CHAPTER XXVI.
AMBLER JEVONS IS BUSY.
The sleepy-eyed tea-blender of Mark Lane remained plunged in a deepreverie during the greater part of the journey to town, and on arrivalat King's Cross declined to allow me to accompany him. Thisdisappointed me. I was eager to pursue the clue, but no amount ofpersuasion on my part would induce him to alter his decision.
"At present I must continue alone, old fellow," he answered kindly."It is best, after all. Later on I may want your help."
"The facts I've told you are of importance, I suppose?"
"Of the greatest importance," he responded. "I begin to see lightthrough the veil. But if what I suspect is correct, then the affairwill be found to be absolutely astounding."
"Of that I'm certain," I said. "When will you come in and spend anhour?"
"As soon as ever I can spare time," he answered. "To-morrow, or nextday, perhaps. At present I have a very difficult task before me.Good-bye for the present." And hailing a hansom he jumped in and droveaway, being careful not to give the address to the driver while withinmy hearing. Ambler Jevons had been born with the instincts of adetective. The keenness of his intellect was perfectly marvellous.
On leaving him I drove to Harley Street, where I found Sir Bernardbusy with patients, and in rather an ill-temper, having been worriedunusually by some smart woman who had been to consult him and had beenpouring into his ear all her domestic woes.
"I do wish such women would go and consult somebody else," he growled,after he had been explaining her case to me. "Same symptoms as all ofthem. Nerves--owing to indigestion, late hours, and an artificiallife. Wants me to order her to Carlsbad or somewhere abroad--so thatshe can be rid of her husband for a month or so. I can see the reasonplain enough. She's got some little game to play. Faugh!" cried theold man, "such women only fill one with disgust."
I went on to tell him of the verdict upon the death of Mrs. Courtenay,and his manner instantly changed to one of sympathy.
"Poor Henry!" he exclaimed. "Poor little woman! I wonder that nothinghas transpired to give the police a clue. To my mind, Boyd, there wassome mysterious element in Courtenay's life that he entirely hid fromhis friends. In later years he lived in constant dread ofassassination."
"Yes, that has always struck me as strange," I remarked.
"Has nothing yet been discovered?" asked my chief. "Didn't the policefollow that manservant Short?"
"Yes, but to no purpose. They proved to their own satisfaction that hewas innocent."
"And your friend Jevons--the tea-dealer who makes it a kind of hobbyto assist the police. What of him? Has he continued his activity?"
"I believe so. He has, I understand, discovered a clue."
"What has he found?" demanded the old man, bending forward ineagerness across the table. He had been devoted to his friendCourtenay, and was constantly inquiring of me whether the police hadmet with any success.
"At present he will tell me nothing," I replied.
Sir Bernard gave vent to an exclamation of dissatisfaction, observingthat he hoped Jevons' efforts would meet with success, as it wasscandalous that a double tragedy of that character could occur in acivilized community without the truth being revealed and the assassinarrested.
"There's no doubt that the tragedy was a double one," I observed."Although the jury have returned a verdict of 'Found Drowned' in thewidow's case, the facts, even as far as at present known, pointundoubtedly to murder."
"To murder!" he cried. "Then is it believed that she's been wilfullydrowned?"
"That is the local surmise."
"Why?" he asked, with an eager look upon his countenance, for he tookthe most intense interest in every feature of the affair.
"Well, because it is rumoured that she had been seen late one nightwalking along the river-bank, near the spot where she was found,accompanied by a strange man."
"A strange man?" he echoed, his interest increased. "Did anyone seehim sufficiently close to recognise him?"
"I believe not," I answered, hesitating at that moment to tell him allI knew. "The local police are making active inquiries, I believe."
"I wonder who it could have been?" Sir Bernard exclaimed reflectively."Mrs. Courtenay was always so devoted to poor Henry, that the story ofthe stranger appears to me very like some invention of the villagers.Whenever a tragedy occurs in a rural district all kinds of absurdcanards are started. Probably that's one of them. It is only naturalfor the rustic mind to connect a lover with a pretty young widow."
"Exactly. But I have certain reasons for believing the clandestinemeeting to have taken place," I said.
"What causes you to give credence to the story?"
"Statements made to me," I replied vaguely. "And further, all theevidence points to murder."
"Then why did the jury return an open verdict?"
"It was the best thing they could do in the circumstances, as itleaves the police with a free hand."
"But who could possibly have any motive for the poor little woman'sdeath?" he asked, with a puzzled, rather anxious expression upon hisgrey brow.
"The lover may have wished to get rid of her," I suggested.
"You speak rather ungenerously, Boyd," he protested. "Remember, wedon't know for certain that there was a lover in the case, and weshould surely accept the rumours of country yokels with considerablehesitation."
"I make no direct accusation," I said. "I merely give as my opinionthat she was murdered by the man she was evidently in the habit ofmeeting. That's all."
"Well, if that is so, then I hope the police will be successful inmaking an arrest," declared the old physician. "Poor little woman!When is the funeral?"
"The day after to-morrow."
"I must send a wreath. How sad it is! How very sad!" And he sighedsympathetically, and sat staring with fixed eyes at the dark greenwall opposite.
"It's time you caught your train," I remarked, glancing at the clock.
"No," he answered. "I'm dining at the House of Commons to-night withmy friend Houston. I shall remain in town all night. I so very seldomallow myself any dissipation," and he smiled rather sadly.
Truly he led an anchorite's life, going to and fro with clockworkregularity, and denying himself all those diversions in Society whichare ever at the command of a notable man. Very rarely did he accept aninvitation to dine, and the fact that he lived down at Hove was inorder to have a good excuse to evade people. He was a great man, withall a great man's little eccentricities.
The two following days passed uneventfully. Each evening, about ten,Ambler Jevons came in to smoke and drink. He stayed an hour,apparently nervous, tired, and fidgety in a manner quite unusual; butto my inquiries regarding the success of his investigations heremained dumb.
"Have you discovered anything?" I asked, eagerly, on the occasion ofhis second visit.
He hesitated, at length answering----
"Yes--and no. I must see Ethelwynn without delay. Telegraph and askher to meet you here. I want to ask her a question."
"Do you still suspect her?"
He shrugged his shoulders with an air of distinct vagueness.
"Wire to her to-night," he urged. "Your man can take the message downto the Charing Cross office, and she'll get it at eight o'clock in themorning. The funeral is over, so there is nothing to prevent hercoming to town."
I was compelled to agree to his suggestion, although loth to againbring pain and annoyance to my love. I knew how she had suffered when,a few days ago, I had questioned her, and I felt convinced by hermanner that, although she had refused to speak, she herself wasinnocent. Her lips were sealed by word of honour.
According to appointment Jevons met me when I had finished my nextmorning's work at Guy's, and we took a glass of sherry together in aneighbouring bar. Then at his invitation I accompanied him along theBorough High Street and Newington Causeway to the London Road, untilwe came to a row of costermongers' barrows drawn up beside thepavement. Before one of these, piled with vegetables
ready for theSaturday-night market, he stopped, and was immediately recognised bythe owner--a tall, consumptive-looking man, whose face struck mesomehow as being familiar.
"Well, Lane?" my companion said. "Busy, eh?"
"Not very, sir," was the answer, with the true cockney twang. "Tradeain't very brisk. There's too bloomin' many of us 'ere nowadays."
Leaving my side my companion advanced towards the man and whisperedsome confidential words that I could not catch, at the same timepulling something from his breast-pocket and showing it to him.
"Oh, yes, sir. No doubt abawt it!" I heard the man exclaim.
Then, in reply to a further question from Jevons, he said:
"'Arry 'Arding used to work at Curtis's. So I fancy that 'ud be theplace to find out somethink. I'm keepin' my ears open, you bet," andhe winked knowingly.
Where I had seen the man before I could not remember. But his face wascertainly familiar.
When we left him and continued along the busy thoroughfare of cheapshops and itinerant vendors I asked my friend who he was, to which hemerely replied:
"Well, he's a man who knows something of the affair. I'll explainlater. In the meantime come with me to Gray's Inn Road. I have tomake a call there," and he hailed a hansom, into which we mounted.
Twenty minutes later we alighted before a dingy-looking barber's shopand inquired for Mr. Harding--an assistant who was at that momentshaving a customer of the working class. It was a house where onecould be shaved for a penny, but where the toilet accessories weresomewhat primitive.
While I stood on the threshold Ambler Jevons asked the barber'sassistant if he had ever worked at Curtis's, and if, while there, heknew a man whose photograph he showed him.
"Yes, sir," answered the barber, without a moment's hesitation."That's Mr. Slade. He was a very good customer, and Mr. Curtis usedalways to attend on him himself."
"Slade, you say, is his name?" repeated my friend.
"Yes, sir."
Then, thanking him, we re-entered the cab and drove to an address in astreet off Shaftesbury Avenue.
"Slade! Slade!" repeated Ambler Jevons to himself as we drove along."That's the name I've been in search of for weeks. If I am successfulI believe the Seven Secrets will resolve themselves into one of themost remarkable conspiracies of modern times. I must, however,make this call alone, Ralph. The presence of a second person maypossibly prevent the man I'm going to see from making a full andstraightforward statement. We must not risk failure in this inquiry,for I anticipate that it may give us the key to the whole situation.There's a bar opposite the Palace Theatre. I'll set you down there,and you can wait for me. You don't mind, do you?"
"Not at all, if you'll promise to explain the result of yourinvestigations afterwards."
"You shall know everything later," he assured me, and a few minutesafterwards I alighted at the saloon bar he had indicated, a longlounge patronised a good deal by theatrical people.
He was absent nearly half-an-hour, and when he returned I saw from hisface that he had obtained some information that was eminentlysatisfactory.
"I hope to learn something further this afternoon," he said before weparted. "If I do I shall be with you at four." Then he jumped into ahansom and disappeared. Jevons was a strange fellow. He rushed hitherand thither, telling no one his business or his motives.
About the hour he had named he was ushered into my room. He had made acomplete change in his appearance, wearing a tall hat and frock coat,with a black fancy waistcoat whereon white flowers were embroidered.By a few artistic touches he had altered the expression of hisfeatures too--adding nearly twenty years to his age. His countenancewas one of those round, flexible ones that are so easily altered by afew dark lines.
"Well, Ambler?" I said anxiously, when we were alone. "What have youdiscovered?"
"Several rather remarkable facts," was his philosophic response. "Ifyou care to accompany me I can show you to-night something veryinteresting."
"Care to accompany you?" I echoed. "I'm only too anxious."
He glanced at his watch, then flinging himself into the chair oppositeme, said, "We've an hour yet. Have you got a drop of brandy handy?"
Then for the first time I noticed that the fresh colour of his cheekswas artificial, and that in reality he was exhausted and white asdeath. The difficulty in speaking that I had attributed to excitementwas really due to exhaustion.
Quickly I produced the brandy, and gave him a stiff peg, which heswallowed at a single gulp. His eyes were no longer sleepy-looking,but there was a quick fire in them which showed me that, althoughsuppressed, there burned within his heart a fierce desire to get atthe truth. Evidently he had learned something since I left him, butwhat it was I could not gather.
I looked at the clock, and saw it was twenty minutes past six. Henoticed my action, and said:
"If we start in an hour we shall have sufficient time."
Ambler Jevons was never communicative. But as he sat before me hisbrows were knit in deep thought, his hands chafed with suppressedagitation, and he took a second brandy-and-soda, an unusualindulgence, which betrayed an absent mind.
At length he rose, carefully brushed his silk hat, settled the hang ofhis frock-coat before the glass, tugged at his cravat, and then,putting on his light overcoat, announced his readiness to set out.
About half-an-hour later our cab set us down in Upper Street,Islington, close to the Agricultural Hall, and, proceeding on foot ashort distance, we turned up a kind of court, over the entrance ofwhich a lamp was burning, revealing the words "Lecture Hall."
Jevons produced two tickets, whereupon we were admitted into a long,low room filled by a mixed audience consisting of men. Upon theplatform at the further end was a man of middle age, with short fairbeard, grey eyes, and an alert, resolute manner--a foreigner by hisdress--and beside him an Englishman of spruce professionalappearance--much older, slightly bent, with grey countenance and whitehair.
We arrived just at the moment of the opening of the proceedings. TheEnglishman, whom I set down to be a medical man, rose, and inintroducing the lecturer beside him, said:
"I have the honour, ladies and gentlemen, to introduce to you DoctorPaul Deboutin--who, as most of you know, is one of the most celebratedmedical men in Paris, professor at the Salpetriere, and author of manyworks upon nervous disorders. The study of the latter is not,unfortunately, sufficiently taken up in this country, and it is inorder to demonstrate the necessity of such study that my friends andmyself have invited Doctor Deboutin to give this lecture before anaudience of both medical men and the laity. The doctor asks me toapologise to you for his inability to express himself well in English,but personally I have no fear that you will misunderstand him."
Then he turned, introduced the lecturer, and re-seated himself.
I was quite unprepared for such a treat. Deboutin, as every medicalman is aware, is the first authority on nervous disorders, and hislectures have won for him a world-wide reputation. I had read all hisbooks, and being especially struck with "Nevroses et Idees Fixes," amost convincing work, had longed to be present at one of hisdemonstrations. Therefore, forgetful that I was there for some unknownreason, I settled myself to listen.
Rapidly and clearly he spoke in fairly good English, with a decisionthat showed him to be perfect master at once of his subject and of thephrases with which he intended to clothe his thoughts. He brieflyoutlined the progress of his experiments at the Salpetriere, and atthe hospitals of Lyons and Marseilles, then without long preliminary,proceeded to demonstrate a most interesting case.
A girl of about twenty-five, with a countenance only relieved fromugliness by a fine pair of bright dark eyes, was led in by anassistant and seated in a chair. She was of the usual type seen in thestreets of Islington, poorly dressed with some attempt at fadedfinery--probably a workgirl in some city factory. She cast an uneasyglance upon the audience, and then turned towards the doctor, who drewhis chair towards the patient so that her knees nearly touched his.
/> It was a case of nervous "Hemianopsie," or one-eyed vision, heexplained.
Now the existence of this has always been denied, therefore theexperiment was of the most intense interest to every medical manpresent.
First the doctor, after ordering the patient to look him straight inthe face, held a pencil on the left side of her head, and found that,in common with most of us, she was conscious of its presence withoutmoving her eyes, even when it was almost at the level of her ear. Thenhe tried the same experiment on the right side of the face, when itwas at once plain that the power of lateral vision had brokendown--for she answered, "No, sir. No, no," as he moved the pencil toand fro with the inquiry whether she could see it. Nevertheless hedemonstrated that the power of seeing straight was quite unimpaired,and presently he gave to his assistant a kind of glass hemisphere,which he placed over the girl's head, and by which he measured theexact point on its scale where the power of lateral vision ceased.
This being found and noted, Professor Deboutin placed his hand uponthe patient's eyes, and with a brief "You may sleep now, my girl," inbroken English, she was asleep in a few seconds.
Then came the lecture. He verbally dissected her, giving a full andlucid explanation of the nervous system, from the spinal marrow andits termination in the coccyx, up to the cortex of the brain, in whichhe was of opinion that there was in that case a lesion--probablycurable--amply accounting for the phenomenon present. So clear,indeed, were his remarks that even a layman could follow them.
At last the doctor awoke the patient, and was about to proceed withanother experiment when his quick eye noticed a hardly-perceptibleflutter of the eyelids. "Ah, you are tired," he said. "It is enough."And he conducted her to the little side door that gave exit from theplatform.
The next case was one of the kind which is always the despairof doctors--hysteria. A girl, accompanied by her mother, aneatly-dressed, respectable-looking body, was led forward, but herhands were trembling, and her face working so nervously that thedoctor had to reassure her. With a true cockney accent she said thatshe lived in Mile End, and worked at a pickle factory. Her symptomswere constant headache, sudden falls, and complete absence ofsensation in her left hand, which greatly interfered with her work.Some of the questions were inconvenient--until, in answer to oneregarding her father, she gave a cry that "Poor father died lastyear," and broke into an agony of weeping. In a moment the doctor tookup an anthropometric instrument from the table, and made a movement asthough to touch her presumably insensible hand.
"Ah, you'll hurt me!" she said. Presently, while her attention wasattracted in another direction, he touched the hand with theinstrument, when she drew it back with a yell of pain, showing thatthe belief that her hand was insensible was entirely due to hysteria.He analysed her case just as he had done the first, and declared thatby a certain method of treatment, too technical to be here explained,a complete cure could be effected.
Another case of hysteria followed, and then a terrible exhibition of awild-haired woman suffering from what the lecturer described as a"crise des nerfs," which caused her at will to execute all manner ofhorrible contortions as though she were possessed. She threw herselfon the floor on her back, with her body arched so that it rested onlyon her head and heels, while she delivered kicks at those in front ofher, not with her toes, but with her heels. Meanwhile her face was socongested as to appear almost black.
The audience were, I think, relieved when the poor unfortunate woman,calmed by Deboutin's method of suggestion, was led quietly away, andher place taken by a slim, red-haired girl of more refined appearancethan the others, but with a strange stony stare as though unconsciousof her surroundings. She was accompanied by a short, wizened-faced oldlady, her grandmother.
At this juncture the chairman rose and said:
"This case is of great interest, inasmuch as it is a discovery made bymy respected colleague, whom we all know by repute, Sir BernardEyton."
The mention of my chief's name was startling. I had no idea he hadtaken any interest in the French methods. Indeed, he had alwaysdeclared to me that Charcot and his followers were a set ofcharlatans.
"We have the pleasure of welcoming Sir Bernard here this evening,"continued the chairman; "and I shall ask him to kindly explain thecase."
With apparent reluctance the well-known physician rose, after beingcordially welcomed to the platform by the French savant, adjusted hisold-fashioned glasses, and commenced to introduce the subject. Hisappearance there was certainly quite unexpected, but as I glanced atAmbler I saw a look of triumph in his face. We were sitting at theback of the hall, and I knew that Sir Bernard, being short-sighted,could not recognise us at the distance.
"I am here at Doctor Fulton's invitation to meet our great master,Professor Deboutin, of whom for many years I have been a follower."Then he went on to express the pleasure it gave him to demonstratebefore them a case which he declared was not at all uncommon, althoughhitherto unsuspected by medical men.
Behind the chair of the new-comer stood the strange-looking oldlady--who answered for her grand-daughter, the latter being mute. Hercase was one, Sir Bernard explained, of absence of will. With a fewquick questions he placed the history of the case before his hearers.There was a bad family history--a father who drank, and a mother whosuffered from epilepsy. At thirteen the girl had received a suddenfright owing to a practical joke, and from that moment she graduallycame under the influence of some hidden unknown terror so that sheeven refused to eat altogether. The strangest fact, however, was thatshe could still eat and speak in secret, although in public she wasentirely dumb, and no amount of pleasure or pain would induce her toutter a sound.
"This," explained Sir Bernard, "is one of the many cases of absence ofwill, partial or entire, which has recently come beneath my notice. Mymedical friends, and also Professor Deboutin, will agree that at theage the patient received her fright many girls are apt to tend towardswhat the Charcot School term 'aboulie,' or, in plain English, absenceof will. Now one of the most extraordinary symptoms of this is terror.Terror," he said, "of performing the simplest functions of nature;terror of movement, terror of eating--though sane in every otherrespect. Some there are, too, in whom this terror is developed uponone point only, and in such the inequality of mental balance can, as arule, only be detected by one who has made deep research in thisparticular branch of nervous disorders."
The French professor followed with a lengthy discourse, in which hebestowed the highest praise upon Sir Bernard for his long and patientexperiments, which, he said, had up to the present been conducted insecret, because he feared that if it were known he had taken up thatbranch of medical science he might lose his reputation as a lady'sdoctor.
Then, just as the meeting was being brought to a conclusion, Jevonstouched me on the shoulder, and we both slipped out.
"Well," he asked. "What do you think of it all?"
"I've been highly interested," I replied. "But how does this furtherour inquiries, or throw any light on the tragedy?"
"Be patient," was his response, as we walked together in the directionof the Angel. "Be patient, and I will show you."