CHAPTER XIX
A STRANGE SYMPOSIUM
It came upon me with something of a shock of surprise to find the scrapof paper still tacked to the oak of Thorndyke's chambers. So much hadhappened since I had last looked on it that it seemed to belong toanother epoch of my life. I removed it thoughtfully and picked out thetack before entering, and then, closing the inner door, but leaving theoak open, I lit the gas and fell to pacing the room.
What a wonderful episode it had been! How the whole aspect of theworld had been changed in a moment by Thorndyke's revelation! Atanother time, curiosity would have led me to endeavor to trace back thetrain of reasoning by which the subtle brain of my teacher had attainedthis astonishing conclusion. But now my own happiness held exclusivepossession of my thoughts. The image of Ruth filled the field of mymental vision. I saw her again as I had seen her in the cab with hersweet, pensive face and downcast eyes; I felt again the touch of hersoft cheek and the parting kiss by the gate, so frank and simple, sointimate and final.
I must have waited quite a long time, though the golden minutes spedunreckoned, for when my two colleagues arrived they tendered needlessapologies.
"And I suppose," said Thorndyke, "you have been wondering what I wantedyou for."
I had not, as a matter of fact, given the matter a moment'sconsideration.
"We are going to call on Mr. Jellicoe," Thorndyke explained. "There issomething behind this affair, and until I have ascertained what it is,the case is not complete from my point of view."
"Wouldn't it have done as well to-morrow?" I asked.
"It might; and then it might not. There is an old saying as tocatching a weasel asleep. Mr. Jellicoe is a somewhat wide-awakeperson, and I think it best to introduce him to Inspector Badger at theearliest possible moment."
"The meeting of a weasel and a badger suggests a sporting interview,"remarked Jervis. "But you don't expect Jellicoe to give himself away,do you?"
"He can hardly do that, seeing that there is nothing to give away. ButI think he may make a statement. There were some exceptionalcircumstances, I feel sure."
"How long have you known that the body was in the Museum?" I asked.
"About thirty or forty seconds longer than you have, I should say."
"Do you mean," I exclaimed, "that you did not know until the negativewas developed?"
"My dear fellow," he replied, "do you suppose that, if I had hadcertain knowledge where the body was, I should have allowed that noblegirl to go on dragging out a lingering agony of suspense that I couldhave cut short in a moment? Or that I should have made thesehumbugging pretenses of scientific experiments if a more dignifiedcourse had been open to me?"
"As to the experiments," said Jervis, "Norbury could hardly haverefused if you had taken him into your confidence."
"Indeed he could, and probably would. My 'confidence' would haveinvolved a charge of murder against a highly respectable gentleman whowas well known to him. He would probably have referred me to thepolice, and then what could I have done? I had plenty of suspicions,but not a single solid fact."
Our discussion was here interrupted by hurried footsteps on the stairsand a thundering rat-tat on our knocker.
As Jervis opened the door, Inspector Badger burst into the room in ahighly excited state.
"What is all this, Doctor Thorndyke?" he asked. "I see you've sworn aninformation against Mr. Jellicoe, and I have a warrant to arrest him;but before anything else is done I think it right to tell you that wehave more evidence than is generally known pointing to quite adifferent quarter."
"Derived from Mr. Jellicoe's information," said Thorndyke. "But thefact is that I have just examined and identified the body at theBritish Museum, where it was deposited by Mr. Jellicoe. I don't saythat he murdered John Bellingham--though that is what appearancessuggest--but I do say that he will have to account for his secretdisposal of the body."
Inspector Badger was thunderstruck. Also he was visibly annoyed. Thesalt which Mr. Jellicoe had so adroitly sprinkled on the constabularytail appeared to develop irritating properties, for when Thorndyke hadgiven him a brief outline of the facts he stuck his hands in hispockets and exclaimed gloomily:
"Well, I'm hanged! And to think of all the time and trouble I've spenton those damned bones! I suppose they were just a plant?"
"Don't let us disparage them," said Thorndyke. "They have played auseful part. They represent the inevitable mistake that every criminalmakes sooner or later. The murderer will always do a little too much.If he would only lie low and let well alone, the detectives mightwhistle for a clue. But it is time we are starting."
"Are we all going?" asked the inspector, looking at me in particularwith no very gracious recognition.
"We will all come with you," said Thorndyke; "but you will, naturally,make the arrest in the way that seems best to you."
"It's a regular procession," grumbled the inspector; but he made nomore definite objection, and we started forth on our quest.
The distance from the Temple to Lincoln's Inn is not great. In fiveminutes we were at the gateway in Chancery Lane, and a couple ofminutes later saw us gathered round the threshold of the stately oldhouse in New Square.
"Seems to be a light in the first-floor front," said Badger. "You'dbetter move away before I ring the bell."
But the precaution was unnecessary. As the inspector advanced to thebell-pull a head was thrust out of the open window immediately abovethe street door.
"Who are you?" inquired the owner of the head in a voice which Irecognized as that of Mr. Jellicoe.
"I am Inspector Badger of the Criminal Investigation Department. Iwish to see Mr. Arthur Jellicoe."
"Then look at me. I am Mr. Arthur Jellicoe."
"I hold a warrant for your arrest, Mr. Jellicoe. You are charged withthe murder of Mr. John Bellingham, whose body has been discovered inthe British Museum."
"By whom?"
"By Doctor Thorndyke."
"Indeed," said Mr. Jellicoe. "Is he here?"
"Yes."
"Ha! and you wish to arrest me, I presume?"
"Yes. That is what I am here for."
"Well, I will agree to surrender myself subject to certain conditions."
"I can't make any conditions, Mr. Jellicoe."
"No, I will make them, and you will accept them. Otherwise you willnot arrest me."
"It's no use for you to talk like that," said Badger. "If you don'tlet me in I shall have to break in. And I may as well tell you," headded mendaciously, "that the house is surrounded."
"You may accept my assurance," Mr. Jellicoe replied calmly, "that youwill not arrest me if you do not accept my conditions."
"Well, what are you conditions?" demanded Badger.
"I desire to make a statement," said Mr. Jellicoe.
"You can do that, but I must caution you that anything you say may beused in evidence against you."
"Naturally. But I wish to make the statement in the presence of DoctorThorndyke, and I desire to hear a statement from him of the method ofinvestigation by which he discovered the whereabouts of the body. Thatis to say, if he is willing."
"If you mean that we should mutually enlighten one another, I am verywilling indeed," said Thorndyke.
"Very well. Then my conditions, Inspector, are that I shall hearDoctor Thorndyke's statement and that I shall be permitted to make astatement myself, and that until those statements are completed, withany necessary interrogation and discussion, I shall remain at libertyand shall suffer no molestation or interference of any kind. And Iagree that, on the conclusion of the said proceedings, I will submitwithout resistance to any course that you may adopt."
"I can't agree to that," said Badger.
"Can't you?" said Mr. Jellicoe coldly; and after a pause he added:"Don't be hasty. I have given you warning."
There was something in Mr. Jellicoe's passionless tone that disturbedthe inspector exceedingly, for he turned to Thorndyke and sa
id in a lowtone:
"I wonder what his game is? He can't get away, you know."
"There are several possibilities," said Thorndyke.
"M'yes," said Badger, stroking his chin perplexedly.
"After all, is there any objection? His statement might save trouble,and you'd be on the safe side. It would take you some time to breakin."
"Well," said Mr. Jellicoe, with his hand on the window, "do youagree--yes or no?"
"All right," said Badger sulkily. "I agree."
"You promise not to molest me in any way until I have quite finished?"
"I promise."
Mr. Jellicoe's head disappeared and the window closed. After a shortpause we heard the jar of massive bolts and the clank of a chain, and,as the heavy door swung open, Mr. Jellicoe stood revealed, calm andimpassive, with an old-fashioned office candlestick in his hand.
"Who are the others?" he inquired, peering out sharply through hisspectacles.
"Oh, they are nothing to do with me," replied Badger.
"They are Doctor Berkeley and Doctor Jervis," said Thorndyke.
"Ha!" said Mr. Jellicoe; "very kind and attentive of them to call.Pray, come in, gentlemen. I am sure you will be interested to hear ourlittle discussion."
He held the door open with a certain stiff courtesy, and we all enteredthe hall led by Inspector Badger. He closed the door softly andpreceded us up the stairs and into the apartment from the window ofwhich he had dictated the terms of surrender. It was a fine old room,spacious, lofty, and dignified, with paneled walls and a carvedmantelpiece, the central escutcheon of which bore the initials "J. W.P." with the date "1671." A large writing-table stood at the fartherend, and behind it was an iron safe.
"I have been expecting this visit," Mr. Jellicoe remarked tranquilly ashe placed four chairs opposite the table.
"Since when?" asked Thorndyke.
"Since last Monday evening, when I had the pleasure of seeing youconversing with my friend Doctor Berkeley at the Inner Temple gate, andthen inferred that you were retained in the case. That was acircumstance that had not been fully provided for. May I offer yougentlemen a glass of sherry?"
As he spoke he placed on the table a decanter and a tray of glasses,and looked at us interrogatively with his hand on the stopper.
"Well, I don't mind if I do, Mr. Jellicoe," said Badger, on whom thelawyer's glance had finally settled. Mr. Jellicoe filled a glass andhanded it to him with a stiff bow; then, with the decanter still in hishand, he said persuasively: "Doctor Thorndyke, pray allow me to fillyou a glass?"
"No, thank you," said Thorndyke, in a tone so decided that theinspector looked round at him quickly. And as Badger caught his eye,the glass which he was about to raise to his lips became suddenlyarrested and was slowly returned to the table untasted.
"I don't want to hurry you, Mr. Jellicoe," said the inspector, "butit's rather late, and I should like to get this business settled. Whatis it that you wish to do?"
"I desire," replied Mr. Jellicoe, "to make a detailed statement of theevents that have happened, and I wish to hear from Doctor Thorndykeprecisely how he arrived at his very remarkable conclusion. When thishas been done I shall be entirely at your service; and I suggest thatit would be more interesting if Doctor Thorndyke would give us hisstatement before I furnish you with the actual facts."
"I am entirely of your opinion," said Thorndyke.
"Then in that case," said Mr. Jellicoe, "I suggest that you disregardme, and address your remarks to your friends as if I were not present."
Thorndyke acquiesced with a bow, and Mr. Jellicoe, having seatedhimself in his elbow-chair behind the table, poured himself out a glassof water, selected a cigarette from a neat silver case, lighted itdeliberately, and leaned back to listen at his ease.
"My first acquaintance with this case," Thorndyke began withoutpreamble, "was made through the medium of the daily papers about twoyears ago; and I may say that, although I had no interest in it beyondthe purely academic interest of a specialist in a case that lies in hisparticular specialty, I considered it with deep attention. Thenewspaper reports contained no particulars of the relations of theparties that could furnish any hints as to motives on the part of anyof them, but merely a bare statement of the events. And this was adistinct advantage, inasmuch as it left one to consider the facts ofthe case without regard to motive--to balance the _prima facie_probabilities with an open mind. And it may surprize you to learn thatthose _prima facie_ probabilities pointed from the very first to thatsolution which has been put to the test of experiment this evening.Hence it will be well for me to begin by giving the conclusions that Ireached by reasoning from the facts set forth in the newspapers beforeany of the further facts came to my knowledge.
"From the facts as stated in the newspaper reports it is obvious thatthere were four possible explanations of the disappearance.
"1. The man might be alive and in hiding. This was highly improbable,for the reasons that were stated by Mr. Loram at the late hearing ofthe application, and for a further reason that I shall mentionpresently.
"2. He might have died by accident or disease, and his body failed tobe identified. This was even more improbable, seeing that he carriedon his person abundant means of identification, including visitingcards.
"3. He might have been murdered by some stranger for the sake of hisportable property. This was highly improbable for the same reason: hisbody could hardly have failed to be identified.
"These three explanations are what we may call the outsideexplanations. They touched none of the parties mentioned; they wereall obviously improbable on general grounds; and to all of them therewas one conclusive answer--the scarab which was found in GodfreyBellingham's garden. Hence I put them aside and gave my attention tothe fourth explanation. This was that the missing man had been madeaway with by one of the parties mentioned in the report. But, sincethe reports mentioned three parties, it was evident that there was achoice of three hypotheses, namely:
"(_a_) That John Bellingham had been made away with by Hurst; or (_b_)by the Bellinghams; or (_c_) by Mr. Jellicoe.
"Now, I have constantly impressed on my pupils that the indispensablequestion that must be asked at the outset of such an inquiry as thisis, 'When was the missing person last undoubtedly seen or known to bealive?' That is the question that I asked myself after reading thenewspaper report; and the answer was, that he was last certainly seenalive on the fourteenth of October, nineteen hundred and two, at 141,Queen Square, Bloomsbury. Of the fact that he was alive at that timeand place there could be no doubt whatever; for he was seen at the samemoment by two persons, both of whom were intimately acquainted withhim, and one of whom, Doctor Norbury, was apparently a disinterestedwitness. After that date he was never seen, alive or dead, by anyperson who knew him and was able to identify him. It was stated thathe had been seen on the twenty-third of November following by thehousemaid of Mr. Hurst; but as this person was unacquainted with him,it was uncertain whether the person whom she saw was or was not JohnBellingham.
"Hence the disappearance dated, not from the twenty-third of November,as every one seems to have assumed, but from the fourteenth of October;and the question was not, 'What became of John Bellingham after heentered Mr. Hurst's house?' but, 'What became of him after hisinterview in Queen Square?'
"But as soon as I had decided that that interview must form the realstarting point of the inquiry, a most striking set of circumstancescame into view. It became obvious that if Mr. Jellicoe had had anyreason for wishing to make away with John Bellingham, he had such anopportunity as seldom falls to the lot of an intending murderer.
"Just consider the conditions. John Bellingham was known to be settingout alone upon a journey beyond the sea. His exact destination was notstated. He was to be absent for an undetermined period, but at leastthree weeks. His disappearance would occasion no comment; his absencewould lead to no inquiries, at least for several weeks, during whichthe murderer would have leisur
e quietly to dispose of the body andconceal all traces of the crime. The conditions were, from amurderer's point of view, ideal.
"But that was not all. During that very period of John Bellingham'sabsence Mr. Jellicoe was engaged to deliver to the British Museum whatwas admittedly a dead human body; and that body was to be enclosed in asealed case. Could any more perfect or secure method of disposing of abody be devised by the most ingenious murderer? The plan would havehad only one weak point: the mummy would be known to have left QueenSquare _after_ the disappearance of John Bellingham, and suspicionmight in the end have arisen. To this point I shall return presently;meanwhile we will consider the second hypothesis--that the missing manwas made away with by Mr. Hurst.
"Now, there seemed to be no doubt that some person, purporting to beJohn Bellingham, did actually visit Mr. Hurst's house; and he musteither have left the house or remained in it. If he left, he did sosurreptitiously; if he remained, there could be no reasonable doubtthat he had been murdered and that his body had been concealed. Let usconsider the probabilities in each case.
"Assuming--as every one seems to have done--that the visitor was reallyJohn Bellingham, we are dealing with a responsible, middle-agedgentleman, and the idea that such a person would enter a house,announce his intention of staying, and then steal away unobserved isvery difficult to accept. Moreover, he would appear to have come downto Eltham by rail immediately on landing in England, leaving hisluggage in the cloakroom at Charing Cross. This pointed to adefiniteness of purpose quite inconsistent with his casualdisappearance from the house.
"On the other hand, the idea that he might have been murdered by Hurstwas not inconceivable. The thing was physically possible. IfBellingham had really been in the study when Hurst came home, themurder could have been committed--by appropriate means--and the bodytemporarily concealed in the cupboard or elsewhere. But althoughpossible it was not at all probable. There was no real opportunity.The risk and the subsequent difficulties would be very great; there wasnot a particle of positive evidence that a murder had occurred; and theconduct of Hurst in immediately leaving the house in possession of theservants is quite inconsistent with the supposition that there was abody concealed in it. So that, while it is almost impossible tobelieve that John Bellingham left the house of his own accord, it isequally difficult to believe that he did not leave it.
"But there is a third possibility, which, strange to say, no one seemsto have suggested. Supposing that the visitor was not John Bellinghamat all, but some one who was impersonating him? That would dispose ofthe difficulties completely. The strange disappearance ceases to bestrange, for a personator would necessarily make off before Mr. Hurstshould arrive and discover the imposture. But if we accept thissupposition, we raise two further questions: 'Who was the personator?'and 'What was the object of the personation?'
"Now, the personator was clearly not Hurst himself, for he would havebeen recognized by his housemaid; he was therefore either GodfreyBellingham or Mr. Jellicoe or some other person; and as no other personwas mentioned in the newspaper reports I confined my speculations tothese two.
"And, first, as to Godfrey Bellingham. It did not appear whether hewas or was not known to the housemaid, so I assumed--wrongly, as itturns out--that he was not. Then he might have been the personator.But why should he have personated his brother? He could not havealready committed the murder. There had not been time enough. Hewould have had to leave Woodford before John Bellingham had set out forCharing Cross. And even if he had committed the murder, he would haveno object in raising this commotion. His cue would have been to remainquiet and know nothing. The probabilities were all against thepersonator being Godfrey Bellingham.
"Then could it be Mr. Jellicoe? The answer to this question iscontained in the answer to the further question: 'What could have beenthe object of the personation?'
"What motive could this unknown person have had in appearing,announcing himself as John Bellingham, and forthwith vanishing? Therecould only have been one motive: that, namely, of fixing the date ofJohn Bellingham's disappearance--of furnishing a definite moment atwhich he was last seen alive.
"But who was likely to have had such a motive? Let us see.
"I said just now that if Mr. Jellicoe had murdered John Bellingham anddisposed of the body in the mummy-case, he would have been absolutelysafe for the time being. But there would be a weak spot in his armor.For a month or more the disappearance of his client would occasion noremark. But presently, when he failed to return, inquiries would beset on foot; and then it would appear that no one had seen him since heleft Queen Square. Then it would be noted that the last person withwhom he was seen was Mr. Jellicoe. It might, further, be rememberedthat the mummy had been delivered to the Museum some time _after_ themissing man was last seen alive. And so suspicion might arise and befollowed by disastrous investigations. But supposing it should be madeto appear that John Bellingham had been seen alive more than a monthafter his interview with Mr. Jellicoe and some weeks after the mummyhad been deposited in the Museum? Then Mr. Jellicoe would cease to bein any way connected with the disappearance and henceforth would beabsolutely safe.
"Hence, after carefully considering this part of the newspaper report,I came to the conclusion that the mysterious occurrence at Mr. Hurst'shouse had only one reasonable explanation, namely, that the visitor wasnot John Bellingham, but some one personating him; and that that someone was Mr. Jellicoe.
"It remains to consider the case of Godfrey Bellingham and hisdaughter, though I cannot understand how any sane person can haveseriously suspected either" (here Inspector Badger smiled a soursmile). "The evidence against them was negligible, for there wasnothing to connect them with the affair save the finding of the scarabon their premises; and that event which might have been highlysuspicious under other circumstances, was robbed of any significance bythe fact that the scarab was found on a spot which had been passed afew minutes previously by the other suspected party, Hurst. Thefinding of the scarab did, however, establish two importantconclusions: namely, that John Bellingham had probably met with foulplay, and that of the four persons present when it was found, one atleast had had possession of the body. As to which of the four was theone, the circumstances furnished only a hint, which was this: If thescarab had been purposely dropped, the most likely person to find itwas the one who dropped it. And the person who discovered it was Mr.Jellicoe.
"Following up this hint, if we ask ourselves what motive Mr. Jellicoecould have had for dropping it--assuming him to be the murderer--theanswer is obvious. It would not be his policy to fix the crime on anyparticular person, but rather to set up a complication of conflictingevidence which would occupy the attention of investigators and divertit from himself.
"Of course, if Hurst had been the murderer, he would have had asufficient motive for dropping the scarab, so that the case against Mr.Jellicoe was not conclusive; but the fact that it was he who found itwas highly significant.
"This completes the analysis of the evidence contained in the originalnewspaper report describing the circumstances of the disappearance.The conclusions that followed from it were, as you will have seen:
"1. That the missing man was almost certainly dead, as proved by thefinding of the scarab after his disappearance.
"2. That he had probably been murdered by one or more of four persons,as proved by the finding of the scarab on the premises occupied by twoof them and accessible to the others.
"3. That, of those four persons, one--Mr. Jellicoe--was the last personwho was known to have been in the company of the missing man; had hadan exceptional opportunity for committing the murder; and was known tohave delivered a dead body to the Museum subsequently to thedisappearance.
"4. That the supposition that Mr. Jellicoe had committed the murderrendered all the other circumstances of the disappearance clearlyintelligible, whereas on any other supposition they were quiteinexplicable."
"The evidence of the newspaper report,
therefore, clearly pointed tothe probability that John Bellingham had been murdered by Mr. Jellicoeand his body concealed in the mummy-case.
"I do not wish to give you the impression that I, then and there,believed that Mr. Jellicoe was the murderer. I did not. There was noreason to suppose that the report contained all the essential facts,and I merely considered it speculatively as a study in probabilities.But I did decide that that was the only probable conclusion from thefacts that were given.
"Nearly two years had passed before I heard anything more of the case.Then it was brought to my notice by my friend, Doctor Berkeley, and Ibecame acquainted with certain new facts, which I will consider in theorder in which they became known to me.
"The first new light on the case came from the will. As soon as I hadread the document I felt convinced that there was something wrong. Thetestator's evident intention was that his brother should inherit theproperty, whereas the construction of the will was such as almostcertainly to defeat that intention. The devolution of the propertydepended on the burial clause--clause two; but the burial arrangementwould ordinarily be decided by the executor, who happened to be Mr.Jellicoe. Thus the will left the disposition of the property under thecontrol of Mr. Jellicoe, though his action could have been contested.
"Now, this will, although drawn up by John Bellingham, was executed inMr. Jellicoe's office as is proved by the fact that it was witnessed bytwo of his clerks. He was the testator's lawyer, and it was his dutyto insist on the will being properly drawn. Evidently he did nothingof the kind, and this fact strongly suggested some kind of collusion onhis part with Hurst, who stood to benefit by the miscarriage of thewill. And this was the odd feature in the case, for whereas the partyresponsible for the defective provisions was Mr. Jellicoe, the partywho benefited was Hurst.
"But the most startling peculiarity of the will was the way in which itfitted the circumstances of the disappearance. It looked as if clausetwo had been drawn up with those very circumstances in view. Since,however, the will was ten years old, this was impossible. But ifclause two could not have been devised to fit the disappearance, couldthe disappearance not have been devised to fit clause two? That was byno means impossible: under the circumstances it looked rather probable.And if it had been so contrived, who was the agent in that contrivance?Hurst stood to benefit, but there was no evidence that he even knew thecontents of the will. There only remained Mr. Jellicoe, who hadcertainly connived at the misdrawing of the will for some purpose ofhis own--some dishonest purpose.
"The evidence of the will, then, pointed to Mr. Jellicoe as the agentin the disappearance, and, after reading it, I definitely suspected himof the crime.
"Suspicion, however, is one thing and proof is another; I had notnearly enough evidence to justify me in laying an information, and Icould not approach the Museum officials without making a definiteaccusation. The great difficulty of the case was that I could discoverno motive. I could not see any way in which Mr. Jellicoe would benefitby the disappearance. His own legacy was secure, whenever and howeverthe testator died. The murder and concealment apparently benefitedHurst alone; and, in the absence of any plausible motive, the factsrequired to be much more conclusive than they were."
"Did you form absolutely no opinion as to motive?" asked Mr. Jellicoe.
He put the question in a quiet, passionless tone, as if he werediscussing some _cause celebre_ in which he had nothing more than aprofessional interest. Indeed, the calm, impersonal interest that hedisplayed in Thorndyke's analysis, his unmoved attention, punctuated bylittle nods of approval at each telling point in the argument, were themost surprising features of this astounding interview.
"I did form an opinion," replied Thorndyke, "but it was merelyspeculative, and I was never able to confirm it. I discovered thatabout ten years ago Mr. Hurst had been in difficulties and that he hadsuddenly raised a considerable sum of money, no one knew how or on whatsecurity. I observed that this even coincided with the execution ofthe will, and I surmised that there might be some connection betweenthem. But that was only a surmise; and, as the proverb has it, 'Hediscovers who proves.' I could prove nothing, so that I neverdiscovered Mr. Jellicoe's motive, and I don't know it now."
"Don't you really?" said Mr. Jellicoe, in something approaching a toneof animation. He laid down the end of his cigarette, and, as heselected another from the silver case, he continued: "I think that isthe most interesting feature of your really remarkable analysis. Itdoes you great credit. The absence of motive would have appeared tomost persons a fatal objection to the theory, of what I may call, theprosecution. Permit me to congratulate you on the consistency andtenacity with which you have pursued the actual, visible facts."
He bowed stiffly to Thorndyke (who returned his bow with equalstiffness), lighted a fresh cigarette, and once more leaned back in hischair with the calm, attentive manner of a man who is listening to alecture or a musical performance.
"The evidence, then, being insufficient to act upon," Thorndykeresumed, "there was nothing for it but to wait for some new facts.Now, the study of a large series of carefully conducted murders bringsinto view an almost invariable phenomenon. The cautious murderer, inhis anxiety to make himself secure, does too much; and it is thisexcess of precaution that leads to detection. It happens constantly;indeed, I may say that it always happens--in those murders that aredetected; of those that are not we say nothing--and I had strong hopesthat it would happen in this case. And it did.
"At the very moment when my client's case seemed almost hopeless, somehuman remains were discovered at Sidcup. I read the account of thediscovery in the evening paper, and scanty as the report was, itrecorded enough facts to convince me that the inevitable mistake hadbeen made."
"Did it, indeed?" said Mr. Jellicoe. "A mere, inexpert, hearsayreport! I should have supposed it to be quite valueless from ascientific point of view."
"So it was," said Thorndyke. "But it gave the date of the discoveryand the locality, and it also mentioned what bones had been found.Which were all vital facts. Take the question of time. These remains,after lying _perdu_ for two years, suddenly come to light just as theparties--who have also been lying _perdu_--have begun to take action inrespect of the will; in fact, within a week or two of the hearing ofthe application. It was certainly a remarkable coincidence. And whenthe circumstances that occasioned the discovery were considered, thecoincidence became more remarkable still. For these remains were foundon land actually belonging to John Bellingham, and their discoveryresulted from certain operations (the clearing of the watercress-beds)carried out on behalf of the absent landlord. But by whose orders werethose works undertaken? Clearly by the orders of the landlord's agent.But the landlord's agent was known to be Mr. Jellicoe. Therefore theseremains were brought to light at this peculiarly opportune moment bythe action of Mr. Jellicoe. The coincidence, I say again, was veryremarkable.
"But what instantly arrested my attention on reading the newspaperreport was the unusual manner in which the arm had been separated; for,besides the bones of the arm proper, there were those of whatanatomists call the 'shoulder-girdle'--the shoulder-blade andcollar-bone. This was very remarkable. It seemed to suggest aknowledge of anatomy, and yet no murderer, even if he possessed suchknowledge, would make a display of it on such an occasion. It seemedto me that there must be some other explanation. Accordingly, whenother remains had come to light and all had been collected at Woodford,I asked my friend Berkeley to go down there and inspect them. He didso, and this is what he found:
"Both arms had been detached in the same peculiar manner; both werecomplete, and all the bones were from the same body. The bones werequite clean--of soft structures, I mean. There were no cuts, scratchesor marks on them. There was not a trace of adipocere--the peculiarwaxy soap that forms in bodies that decay in water or in a dampsituation. The right hand had been detached at the time the arm wasthrown into the pond, and the left ring finger had been separated andhad vanished. Th
is latter fact had attracted my attention from thefirst, but I will leave its consideration for the moment and return toit later."
"How did you discover that the hand had been detached?" Mr. Jellicoeasked.
"By the submersion marks," replied Thorndyke. "It was lying on thebottom of the pond in a position which would have been impossible if ithad been attached to the arm."
"You interest me exceedingly," said Mr. Jellicoe. "It appears that amedico-legal expert finds 'books in the running brooks, sermons inbones, and evidence in everything.' But don't let me interrupt you."
"Doctor Berkeley's observations," Thorndyke resumed, "together with themedical evidence at the inquest, led me to certain conclusions.
"Let me state the facts which were disclosed.
"The remains which had been assembled formed a complete human skeletonwith the exception of the skull, one finger, and the legs from the kneeto the ankle, including both knee-caps. This was a very impressivefact; for the bones that were missing included all those which couldhave been identified as belonging or not belonging to John Bellingham;and the bones that were present were the unidentifiable remainder.
"It had a suspicious appearance of selection.
"But the parts that were present were also curiously suggestive. Inall cases the mode of dismemberment was peculiar; for an ordinaryperson would have divided the knee-joint leaving the knee-cap attachedto the thigh, whereas it had evidently been left attached to theshinbone; and the head would most probably have been removed by cuttingthrough the neck instead of being neatly detached from the spine. Andall these bones were almost entirely free from marks or scratches suchas would naturally occur in an ordinary dismemberment and all werequite free from adipocere. And now as to the conclusions which I drewfrom these facts. First, there was the peculiar grouping of the bones.What was the meaning of that? Well, the idea of a punctiliousanatomist was obviously absurd, and I put it aside. But was there anyother explanation? Yes, there was. The bones had appeared in thenatural groups that are held together by ligaments; and they hadseparated at points where they were attached principally by muscles.The knee-cap, for instance, which really belongs to the thigh, isattached to it by muscle, but to the shin-bone by a stout ligament.And so with the bones of the arm; they are connected to one another byligaments; but to the trunk only by muscle, excepting at one end of thecollar-bone.
"But this was a very significant fact. Ligament decays much moreslowly than muscle, so that in a body of which the muscles had largelydecayed the bones might still be held together by ligament. Thepeculiar grouping therefore suggested that the body had been partlyreduced to a skeleton before it was dismembered; that it had then beenmerely pulled apart and not divided with a knife.
"This suggestion was remarkably confirmed by the total absence ofknife-cuts or scratches.
"Then there was the fact that all the bones were quite free fromadipocere. Now, if an arm or a thigh should be deposited in water andleft undisturbed to decay, it is certain that large masses of adipocerewould be formed. Probably more than half of the flesh would beconverted into this substance. The absence of adipocere thereforeproved that the bulk of the flesh had disappeared or been removed fromthe bones before they were deposited in the pond. That, in fact, itwas not a body, but a skeleton, that had been deposited.
"But what kind of skeleton? If it was the recent skeleton of amurdered man, then the bones had been carefully stripped of flesh so asto leave the ligaments intact. But this was highly improbable; forthere could be no object in preserving the ligaments. And the absenceof scratches was against this view.
"Then they did not appear to be graveyard bones. The collection wastoo complete. It is very rare to find a graveyard skeleton of whichmany of the small bones are not missing. And such bones are usuallymore or less weathered and friable.
"They did not appear to be bones such as may be bought at anosteological dealer's, for these usually have perforations to admit themacerating fluid to the marrow cavities. Dealers' bones, too, are veryseldom all from the same body; and the small bones of the hand aredrilled with holes to enable them to be strung on catgut.
"They were not dissecting-room bones, as there was no trace of red leadin the openings for the nutrient arteries.
"What the appearances did suggest was that these were parts of a bodywhich had decayed in a very dry atmosphere (in which no adipocere wouldbe formed), and which had been pulled or broken apart. Also that theligaments which held the body--or rather skeleton--together werebrittle and friable as suggested by the detached hand, which hadprobably broken off accidentally. But the only kind of body thatcompletely answered this description is an Egyptian mummy. A mummy, itis true, has been more or less preserved; but on exposure to the air ofsuch a climate as ours it perishes rapidly, the ligaments being thelast of the soft parts to disappear.
"The hypothesis that these bones were parts of a mummy naturallysuggested Mr. Jellicoe. If he had murdered John Bellingham andconcealed his body in the mummy-case, he would have a spare mummy onhis hands, and that mummy would have been exposed to the air and tosomewhat rough handling.
"A very interesting circumstance connected with these remains was thatthe ring finger was missing. Now, fingers have on sundry occasionsbeen detached from dead hands for the sake of the rings on them. Butin such cases the object has been to secure a valuable ring uninjured.If this hand was the hand of John Bellingham, there was no such object.The purpose was to prevent identification; and that purpose would havebeen more easily, and much more completely, achieved by sacrificing thering, by filing through it or breaking it off the finger. Theappearances, therefore, did not quite agree with the apparent purpose.
"Then, could there be any other purpose with which they agreed better?Yes, there could.
"If it had happened that John Bellingham were known to have worn a ringon that finger, and especially if that ring fitted tightly, the removalof the finger would serve a very useful purpose. It would create animpression that the finger had been removed on account of a ring, toprevent identification; which impression would, in turn, produce asuspicion that the hand was that of John Bellingham. And yet it wouldnot be evidence that could be used to establish identity. Now, if Mr.Jellicoe were the murderer and had the body hidden elsewhere, vaguesuspicion would be precisely what he would desire, and positiveevidence what he would wish to avoid.
"It transpired later that John Bellingham did wear a ring on thatfinger and that the ring fitted very tightly. Whence it followed thatthe absence of the finger was an additional point tending to implicateMr. Jellicoe.
"And now let us briefly review this mass of evidence. You will seethat it consists of a multitude of items, each either trivial orspeculative. Up to the time of the actual discovery I had not a singlecrucial fact, nor any clue as to motive. But, slight as the individualpoints of evidence were, they pointed with impressive unanimity to oneperson--Mr. Jellicoe. Thus:
"The person who had the opportunity to commit murder and dispose of thebody was Mr. Jellicoe.
"The deceased was last certainly seen alive with Mr. Jellicoe.
"An unidentified human body was delivered to the Museum by Mr. Jellicoe.
"The only person who could have a motive for personating the deceasedwas Mr. Jellicoe.
"The only known person who could possibly have done so was Mr. Jellicoe.
"One of the two persons who could have had a motive for dropping thescarab was Mr. Jellicoe. The person who found that scarab was Mr.Jellicoe, although, owing to his defective eyesight and his spectacles,he was the most unlikely person of those present to find it.
"The person who was responsible for the execution of the defective willwas Mr. Jellicoe.
"Then as to the remains. They were apparently not those of JohnBellingham, but parts of a particular kind of body. But the onlyperson who was known to have had such a body in his possession was Mr.Jellicoe.
"The only person who could have had any motive for substi
tuting thoseremains for the remains of the deceased was Mr. Jellicoe.
"Finally, the person who caused the discovery of those remains at thatsingularly opportune moment was Mr. Jellicoe.
"This was the sum of the evidence that was in my possession up to thetime of the hearing and, indeed, for some time after, and it was notenough to act upon. But when the case had been heard in Court, it wasevident either that the proceedings would be abandoned--which wasunlikely--or that there would be new developments.
"I watched the progress of events with profound interest. An attempthad been made (by Mr. Jellicoe or some other person) to get the willadministered without producing the body of John Bellingham; and thatattempt had failed. The coroner's jury had refused to identify theremains; the Probate Court had refused to presume the death of thetestator. As affairs stood the will could not be administered.
"What would be the next move?
"It was virtually certain that it would consist in the production ofsomething which would identify the unrecognized remains as those of thetestator.
"But what would that something be?
"The answer to that question would contain the answer to anotherquestion: 'Was my solution of the mystery the true solution?'
"If I was wrong, it was possible that some of the undoubtedly genuinebones of John Bellingham might presently be discovered; for instance,the skull, the knee-cap, or the left fibula, by any of which theremains could be positively identified.
"If I was right, only one thing could possibly happen. Mr. Jellicoewould have to play the trump card that he had been holding back in casethe Court should refuse the application; a card that he was evidentlyreluctant to play.
"He would have to produce the bones of the mummy's finger, togetherwith John Bellingham's ring. No other course was possible.
"But not only would the bones and the ring have to be found together.They would have to be found in a place which was accessible to Mr.Jellicoe, and so far under his control that he could determine theexact time when the discovery should be made.
"I waited patiently for the answer to my question. Was I right or wasI wrong?
"And, in due course, the answer came.
"The bones and the ring were discovered in the well in the grounds ofGodfrey Bellingham's late house. That house was the property of JohnBellingham. Mr. Jellicoe was John Bellingham's agent. Hence it waspractically certain that the date on which the well was emptied wassettled by Mr. Jellicoe.
"The oracle had spoken.
"The discovery proved conclusively that the bones were not those ofJohn Bellingham (for if they had been the ring would have beenunnecessary for identification). But if the bones were not JohnBellingham's, the ring was; from which followed the important corollarythat whoever had deposited those bones in the well had had possessionof the body of John Bellingham. And there could be no doubt that thatperson was Mr. Jellicoe.
"On receiving this final confirmation of my conclusions, I appliedforthwith to Doctor Norbury for permission to examine the mummy ofSebek-hotep, with the result that you are already acquainted with."
As Thorndyke concluded, Mr. Jellicoe regarded him thoughtfully for amoment and then said: "You have given us a most complete and lucidexposition of your method of investigation, sir. I have enjoyed itexceedingly, and should have profited by it hereafter--under othercircumstances. Are you sure you won't allow me to fill your glass?"He touched the stopper of the decanter, and Inspector Badgerostentatiously consulted his watch.
"Time is running on, I fear," said Mr. Jellicoe.
"It is, indeed," Badger assented emphatically.
"Well, I need not detain you long," said the lawyer. "My statement isa narration of events. But I desire to make it, and you, no doubt,will be interested to hear it."
He opened the silver case and selected a fresh cigarette, which,however, he did not light. Inspector Badger produced a funerealnotebook, which he laid open on his knee; and the rest of us settledourselves in our chairs with no little curiosity to hear Mr. Jellicoe'sstatement.
CHAPTER XX
THE END OF THE CASE
A profound silence had fallen on the room and its occupants. Mr.Jellicoe sat with his eyes fixed on the table as if deep in thought,the unlighted cigarette in one hand, the other grasping the tumbler ofwater. Presently Inspector Badger coughed impatiently and he lookedup. "I beg your pardon, gentleman," he said. "I am keeping youwaiting."
He took a sip from the tumbler, opened a match-box and took out amatch, but apparently altering his mind, laid it down and commenced:
"The unfortunate affair which has brought you here to-night, had itsorigin ten years ago. At that time my friend Hurst became suddenlyinvolved in financial difficulties--am I speaking too fast for you, Mr.Badger?"
"No, not at all," replied Badger. "I am taking it down in shorthand."
"Thank you," said Mr. Jellicoe. "He became involved in seriousdifficulties and came to me for assistance. He wished to borrow fivethousand pounds to enable him to meet his engagements. I had a certainamount of money at my disposal, but I did not consider Hurst's securitysatisfactory; accordingly I felt compelled to refuse. But on the verynext day, John Bellingham called on me with a draft of his will whichhe wished me to look over before it was executed.
"It was an absurd will, and I nearly told him so; but then an ideaoccurred to me in connection with Hurst. It was obvious to me, as soonas I glanced through the will, that, if the burial clause was left asthe testator had drafted it, Hurst had a very good chance of inheritingthe property; and, as I was named as the executor I should be able togive full effect to that clause. Accordingly, I asked for a few daysto consider the will, and then I called upon Hurst and made a proposalto him; which was this: That I should advance him five thousand poundswithout security; that I should ask for no repayment, but that heshould assign to me any interest that he might have or acquire in theestate of John Bellingham up to ten thousand pounds, or two-thirds ofany sum that he might inherit if over that amount. He asked if Johnhad yet made any will, and I replied, quite correctly, that he had not.He inquired if I knew what testamentary arrangements John intended tomake, and again I answered, quite correctly, that I believed Johnproposed to devise the bulk of his property to his brother, Godfrey.
"Thereupon, Hurst accepted my proposal; I made him the advance and heexecuted the assignment. After a few days' delay, I passed the will assatisfactory. The actual document was written from the draft by thetestator himself; and a fortnight after Hurst had executed theassignment, John signed the will in my office. By the provisions ofthat will I stood an excellent chance of becoming virtually theprincipal beneficiary, unless Godfrey should contest Hurst's claim andthe Court should override the conditions of clause two.
"You will now understand the motives which governed my subsequentactions. You will also see, Doctor Thorndyke, how very near to thetruth your reasoning carried you; and you will understand, as I wishyou to do, that Mr. Hurst was no party to any of these proceedingswhich I am about to describe.
"Coming now to the interview in Queen Square in October, nineteenhundred and two, you are aware of the general circumstances from myevidence in Court, which was literally correct up to a certain point.The interview took place in a room on the third floor, in which werestored the cases which John had brought with him from Egypt. The mummywas unpacked, as were some other objects that he was not offering tothe Museum, but several cases were still unopened. At the conclusionof the interview I accompanied Doctor Norbury down to the street door,and we stood on the doorstep conversing for perhaps a quarter of anhour. Then Doctor Norbury went away and I returned upstairs.
"Now the house in Queen Square is virtually a museum. The upper partis separated from the lower by a massive door which opens from the halland gives access to the staircase and which is fitted with a Chubbnight-latch. There are two latch-keys, of which John used to keep oneand I the other. You will find them both in the safe behind me. Thecaretaker had no
key and no access to the upper part of the houseunless admitted by one of us.
"At the time when I came in, after Doctor Norbury had left, thecaretaker was in the cellar, where I could hear him breaking coke forthe hot-water furnace. I had left John on the third floor opening someof the packing-cases by the light of a lamp with a tool somewhat like aplasterer's hammer; that is, a hammer with a small axe-blade at thereverse of the head. As I stood talking to Doctor Norbury, I couldhear him knocking out the nails and wrenching up the lids; and when Ientered the doorway leading to the stairs, I could still hear him.Just as I closed the staircase door behind me, I heard a rumbling noisefrom above; then all was still.
"I went up the stairs to the second floor, where, as the staircase wasall in darkness, I stopped to light the gas. As I turned to ascend thenext flight, I saw a hand projecting over the edge of the half-waylanding. I ran up the stairs, and there, on the landing, I saw Johnlying huddled up in a heap at the foot of the top flight. There was awound at the side of his forehead from which a little blood wastrickling. The case-opener lay on the floor close by him and there wasblood on the axe-blade. When I looked up the stairs I saw a rag oftorn matting over the top stair.
"It was quite easy to see what had happened. He had walked quickly outon the landing with the case-opener in his hand. His foot had caughtin the torn matting and he had pitched head foremost down the stairsstill holding the case-opener. He had fallen so that his head had comedown on the upturned edge of the axe-blade; he had then rolled over andthe case-opener had dropped from his hand.
"I lit a wax match and stooped down to look at him. His head was in avery peculiar position, which made me suspect that his neck was broken.There was extremely little bleeding from the wound; he was perfectlymotionless; I could detect no sign of breathing; and I felt no doubtthat he was dead.
"It was an exceedingly regrettable affair, and it placed me, as Iperceived at once, in an extremely awkward position. My first impulsewas to send the caretaker for a doctor and a policeman; but a moment'sreflection convinced me that there were serious objections to thiscourse.
"There was nothing to show that I had not, myself, knocked him downwith the case-opener. Of course, there was nothing to show that I had;but we were alone in the house with the exception of the caretaker, whowas down in the basement out of earshot.
"There would be an inquest. At the inquest inquiries would be made asto the will which was known to exist. But as soon as the will wasproduced, Hurst would become suspicious. He would probably make astatement to the coroner and I should be charged with the murder. Or,even if I were not charged, Hurst would suspect me and would probablyrepudiate the assignment; and, under the circumstances, it would bepractically impossible for me to enforce it. He would refuse to payand I could not take my claim into Court.
"I sat down on the stairs just above poor John's body and consideredthe matter in detail. At the worst, I stood a fair chance of hanging;at the best, I stood to lose close upon fifty thousand pounds. Thesewere not pleasant alternatives.
"Supposing, on the other hand, I concealed the body and gave out thatJohn had gone to Paris. There was, of course, the risk of discovery,in which case I should certainly be convicted of the murder. But if nodiscovery occurred, I was not only safe from suspicion, but I securedthe fifty thousand pounds. In either case there was considerable risk,but in one there was the certainty of loss, whereas in the other therewas a material advantage to justify the risk. The question was whetherit would be possible to conceal the body. If it were, then thecontingent profit was worth the slight additional risk. But a humanbody is a very difficult thing to dispose of, especially by a person ofso little scientific culture as myself.
"It is curious that I considered this question for a quite considerabletime before the obvious solution presented itself. I turned over atleast a dozen methods of disposing of the body, and rejected them allas impracticable. Then, suddenly, I remembered the mummy upstairs.
"At first it only occurred to me as a fantastic possibility that Icould conceal the body in the mummy-case. But as I turned over theidea I began to see that it was really practicable; and not onlypracticable but easy; and not only easy but eminently safe. If oncethe mummy-case was in the Museum, I was rid of it for ever.
"The circumstances were, as you, sir, have justly observed, singularlyfavorable. There would be no hue and cry, no hurry, no anxiety; butample time for all the necessary preparations. Then the mummy-caseitself was curiously suitable. Its length was ample, as I knew fromhaving measured it. It was a cartonnage of rather flexible materialand had an opening behind, secured with a lacing so that it could beopened without injury. Nothing need be cut but the lacing, which couldbe replaced. A little damage might be done in extracting the mummy andin introducing the deceased; but such cracks as might occur would be ofno importance. For here again Fortune favored me. The whole of theback of the mummy-case was coated with bitumen, and it would be easywhen once the deceased was safely inside to apply a fresh coat, whichwould cover up not only the cracks but also the new lacing.
"After careful consideration, I decided to adopt the plan. I wentdownstairs and sent the caretaker on an errand to the Law Courts. ThenI returned and carried the deceased up to one of the third-floor rooms,where I removed his clothes and laid him out on a long packing-case inthe position in which he would lie in the mummy-case. I folded hisclothes neatly and packed them, with the exception of his boots, in asuit-case that he had been taking to Paris and which contained nothingbut his nightclothes, toilet articles, and a change of linen. By thetime I had done this and thoroughly washed the oilcloth on the stairsand landing, the caretaker had returned. I informed him that Mr.Bellingham had started for Paris and then I went home. The upper partof the house was, of course, secured by the Chubb lock, but I hadalso--_ex abundantia cautelae_--locked the door of the room in which Ihad deposited the deceased.
"I had, of course, some knowledge of the methods of embalming, butprincipally of those employed by the ancients. Hence, on the followingday, I went to the British Museum library and consulted the most recentworks on the subject; and exceedingly interesting they were, as showingthe remarkable improvements that modern knowledge has effected in thisancient art. I need not trouble you with details that are familiar toyou. The process that I selected as the simplest for a beginner wasthat of formalin injection, and I went straight from the Museum topurchase the necessary materials. I did not, however, buy an embalmingsyringe: the book stated that an ordinary anatomical injecting syringewould answer the same purpose, and I thought it a more discreetpurchase.
"I fear that I bungled the injection terribly, although I had carefullystudied the plates in a treatise on anatomy--Gray's, I think. However,if my methods were clumsy, they were quite effectual. I carried outthe process on the evening of the third day; and when I locked up thehouse that night, I had the satisfaction of knowing that poor John'sremains were secure from corruption and decay.
"But this was not enough. The great weight of a fresh body as comparedwith that of a mummy would be immediately noticed by those who had thehandling of the mummy-case. Moreover, the damp from the body wouldquickly ruin the cartonnage and would cause a steamy film on the insideof the glass case in which it would be exhibited. And this wouldprobably lead to an examination. Clearly, then, it was necessary thatthe remains of the deceased should be thoroughly dried before they wereenclosed in the cartonnage.
"Here my unfortunate deficiency in scientific knowledge was a greatdrawback. I had no idea how this result would be achieved and, in theend, was compelled to consult a taxidermist, to whom I represented thatI wished to collect some small animals and reptiles and rapidly drythem for convenience of transport. By this person I was advised toimmerse the dead animals in a jar of methylated spirit for a week andthen expose them in a current of warm, dry air.
"But the plan of immersing the remains of the deceased in a jar ofmethylated spirit was obviously impractic
able. However, I bethought methat we had in our collection a porphyry sarcophagus, the cavity ofwhich had been shaped to receive a small mummy in its case. I triedthe deceased in the sarcophagus and found that he just fitted thecavity loosely. I obtained a few gallons of methylated spirit, which Ipoured into the cavity, just covering the body, and then I put on thelid and luted it down air-tight with putty. I trust I do not weary youwith these particulars?"
"I'll ask you to cut it as short as you can, Mr. Jellicoe," saidBadger. "It has been a long yarn and time is running on."
"For my part," said Thorndyke, "I find these details deeply interestingand instructive. They fill in the outline that I had drawn byinference."
"Precisely," said Mr. Jellicoe, "then I will proceed."
"I left the deceased soaking in the spirit for a fortnight and thentook him out, wiped him dry, and laid him on four cane-bottomed chairsjust over the hot-water pipes, and I let a free current of air passthrough the room. The result interested me exceedingly. By the end ofthe third day the hands and feet had become quite dry and shriveled andhorny--so that the ring actually dropped off the shrunken finger--thenose looked like a fold of parchment; and the skin of the body was sodry and smooth that you could have engrossed a lease on it. For thefirst day or two I turned the deceased at intervals so that he shoulddry evenly, and then I proceeded to get the case ready. I divided thelacing and extracted the mummy with great care--with great care as tothe case, I mean; for the mummy suffered some injury in the extraction.It was very badly embalmed, and so brittle that it broke in severalplaces while I was getting it out; and when I unrolled it the headseparated and both the arms came off.
"On the sixth day after the removal from the sarcophagus, I took thebandages that I had removed from Sebek-hotep and very carefully wrappedthe deceased in them, sprinkling powdered myrrh and gum benzoin freelyon the body and between the folds of the wrappings to disguise thefaint odor of the spirit and the formalin that still lingered about thebody. When the wrappings had been applied, the deceased really had amost workmanlike appearance; he would have looked quite well in a glasscase even without the cartonnage, and I felt almost regretful at havingto put him out of sight for ever.
"It was a difficult business getting him into the case withoutassistance, and I cracked the cartonnage badly in several places beforehe was safely enclosed. But I got him in at last, and then, when I hadclosed up the case with a new lacing, I applied a fresh layer ofbitumen which effectually covered up the cracks and the new cord. Adusty cloth dabbed over the bitumen when it was dry disguised itsnewness, and the cartonnage with its tenant was ready for delivery. Inotified Doctor Norbury of the fact, and five days later he came andremoved it to the Museum.
"Now that the main difficulty was disposed of, I began to consider thefurther difficulty to which you, sir, have alluded with such admirableperspicuity. It was necessary that John Bellingham should make onemore appearance in public before sinking into final oblivion.
"Accordingly, I devised the visit to Hurst's house, which wascalculated to serve two purposes. It created a satisfactory date forthe disappearance, eliminating me from any connection with it, and bythrowing some suspicion on Hurst it would make him more amenable--lesslikely to dispute my claim when he learned the provisions of the will.
"The affair was quite simple. I knew that Hurst had changed hisservants since I was last at his house, and I knew his habits. On thatday I took the suitcase to Charing Cross and deposited it in thecloakroom, called at Hurst's office to make sure that he was there, andwent from thence direct to Cannon Street and caught the train toEltham. On arriving at the house, I took the precaution to remove myspectacles--the only distinctive feature of my exterior--and was dulyshown into the study at my request. As soon as the housemaid had leftthe room I quietly let myself out by the French window, which I closedbehind me but could not fasten, went out at the side gate and closedthat also behind me, holding the bolt of the latch back with mypocket-knife so that I need not slam the gate to shut it.
"The other events of that day, including the dropping of the scarab, Ineed not describe, as they are known to you. But I may fitly make afew remarks on the unfortunate tactical error into which I fell inrespect of the bones. That error arose, as you have doubtlessperceived, from the lawyer's incurable habit of underestimating thescientific expert. I had no idea mere bones were capable of furnishingso much information to a man of science.
"The way in which the affair came about was this: the damaged mummy ofSebek-hotep, perishing gradually by exposure to the air, was not onlyan eyesore to me: it was a definite danger. It was the only remaininglink between me and the disappearance. I resolved to be rid of it andcast about for some means of destroying it. And then, in an evilmoment, the idea of utilizing it occurred to me.
"There was an undoubted danger that the Court might refuse to presumedeath after so short an interval; and if the permission should bepostponed, the will might never be administered during my lifetime.Hence, if these bones of Sebek-hotep could be made to simulate theremains of the deceased testator, a definite good would be achieved.But I knew that the entire skeleton could never be mistaken for his.The deceased had broken his knee-caps and damaged his ankle, injurieswhich I assumed would leave some permanent trace. But if a judiciousselection of the bones were deposited in a suitable place, togetherwith some object clearly identifiable as appertaining to the deceased,it seemed to me that the difficulty would be met. I need not troubleyou with details. The course which I adopted is known to you with theattendant circumstances, even the accidental detachment of the righthand--which broke off as I was packing the arm in my handbag.Erroneous as that course was, it would have been successful but for theunforeseen contingency of your being retained in the case.
"Thus, for nearly two years, I remained in complete security. Fromtime to time I dropped in at the Museum to see if the deceased waskeeping in good condition; and on those occasions I used to reflectwith satisfaction on the gratifying circumstance--accidental though itwas--that his wishes, as expressed (very imperfectly) in clause two,had been fully complied with, and that without prejudice to myinterests.
"The awakening came on that evening when I saw you at the Temple gatetalking with Doctor Berkeley. I suspected immediately that somethingwas gone amiss and that it was too late to take any useful action.Since then, I have waited here in hourly expectation of this visit.And now the time has come. You have made the winning move and itremains only for me to pay my debts like an honest gambler."
He paused and quietly lit his cigarette. Inspector Badger yawned andput away his notebook.
"Have you done, Mr. Jellicoe?" the inspector asked. "I want to carryout my contract to the letter, you know, though it's getting devilishlate."
Mr. Jellicoe took his cigarette from his mouth and drank a glass ofwater.
"I forgot to ask," he said, "whether you unrolled the mummy--if I mayapply the term to the imperfectly treated remains of my deceasedclient."
"I did not open the mummy-case," replied Thorndyke.
"You did not!" exclaimed Mr. Jellicoe. "Then how did you verify yoursuspicions?"
"I took an X-ray photograph."
"Ah! Indeed!" Mr. Jellicoe pondered for some moments. "Astonishing!"he murmured; "and most ingenious. The resources of science at thepresent day are truly wonderful."
"Is there anything more that you want to say?" asked Badger; "becauseif you don't, time's up."
"Anything more?" Mr. Jellicoe repeated slowly; "anything more?No--I--think--think--the time--is--up. Yes--the--the--time----"
He broke off and sat with a strange look fixed on Thorndyke.
His face had suddenly undergone a curious change. It looked shrunkenand cadaverous and his lips had assumed a peculiar cherry-red color.
"Is anything the matter, Mr. Jellicoe?" Badger asked uneasily. "Areyou not feeling well, sir?"
Mr. Jellicoe did not appear to have heard the question, for he returnedno answer, bu
t sat motionless, leaning back in his chair, with hishands spread out on the table and his strangely intent gaze bent onThorndyke.
Suddenly his head dropped on his breast and his body seemed tocollapse; and as with one accord we sprang to our feet, he slid forwardoff his chair and disappeared under the table.
"Good Lord! The man's fainted!" exclaimed Badger. In a moment he wasdown on his hands and knees, trembling with excitement, groping underthe table. He dragged the unconscious lawyer out into the light andknelt over him, staring into his face.
"What's the matter with him, Doctor?" he asked, looking up atThorndyke. "Is it apoplexy? Or is it a heart attack, think you?"
Thorndyke shook his head, though he stooped and put his fingers on theunconscious man's wrist.
"Prussic acid or potassium cyanide is what the appearances suggest," hereplied.
"But can't you do anything?" demanded the inspector.
Thorndyke dropped the arm, which fell limply to the floor.
"You can't do much for a dead man," he said.
"Dead! Then he has slipped through our fingers after all!"
"He has anticipated the sentence. That is all." Thorndyke spoke in aneven, impassive tone which struck me as rather strange, considering thesuddenness of the tragedy, as did also the complete absence of surprizein his manner. He seemed to treat the occurrence as a perfectlynatural one.
Not so Inspector Badger; who rose to his feet and stood with his handsthrust into his pockets scowling sullenly down at the dead lawyer.
"I was an infernal fool to agree to his blasted conditions," he growledsavagely.
"Nonsense," said Thorndyke. "If you had broken in you would have founda dead man. As it was you found a live man and obtained an importantstatement. You acted quite properly."
"How do you suppose he managed it?" asked Badger.
Thorndyke held out his hand.
"Let us look at his cigarette case," said he.
Badger extracted the little silver case from the dead man's pocket andopened it. There were five cigarettes in it, two of which were plain,while the other three were gold-tipped. Thorndyke took out one of eachkind and gently pinched their ends. The gold-tipped one he returned;the plain one he tore through, about a quarter of an inch from the end;when two little black tabloids dropped out on to the table. Badgereagerly picked one up and was about to smell it when Thorndyke graspedhis wrist. "Be careful," said he; and when he had cautiously sniffedat the tabloid--held at a safe distance from his nose--he added: "Yes,potassium cyanide. I thought so when his lips turned that queer color.It was in that last cigarette; you can see that he has bitten the endoff."
For some time we stood silently looking down at the still formstretched on the floor. Presently Badger looked up.
"As you pass the porter's lodge on your way out," said he, "you mightjust drop in and tell him to send a constable to me."
"Very well," said Thorndyke. "And by the way, Badger, you had bettertip that sherry back into the decanter and put it under lock and key,or else pour it out of the window."
"Gad, yes!" exclaimed the inspector. "I'm glad you mentioned it. Wemight have had an inquest on a constable as well as a lawyer.Good-night, gentlemen, if you are off."
We went out and left him with his prisoner--passive enough, indeed,according to his ambiguously worded promise. As we passed through thegateway Thorndyke gave the inspector's message, curtly and withoutcomment, to the gaping porter, and then we issued forth into ChanceryLane.
We were all silent and very grave, and I thought that Thorndyke seemedsomewhat moved. Perhaps Mr. Jellicoe's last intent look--which Isuspect he knew to be the look of a dying man--lingered in his memoryas it did in mine. Half-way down Chancery Lane he spoke for the firsttime; and then it was only to ejaculate, "Poor devil!"
Jervis took him up. "He was a consummate villain, Thorndyke."
"Hardly that," was the reply. "I should rather say that he wasnon-moral. He acted without malice and without scruple or remorse.His conduct exhibited a passionateless expediency which was dreadfulbecause utterly unhuman. But he was a strong man--a courageous,self-contained man, and I had been better pleased if it could have beenordained that some other hand than mine should let the axe fall."
Thorndyke's compunction may appear strange and inconsistent, but yethis feeling was also my own. Great as was the misery and sufferingthat this inscrutable man had brought into the lives of those I loved,I forgave him; and in his downfall forgot the callous relentlessnesswith which he had pursued his evil purpose. For it was he who hadbrought Ruth into my life; who had opened for me the Paradise of Loveinto which I had just entered. And so my thoughts turned away from thestill shape that lay on the floor of the stately old room in Lincoln'sInn, away to the sunny vista of the future, where I should walk hand inhand with Ruth until my time, too, should come; until I, too, like thegrim lawyer, should hear the solemn evening bell bidding me put outinto the darkness of the silent sea.
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