The Woman with One Hand, and Mr. Ely's Engagement
CHAPTER X
THE JEWEL KING
The story of Duncan Rothwell's murder, when it came to be unfolded ina court of law, proved to be not the least strange of the many strangetales which have been unfolded there. Its turnings and twistings andinvolutions were many, but briefly summed up it came to this:
The man who had married the landlady of that hotel in the turning offthe Strand, and who, in marrying her, had brought such havoc on herhead, turned out to be a man with many names. What his real name was,if he ever had one, was never clearly shown. But there had been a timeduring which the name by which he had been best known to a certainsection of society had been that of the "Jewel King." He had been theperpetrator of most of the remarkable jewel robberies which have somuch disturbed society during recent years--a scamp, in short, on atruly notorious scale. Jonas Hartopp had played receiver to his thief.These two had been really remarkable men--men of parts which,fortunately for the world at large, are not often found joined in twoindividuals.
For years these two had been close friends--colleagues--with souls butfor a single thought, which thing was plunder, until a woman camebetween. This was the woman who has figured in these pages as Mrs.Lascelles-Trevor, but whose real patronymic was shown to be rathermore plebeian--Amelia Martin. The man who, for the sake ofconvenience, I will continue to call Mr. Barnes, was in his way agenius, and a little mad. He lived for a long time with Amelia Martinas her husband, without ever having married her. It is probable thatduring the whole of this period the woman was in a state of daily andhourly terror. He had a pleasant habit of playing tricks with women,particularly mesmeric tricks, of a sort which would hardly haveendeared any husband to any wife. It was seriously alleged, forinstance, that on a Monday he would throw her into a mesmeric sleep,and leave her quite alone in the house, and in a state of trance,until he returned on the Saturday to restore her, at his leisure--verymuch at his leisure--to a condition of consciousness. Thus she wascontinually losing large slices out of her life, under circumstanceswhich no one could describe as wholly satisfactory.
By degrees she transferred her affections to Jonas Hartopp, and withthem she decided to transfer herself as well. Mr. Barnes had just madea great coup. The world will remember the disappearance of theCountess of Crawley's wedding presents. Mr. Barnes walked away fromCrawley House with those priceless gems packed comfortably away in hispockets. Amelia Martin persuaded Jonas Hartopp to rob his friend, if,in a little transaction of that peculiar kind, one may speak ofrobbery. She offered Mr. Hartopp the Countess's gems for nothing if hewould take her with them. In a weak moment Mr. Hartopp yielded totemptation. Unfortunately Mr. Barnes detected her in the very act offlight. She struck a blow for freedom--with a knife. The injury whichshe inflicted was, however, a superficial one. Before she could strikeagain he had her in a mesmeric sleep. While she was in that state hecut off at the wrist her right hand, the one with which she had triedto stab him. Restoring her, he showed her what he had done. In heragony she vowed that she would turn Queen's evidence and betray him tothe tender mercies of the police, let the consequences to herself bewhat they might. In short, she made herself so extremely disagreeablethat, all things considered, Mr. Barnes thought it the better part ofwisdom to decamp.
It was while he was in full flight that he lighted on that hotel inthe street off the Strand, on the landlady of which he so generouslyand rapidly bestowed the name of Barnes. He perfectly realised thathis friend and his mistress were leagued together against him, and hetook it that Barnes's hotel would form a convenient resting-place andcover until such time as he saw his way to crying quits with the pair.
It is here that the odd part of the story begins, having its origin inone of those freaks of coincidence which, after all, are not so commonin fiction as they are in actual life, and are certainly not stranger.The _soi-disant_ Mr. Barnes had, in his palmy days, taken up hisresidence for business purposes, of all places in the world, atDulborough. Finding that there had been a James Southam thereabouts,and conceiving that it would be as well, in case of accidents, thatthe credit of his misdeeds should stand a chance of being fathered onthe real James Southam instead of on the false one, he had not onlytaken to himself my name, but had actually located himself in thehouse in which I had been bred and born.
Jonas Hartopp regretted his treachery almost as soon as he had playedthe traitor. Either he did not find the lady such a good bargain as hethought he should, or, at any rate, not a commensurate exchange forthe good offices of his ingenious and profitable friend. He decidedafter a while to extend the olive branch towards his whilom colleague.It was with that idea in view that he had inserted the advertisementaddressed to James Southam, of Dulborough, which had caught my eye.Under the circumstances, when the newly-fledged Mr. Barnes, acting his_role_ of waiter, heard the stranger on whom he was attendingpronounce his quondam cognomen, it was not surprising that he jumpedto the conclusion that the Philistines had tracked him to his lair,and that, in consequence, he turned tail and ran.
Amelia Martin, having played the part of traitor herself, was quick atsuspecting intended treachery in another. She had an inkling of whatit was Jonas Hartopp, _alias_ Duncan Rothwell, proposed to do. Thepair had a violent quarrel the night before he went to town. Shefollowed him without his being conscious of the fact, on that eventfuljourney, in a dangerous mood; and in what, doubtless, was a momenthalf of fear and half of frenzy, she struck him dead. The evidence atthe inquest, and the discovery that there was a real James Southam inthe world, and that "Duncan Rothwell," therefore, had started on afutile quest, gave her the idea of removing suspicion from herself byattributing the crime to me--which ingenious plan she might havecarried to a successful issue, and I been hanged for what I never hadthe faintest thought of doing, if the false James Southam had not comeon the scene in the very nick of time. It was she who placed the knifewith which she had done the deed behind the wainscot in my bedroom!
The trial of Amelia Martin for the murder of Jonas Hartopp, duringwhich this tale was unfolded, continued for a week. On her behalfmedical evidence was brought to show that she suffered from periodicalattacks of mania, during which she could not justly be heldresponsible for her actions--for which condition of affairs Mr.Barnes's mesmeric experiments had probably something to do. She wassentenced to be confined as a criminal lunatic during her Majesty'spleasure.
Mr. Barnes's suicide in his cell, on the night before he was to bebrought to trial--for, in spite of the assistance which he rendered inthe case of Amelia Martin, the police, apparently, had no intention ofletting him go "scot free"--was the sensation of a "special edition."
"Mrs. Barnes" sold the hotel and retired into private life. Atpresent, I believe, she is residing with some relatives in a corner offar-off Canada. As for me, I still seem very far from being on theroad which leads to the making of a fortune; but, at any rate, I amnot at present out of employment, and I sincerely trust that the timeis very far distant when I shall be.
The End.
MR. ELY'S ENGAGEMENT