm. And so I held her, whispering endearments +brokenly, and looking as well as I might through the blinding tears +into those inscrutable eyes, that gazed up at me, no longer with that +stare of horror but with a vague and childlike wonder. And, even as I +looked, the change came in an instant. The wide eye-lids relaxed and +drooped, the eyes grew filmy and sightless, the hand slipped from her +breast and dropped with a thud on the stair, and the supple body in my +arms shrank of a sudden with the horrible limpness of death. +</p> + +<p> +Up to this point my recollection is clear, even vivid, but of what +followed I have only a dim and confused impression. The awfulness—the +unbelievable horror of this frightful thing that had happened left me +so dazed and numb that I recall but vaguely the passage of time of +what went on around me in this terrible dream from which there was to +be no waking. Dimly I recollect kneeling by her side on the silent +staircase—but how long I know not—holding her poor body in my arms +and gazing incredulously at the marble-white face—now with its drowsy +lids and parted lips, grown suddenly girlish and fragile—while the +hot tears dropped down on her dress; choking with grief and horror and +a fury of hate for the foul wretch who had done this appalling thing, +and who was now far away out of reach. I see—dimly still—the livid +marks of accursed fingers lingering yet on the whiteness around the +mouth to tell me why no cry from her had reached me, and the dreadful, +red-edged cut in the bodice, mutely demanding vengeance from God and +man. +</p> + +<p> +And then of a sudden the silence is shattered by rushing feet and the +clamour of voices. Someone—it is Jervis—leads me forcibly away to +our room and places me in a chair by the table. Presently I see her +lying on our sofa, drowsy-eyed, peaceful, like a marble figure on a +tomb. And I see Thorndyke, with a strange, coppery flush and something +grim and terrible in the set calm of his face, showing the letter, +which I had left on the table, to a tall stranger, who hurries from +the room. Anon come two constables with heads uncovered carrying a +stretcher. I see her laid on the sordid bier and reverently covered. +The dread procession moves out through the doorway, the door is shut +after it, and so, in dreadful fulfilment of her words, she passed out +of my life. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch20"> +CHAPTER XX.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE HUE AND CRY</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> silence of the room remained unbroken for a quite considerable +time after the two bearers had passed out with their dreadful burden. +My two friends sat apart and, with a tact of which I was gratefully +sensible, left me quietly undisturbed by banal words of consolation, +to sustain the first shock of grief and horror and get my emotion +under control. Still dazed and half-incredulous, I sat with my elbows +on the table and my teeth clenched hard, looking dreamily across the +room, half unconsciously observing my two friends as they silently +examined the fatal letter. I saw Thorndyke rise softly and take a +small bottle from a cabinet, and watched him incuriously as he +sprinkled on the paper some of the dark-coloured powder that it +contained. Then I saw him blow the powder from the surface of the +paper into the fire and scan the letter closely through a lens. And +still no word was spoken. Only once, when Jervis, in crossing the +room, let his hand rest for a moment on my shoulder, did any +communication pass between us; and that silent touch told me +unobtrusively—if it were needful to tell me—how well he understood +my grief for the woman who had walked open-eyed into the valley of the +shadow, had offered her heart’s blood that I might pass unscathed. +</p> + +<p> +In about a quarter of an hour the tall stranger returned, bringing +with him an atmosphere of bustling activity that at once dispelled the +gloomy silence. His busy presence and brisk, matter-of-fact speech, +though distressing to me at the moment, served as a distraction and +brought me out of my painful reverie to the grim realities of this +appalling catastrophe. +</p> + +<p> +“You were quite right, sir,” said he. “The chambers were an empty set. +Mr. Courtland left them about six weeks ago, so they tell me at the +office. I’ve looked them over carefully, and I think it is pretty +clear what this man meant to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you go in?” asked Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Mr. Polton went with me and picked the lock, so I was able to go +right through the rooms. And it is evident that this villain was not +acting on the spur of the moment. He’d made a very neat plan, and I +should say that it was pretty near to coming off. He had selected his +chambers with remarkable judgment, and uncommonly well suited they +were to his purpose. In the first place, they were the top +set—nothing above them; no chance strangers passing up or down; and +they were the only set on that landing. Then some previous tenant had +made a little trap or grille in the outer door, a little hole about +six inches square with a sliding cover on the inside. That was the +attraction, I fancy. The landing lamp was alight—he must have lighted +it himself, as the landing was out of use—and I fancy he meant to +watch through the grille for your friend to come and shoot him as he +knocked at the door.” +</p> + +<p> +“That would be taking more risk than he usually did,” said Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“You mean that the report of the shot would have been heard. Perhaps +it might. But these modern, small-bore, repeating pistols make very +little noise, though they are uncommonly deadly, especially if you +open the nose of the bullets.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” objected Thorndyke, “if he had been heard, there he would have +been, boxed up in the chambers with no means of escape.” +</p> + +<p> +Our acquaintance shook his head. “No,” said he; “that’s just what he +wouldn’t have been, and there is where he had planned the affair so +neatly. These chambers are a double set. They have a second entrance +that opens on the staircase of the next house. You see the idea. When +he’s fired his shot and made sure that it was all right—or all wrong, +if you prefer it—he would just have slipped through to the other +entrance, let himself out, shut the door quietly and walked down the +stairs. Then, if the shot had been heard, there was he, coming out of +the next house to join the crowd and see what was the matter. It was a +clever scheme, and, as I say, it might very well have come off if this +poor young lady hadn’t given it away. So that’s all about the +chambers; and now”—here he cast a glance in my direction—“I must ask +for a few particulars.” He produced a large, black-covered notebook +and, opening it on the table, looked at me inquiringly. +</p> + +<p> +“This,” said Thorndyke, “is Mr. Superintendent Miller of the Criminal +Investigation Department. He has charge of this case, so you must tell +him exactly what happened. And try, Jardine, to be as clear and +circumstantial as possible.” +</p> + +<p> +The Superintendent looked up sharply. “I had an impression,” said he, +“that this gentleman’s name was Howard.” +</p> + +<p> +“He has used the name of Howard since he has been staying here, for +reasons which no longer exist but which I will explain to you later. +His name is Humphrey Jardine, and he is a bachelor of medicine.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Miller entered these particulars in his book and then said: +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose it is not necessary to ask if you were actually present +when this poor lady was murdered?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I was not.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I presume you did not see the murderer?” +</p> + +<p> +“I saw a man, whom I believe to have been the murderer, come out of +our entry and walk quickly towards the Tudor Street Gate. But I can +give you no description of him. I saw him from the window and by the +light of the entry lamp.” +</p> + +<p> +The Superintendent wrote down my answer and reflected for a few +moments. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps,” said he, “you had better just give us an account of what +happened and we can ask you any questions afterwards. It’s very +painful for you, I know, but it has to be, as you will understand.” +</p> + +<p> +It was more than painful; it was harrowing to reconstitute that +hideous tragedy, step by step, with the knowledge that the poor +murdered corpse was still warm. But it had to be, and I did it, +haltingly, indeed, and with many a pause to command my voice; but in +the end, I gave the superintendent a full description of the actual +occurrences, though I withheld any reference to those words that my +poor dead friend had spoken for my ear alone. +</p> + +<p> +When I had read through and signed my statement, Mr. Miller studied +his note-book with an air of dissatisfaction and then turned to +Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“This is all quite clear, Doctor,” said he, “and just about what you +inferred from that letter. But it doesn’t help us much. The question +is, Who is this man? I’ve an inkling that you know, Doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have a very strong suspicion as to who he is,” replied Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“That will do for me,” said Miller. “Your strong suspicion is equal to +another man’s certainty. Do you know his name, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“He has recently passed under the name of Samway,” replied Thorndyke. +“What his real name is, I think I shall be able to tell you later. +Meanwhile, I can give you such particulars as are necessary for making +an arrest.” +</p> + +<p> +The Superintendent looked narrowly at Thorndyke as the latter pressed +the button of the electric bell. +</p> + +<p> +“Apparently, Doctor,” said he, “you have been making some +investigations concerning this man, and, as it was not in connection +with this crime, it must have been in connection with something else.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied Thorndyke, “you are quite right, Miller, and it will be +a matter of the deepest regret to me to my dying day that +circumstances have hindered those investigations as they have. The +delay has cost this poor woman her life. A few more days and my case +would almost certainly have been complete, and then this terrible +disaster would have been impossible.” +</p> + +<p> +As Thorndyke finished speaking, the door opened quietly and Polton +entered with a small, neatly-made parcel in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said Thorndyke, “you guessed what I wanted, and guessed right, +as you always do, Polton. How many are there in that parcel?” +</p> + +<p> +“Three dozen, sir,” replied Polton. +</p> + +<p> +“That ought to be enough for the moment. Hand them to the +Superintendent, Polton. If you want any more, Miller, we can let you +have a further supply, and I am having a half-tone block made which +will be ready to-morrow morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are these portraits of the man you suspect?” asked Miller. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I haven’t his portrait, unfortunately, but on each card is a +photograph of three of his finger-prints, which are all I have been +able to collect, and on the back is a description which will enable +you easily to identify him. You can post them off to the various +sea-ports and telegraph the description in advance; and I would +recommend you especially to keep a watch on Dover and Folkestone, as I +know that he has been in the habit of using that route.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speaking of finger-prints,” said Miller, “have you tried that letter +for them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied Thorndyke, “I powdered it very carefully, but there is +not a single trace of a fingerprint. He must have realized the risk he +was taking and worn gloves when he wrote it.” +</p> + +<p> +The Superintendent pocketed the parcel with a thoughtful air, and, +after a few moments’ cogitation, turned once more to Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve supplied me with the means of arresting the man, Doctor,” said +he, “but that’s all. Supposing I find him and detain him in custody? +What then? +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know that he murdered this poor woman. Do you? Dr. Jardine +can’t identify him, and apparently no one else saw him. I have no +doubt that you have substantial grounds for suspecting him, but I +should like to know what they are.” +</p> + +<p> +Thorndyke reflected for a moment or two before replying. +</p> + +<p> +“You are quite right, Miller,” he said, at length, “you ought to have +enough information to establish a <i>prima facie</i> case. But I think, +that on this occasion, I can say no more than that, if you produce the +man, you can rely upon me to furnish enough evidence to secure a +conviction. Will that do?” +</p> + +<p> +“It will do from you, sir,” replied Miller, rising and buttoning his +overcoat. “I will get this description circulated at once. Oh—there +was one more matter: the name of the deceased lady was Samway—the +same as that of the suspected murderer. What was the relationship?” +</p> + +<p> +“She passed as—and presumably was—his wife.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said Miller. “I see. That was how she knew. Well, well. She was +a brave woman, to take the risk that she did, and she deserved +something very different from what she got. But we are taught that +there is a place where people who suffer injustice and misfortune in +this world get it made up to them. I hope it’s true, for her sake—and +for his,” he added abruptly with a sudden change of tone. +</p> + +<p> +“Naturally you do,” said Thorndyke, “but, meanwhile, our business is +with this world. Spread your net close and wide, Miller. I shall never +forgive you if you let this villain slip. It is our sacred duty to +purge the world of his presence. You do your part, Miller, and be +confident that I will do mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can depend on me to do my best, sir,” said Miller, “though I <i>am</i> +working rather in the dark. I suppose you couldn’t give me any sort of +hint as to what you’ve got up your sleeve. You’ve no doubt, for +instance, that it was really the man Samway who committed this +murder?” +</p> + +<p> +Thorndyke, according to his usual habit, considered the +Superintendent’s question for awhile before answering. At length he +replied: +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know why I shouldn’t take you into my confidence to some +extent, Miller, knowing you as I do. But you will remember that this +<i>is</i> a confidence. The fact is that I am proposing to proceed against +this man on an entirely different charge. But I am not quite ready to +lay an information; and I want you to secure his person on the charge +of murdering his wife while I complete the other case.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that another case of murder?” asked Miller. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. The facts are briefly these. A certain Septimus Maddock, who was +living with the Samways, died some time ago under what seem to me very +suspicious circumstances. He was nursed by Samway and his wife and by +no one else. The cause of death given on the certificate was, in my +opinion, not the true one, and I am proceeding to verify my theory as +to what was the real cause of death.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” said Miller. “You are applying for an exhumation of the +body?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, hardly an exhumation. The man Maddock was cremated.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cremated!” exclaimed Miller. “Then we’ve done. There isn’t any body +to exhume.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” agreed Thorndyke, “there is no body, but there are the ashes.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, surely,” said Miller, “you can’t get any information out of a +few handfuls of bone ash?” +</p> + +<p> +“That remains to be proved,” replied Thorndyke. “I have applied for an +authority to make an exhaustive examination of those ashes, and, if my +opinion as to the cause of death is correct, I shall be able to +demonstrate its correctness; and that will involve a charge of murder +against this man Samway. It will also support a charge against him of +attempts to murder Dr. Jardine, and furnish strong evidence connecting +him with the horrible crime that has just been committed. So you see, +Miller, that the important thing is to get possession of him before he +has time to escape from this country, and hold him in custody, if +necessary, while the evidence against him is being examined and +completed. And I must impress on you that no time ought to be lost in +getting the description circulated.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, that’s true,” said Miller. “I’ll go and telegraph it off at once, +and I’ll send one or two of our best men to watch the likely +seaports.” +</p> + +<p> +He shook hands with us all round, and, when we had all most fervently +wished him success, he took his departure. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as he was gone, Jervis turned to his senior, and, looking at +him with a sort of puzzled curiosity, exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“You are a most astounding person, Thorndyke! You really are! I +thought I had begun to see daylight in that Maddock case, and now I +find that I was all abroad. And I can’t, for the life of me, conceive +what in the world you expect to discover by examining a few pounds of +calcined phosphates. Suppose Maddock was poisoned, what evidence will +be obtainable from the ashes? Of the poisons which could possibly have +been used under the known circumstances, not one would leave a trace +after cremation. But, of course, you’ve thought of all that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, I have,” replied Thorndyke, “and I agree with you that the +ashes of a body that has been cremated are highly unpromising material +for a primary investigation. But, does it not occur to you that, in a +case where certain circumstantial evidence is available, excellent +corroborative data might be obtained by the examination of the ashes?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” replied Jervis, “I can’t say that it does.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not too late to consider the question,” said Thorndyke. “I +shall probably not get the authority for a day or two, so you will +have time to turn the problem over in the interval. It is quite worth +your while, I assure you, apart from this particular case, as a mere +exercise in constructive theory. You can acquire experience from +imaginary cases as well as from real ones, as I have often pointed +out; in fact, much of my own experience has been gained in this way. I +think I have mentioned to you that, in my early days, when I had more +leisure than practice, it was my custom to construct imaginary crimes +of an elaborately skilful type, and then—having, of course, all the +facts—to consider the appropriate procedure for their detection. It +was a most valuable exercise, for I was thus able to furnish myself +with an abundance of problems of a kind that, in actual practice, are +met with only at long intervals of years. And since then a quite +considerable number of my imaginary cases have presented themselves, +in a more or less modified form, for solution in the course of +practice, and have come to me with the familiarity of problems that +have already been considered and solved. That is what you should do, +Jervis. Try the synthetic method and then consider what analytical +procedure would be appropriate to your result.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have,” Jervis replied, gloomily. “I have worked at this confounded +case until I feel like a rat that has been trying to gnaw through a +plate-glass window. Still, I’ll have another try. By the way, where +are you going to make this examination?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think I shall do it here. I had thought of handing the ashes over +to one of the more eminent analysts, but it will be only a small +operation, well within the capacity of our own laboratory. I think of +asking Professor Woodfield to come here and carry out the actual +analysis. Polton will give him any help that he may want and, of +course, we shall be here to give any further assistance if he should +need it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not have made the analysis yourself?” asked Jervis. “Is there +anything specially difficult or intricate about it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all,” replied Thorndyke. “But, as the case will have to go +into Court on a capital charge—that is, assuming that my hypothesis +turns out to be correct—I thought it best to have the analysis made +by a man whose name as an authority on chemistry will carry special +weight. Neither the judge nor the jury are likely to have much special +knowledge of chemistry, but they will be able to appreciate the fact +that Woodfield is a man with a world-wide reputation, and they will +respect his opinion accordingly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” agreed Jervis, “I think you are quite right. A well-known name +goes a long way with a jury. I hope your experiment will turn out as +you expect, and I hope, too, that some of Miller’s men will manage to +lay that murderous devil by the heels. But I’m afraid they’ll have +their work cut out. He is a clever scoundrel; one must admit that. How +do you suppose he contrived to track Jardine here?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think,” replied Thorndyke, “that he must have seen us on one of the +two occasions when we went to the mineral water works and followed us +here. Then, when Jardine disappeared from his lodgings, he would +naturally look for him here, this being, in fact, the only place known +to him in connection with Jardine, excepting Batson’s house, on which +he also probably kept a watch.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how would he have discovered that Jardine actually was here?” +</p> + +<p> +“There are a number of ways in which he might have ascertained the +fact. A good many persons knew that we had a new resident. We could +not conceal his presence here. Many of our visitors have seen him, and +the porter and hangers-on of the inn will have noticed him taking his +exercise in the morning. Samway, himself, even, may have seen him, and +he would easily have penetrated the disguise if he saw him out of +doors, for there is no disguising a man’s stature. He might have made +enquiries of one of the porters or lamp-lighters, or he might have +employed someone else to make enquiries. The fact that someone was +staying here and that his name was Howard could not have been very +difficult to discover, while, as for ourselves, we are as well known +in the inn as the griffin at Temple Bar. From the circumstance that he +knew of our attendance at the Maidstone Assizes, it seems likely that +he had subsidized some solicitor’s clerk who would know our +movements.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I suppose,” said I, “as he is gone now, I may as well go back to +my lodgings.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all,” replied Thorndyke. “In the first place, we don’t know +that he is gone, and we do know that he is now absolutely desperate +and reckless. And you must not forget, Jardine, that whether we charge +him with murder in the case of Maddock, with the murder of poor Mrs. +Samway, or the attempted murder of yourself, in either case you are +the chief witness for the prosecution. You are the appointed +instrument of retribution in this man’s case, and you must take the +utmost care of yourself until your mission is accomplished. He knows +the value of your evidence better than you do, and it is still worth +his while to get rid of you if he can. But you, I am sure, are at +least as anxious as we are to see him hanged.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d sooner twist his neck with my own hands,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“I daresay you would,” said Thorndyke, “and it is perfectly natural +that you should. But it is not desirable. This is a case for a few +fathoms of good, stout, hempen rope, and the common hangman. The +private vengeance of a decent man would be an undeserved honour for a +wretch like this. So you must stay here quietly for a few days more +and give us a little help when we need it.” +</p> + +<p> +Thorndyke’s decision was not altogether unwelcome. Shaken as I was by +the shock of this horrible tragedy, I was in no state to return to the +solitude of my lodgings. The quiet and tactful sympathy of my two +friends—or I should rather say three, for Polton was as kind and +gentle as a woman—was infinitely comforting, and their sober +cheerfulness and the interest of their talk prevented me from brooding +morbidly over the catastrophe of which I had been the involuntary +cause. And, dreadful as the associations of the place were, I could +not but feel that those of my older resorts would be equally painful. +For me, at present, the Heath would be haunted by the figure of poor +Letitia, walking at my side, telling me her pitiful tale and so +pathetically craving my sympathy and friendship. And the Highgate Road +could not but wring my heart with the recollection of that evening +when we had walked together up the narrow lane—all unconscious of the +black-hearted murderer stealing after us and foiled only by that +futile spy—when, as we said good-bye, I had kissed her and she had +run off blushing like a girl. +</p> + +<p> +Moreover, if Thorndyke’s chambers were fraught with terrible and +gloomy associations, they were also pervaded by an atmosphere of +resolute, relentless preparation which was itself a relief to me; for, +as the first shock of horrified grief passed, it left me possessed by +a fury of hatred for the murderer and consumed by an inextinguishable +craving for vengeance. Nor was the time of suspense so long as we had +anticipated. On the very next morning a letter arrived from the Home +Office containing the necessary authority to make the proposed +examination and informing Thorndyke that, on the following day, the +police would take possession of the ashes, which would be delivered to +him by an officer who would remain to witness the examination and to +resume possession of the remains when it was concluded. +</p> + +<p> +I saw very little more of Thorndyke that day, but I gathered that he +was busy making the final arrangements for the important work of the +morrow and in clearing off various tasks so as to leave himself free +from engagements. Nor did I enjoy much of Jervis’s society, for he, +too, was anxious to have the day free for the “Crucial Experiment,” +which was—we hoped—to solve the mystery of Septimus Maddock’s death +and explain the villain Samway’s strange vindictiveness towards me. +</p> + +<p> +Left to myself, and by no means enamoured of my own society, I +wandered up to the laboratory to see what Polton was doing and to +distract my gloomy thoughts by a little gossip with him on the various +technical processes of which he possessed so much curious information. +I found him arrayed in a white apron, with his sleeves turned up, +busily occupied with what I took to be a slab of dough, which he had +spread on a pastry board and was levelling with a hard-wood +rolling-pin. He greeted me, as I entered with his queer, crinkly +smile, but made no remark; and I stood awhile in silence, watching him +cut the paste in halves, sprinkle it with flour, fold it up and once +more roll it out into a sheet with the wooden pin. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this going to be a meat pie, Polton?” I asked, at length. +</p> + +<p> +His smile broadened at my question—for which I suspect he had been +waiting. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think you’d care much for the flavour of it, if it was, sir,” +he answered. “But it does look like dough, doesn’t it. It’s +moulding-wax; a special formula of the Doctor’s own.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought that white powder was flour.” +</p> + +<p> +“So it is, sir; the best wheaten flour. It’s lighter than a mineral +powder and more tenacious. You have to use some powder to reduce the +stickiness of the wax, especially in a soft paste like this, which has +a lot of lard in it.” +</p> + +<p> +“What are you going to use it for?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” exclaimed Polton, pausing to give the paste a vicious whack with +the rolling-pin, “there you are, sir. That’s just what I’ve been +asking myself all the time I’ve been rolling it out. The Doctor, +sir—God bless him—is the most exasperating gentleman in the world. +He fairly drives me mad with curiosity, at times. He will give me a +piece of work to do—something to make, perhaps—with full +particulars—all the facts, you understand, perfectly clear and exact, +with working drawings if necessary. But he never says what the thing +is for. So I make a hypothesis for myself—whole bundles of +hypotheses, I make. And they always turn out wrong. I assure you, +sir,” he concluded with solemn emphasis, “that I spend the best part +of my life asking myself conundrums and giving myself the wrong +answers.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should have thought,” said I, “that you would have got used to his +ways by now.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t get used to him,” rejoined Polton. “It’s impossible. He +doesn’t think like any other man. Ordinary men’s brains are turned out +pretty much alike from a single mould, like a batch of pottery. But +the Doctor’s brain was a special order. If there was any mould at all, +that mould was broken up when the job was finished.” +</p> + +<p> +“What you mean is,” said I, “that he has a great deal more +intelligence than is given to the rank and file of humanity.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t,” retorted Polton. “It isn’t a question of quantity at +all. It’s a different kind of intelligence. Ordinary men have to +reason from visible facts. He doesn’t. He reasons from facts which his +imagination tells him exists, but which nobody else can see. He’s like +a portrait painter who can do you a likeness of your face by looking +at the back of your head. I suppose it’s what he calls constructive +imagination, such as Darwin and Harvey and Pasteur and other great +discoverers had, which enabled them to see beyond the facts that were +known to the common herd of humanity.” +</p> + +<p> +I was somewhat doubtful as to the soundness of Polton’s views on the +transcendental intellect, though respectfully admiring of the +thoughtfulness of this curious little handicraftsman; accordingly I +returned to the more concrete subject of wax. +</p> + +<p> +“Haven’t you any idea what this stuff is going to be used for?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not the slightest,” he replied. “The Doctor’s instructions were to +make six pounds of it, to make it soft enough to take a squeeze of a +stiff feather if warmed gently, and firm enough to keep its shape in a +half-inch layer with a plaster backing, and to be sure to have it +ready by to-morrow morning. That’s all. I know there’s an important +analysis on to-morrow and I suppose this wax has got something to do +with it. But, as to what moulding wax can have to do with a chemical +analysis, that’s a question that I can’t make head or tail of.” +</p> + +<p> +Neither could I, though I had more data than Polton appeared to +possess. Nor could Jervis, to whom I propounded the riddle when he +came in to tea. We went up to the laboratory together and inspected, +not only the wax, but the exterior of three large parcels addressed to +Professor Woodfield, care of Dr. Thorndyke, and bearing the labels of +a firm of wholesale chemists. But neither of us could suggest any +solution of the mystery; and the only result of our visit to the +laboratory was that Polton was somewhat scandalized by the conduct of +his junior employer, who consoled himself for his failure by executing +with the wax, a life-sized and highly grotesque portrait of Father +Humperdinck. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch21"> +CHAPTER XXI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE FINAL PROBLEM</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">At</span> exactly half-past eleven in the following forenoon, Professor +Woodfield arrived, bearing a massive cowhide bag which he deposited on +a chair as a preliminary to taking off his hat and wiping his +forehead. He was a big, burly, heavy-browed man, sparing of speech and +rather gruff in manner. +</p> + +<p> +“Stuff arrived yet?” he asked when he had brought his forehead to a +satisfactory polish. +</p> + +<p> +“I think it came yesterday morning,” replied Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“The deuce it did!” exclaimed Woodfield. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Three parcels from Townley and Draper’s—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you’re talking of the chemicals. I meant the other stuff.” +</p> + +<p> +“No; the officer hasn’t arrived yet, but I expect he will be here in a +few minutes. Superintendent Miller is a scrupulously punctual man.” +</p> + +<p> +The professor strode over to the window and glared out in the +direction of Crown Office Row. +</p> + +<p> +“That man of yours got everything ready?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered Thorndyke; “and I have looked over the laboratory +myself. Everything is ready. You can begin the instant the ashes are +delivered to us.” +</p> + +<p> +Woodfield expressed his satisfaction—or whatever he intended to +express—by a grunt, without removing his eyes from the approach to +our chambers. +</p> + +<p> +“Cab coming,” he announced a few moments later. “Man inside with a +parcel. That the officer?” +</p> + +<p> +Jervis looked out over the professor’s shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said he, “that’s Miller; and, confound it! here’s Marchmont +with old Humperdinck. Shall we bolt up to the laboratory and send down +word that we’re all out of town?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see why we should,” said Thorndyke. “Woodfield won’t be +inconsolable if we have to leave him to work by himself for a while.” +</p> + +<p> +The professor confirmed this statement by another grunt, and, shortly +afterwards, the clamour of the little brass knocker announced the +arrival of the first contingent, which, when I opened the door, was +seen to consist of the solicitor and his very reverend client. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Thorndyke!” exclaimed Marchmont, shaking our principal’s +hand; “what a shocking affair this is—this murder, I mean. I read +about it in the paper. A dreadful affair!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed,” Thorndyke assented; “a most callous and horrible +crime.” +</p> + +<p> +“Terrible! Terrible!” said Marchmont. “So unpleasant for you, too, and +so inconvenient. Actually on your own stairs, I understand. But I hope +they’ll be able to catch the villain. Have you any idea who he is?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have a very strong suspicion,” Thorndyke replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” exclaimed Marchmont. “I thought so. The rascal brought his pigs +to the wrong market. What? Like doing a burglary at Scotland Yard. He +couldn’t have known who lived here. Hallo! why, here’s Mr. Miller. +Howdy-do, Superintendent?” +</p> + +<p> +The officer, for whom I had left the door ajar, entered in his usual +brisk fashion, and, having bestowed a comprehensive salutation on the +assembled company, deposited on the table an apparently weighty +parcel, securely wrapped and decorated with a label bearing the +inscription “This side up.” +</p> + +<p> +“There, sir,” said he, “there’s your box of mystery; and I don’t mind +telling you that I’m on tenterhooks of curiosity to see what you are +going to make of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Professor Woodfield is the presiding magician,” said Thorndyke, “so +we will hand it over to him. I suppose the casket is sealed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; it was sealed in my presence, and I’ve got to be present when +the seals are broken.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll break the seals up in the laboratory,” said Woodfield, “but we +may as well undo the parcel here.” +</p> + +<p> +He produced a solid-looking pocket-knife, fitted with a practicable +corkscrew, and, having cut the string, stripped off the wrappings of +the parcel. +</p> + +<p> +“God bless my soul!” exclaimed Marchmont, as the last wrapping was +removed; “why, it’s a cremation urn! What in the name of Fortune are +you going to do?” +</p> + +<p> +Miller tapped the lid of the urn with a dramatic gesture. +</p> + +<p> +“Dr. Thorndyke,” said he, “is going, I hope, to extract from the ashes +in this casket an instrument of vengeance on the murderer of Mrs. +Samway.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ach!” exclaimed Father Humperdinck, “do not speak of vengeance in ze +bresence of zese boor remains of a fellow greature. Chustice if you +laig, but not vengeance. ‘Vengeance is mine, saiz ze Lordt!’ ” +</p> + +<p> +“M’yes,” agreed Miller, “that’s perfectly true, sir, and we quite +understand your point of view. Still, we’ve got our job to do, you +know.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said Marchmont, “I don’t understand. What is the connection? +These appear to be the remains of Septimus Maddock, whoever he may +have been, and he seems to have died last November. What has he to do +with the murder of this poor woman, Samway?” +</p> + +<p> +“The connection is this,” replied Thorndyke; “the man who murdered +Mrs. Samway murdered the man whose ashes are in this urn. That is my +proposition; and I hope, with the skilful aid of my friend Professor +Woodfield, to prove it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Marchmont, “it is a remarkable proposition and the proof +will be still more remarkable. I certainly thought that a body that +had been cremated was beyond the reach of any possible inquiry.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid that is so, as a rule,” Thorndyke admitted. “But I hope +to find an exception in this case. Shall we go upstairs and commence +the examination?” +</p> + +<p> +Woodfield having agreed with gruff emphasis, Miller picked up the +casket and we all proceeded to the laboratory, where Polton, like a +presiding analytical demon, was discovered amidst his beloved +apparatus. The casket was placed on a table, the seals broken and the +cover removed by Woodfield, whereupon we all, with one accord, craned +forward to peer in at what looked like a mass of fragments of snowy +madrepore coral. +</p> + +<p> +“Ach!” exclaimed Father Humperdinck, “bot it is a solemn zought zat +zese boor ashes vas vunce a living man chust like ourselves.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Marchmont, “it is, and I suppose we shall all be pretty +much alike by the time we reach this stage. Cremation is a leveller, +with a vengeance. Still, I will say this much, these remains are +perfectly unobjectionable in every way, in fact they are almost +agreeable in appearance; whereas, an ordinary disinterment after this +lapse of time would have been a most horrid business.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed,” agreed Thorndyke; “I have had to make a good many +examinations of exhumed bodies, and, as you say, they were very +different from this. If I were not a practitioner of legal +medicine—in which exhumation often furnishes crucial evidence—I +should say that this cleanly and decent method of disposing of the +dead was incomparably superior to any other. Unfortunately it has +serious medico-legal drawbacks. I think, Woodfield, that we will turn +the ashes out on that sheet of paper on the bench, and then, with your +permission, I will pick out the recognizable fragments and examine +them while you are working on the small, powdery portions.” +</p> + +<p> +He took up the urn—which was an oblong, terracotta vessel some +fourteen inches in length—and very carefully inverted it over the +large sheet of clean white paper. Then, from the dazzling, snowy heap, +he picked out daintily the larger fragments, handling them with the +utmost tenderness—for, of course, they were excessively fragile—and +finally transferring them, one by one, to another sheet of paper at +the other end of the bench. +</p> + +<p> +The appearance of the remains was not quite as I had expected. Among +the powdery debris was a quite considerable number of larger +fragments, most of which were easily recognizable by the anatomical +eye, while some of the larger long bones almost gave the impression of +having been broken to enable them to be placed in the urn, and +suggested that a partial reconstitution, for the purpose of +determining the stature or other peculiarities of the skeleton was by +no means as impossible as I had supposed. But, large and small alike, +the pieces were strangely light and attenuated, like the ghosts of +bones or artificial counterfeits in porous, spongy coral. +</p> + +<p> +When Thorndyke had picked out such of the fragments as he wished to +examine, Professor Woodfield glanced casually over the collection, but +suddenly he paused and, stooping over a large piece of the right +innominate bone, narrowly inspected a somewhat shiny yellow stain on +its inner surface. +</p> + +<p> +“Looks as if you were right, Thorndyke,” he said in his laconic way, +“qualitatively, at any rate. We shall see what the quantitative test +says.” +</p> + +<p> +I pored over that dull yellow stain—as did Jervis also—but could +make no guess at its nature or conceive any explanation of its +presence. What interested me more was a small depression or cavity in +the bone at the centre of the stain. That it was not the result of +cremation was obvious from the fact that it was surrounded by a small +area of sclerosed or hardened bone, which was quite plainly +distinguishable on the spongy background, and which clearly pointed to +some inflammatory change that had occurred during life. But of its +cause, as of that of the stain itself, I could think of no +intelligible explanation. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you enough of the small fragments to go on with for the present, +Woodfield?” Thorndyke asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Plenty,” replied Woodfield. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said Thorndyke, “I will get on with my side of the inquiry. I +shall want the whole-plate camera first, Polton.” +</p> + +<p> +While his assistant was preparing the camera, he laid several of the +fragments on a baize-covered board and secured them in position by +threads attached to wooden-headed pins like diminutive brad-awls. When +the fragments were fixed immovably, he placed the board in a vertical +position on a stand in a good light, by which time Polton was ready to +make the exposure. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, Professor Woodfield was proceeding—under the horrified +supervision of Father Humperdinck,—with his part of the +investigation. He was a matter-of-fact man, a chemist to the backbone, +and to him it was evident that the late Septimus Maddock was simply +many pounds of animal phosphates. Quite composedly he shovelled up a +scoopful of the ashes, which he emptied into the pan of a +spring-balance, and, having weighed out a pound and a quarter, shot +the contents of the pan into a large mortar and forthwith began to +grind the fragments to a fine powder, humming a cheerful stave to the +ring of the pestle. But his next proceeding scandalized the worthy +Jesuit still more deeply. Having weighed out certain quantities of +charcoal, sodium carbonate and borax, he pulverized each in a second +mortar, mixed the whole together and shot the mixture into the first +mortar, which contained the ash, stirring the entire contents up into +a repulsive-looking grey powder. +</p> + +<p> +“But, my dear sir!” exclaimed Father Humperdinck. “You are destroying +ze remains!” +</p> + +<p> +Woodfield looked at him from under his beetling brows, but went on +stirring. +</p> + +<p> +“Matter is indestructible,” he replied stolidly; and with this he +tipped the contents of the mortar on to a sheet of paper and +transferred them to a large fireclay crucible. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Polton,” said he, “is the furnace ready?” +</p> + +<p> +Polton disengaged himself for a moment from the camera, and took up a +position by the side of the big fireclay drum with his hand on the gas +cock. Then Woodfield, having dropped three or four large iron nails +into the crucible, carried the latter over to the furnace and lowered +it into the central cavity. The cock was turned on by Polton and a +match applied, whereupon a great purplish flame shot up with a roar +from the mouth of the furnace; and even when this had been confined by +the dropping on of the massive cover, the iron-cased cylinder +continued to emit a muffled, sullen growl. +</p> + +<p> +While the crucible was heating, I transferred my attention to +Thorndyke. The photographic operations were now concluded and the +moulding wax had just been produced from a warmed incubator. Polton’s +curiosity—and mine—was about to be satisfied. +</p> + +<p> +Thorndyke began by laying a thick slab of the warm and pliable wax on +the middle of a smooth plate of varnished plaster, at each corner of +which was a small, hemispherical pit, and dusting powdered French +chalk sparingly over the level surface of the wax. Then he took the +large fragment of bone, which bore the mysterious yellow stain, and +laid it on the wax with the stained side uppermost, pressing it very +gently until it gradually sank into the soft, pasty mass. Next, he +took a somewhat smaller slab of wax and, having dusted its surface +with French chalk, laid it on the fragment of bone, pressing it on +gently but firmly, especially in the neighbourhood of the stain. +Having squeezed some irregular-shaped lumps of wax on the back of the +top slab, he fastened a strip of india-rubber round the edge of the +plaster plate, so that it formed an upright rim and turned to Polton. +</p> + +<p> +“Now mix a bowl of plaster—and mix it extra stiff, so that it will +set quickly and hard.” +</p> + +<p> +With a soft brush he painted a thin coat of oil on the exposed portion +of the plaster plate, up to the edges of the wax, and including the +little circular hollows. By the time he had done this, Polton +reappeared from the workshop with a basin of liquid plaster, which he +was beating up with a spoon as if preparing a custard or batter +pudding. As soon as the plaster began to thicken, he poured it on the +wax and the oiled slab until it formed a level mass, nearly flush with +the top of the india-rubber rim. In a surprisingly short time, the +smooth, creamy liquid solidified into a substance having the +appearance of icing-sugar, and when Polton had stripped away the +india-rubber rim, exposing the edge of the new plaster slab, this part +of the process was finished. +</p> + +<p> +“We will put this mould aside for the plaster to harden while we make +the other mould,” said Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“Aren’t you going to make moulds of all the fragments?” asked Jervis. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Thorndyke answered; “the photographs of the rest will be +sufficient, and I don’t think we shall want even those; in fact, what +I am doing now is merely by way of extra precaution. We are obliged to +destroy the fragments in order to make the analysis, so I am just +putting their appearance on record. You never know what an ingenious +defending counsel may spring on you.” +</p> + +<p> +As Polton produced a second plate of varnished plaster and Thorndyke +began to prepare the wax for the next mould, I turned my attention +once more to Professor Woodfield. He had now deserted the mortar—in +which he had been preparing a further supply of “the stuff”—and taken +up a position by the furnace, with a long pair of crucible tongs in +his hand. On the bench, hard by, was an iron plate, and on this an +oblong block of iron in which were six conical hollows. +</p> + +<p> +Presently Woodfield glanced at his watch, turned off the gas-cock, +removed the cover of the furnace with his tongs, and, reaching down +into the glowing interior, lifted out the nearly white-hot crucible. +Instantly Marchmont, Humperdinck and Jervis gathered round to watch, +and even Thorndyke left his mould to come and see the result of the +first trial. +</p> + +<p> +Having stood the crucible on the iron plate while he picked out the +large nails, one by one, Woodfield lifted it and steadily poured its +molten contents into the first hollow in the iron block, which they +soon filled, and overflowing ran along the iron plate in glowing +streams that soon grew dull from contact with the cold surface. I +noticed that, as the crucible was slowly tilted, Thorndyke kept his +eyes fixed on its interior, as also did Jervis and Woodfield; and, +watching closely, I saw just as the vessel was nearly empty, what +looked somewhat like a red-hot oil-globule floating in the last of the +glowing liquid. This passed out as the crucible was tilted further, +and disappeared into the iron mould; when Woodfield, having exchanged +a quick, significant glance with Thorndyke, proceeded forthwith, in +his matter-of-fact way to fill up the still red-hot vessel with +another pound and a quarter of the late Septimus Maddock. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose,” said Marchmont, “it is premature to ask you what is the +final object of these very interesting operations?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s no use asking me,” replied Woodfield, “because I don’t know. I +am searching for traces of a particular substance, but what may be the +significance of its presence, I haven’t the slightest idea. You’d +better ask Dr. Thorndyke—and he won’t tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I know,” said Marchmont. “Thorndyke will never tell you anything +until he can tell you everything. By the way, will the remains be +completely destroyed or will it be possible to recover them?” +</p> + +<p> +“They are not destroyed at all,” replied Woodfield. “They are all in +the slag that came out of the crucible. We shall simply put the slag +in the urn. There is a little charcoal, soda and borax added, but +nothing is taken away.” +</p> + +<p> +I could see that to the unchemical mind of Father Humperdinck, this +was far from satisfactory, and I observed him poring, with obvious +disapproval, over the dark-coloured, glassy masses of slag on the iron +plate. “Ashes to Ashes” was an intelligible formula, but “ashes to +slag” was quite another matter, for which no provision had been made +in any known ritual. +</p> + +<p> +After a rather hurried luncheon, the wax moulds were carefully opened +and the fragments of bone picked out, when it was seen that each +fragment had left a perfect impression on the wax surface into which +it had been pressed. These hollow impressions were now filled with +liquid plaster, and, when the latter had thickened sufficiently, the +two halves of each mould were quickly fitted together and kept in +close contact by a weight. +</p> + +<p> +During the interval which was necessary to allow of the plaster +setting quite firmly, I had leisure to note that Professor Woodfield +had filled two more of the cavities in the iron mould. Now that the +furnace was thoroughly hot, he was able to work rather more quickly, +and he had economized time by leaving a crucible to heat while we were +at lunch. He was preparing to take the fourth charge from the furnace +when I observed Polton removing the weight from one of the moulds and +hurriedly transferred my patronage to his part of the entertainment. +The mould on which he was operating was the one bearing the +impressions of the stained fragment of the innominate bone, and when +he separated the two halves and exposed the newly-made cast inside one +might have thought that the actual bone had been left in, so perfectly +did the snowy plaster cast reproduce the dazzlingly-white calcined +bone. But, naturally, the stain did not appear in the cast, a defect +which Thorndyke proceeded at once to remedy by making a tracing of the +exact position and extent of the coloured patch and transferring it to +the cast. Then, and not till then, Thorndyke regretfully handed the +original fragment to Professor Woodfield, who impassively dropped it +into the mortar and pounded it into a mere characterless powder. +</p> + +<p> +After the opening of the second mould and the removal of the casts, +the interest of the investigation lapsed for a time. Woodfield’s +operations were, doubtless, the most important part of the procedure, +but they were not thrilling to look on at. In fact, they became by +unvarying repetition, decidedly tedious, and when the last +charge—containing the uttermost crumb of ash—had been placed in the +furnace and there was nothing to do but stare at the great fireclay +drum, Marchmont and Humperdinck began to yawn in the most portentous +manner. I rather wondered that they did not go, for the investigation +was no business of theirs, and there was little entertainment in +gazing at the outside of the furnace or watching Polton and the +Superintendent gather up the masses of slag from the plate and drop +them into the casket. But I supposed that they, like myself, were +consoling themselves for the tedium of the chemist’s manipulations by +the prospect of satisfying their curiosity as to the final result of +the experiment. +</p> + +<p> +When, at length, the last charge was ready, Woodfield withdrew the +white-hot crucible from the furnace and stood it on the iron plate. +But this time he did not pour out the contents. Instead, he tilted the +iron mould, and, picking out the conical masses of slag that it +contained, one by one, lowered them with his tongs into the hot +crucible. Then, having thrown in a little fresh flux, he returned the +crucible to the furnace. +</p> + +<p> +“Why didn’t he pour out the melted stuff this time?” Marchmont asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Because,” Thorndyke replied, “I want, for certain reasons, to have +the total result of the analysis in a single mass. Each of those +little cones of slag contains the result from a sixth part of the ash; +the crucible now contains the matter extracted from the whole of the +ashes. For my purposes this is more suitable, as you will see in a few +minutes—for we shall not have to leave the crucible in the furnace so +long this time.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad of that,” said Marchmont, “though this has been a most +interesting, and I may say, fascinating experience. I am delighted to +have had an opportunity of witnessing these most instructive +and—er—aw—” +</p> + +<p> +The rest of the sentence was rendered somewhat obscure by a colossal +yawn; but very soon the interest of the proceedings was revived by +Woodfield, who approached the furnace with a determined air and +removed its cover with somewhat of a flourish. +</p> + +<p> +“Now we shall see, Thorndyke,” said he, turning off the gas and +reaching down into the glowing cavity with his tongs. He lifted out +the crucible and, standing it on the iron plate, took out the nails, +tapping each on the side of the pot as he withdrew it. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you want me to pour it out, or shall I break the pot?” asked +Woodfield. +</p> + +<p> +“That rests with you,” replied Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“Better break the pot, then,” said Woodfield. +</p> + +<p> +This entailed a further spell of expectant waiting, and we all stood +round, gazing impatiently at the crucible as it slowly faded from +bright red to dull red and from this to its natural dull drab. It was +quite a long time before Woodfield considered it cool enough to be +broken, indeed I half suspected him of prolonging our suspense with +deliberate malice. At length he took up a peculiarly-shaped hammer +which Polton had handed to him, and, laying the crucible on its side, +struck it sharply near the bottom with the pointed beak; then he +turned the pot over and struck a similar blow on the opposite side; +upon which the bottom of the crucible broke off cleanly, exposing the +mass of dark, glassy slag, and, embedded in it, a bright button of +metal. +</p> + +<p> +“What metal is that?” Jervis demanded eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +The professor struck the button smartly with the hammer, whereupon it +detached itself from the slag and rolled on to the plate. +</p> + +<p> +“Lead,” said he. “I don’t vouch for its purity, but it is undoubtedly +lead.” +</p> + +<p> +Jervis turned to Thorndyke with a puzzled look. +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t be suggesting,” said he, “that this was a case of acute +lead poisoning. The circumstances didn’t admit of it, and besides, the +quantity of lead is impossibly large.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should suppose,” interposed Miller, “that the doctor was suggesting +a most particularly acute form of lead poisoning, only that it is +impossible to imagine that a cremation certificate would be granted in +a case where a man had been killed by a pistol shot.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not so sure of that,” said Thorndyke; “though it is not likely +that a cremation certificate would be applied for under those +circumstances. But I am certainly not suggesting lead poisoning.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you say is the weight of this button, Thorndyke?” the +professor asked. +</p> + +<p> +“That,” replied Thorndyke, “depends on its relation to the total +content of lead in the ashes. What percentage do you suppose has been +lost in the process of reduction?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not more than ten per cent. I hope. You may take this button as +representing ninety per cent. of the total lead; perhaps a little +more.” +</p> + +<p> +Thorndyke made a rapid calculation on a scrap of paper. +</p> + +<p> +“I suggest,” said he, “that the total lead in the ashes was three +hundred and eighty-six grains. Deducting a tenth, say thirty-eight and +a half grains, we have three hundred and forty-seven and a half +grains, which should be the weight of this button.” +</p> + +<p> +Woodfield picked up the button and striding over to the glass case +which contained the chemical balance, slid up the front, and, placing +the button in one pan, put the weight corresponding to Thorndyke’s +estimate, in the other. On turning the handle that released the +balance, it was seen that the button was appreciably heavier than +Thorndyke had stated, and Woodfield adjusted the weights with a small +pair of forceps until the index stood in the middle of the graduated +arc. +</p> + +<p> +“The weight is three hundred and forty-nine and a half grains,” said +Woodfield. “That means that my assay was rather better than I thought. +You were quite right, Thorndyke, as you generally are. I wonder what +the object was that weighed three hundred and eighty-six grains. Are +you going to tell us?” +</p> + +<p> +Thorndyke felt in his waistcoat pocket. “It was an object,” said he, +“very similar to this.” +</p> + +<p> +As he spoke, he produced a rather large, dark-coloured bullet, which +he handed to Woodfield, who immediately placed it in the pan of the +balance and tested its weight. +</p> + +<p> +“Just a fraction short of three hundred and eighty-seven grains,” said +he. +</p> + +<p> +The Superintendent peered curiously into the balance-case, and, taking +the bullet out of the pan, turned it over in his fingers. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s not a modern bullet,” said he. “They don’t make ’em that size +now, and they don’t generally make ’em of pure lead.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Thorndyke agreed. “They don’t. This is an old French bullet; a +chassepôt of about 1870.” +</p> + +<p> +“A chassepôt!” exclaimed Humperdinck, with suddenly-awakened +interest. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Thorndyke; “and this button”—he picked it up from the +floor of the balance-case as he spoke,—“was once a chassepôt bullet, +too. This, Father Humperdinck,” he added, holding out the little mass +of metal towards the Jesuit, “was the bullet which struck your friend, +Vitalis Reinhardt, near Saarbrück more than thirty years ago.” +</p> + +<p> +The priest was thunderstruck. For some seconds he gazed from +Thorndyke’s face to the button of lead, with his mouth agape and an +expression of utter stupefaction. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” he exclaimed, at length, “it is impossible! How can it be, in +the ashes of a stranger?” +</p> + +<p> +“I take it,” said Marchmont, “that Dr. Thorndyke is suggesting that +this was the body of Vitalis Reinhardt.” +</p> + +<p> +“Undoubtedly I am,” said Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“It sounds a rather bold supposition,” Marchmont observed, a little +dubiously. “Isn’t it basing a somewhat startling conclusion upon +rather slender data? The presence of the lead is a striking fact, but +still, taken alone—” +</p> + +<p> +“But it isn’t taken alone,” Thorndyke interrupted. “It is the final +link in a long chain of evidence. You will hear that evidence later, +but, as it happens, I can prove the identity of these remains from +facts elicited by the examination that we have just made. Let me put +the argument briefly. +</p> + +<p> +“First, I will draw your attention to these plaster casts, which you +have seen me make from the original bones. Take, to begin with, these +small fragments. Dr. Jervis will tell you what bones they are.” +</p> + +<p> +He handed the small casts to Jervis, who looked them over—not for the +first time—and passed them to me. +</p> + +<p> +“I say that they represent two complete fingers and the first, or +proximal, joint of a right thumb. What do you say, Jardine?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is what I had already made them out to be,” I replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” said Thorndyke. “That gives us an important initial fact. +These remains contained two complete fingers and the first joint of a +thumb. But these remains profess to be those of a man named Septimus +Maddock. Now this man is known to have had deformed hands, of the kind +described as brachydactylous. In such hands all the fingers are +incomplete—they have only two joints instead of the normal three—and +the first, or proximal joint of the thumb is absent. Obviously, then, +these remains cannot be those of Septimus Maddock, as alleged. +</p> + +<p> +“But, if not Maddock’s remains, whose are they? From certain facts +known to me, I had assumed them to be those of Vitalis Reinhardt. Let +us see what support that assumption has received. Reinhardt is known +to have been wounded in the right hip by a chassepôt bullet, and the +bullet was never extracted. Now I find, among these remains, a +considerable portion of the right hip-bone. In that bone is a mark +which plainly shows that it has been perforated and the perforation +repaired, and there is a cavity in which a foreign body of about the +size of a chassepôt bullet has been partly embedded. The chemical +composition of that foreign body is plainly indicated by a stain which +surrounds the cavity; which stain is evidently due to oxide of lead. +Clearly the foreign body was composed of lead, which will have melted +in the cremation furnace and run away, but left a small portion in the +cavity, which small portion, becoming oxidized, the oxide will have +liquefied and become soaked up by the absorbent bone-ash, thus +producing the stain. +</p> + +<p> +“Finally, we find by assay, that this foreign body actually was +composed of lead and that its weight was—within a negligible amount +of error—three hundred and eighty-six grains, which is the weight of +a chassepôt bullet. +</p> + +<p> +“I say that the evidence, from the ashes alone, is conclusive. But +this is only corroborative of conclusions that I had already formed on +a quite considerable body of evidence. Are you satisfied, Marchmont? I +mean, of course, only in respect of a <i>prima facie</i> case.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly satisfied,” replied Marchmont. “And now I understand why +you insisted on my being present at this investigation and bringing +Father Humperdinck; which, I must admit, has been puzzling me the +whole day. By the way, I rather infer, from what you said, that there +has been foul play. Is that so?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think,” replied Thorndyke, “there can hardly be a doubt that +Reinhardt was murdered by Septimus Maddock.” +</p> + +<p> +Father Humperdinck’s face suddenly turned purple. +</p> + +<p> +“And zis man Maddock,” he exclaimed fiercely, “zis murderer of my poor +friendt Vitalis, vere is he?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is being sought by the police at this moment,” replied Thorndyke. +</p> + +<p> +“He must be caught!” Father Humperdinck shouted in a furious voice, +“and ven he is caught he must be bunished as he deserves. I shall not +vun moment rest until he is hanged as high as Haman.” Here I caught a +quick glance from Marchmont’s eyes and seemed to hear a faint murmur +which framed the words “Vengeance is mine.” “But,” the Jesuit +continued, after a momentary pause, in the same loud, angry tone: “zis +villain has a double grime gommitted; he has murdered a goot, a +chenerous, a bious man; and he has robbed ze boor, ze suffering and ze +unfortunate.” +</p> + +<p> +“How has he done that?” asked Marchmont. +</p> + +<p> +“By murdering ze benefactor of our zoziety,” was the answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, to be sure,” agreed the solicitor. “I hadn’t thought of that. Of +course, the original will in favour of Miss Vyne probably stands +without modification.” +</p> + +<p> +At this point Superintendent Miller interposed. +</p> + +<p> +“You were saying, sir, that the man Maddock is now being sought by the +police. Do you mean under that name?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” answered Thorndyke. “I mean under the name of Samway. Septimus +Maddock, alias Isaac Van Damme, is written off as deceased. But +Samway, alias Maddock, alias Burton of Bruges, alias Gill, is his +reincarnation, and, as such, I commend him to your attention; and I +hope, Miller, you will be able to produce him shortly, in the flesh. +The evidence, as you see, is now ready, and all that is lacking is the +prisoner.” +</p> + +<p> +“He shan’t be lacking long, sir, if any efforts of mine can bring him +to light. I see a case here that will pay for all the work that we can +put into it; and now, with your permission, doctor, I will take +possession of this urn and get off, to see that everything necessary +is being done.” +</p> + +<p> +The Superintendent, as so often happens with departing guests, +infected our other two visitors with a sudden desire to be gone. +Father Humperdinck, especially, seemed unwilling to lose sight of the +police officer—who was correspondingly anxious to escape—and, having +wished us a very hasty adieu, hurried down the stairs in his wake, +followed, at a greater interval, by his legal adviser. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch22"> +CHAPTER XXII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THORNDYKE REVIEWS THE CASE</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">When</span> Professor Woodfield, having deliberately packed his bag and—to +my great relief and Jervis’s—declined Thorndyke’s invitation to stay +and take tea with us, presently took his departure, we descended to +the sitting-room, whither Polton followed us almost immediately with a +tea-tray, having, apparently, boiled the kettle in the adjacent +workshop while the final act of the analysis was in progress. He +placed the tray on a small table by Thorndyke’s chair, and, evidently, +anticipating the inevitable discussion on the results of the analysis, +made up the fire on a liberal scale and retired with unconcealed +reluctance. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as we were alone, Jervis opened the subject by voicing his and +my joint desire for “more light.” +</p> + +<p> +“This has been a great surprise to me, Thorndyke,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“A complete surprise?” Thorndyke asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I can’t say that. The solution of the problem was one that I had +proposed to myself, but I had rejected it as impossible; and it looks +impossible still, though I now know it to be the true solution.” +</p> + +<p> +“I quite appreciate your difficulty,” said Thorndyke, “and I see that +if you did not happen to light on the answer to it, the difficulty was +insuperable. That was the really brilliant feature in Maddock’s plan. +But for a single fact which was almost certain to be overlooked, the +real explanation of the circumstances would appear utterly incredible. +Even if suspicion had been aroused later and the true explanation +suggested, there seemed to be one fact with which it was absolutely +irreconcilable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” agreed Jervis; “that is what I have felt.” +</p> + +<p> +“The truth is,” said Thorndyke, “that this crime was planned with the +most diabolical cleverness and subtlety. We realize that when we +consider by what an infinitely narrow margin it failed. Indeed, we can +hardly say that it did fail. As far as we can see, it succeeded +completely, and if the criminal could only have accepted its success, +there seems to be no reason why any discovery should ever have taken +place. Looking back on the case, we see that our experience has been +the same as O’Donnell’s; we had no clue whatever excepting the one +that was furnished by the criminal himself in his unnecessary efforts +to obtain even greater security. Suppose Maddock, having carried out +his plan successfully, had been content to leave it at that, who would +have known, or even suspected, that a crime had been committed? Not a +soul, I believe. But instead of that he must needs do what the +criminal almost invariably does; he must tinker at the crime when all +is going well and surround himself by a number of needless safeguards +by which, in the end, attention is attracted to his doings. He knows, +or believes he knows, that Jardine has in his possession certain +knowledge of a highly dangerous character; he does not ask himself +whether Jardine is aware that he possesses such knowledge, but, +appraising that knowledge at what he, himself, knows to be its value, +he decides to get rid of Jardine as the one element of danger. And +that was where he failed. If he had left Jardine alone, the whole +affair would have passed off as perfectly normal and its details would +soon have been lost sight of and forgotten. Even as it was, he missed +complete success only by a hair’s breadth. But for the most trivial +coincidence, Jardine’s body might be lying undiscovered in that cellar +at this very moment.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a comfortable thought for you, Jardine,” my younger colleague +remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“Very,” I agreed, with a slight shudder at the recollection of that +horrible death-trap. “But what was the coincidence? I never understood +how you came to be in that most unlikely place at that very opportune +moment.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was the merest chance,” replied Thorndyke. “I happened to have +called in at the hospital that evening, and, having an hour to spare, +it occurred to me to look in at Batson’s and see if you were getting +on quite happily in your new command. As I had induced you to take +charge, I felt some sort of responsibility in the matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was exceedingly kind of you, sir,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“Not in the least,” said Thorndyke. “It was just the ordinary +solicitude of the teacher for a promising pupil. Well, when I arrived +at the house, I found that excellent girl, Maggie, standing on the +doorstep, looking anxiously up and down the street. It seemed that, on +reflection, she was still convinced that the works were untenanted, +and the oddity of the whole set of circumstances had made her somewhat +uneasy. I waited a few minutes and disposed of one or two patients, +and then, as you did not return, after what seemed an unaccountably +long absence, I very easily induced her to show me where the place +was; and when we arrived there, the deserted aspect of the building +and the notice board over the gate seemed rather to justify her +anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +“I rang the bell loudly, as I daresay you know, but I did not wait +very long. When I failed to get any response, I too, became +suspicious, and proceeded without delay to pick the lock of the +wicket—and it is most fortunate that the wicket was unprovided with a +bolt, which would have delayed me very considerably. You know the +rest. When I shouted your name you must have tried to answer, for I +caught a kind of muffled groan and the sound of tapping, which guided +me and Maggie to your prison. But it was a near thing; for, when I +opened the cellar door, you fell out quite unconscious and accompanied +by a gush of carbon dioxide that was absolutely stifling.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said I, “it was touch and go. A few minutes more and it would +have been all up with me. I realized that as soon as I recovered +consciousness. But I couldn’t, for the life of me understand why +anybody should want to murder me, and I am not so very clear on the +subject now. I really knew nothing about Maddock.” +</p> + +<p> +“You knew more than anyone else knew, and he thought you knew more +than you did. But perhaps it would be instructive to review the case +in detail.” +</p> + +<p> +“It would be very instructive to me,” said Jervis, “for I don’t, even +now, see how you managed to bridge over those gaps that stopped me in +my attempts to make a hypothesis that covered all the circumstances.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” said Thorndyke, “then we will begin at the beginning; and +the beginning, for me, was the finding of Jardine, as I have described +it. Here was a pretty plain case of attempted murder, evidently +premeditated and apparently committed by some person who had access to +these works; evidently, also, conceived and planned with considerable +knowledge, skill and foresight, though with how much foresight I did +not realize until I had heard Jardine’s story. When I had Jardine’s +account of the affair, I saw that the crime had been planned with +quite remarkable ingenuity and judgment; in fact, the circumstances +had been so carefully considered, and contingencies so well provided +for that, but for a single tactical error the plan would have +succeeded. That error was in making the pretended emergency a surgical +injury. If the letter to Jardine had stated that a man was in a fit, +instead of suffering from a wound, our friend would have had no need +to call at the surgery for appliances but would have gone straight to +the works. And there, in all probability, his body would still be +lying, for no one would have known whither he had gone; and even if +his body had been accidentally discovered, all traces of the means by +which he had been killed would probably have been removed. There would +have been nothing to show that he had not strayed into the deserted +factory and turned on the gas himself; indeed, it is pretty certain +that matters would have been so arranged as to convey that impression +to the persons who made the discovery.” +</p> + +<p> +“There was the letter,” said I. “That would have given things away to +some extent.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you would have had it in your pocket, from which he would, of +course, have removed it. We may be sure that he had not overlooked the +letter. It was the need for surgical appliances that he had +overlooked; but, in spite of this error, the plan was ingenious, +subtle, and clearly not the work of an ignorant man. +</p> + +<p> +“And here I would point out to you that this latter fact was one of +great importance in searching for the solution of the mystery. We knew +something of our man. He was subtle, resourceful, and absolutely +ruthless. Noting this, I was prepared, in pursuing the case, to find +his other actions characterized by subtlety, resourcefulness and +ruthlessness. His further actions were not going to be those of a +dullard or an ignoramus. +</p> + +<p> +“But this was not all the information that I had concerning the +personality of this unknown villain. Jervis and I looked over the +cellars that same night within an hour and a half of the rescue and +before anything had been moved. We were then in a position to infer +that the unknown was probably a somewhat tall man and above the +average of strength, as shown by the weight, position and arrangement +of the iron bottles. Moreover, since there was no faintest trace of a +finger-print on any of them, it followed that some precaution against +them—such as gloves—had been adopted; which again suggested either a +professional criminal or a person well acquainted with criminal +methods. +</p> + +<p> +“So much for the man. As to the rest of the information that I +obtained by looking into the cellar, it seemed at the time meagre +enough; and yet, when considered by the light of Jardine’s statement, +it turned out to be of vital importance. You remember what it was, +Jardine? That cellar contained certain objects. They seemed very +unilluminating and commonplace, but, according to my invariable +custom, I considered them attentively and made a written list of them. +Do you remember what they were?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, quite well. There were ten empty cylinders, a spanner, a +packing-case—” +</p> + +<p> +“What were the dimensions of the case?” Thorndyke interrupted. +</p> + +<p> +“Seven feet long by two and a half wide and deep. Then there were a +couple of waterproof sheets and a quantity of straw. That is the lot, +I think, and I’ll be hanged if I can see what any of them—excepting +the three cylinders that were used for my benefit—have to do with the +case. Can you, Jervis?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid I can’t,” he replied. “They are all such very ordinary +objects.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ordinary or not,” said Thorndyke, “there they were; and I made a note +of them on the principle—which I am continually impressing on my +students—that you can never judge in advance what the evidential +value of any fact will be, and on the further principle that, in +estimating evidence, there is no such thing as a commonplace fact or +object. +</p> + +<p> +“Until I had heard Jardine’s account of the affair there was not much +to be gained by thinking about the possibilities that it presented. +There was, however, one point to be settled, and I dealt with it at +once. My slight inspection of the works had shown that no business was +being carried on in them; and the question was whether they were +completely untenanted or whether there was some person who had regular +access to them. My enquiries resulted, as you know, in the unearthing +of the mysterious Mr. Gill, but what his relation to the affair might +be I was not, at the moment, in a position to judge. +</p> + +<p> +“Then came our talk with Jardine, from which emerged the fact that the +ordinary motives of murder apparently did not exist in this case, and +that the crime appeared to have its origin in circumstances that had +arisen locally and recently. And, on our proceeding to search for such +conditions as might conceivably generate an adequate motive, we +lighted on a case of cremation. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, it is my habit, whenever I have to deal with death which has +been followed by cremation, to approach the case with the utmost +caution and scrutinize the circumstances most narrowly. For, admirable +as is this method of disposing of the dead regarded from a hygienic +standpoint, it has the fatal defect of lending itself most perfectly +to the more subtle forms of murder, and especially to the +administration of poison. By cremation all traces of the alkaloids, +the toxines and the other organic poisons are utterly destroyed, while +of the metals, the three whose compounds are most commonly employed +for criminal purposes, arsenic, antimony and mercury—are volatilized +by heat and would be more or less completely dissipated during the +incineration of the body. It is true that the most elaborate +precautions in the form of examination and certification are +prescribed—and usually taken, I presume—before cremation is +performed; but, as every medical jurist knows, precautions taken +before the event are useless, for, to be effective, they have to cover +every possible cause of death, which would be impracticable. Hence, as +suspicion, in case of poisoning, commonly does not arise until some +time after death, I always give the closest consideration to the +antecedent circumstances in cases where cremation has been performed. +</p> + +<p> +“But in this case of Jardine’s it was at once obvious that the +circumstances called for the minutest inquiry and that no inquiry had +been made. On the face of it the case was a suspicious one; and the +curious incident that Jardine described made it look more suspicious +still and, moreover, suggested a possible motive for the attempt on +his life. Apparently he had seen, or was believed to have seen, +something that he was not desired to see; something that it was not +intended that anyone should see. +</p> + +<p> +“Now what might that something have been? Apparently it was connected +with the hand or with the part of the arm adjacent to the hand. I +considered the possibilities; and at once they fell into two +categories. That something might have been a wound, an injury, a +hypodermic needle-mark; something, that is to say, related to the +cause of death; or it might have been a mutilation, a deformity, a +finger-ring, a tattoo-mark; something, that is to say, related to the +identity of the deceased. And it followed that the cremation might +have been made use of to conceal either the cause of death or the +identity of the body. But all this was purely speculative. The case +looked suspicious; but there was not a particle of positive evidence +that anything abnormal had occurred. +</p> + +<p> +“At this point Jardine exploded on us his second mystery; that of the +dead cleric at Hampstead. This gave us, at once, an adequate motive +for getting rid of him; for it had every appearance of a case of +murder with successful concealment of the body, and Jardine was the +only witness who could testify to its having occurred. On hearing of +this I was for a moment disposed to dismiss the cremation case; to +consider that the suspicious elements in it had been magnified by our +imaginations in our endeavours to find an explanation of the assault +on Jardine. Moreover, since we now had a sufficient motive for that +assault the cremation case appeared to be outside the scope of the +inquiry. +</p> + +<p> +“But there was a difficulty. It was now six weeks since Jardine had +encountered the body in the lane, and during that time he had been +entirely unmolested. The assault had occurred on his moving into a new +neighbourhood, to which he had come unexpectedly and unannounced. +Moreover, the assault had been committed by some person who either had +access to the factory or was, at least, well acquainted with it and +who, therefore, seemed to be connected with the new neighbourhood; and +it was committed within a few days of the cremation incident. +Furthermore, the assault was manifestly premeditated and prepared; but +yet the circumstances—namely, Jardine’s recent and unexpected +appearance in the neighbourhood—were such as to make it certain that +the crime could have been planned only a day or two before its +execution. Which again seemed to connect it with the cremation case +rather than with the Hampstead case. +</p> + +<p> +“There were two more points. We have seen that Jardine’s would-be +murderer was a subtle, ingenious, resourceful and cautious villain. +But a crime adjusted, to the conditions of cremation is exactly such a +crime as we should expect of such a man; whereas the Hampstead +crime—assuming it to be a crime—appeared to have been a somewhat +clumsy affair, though the successful concealment of the body pointed +to a person of some capacity. So that the former crime was more +congruous with the known personality of the would-be murderer than the +latter. +</p> + +<p> +“The second point was made on further investigation. The day after our +consultation I looked round the neighbourhood with the aid of a +large-scale map; when I discovered that the yard of the factory in +Norton Street backed on the garden of the Samways’ house in Gayton +Street. This, again, suggested a connection between the cremation case +and the assault on Jardine; and the suggestion was so strong that once +more the cremation incident assumed the uppermost place in my mind. +</p> + +<p> +“I considered that case at length. Assuming a crime to have been +committed, what was the probable nature of that crime? Now, cremation, +as I have said, tends to destroy two kinds of evidence, namely: that +relating to the cause of death and that relating to the identity of +the body; whence it follows that the two crimes which it may be used +to conceal are murder and substitution. +</p> + +<p> +“To which of these crimes did the evidence point in the present +instance? Well, we had the undoubted fact that cremation had been +performed pursuant to the expressed wishes of Septimus Maddock, the +man who was alleged to have been cremated. But if it was a case of +murder, the crime must have been hurriedly planned a few days before +the man’s death—that is, after the execution of the will; for we +could assume that Maddock would not have connived at his own murder; +whereas, if it was a case of substitution Maddock, himself, was +probably the actual agent. Considering the circumstances—the +inexplicable, symptomless illness and the unexpected death—the latter +crime was obviously more probable than the former. The illness, in +that case, would be a sham illness deliberately planned to prepare the +way for the introduction of the substituted body. +</p> + +<p> +“Moreover, the attendant circumstances were more in favour of +substitution than of murder. Of the three doctors who saw the body, +only one had seen the living man; and that one, Batson, was more than +half blind and wholly inattentive and neglectful. For the purpose of +substitution, no more perfectly suitable practitioner could have been +selected. The identity of the body was taken for granted—naturally +enough, I admit—and no verification was even thought of. Then, as to +Jardine’s experience. The hand or wrist is not at all a likely region +on which to find either a fatal injury or the trace of a hypodermic +injection; whereas it is a most important region for purposes of +identification. The hand is highly characteristic in itself even when +normal; and there is no part of the body that is so subject to +mutilation or in which mutilations and deformities are so striking, so +conspicuous, and so characteristic. Lost fingers, stiff fingers, +webbed fingers, supernumerary fingers, contracted palm, deformed +nails, brachydactylia and numerous other abnormal conditions are not +only easily recognized, but—since the hand is usually unclothed and +visible—their existence will be known to a large number of persons. +</p> + +<p> +“The evidence, in short, was strongly in favour of substitution as +against murder. +</p> + +<p> +“If, however, the body which was cremated was not that of Maddock, +then it was the body of some other person; that is to say that the +theory of substitution left us with a dead body that was unaccounted +for. And since a dead body implies the death of some person, the +theory of substitution left us with a death unaccounted for and +obviously concealed; that is to say, it raised a strong presumption of +the murder of some unknown person. And here it seemed that our data +came to an end; that we had no material whatever for forming any +hypothesis as to the identity of the person whose dead body we were +assuming to have been substituted for that of Septimus Maddock. +</p> + +<p> +“But while I was thus turning over the possibilities of this cremation +case, the other—the Hampstead case—continued to lurk in the +background of my mind. It was much less hypothetical. There was +positive evidence of some weight that a crime had been committed. And +the circumstances offered a fully adequate motive for getting rid of +Jardine. Thus it was natural that I should raise the question. Was it +possible that the two cases could be in any way connected? +</p> + +<p> +“At the first glance, the suggestion looked absolutely wild. But still +I considered it at length; and then it looked somewhat less wild. The +two cases had this in common, that if a crime had been committed, +Jardine was the sole witness. Moreover, the supposition that the two +cases were connected and incriminated the same parties, greatly +intensified the motive for making away with Jardine. But there was +another and much stronger point in favour of this view. If we adopted +the theory of substitution, it was impossible, on looking at the two +cases, to avoid being struck by the very curious converseness of their +conditions. In the Hampstead case we were dealing with a body which +had suddenly vanished, no one could say whither; in the Maddock case +we were dealing with a body which had suddenly appeared, no one could +say whence. +</p> + +<p> +“When I reflected on this very striking appearance of relation it was +inevitable that I should ask myself the question, Is it conceivable +that these two bodies could have been one and the same? That the body +which was cremated could have been the body which Jardine saw in the +lane? +</p> + +<p> +“Again, at the first glance, the question looked absurd. The first +body was seen by Jardine more than six weeks before the alleged death +of Maddock; and the body which he saw at the Samways’ house was that +of a man newly dead, with <i>rigor mortis</i> just beginning. It was, +indeed barely conceivable that the Hampstead body was not actually +dead and that the man might have lingered on alive for six weeks. But +this suggestion failed to fit the known facts in two respects. In the +first place, the body which Jardine saw in the lane was, from his +description, pretty unmistakably a dead body, and, in the second, the +sham illness of Maddock and the elaborate, leisurely preparations +suggest a complete control of the time factor, which would be absent +if those preparations were adjusted to a dying man who might expire at +any moment. +</p> + +<p> +“Rejecting this suggestion, then, the further question arose, Is it +possible that the body that was seen in the lane could, after an +interval of six weeks, have been produced in Gayton Street, perfectly +fresh and in a state of incipient <i>rigor mortis</i>? And when the +question was thus fairly stated, the answer was obviously in the +affirmative. For, is it not a matter of common knowledge that the +bodies of sheep are habitually brought from New Zealand to London, +traversing the whole width of the Tropics in the voyage, and are +delivered, after an interval of more than six weeks, perfectly fresh +and in a state of incipient <i>rigor mortis</i>? The physical possibility +was beyond question. +</p> + +<p> +“But if physically possible, was such preservation practicable? Well, +how are the bodies of the sheep preserved? By exposing them +continuously to intense cold. And how is that intense cold produced? +Roughly speaking, by the volatilization of a liquefied gas—ammonia, +in the case of the sheep. But behold! The very man whom we are +suspecting of being the agent in this crime is a man who has command +of large quantities of a liquefied gas, and who has hired a mineral +water factory for no apparent reason and put the premises to no +apparent use.” +</p> + +<p> +At this point Jervis brought his fist down with a bang on the arm of +his chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Idiot!” he exclaimed. “Ass, fool, dolt, imbecile that I am! With +those cylinders staring me in the face, too! Of course, it was that +interval of six weeks that brought me up short. And yet I had actually +heard Jardine describe the cloud of carbon dioxide snow that fell on +his face! Don’t you consider me an absolute donkey, Thorndyke?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly not,” replied Thorndyke. “You happened to miss a link and, +of course, the chain would not hold. It occurs to us all now and +again. But, do you see, Jardine, how ‘the stone which the builders +rejected has become the head of the corner’? Don’t you understand how, +when I reached this point, there rose before me the picture of that +cellar with the commonplace objects that it contained? The case, seven +feet by two and a-half—so convenient for preserving a body in a bulky +packing; the two waterproof sheets—so well adapted to holding a mass +of carbon dioxide snow in contact with the body; the mass of +straw—one of the most perfect non-conductors—so admirably fitted for +its use as a protective packing for the frozen body! and lastly, those +ten empty cylinders, of which seven had been used for some purpose +unknown to us? Let this case be a lesson to you, Jardine; not only in +legal medicine but in clinical medicine, too, to take the facts as you +find them—relevant or irrelevant, striking or commonplace—note them +carefully and trust them to find their own places in the inductive +scheme.” +</p> + +<p> +“It has been a most instructive lesson to me,” said I; “especially +your analysis of the reasoning by which you identified the criminal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hum,” said Thorndyke. “I didn’t know I’d got as far as that.” +</p> + +<p> +“But if the body was preserved in a frozen state, there could not be +much doubt as to who had preserved it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Possibly not,” Thorndyke agreed. “But I had not proved that it <i>had</i> +been so preserved, but only that it was possible for it to have been; +and that the supposition of its having been so preserved was in +agreement with the known circumstances of the case. But I must impress +on you that up to this point I was dealing in pure hypothesis. My +hypothesis was perfectly sound, perfectly consistent in all its parts, +and perfectly congruous with all the known facts, but it did not +follow therefore that it was true. It was entirely unverified; for +hitherto I had not one single item of positive evidence to support it. +</p> + +<p> +“Nevertheless, the striking agreement between the hypothesis and the +known facts encouraged me greatly; and, as it was evident that I had +now exhausted the material yielded by the cremation incident, I +decided to take up the clue at the other end; to investigate the +details of the Hampstead affair. To this end I called on Jardine, who +very kindly went over the case with me afresh. And here it was that I +first came within hail of positive evidence. On his wall was pinned an +oil sketch, and on that sketch was a distinct print of a right thumb. +It was beautifully clear; for the paint having been dry on the surface +but soft underneath, had taken the impression as sharply as a surface +of warm wax. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, you will remember that I took possession of the letter which +summoned Jardine to the mineral water works and I may now say that I +tested it most carefully for finger-prints. But paper is a poor +material on which to develop invisible prints owing to its absorbent +nature and I had very indifferent success. Still, I did not fail +entirely. By the combined use of lycopodium powder and photography I +obtained impressions of parts of two finger-tips and a portion of the +end of a right thumb. They were wretched prints but yet available for +corroboration, since one could see part of the pattern on each and +could make out that the ridge-pattern of the thumb was of the kind +known as a ‘twinned loop.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Bearing this fact in mind, you will understand that I was quite +interested to find that the print on the sketch—also that of a right +thumb—had a twinned loop pattern. I noted the fact as a coincidence, +but, of course, attached no importance to it until Jardine told me +that the artist who painted the sketch habitually worked in gloves; +and even then I merely made a mental note that I would ascertain who +and what the artist was. +</p> + +<p> +“I need not go over our examination of the scene of the crime. I need +only say that I was deeply interested in following the track along +which the body had been carried because I was on the look-out for +something; and that something was a house or other building in which +the body might have been temporarily deposited. +</p> + +<p> +“My hypothesis seemed to demand such a building. For, since the body +was quite fresh and <i>rigor mortis</i> was only beginning when Jardine saw +it at Gayton Street, it must have been frozen very shortly after +death. Now, it obviously could not have been carried from Hampstead to +Gayton Street on a man’s back; the alternative is either a vehicle +waiting at an appointed place—and necessarily not far away—or a +house or other building to which the body could be taken. But the +vehicle would, under the circumstances be almost impracticable. It +would hardly be possible to make an appointment with any exactness as +to time; and the presence of a waiting or loitering vehicle would, at +such an hour—it was about midnight, you will remember—be almost +certain to arouse suspicion and inquiry. +</p> + +<p> +“On the other hand, a house to which the body could be conveyed would +meet the conditions perfectly. When once the body was deposited there, +the danger of pursuit would be practically at an end; and it would be +quite possible to have a supply of the liquid gas ready for use on its +arrival. This is assuming long premeditation and very deliberate +preparation; an assumption supported by Gill’s peculiar tenancy of the +factory. +</p> + +<p> +“I, therefore, kept a sharp look-out for a likely house or building; +and, as Jardine and I came out of Ken Wood by the turnstile, behold! a +house which answered the requirements to perfection. It was a solitary +house; there was no other house near; and it lay right on the track +along which the body had apparently been carried. Instantly, I decided +to investigate the recent history of that house and its tenants; but +Jardine saved me the trouble. From him I learned that, at the time of +the assumed murder, it had been inhabited by the artist whom he had +mentioned, but that it had now been empty for a week or two. +</p> + +<p> +“Here were news indeed! This artist, who habitually wore gloves and +whose right thumb-print was a twinned loop, had been living in this +house at the time of the assumed murder, but had been living elsewhere +at the time of the cremation! It was a striking group of facts, and I +eagerly availed myself of the opportunity of looking over the house. +</p> + +<p> +“At first, the examination was quite barren and disappointing. The +man’s habits, as shown by the few discarded articles of use or other +traces, were of no interest to me—and still less to Jardine; and of +traces of his personality there were none. I searched all the rejected +canvases and every available scrap of paper in the hope of collecting +some fresh finger-prints, but without the smallest result. In fact, +the examination looked like being an utter failure up to the very +last, when we entered the stable-loft; but here I came upon one or two +really significant traces of occupation. +</p> + +<p> +“The first of these was a smooth, indented line on the floor, as if +some heavy, metallic object had been dragged along it, with other, +rougher lines, apparently made by a heavy wooden case. Then there was +a quantity of straw, not new straw such as you might expect to find in +a stable-loft, but straw that had evidently been used for packing. +And, finally, there was a pair of canvas pliers which appeared to have +been strained by a violent effort to rotate from right to left some +hard, metallic body, three quarters of an inch wide, with sharp +corners and apparently square in section; some body, in fact, that in +shape, in size and apparently in material, was identical with the +square of the cock on one of the liquid gas bottles; which appeared to +have been connected with a screw thread and had clearly required great +force to turn it with this inadequate appliance. +</p> + +<p> +“The evidence collected from the loft, suggesting that a large case +had been moved in and out and that a gas cylinder had been opened, you +will say was of the flimsiest. And so it was. But the effects of +evidence are cumulative. To estimate the value of these observations +made in the loft, you must add them to the facts just obtained +concerning the artist himself, the position of his house and the date +on which he vacated it; and these coincidences and agreements must be +added to—or, more strictly, multiplied into—the body of coincidences +and agreements which I have already described. +</p> + +<p> +“But the evidence collected at the house was the least important part +of the day’s ‘catch.’ On returning to Jardine’s rooms I ventured to +borrow the sketch and took it home with me; and when I compared the +thumb-print on it with the photograph of the thumb-print on the +letter—employing the excellent method of comparison that is in use at +Scotland Yard—there could be no possible doubt (disregarding for the +moment, the chances of forgery) that they were the prints of one and +the same thumb. +</p> + +<p> +“Here, then, at last I had stepped out of the region of mere +hypothesis. Here was an item of positive evidence, and one, moreover, +of high probative value. It proved, beyond any reasonable doubt, the +existence of some connection between the house on the Heath and the +factory in Norton Street; and it established a strong presumption that +the artist and the man at the factory were the same person; the weak +point in this being the absence of proof that the thumb-print on the +painting was made by the artist. +</p> + +<p> +“And here, Jardine, I would draw your attention to the interesting way +in which, when a long train of hypothetical reasoning has at length +elicited an actual, demonstrable truth, that truth instantly reacts on +the hypothesis, lifting it as a whole on to an entirely different +plane of probability. I may compare the effect to that of a crystal, +dropped into a super-saturated solution of a salt, such as sodium +sulphate. So long as it is at rest, the solution remains a clear +liquid; but drop into it the minutest crystal of its own salt, and, in +a few moments the entire liquid has solidified into a mass of +crystals. +</p> + +<p> +“So it was in the present case. In the instant when it became an +established fact that the house at Hampstead and the factory in Norton +Street had been occupied by the same person, the entire sequence of +events which I had hypothetically constructed, sprang from the plane +of mere conceivability to that of actual probability. It was now more +likely than unlikely that the unknown cleric had been murdered, that +his body had been conveyed to the artist’s house, that it had there +been frozen, transferred to the factory, preserved there for some +weeks, passed over the wall to the Samways’ house, and finally +cremated under the name of Septimus Maddock. +</p> + +<p> +“All that now remained to be done was the verification and +identification of the body. As to the first, I examined the will at +Somerset House and found it, as the American detectives suspected, a +mere notification to the New York authorities that Septimus Maddock +was dead. I wrote to the detective agency and in due course came +O’Donnell with the answers to my questions; from which we learned for +certain that the artist was Septimus Maddock and that the assumed +peculiarity of the hands consisted of brachydactylia. And then came +the good Father Humperdinck to enable us to give a name to the body +and to furnish us with that unlooked for means of identification. +Henceforward, all was plain sailing with only one possible source of +failure; the possibility that the bullet might have been subsequently +extracted. But this was highly improbable. We knew that the wound had +healed completely, and it was pretty certain that the bullet was lying +quietly encysted or embedded in the bone. Still, I will confess that I +have never in my life been more relieved than I was when my eyes +lighted on that dent in the ilium with the stain of lead oxide round +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I can imagine,” said Jervis. “It was a triumph; and you deserved +it. I have never known even my revered senior to work out the theory +of a crime more neatly or with less positive matter to work from. And +I suppose you have a pretty clear and connected idea of the actual +sequence of events.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think so,” replied Thorndyke, “although much of it is necessarily +conjectural. I take it that Maddock, while hiding in Bruges under the +name of Burton, made the acquaintance of Reinhardt, and saw in the +rich, friendless, eccentric bachelor a suitable subject for a crime +which he had probably already considered in general terms. I should +think that they were probably somewhat alike in appearance and that +the idea of personation was first suggested by the circumstance that +they both wore gloves habitually. Maddock will have learned of +Reinhardt’s intended visit to England and immediately begun his +preparations. His scheme—and a most ingenious one it was, I must +confess—was clearly to cause Reinhardt to disappear in one locality +and produce his body after a considerable interval in another at some +distance; and the house on the Heath was apparently taken with this +object and to be near Reinhardt’s haunts. I take it, that on the night +of the murder, Reinhardt had an appointment to visit him at that +house, but that, having learned at Miss Vyne’s of the sudden illness +of Brother Bartholomew, he suddenly altered his plans and refused to +go. Then Maddock—who had probably waited for him on the road—seeing +his scheme on the point of being wrecked, walked with him as he was +going home and took the risk of killing him in Millfield Lane. The +risk was not great, considering the time of night and the solitary +character of the place, and the distance from the house was not too +great for a strong man, as Maddock seems to have been, to carry the +body. +</p> + +<p> +“Death was almost certainly produced by a stab in the back; and +Maddock was probably just about to carry the body away when destiny, +in the form of Jardine, appeared. Then Maddock must have lurked, +probably behind the fence which had the large hole in it, until +Jardine went away, when he must instantly have picked up the body, +carried it down the lane, pushed it over the fence—detaching the +reliquary as he did so—carried it away to the house, stripped it and +proceeded at once to freeze it, having provided a bottle of the gas in +readiness. +</p> + +<p> +“The next morning he will have gone to Marchmont’s office—probably +dressed in Reinhardt’s clothes, from thence to Charing Cross, and, +with Reinhardt’s luggage, gone straight on to Paris, leaving the body +packed in an abundance of the carbonic acid snow. At Paris he will +have made his arrangements with Desiré and then disappeared, +returning in disguise to England to carry out the rest of the plan. +And a wonderfully clever plan it was, and most ingeniously and +resolutely executed. If it had succeeded—and it was within a hair’s +breath of succeeding—the hunted criminal, Maddock, would have been +beyond the reach of Justice for ever, and the fictitious Reinhardt +might have lived out his life in luxury and absolute security.” +</p> + +<p> +As Thorndyke concluded, he rose from his chair, and, stepping over to +a cabinet, drew from some inner recess a cigar of melanotic complexion +and repulsive aspect. +</p> + +<p> +Jervis looked at it and chuckled. +</p> + +<p> +“Thorndyke’s one dissipation,” said he. “At the close of every +successful case he proceeds, as a sort of thanksgiving ceremony, to +funk us out of these chambers with the smoke of a Trichinopoly +cheroot. But listen! Don’t light it yet, Thorndyke. Here comes some +harmless and inoffensive stranger.” +</p> + +<p> +Thorndyke paused with the cigar in his fingers. A quick step ascended +the stairs and then came a sharp, official rat-tat from the little +brass knocker. Thorndyke laid the cigar on the mantelpiece and strode +over to the door. I saw him take in a telegram, open it, glance at the +paper and dismiss the messenger. Then, closing the door, he came back +to the fireside with the “flimsy” in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“There, Jardine,” said he, laying it on my knee; “there is your order +of release.” +</p> + +<p> +I picked up the paper and read aloud its curt message. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“Maddock arrested Folkestone now in custody Bow Street. +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +“<span class="sc">Miller.</span>” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +“That means to say,” said Thorndyke, “that the halter is already +around his neck. I think I may light my Trichinopoly now.” +</p> + +<p> +And he did so. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +There is little more to tell. This has been a history of coincidences +and one more coincidence brings it to a close. The very day on which +my formal engagement to Sylvia was made public, chanced to be the day +on which the execution of Septimus Maddock was described in the +papers. On that day, too, the portrait of poor Letitia, painted by +that skilful and murderous hand, was placed in the handsome ebony +frame that I had caused to be made for it. As I write these closing +words, it hangs before me, flanked on either side by the little jar of +violets that are renewed religiously from day to day by my wife or me. +The pale, inscrutable eyes look out on me, her friend whom she loved +so faithfully and who so little merited her love; but as I look into +them, the picture fades and shows me the same face glorified, waxen, +pallid, drowsy-eyed, peaceful and sweet—the dead face of the woman +who gave her heart’s blood as the price of my ransom, and who was +fated then to pass—out of my life indeed, but out of my heart’s +shrine and my most loving remembrance, never. +</p> + +<p class="center mt1"> +THE END +</p> + + +<h2> +TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES +</h2> + +<p> +The edition hosted on Project Gutenberg Australia (publisher and date +not given) was consulted for some of the changes given below. +</p> + +<p> +Minor spelling inconsistencies (e.g. footstep/foot-step, hair’s +breadth/hairs-breadth, inadmissable/inadmissible, runaway/run-away, +etc.) have been preserved. +</p> + +<p class="noindent mt1"> +<b>Alterations to the text</b>: +</p> + +<p> +Punctuation: fix some quotation mark pairings/nestings, some missing +periods and commas, etc. +</p> + +<p> +Change five instances of “the Samway’s house” to “the Samways’ house.” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter I] +</p> + +<p> +(“Which way were you going when you came on the body.”) change the +period to a question mark. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter III] +</p> + +<p> +Change “Quite the orthodox <i>get up</i>.” to <i>get-up</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter IV] +</p> + +<p> +(“No facial signs? Nothing unusual in his <i>color</i> or expression?”) to +<i>colour</i>. +</p> + +<p> +(“By <i>jove</i>!” exclaimed Batson, “this business has upset) to <i>Jove</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter V] +</p> + +<p> +“Camden Town is not a very attractive <i>neighborhood</i>” to +<i>neighbourhood</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“her appearance suggested was strength—sheer, muscular, strength” +delete the last comma. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter VI] +</p> + +<p> +(“I suppose I can do the surgery work?” said I.) change the question +mark to a comma. +</p> + +<p> +“and a man named <i>O’Conner</i> confirmed his certificate after examining” +to <i>O’Connor</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“and bring in a crowd of beastly <i>reports</i> humming about the place” to +<i>reporters</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter VII] +</p> + +<p> +(“The worthy Gill,” said <i>Jarvis</i>, “seems to have been) to <i>Jervis</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter VIII] +</p> + +<p> +“letting one’s fancy furnish them with one’s own household <i>gods</i>” to +<i>goods</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“shut in by these high fences. I heard quick footsteps behind me” +change the period to a comma. +</p> + +<p> +“I can tell you much about this man excepting <i>the</i> he was” to <i>that</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter IX] +</p> + +<p> +“The next question is, how was the body taken away.” change the period +to a question mark. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter X] +</p> + +<p> +“scope of the acquaintance; on which, Miss Vyne remarked that” delete +the comma. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XIII] +</p> + +<p> +“as if to inspect the end of the shop window, and Sylvia exclaimed.” +change the period to a colon. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XIV] +</p> + +<p> +“I want to know how you came to be in <i>Folkstone</i> and in that” to +<i>Folkestone</i>. +</p> + +<p> +(“I didn’t think you had noticed my negligé <i>get up</i>.”) to <i>get-up</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“front of the window while a discreet, reticence is maintained” delete +the comma. +</p> + +<p> +(“By the way, where did you see us? I didn’t see you?”) change the +second question mark to a period. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XV] +</p> + +<p> +“but don’t you think it would be simpler… and shadow him!” change +the exclamation mark to a question mark. +</p> + +<p> +“But wouldn’t it be simpler to run the Johnnie in, in any case.” +change the period to a question mark. +</p> + +<p> +“and highly corrugated smile, he opened his mouth and <i>spake</i>” to +<i>spoke</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“the Doctor tells me, to take <i>Sanctuary</i> for a time with us” to +<i>sanctuary</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“saw my watch hanging from a nail, with a rating <i>tabled</i> pinned above +it” to <i>table</i>. +</p> + +<p> +(And,” he continued, as Polton retired with a gratified smile “I am) +add comma after <i>smile</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XVI] +</p> + +<p> +“But our career in the field, was not a long one.” delete the comma. +</p> + +<p> +“The habit began when he had some <i>affection</i> of the skin” to +<i>affliction</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“bestowed on Jervis and me a <i>ceremoniout</i> bow and moved towards” to +<i>ceremonious</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XVII] +</p> + +<p> +“And what answers do you <i>sugest</i> to the questions that Marchmont” to +<i>suggest</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“what took place in the sacred <i>precints</i> of my principal’s chambers” +to <i>precincts</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XVIII] +</p> + +<p> +(“Reasoning, you know; Mr. O’Donnell,” he continued, “is somewhat) +change the semicolon to a comma. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XX] +</p> + +<p> +“and, after a few <i>moment’s</i> cogitation, turned once more to” to +<i>moments’</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXI] +</p> + +<p> +(“zis <i>villian</i> has a double grime gommitted; he has murdered a goot”) +to <i>villain</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXII] +</p> + +<p> +“evidently, anticipating the inevitable discussion, on the results of” +delete the second comma. +</p> + +<p> +“The case, seven feet by two and <i>a-Half</i>—so convenient for” to +<i>a-half</i>. +</p> + +<p class="center mt1"> +[End of text] +</p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76796 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/76796-h/images/cover.jpg b/76796-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2160daf --- /dev/null +++ b/76796-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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