1 files changed, 12096 insertions, 0 deletions

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 ***