Had Detective Lambert followed Dick to the neighbourhood of Covent Garden and overheard what passed between him and certain well known tradesmen therein he would have had another problem to solve, in addition to those which were already occupying his attention.
The inquiry into the death of Mr. Samuel Boyd was resumed at the Coroner's Court in Bishop Street this morning before Mr. John Kent. Long before eleven o'clock the usual crowd of persons had gathered round the doors, but so numerous had been the application for seats from privileged and influential quarters that very few of the general public succeeded in gaining admittance. Intense as has been the interest evinced in this extraordinary case, the startling and unexpected revelations made by witnesses who have voluntarily come forward to give evidence have raised it to a level reached by no other murder mystery in our remembrance. It would be idle to deny that the evidence of the last witness examined yesterday has given a significant turn to the proceedings.
So far as we have been able to ascertain, the police have obtained no clue to the man who personated Samuel Boyd and who so successfully imposed upon Lady Wharton in Bournemouth. We understand that it is the intention of her ladyship's advisers to offer a substantial reward for the recovery of her jewels, and a list of them, with detailed descriptions, has been sent to every pawnbroker in the kingdom. To this course we ourselves see no objection, although we are aware that many of the Scotland Yard officials are strongly of the opinion that the offer of a reward in such cases only serves to put the guilty parties more carefully on their guard. For the same reason they may object to the bills that are now being posted in London offering rewards for the discovery and conviction of the murderer or murderers, and for the discovery of Abel Death, of whom no news whatever is as yet forthcoming. The bills are appropriately headed "In the Cause of Justice," and it is to be hoped that they will assist the cause of justice. We make no comment upon the circumstance that Mr. Reginald Boyd, at whose instance this step has been taken, has made himself responsible for the payment of £500 in the one case and £200 in the other. The argument that it will stimulate persons to recall apparently insignificant details in connection with the movements of the guilty parties, and to make them public, is sound, for important results have been known to spring from the revelation of details which in ordinary circumstances would be considered too trivial to mention. In the course of the next few days further developments may be expected.
It was understood that this morning's proceedings would be opened with the examination of Mrs. Abel Death, but before she was called Mr. Reginald Boyd rose and addressed the Coroner.
Mr. Reginald Boyd: "I ask permission to say a few words."
The Coroner: "You have already been examined, Mr. Boyd, and I am desirous not to subject the jury to the inconvenience arising from an inquiry unduly protracted."
Mr. Reginald Boyd: "I can assure you, Mr. Coroner, and you, gentlemen of the jury, that I do not wish to waste your time, but you must see that what has transpired in the course of this inquiry affects me most deeply. In common justice I ask to be heard."
The Juror: "Let us hear what Mr. Reginald Boyd has to say."
The Coroner: "I am in your hands, gentlemen."
Mr. Reginald Boyd: "After the evidence given by Dr. Pye--or rather I should say, after the statement he has made affecting myself--my desire is to declare even more positively than I did yesterday that I reached my lodgings on Friday night within a few minutes of midnight, that I went to bed, and did not arise from it for a week in consequence of my illness. I fear that it is not in my power to offer corroborative evidence. My landlady and her servant went to bed, I understand, between ten and eleven o'clock, and have no recollection of hearing anybody come into the house after they retired. It is my misfortune, also, that I was the only lodger in the house. I let myself in with my latchkey. I have no remembrance of meeting with anyone nor of speaking to anyone, but I can swear to the time because I looked at my watch, and wound it up in my bedroom."
The Coroner: "Very well. Perhaps you had better not say anything more."
Mr. Reginald Boyd: "Why not, Mr. Coroner? I desire it to be widely known that I court the fullest and most searching inquiry. I cannot avoid seeing that Dr. Pye's statement that the man he saw bore a striking resemblance to myself throws a grave suspicion upon me. I do not impugn his evidence, but I contend that it is only fair that equal consideration should be given to my statement as to his. I will endeavour to make myself clearer. I affirm upon my oath that I was in my bed within a few minutes of midnight, and did not leave it again. Dr. Pye affirms that three hours afterwards he saw a person resembling me leave my father's house in a suspicious manner. To the truth of my statement I can bring forward no witnesses. Can Dr. Pye bring forward any witnesses to the truth of his? If uncorroborated evidence given by me is open to doubt, so should uncorroborated evidence given by him be viewed. A man's honour--to say nothing of a son's innocence or guilt of so awful a crime as the murder of his father--is not to be judged by a stranger's unsupported word. In the sacred name of justice I protest against it."
These words, spoken with manliness and deep emotion, made a marked impression upon the audience, which was deepened when they turned to the glowing face of the witness's wife. A murmur of sympathy ran through the Court.
The Juror (referring to his notes): "But in your account of the incidents of that night you informed us that you could not depend upon your memory. Quoting your own words: 'I was deeply agitated, and my mind was in confusion. The fever from which I immediately afterwards suffered, and which kept me to my bed several days, may have been upon me then.' Do you adhere to that?"
Mr. Reginald Boyd: "I do. In describing my condition my endeavour was to speak the honest truth, and to offer no excuse which could not be accepted by an impartial mind, nor to take advantage of any. But that does not affect my distinct recollection as to the time I wound up my watch in my bedroom."
The Juror: "We must not, however, lose sight of the fact that no suspicion attaches to Dr. Pye, and that it is not his veracity that is here in question."
Mr. Reginald Boyd (with warmth): "Is that a fair remark from one of the jury?"
The Coroner: "It is a most improper remark, and should not have been made in open Court. Call Mrs. Abel Death."
The public are by this time acquainted with much of the evidence Mrs. Death had to offer. After narrating the circumstances of her husband's dismissal from the service of Mr. Samuel Boyd, and of his going late at night to Mr. Boyd's house in Catchpole Square to beg to be taken back, the examination proceeded as follows:
"What salary did your husband receive from Mr. Boyd?"
"Twenty-two shillings a-week, with deductions for imaginary faults."
"Did he work long hours?"
"From nine in the morning till eight at night. Occasionally he worked overtime, but was never paid anything extra."
"He was not happy in his situation?"
"How could he be, sir, with such a master?"
"They had frequent disagreements?"
"I'm sorry to say they had; but it wasn't my husband's fault."
"Did he ask Mr. Boyd for a loan of ten pounds?"
"Yes, sir."
"He hoped it would be granted?"
"We fully expected it, sir."
"The refusal to grant the loan must have been a great disappointment to your husband?"
"It almost broke his heart, sir."
"May that not have exasperated him, and caused him to speak words to Mr. Boyd which might have been construed into a threat?"
"I am sure that could not have happened. My husband was most particular in telling me everything that passed between them, and he didn't use a threatening word. He did ask Mr. Boyd if he believed in God, and Mr. Boyd said no, he didn't."
"Then there was bad blood between them when they parted?"
"I suppose there was, sir."
"To what do you attribute Mr. Boyd's unexpected refusal to lend the money?"
"To Mr. Reginald's visit in the afternoon. It made his father furious."
"Now, as to the object of Mr. Reginald Boyd's visit in the afternoon. Was it to obtain money from his father?"
"That was what my husband believed."
"And was this the object of his second visit late at night?"
"My husband said of course it must be that, but that he wouldn't get a penny out of the old man."
"After your husband's dismissal, are you aware whether he and Mr. Reginald Boyd met?"
"They couldn't have met, sir, or my husband would have told me."
"No doubt you have heard many of the theories that have been advanced to account for his absence from his home?"
"Well, sir, I have. Some say--the wretches!--that he murdered Mr. Boyd, and has run off with the money. Some say that he has made away with himself, but it isn't possible he could have thought of such a thing. Iwasa bit afraid of it the last night I saw him when he started up to go to Catchpole Square, but he saw what was in my mind, and he said, 'Don't you think that of me. You've got trouble enough to bear; I'm not going to bring more upon you. I'll do my duty, and fight on to the bitter end.' And that's what he would have done."
"Have you any idea at all as to the cause of his absence?"
"Yes, sir. Foul play."
"Did he have any enemies?"
"Not to my knowledge, sir. He wasn't of a quarrelsome disposition."
"Were there any money transactions between him and Mr. Reginald Boyd?"
"Not exactly transactions, sir. Once, when we had sickness at home, Mr. Reginald saw that my husband was worried, and he asked him if he was in any trouble. Hearing what it was, and that we were frightened to send for a doctor because of the expense, he gave my husband two sovereigns. We thought it was a loan, but afterwards, when we offered to pay it off at a shilling a week, Mr. Reginald said it was only a friendly little present, and that he would be vexed if we didn't look upon it as such. I remember my husband saying, 'I wish I was working for Mr. Reginald instead of for his father.' We were very grateful to him, and I always looked upon him as a model young gentleman till old Mr. Boyd was murdered, and then----"
"Why do you pause? Go on."
"No, sir, I won't. It wouldn't be fair."
The Juror: "But we should like to hear, Mrs. Death?"
"I'm not going to say anything more about it, sir, unless you force me to it. Every man ought to have his chance."
The Juror (to the Coroner): "I think, Mr. Coroner, the witness should be directed to finish the sentence."
The Coroner (to Mrs. Death): "You would rather not say what is in your mind?"
Mrs. Death: "I would rather not, sir."
"Then I shall not ask you to disclose it."
The Juror: "But, Mr. Coroner----"
The Coroner: "I am conducting this inquiry, and I have given my decision." (To the witness). "How long did you remain up on Friday night after your husband went to make a last appeal to his employer?"
"I did not go to bed at all that night. I waited for him till nearly two in the morning, and then I went to Catchpole Square, on the chance that Mr. Samuel Boyd would be able to give me some information of him. I knocked at the door, and hung about the Square a goodish bit, but I couldn't get anyone to answer me. Then I came home again, and waited and waited."
"You went from your house at two in the morning?"
"About that time, sir."
"How long did it take you to reach Catchpole Square?"
"It was a dark night, and I should think it took me half an hour or so."
"So that you would be in front of Mr. Boyd's house at about half past two?"
"Yes, sir."
"You knocked more than once?"
"Several times, sir."
"And waited between each fresh summons for an answer?"
"For the answer that never came, sir."
"And after that, you hung about the Square. Can you say for how long a time?"
"I can't speak with certainty, but I should say I must have been there altogether quite an hour."
"That brings us to half past three?"
"Yes, sir."
The Juror: "I see your point, Mr. Coroner, but the witness did not probably possess a watch."
The Coroner: "Have you a watch or a clock in your rooms?"
"No, sir."
"Then your statement as to the time is mere guesswork?"
"No, sir. When I was in Catchpole Square I heard a church clock strike three."
The Coroner (to a constable): "Do you know if there is an officer in Court who lives near Catchpole Square?"
The Constable: "I do myself, sir."
The Coroner: "Is there a church close by that tolls the hour?"
The Constable: "Yes, sir, Saint Michael's Church."
The Coroner: "It can be heard in Catchpole Square?"
The Constable: "Quite plainly, sir."
The Coroner: "Thank you." (To Mrs. Death). "You heard the hour strike when you had been some time in the Square?"
"I must have been there half an hour."
"And you remained some time afterwards?"
"For as long again."
"Are you certain that the church clock struck three?"
"I am, sir. I counted the strokes."
"You did not move out of the Square?"
"No, sir."
"During the whole time you were there was the door of Mr. Samuel Boyd's house opened?"
"No, sir."
"You did not see any man come from the house, and linger on the threshold of the door?"
"No, sir."
"At about that hour of three did you observe a sudden flash of light from an opposite house?"
"No, sir, it was quite dark all the time I was there."
"You are quite positive?"
"Quite positive, sir."
While these questions were asked and answered the spectators in Court, many of whom had been present while Dr. Pye was giving his evidence yesterday, held their breath, as it were, and an expression of intense relief was observable in the countenances of Mr. Reginald Boyd and his wife and her parents.
The Juror: "Do you think, Mr. Coroner, that the evidence on the point of time is reliable?"
The Coroner: "As reliable as the evidence of witnesses on other points."
The Juror: "It is uncorroborated."
The Coroner: "So is the evidence of Dr. Pye, as Mr. Reginald Boyd remarked."
The Juror: "So is Mr. Reginald Boyd's evidence."
The Coroner: "Exactly." (To Mrs. Death.) "I have no further questions to ask you."
"We have now," said the Coroner, addressing the jury, "arrived at the end of the inquiry, so far as the examination of witnesses is concerned, and the duty devolves upon you of carefully considering the evidence, and of giving your verdict. At the opening of this inquiry I made a strong appeal to you to keep an open mind, and not to be influenced by the rumours and theories which have been freely broached by press and public. It is in this way that the interests of justice will be best served. The case is one of the gravest import, and your task one of unusual difficulty. For this reason I feel it my duty to address you at greater length than is usual in inquiries of this nature.
"There are leading points in the case which we may take as established beyond dispute. One is that a murder has been committed, a murder of extreme brutality, and distinguished by features of extreme cunning. Another, that the man murdered is Mr. Samuel Boyd. Another, that the murder was committed on the night of the 1st or the 2nd of March.
"That the crime should have remained undiscovered so long is due to the peculiar domestic habits of the deceased, and to the facts that he kept no servants in his house, that he lived quite alone, and that on the evening of the 1st of March he dismissed the only person whom he kept regularly employed. Had this dismissal not been given, and had Mr. Abel Death, his clerk, gone to his work as usual on the following morning, the discovery of the murder would have been made within a few hours of its perpetration, and the task before you would have been rendered far less difficult. I would not have you attach too much importance to the apparent connection between the perpetration of the murder and the disappearance of Mr. Abel Death. Coincidences as strange are not uncommon in matters less serious, and it is not because this matter is serious that the coincidence should be construed to the disadvantage of a man who is absent. Up to Friday, the 1st of March, his relations with his employer were as fairly satisfactory as could have been expected from the miserable stipend he received and from the character of the murdered man, and, unpleasant as those relations became on that last day, there was nothing in them, so far as we are aware, to supply a reason for the committal of a deliberate and dastardly murder, all the details of which must have been carefully planned. If Mr. Abel Death had been a party to this plan he would hardly have asked his employer for a loan of ten pounds, a small sum for a rich man to grant to his confidential clerk.
"For the purpose of arriving, as far as possible, at a clear comprehension of this part of the mystery let us for a moment follow the probable movements of Mr. Death on that night.
"He is dismissed from his employment, and he leaves the office, a disappointed and unhappy man; he relates to his wife all that passed between him and his employer, and subsequently informs her that he is going to Catchpole Square to make another appeal to his employer. I gather that the time of his arrival at the house would be about ten o'clock, at which hour we may assume that Mr. Samuel Boyd had not retired to rest. At about nine o'clock Lady Wharton left Mr. Samuel Boyd at the door of his house, and from that moment all is mystery. We know, however, that he must have had matters to attend to which would keep him up a couple of hours. Lady Wharton had deposited with him a number of valuable jewels, to which, when she was gone, he would naturally devote attention, appraising them, and probably taking a list of them. The dismissal of his clerk would most likely cause him to pay some attention to the state of the books and accounts, and the jewels had to be put in a place of safety.
"All this would occupy him a couple of hours, and this brings us to eleven o'clock, when he would be ready to seek his bed. But before this hour Mr. Abel Death, according to the theory we are following out, has paid his visit, or rather, has made his attempt to see his employer. He knocks at the door, and in response to the summons Mr. Boyd goes down to see who is there. A man living alone in a house so safely removed from public observation would be scarcely likely to open his street door to casual visitors at ten o'clock at night, nor, the business of the day being over, would he neglect to put the chain on the street door. His probable course of action would be to go down, and, opening the door as far as the chain would allow, inquire who is there. He is answered by Mr. Death, who begs to be admitted to make his appeal; is refused; while standing in the square implores to be taken back; is listened to, laughed at, ordered to go away, and the door shut in his face.
"I do not see how we can carry the matter farther as regards Mr. Death. To assume that he is admitted to the house, and that Mr. Boyd went to bed in his presence, is so wildly improbable that we may at once reject it. If anything can be said to be ridiculous in so awful a tragedy it would be to suppose that Mr. Boyd thus placed himself in the power and at the mercy of a man whom he knew to be embittered against him, and who was in a sense desperate. As to Mr. Abel Death's subsequent movements we are left in mystery. His wife suggests foul play. That a man left in the position to which my argument has carried him should deliberately conceal himself without a distinct motive is not to be thought of, and for this reason I consider the suggestion of foul play tenable. From whom, or from what quarter, who shall say? But we are not here to inquire into this matter; it is not the fate of Mr. Death we have to deliberate upon, and I advise you therefore to narrow the issue, which is sufficiently wide and perplexing, by setting him aside. There is nothing whatever to connect him with the crime beyond the merest conjectures, and were he alone concerned the only verdict that could be returned would be one of 'Murder by some person or persons unknown.'
"We will now turn to another branch of the subject. In reply to a question I put to Mrs. Death she expressed her belief that her husband had no enemies: but a man carrying on such a business as Mr. Samuel Boyd transacted must have had many. However harsh it may sound, there is in my mind very little doubt that he must have inflicted great wrongs upon a number of persons. The tactics pursued by moneylenders of his class are so tricky and unscrupulous--they are so entirely oblivious of the claims of common humanity--that they must perforce breed animosity and resentment in the breasts of those whom they entrap. I am referring, understand, to that class of moneylenders whose nefarious practices have made them a danger to society, and I am happy to see that the strong arm of the law is being stretched forward to protect the unwary and unsuspecting victims who fall into their clutches. On the other hand, there are, of course, among such a man's customers some crafty borrowers who would trick the moneylender as he would trick them, men with doubtful reputations whose characters are no better than his own. It is for your consideration whether Mr. Samuel Boyd has fallen a victim to a cunningly laid plot on the part of a band of these men; the abstraction of the books and papers in which their names would appear favours this presumption. We have no evidence presented to us that affords a clue to the discovery of such a plot, but it will be as well not to lose sight of its probable existence.
"Returning to my argument concerning Mr. Samuel Boyd's movements within his house on the night in question, we behold him still alone at about eleven o'clock, his office business finished, the visit of Mr. Abel Death disposed of, and he preparing for bed. And here Mr. Reginald Boyd comes into the picture.
"We have heard from his lips his account of what took place during his interview with his father, and we have to accept or reject it. They were alone together, there were no witnesses, and we have only Mr. Reginald Boyd's word to go upon. You must not allow this to militate against him. In the circumstances of the case it is hardly possible that there could have been witnesses to corroborate the account he gave, and I have no hesitation in declaring that his bearing in the witness box bore the impress of truth. It has been objected to that in the course of this inquiry private domestic affairs have been dragged into the light which seemingly had no connection with it, but painful as this must have been to certain of the witnesses, it has established more than one point which, in the opinion of some of you, may be of importance--such, for instance, as the nature of the relations which existed between Mr. Samuel Boyd and his son, and the fact that the latter was in extremely straitened circumstances. I do not think that any blame is to be attached to the son for having renounced the name of Boyd two years ago, when the strained relations between him and his father led to his leaving, or being turned from, his home in Catchpole Square. It is not an instance without parallel; men have changed their names for motives less powerful than this. Mr. Reginald Boyd's bearing while giving his evidence here, was that of a high-spirited, independent young gentleman, who held in abhorrence the business tactics and practices of his father, and it is not unnatural, when the connection was severed, that he should resolve to be quit of a name which carried with it a disreputable stigma.
"Nor was it unnatural that Mr. Reginald Boyd should have believed himself to have been tricked out of the fortune his mother left him, and that, being now a married man, anxious to provide a home for his wife, he should have made an effort to obtain restitution. In my reference to these matters I am not wandering from the issue, for what you have to consider is, not one incident, circumstance, or act, apart from the others, but all the incidents, circumstances, and acts in relation to each other. What in the former case may seem suspicious may, in the latter case, be robbed of its suspicious complexion.
"And do not forget that there was not a single question put to Mr. Reginald Boyd, whether pertinent to this inquiry or not, which he refused to answer. He evinced, indeed, an anxiety to disclose everything within his knowledge which cannot be regarded in any other than a praiseworthy light. He even went so far as to voluntarily mention small incidents leading to the asking of questions, his answers to which may be unfavourably construed. I observed him narrowly while these questions were being asked and answered. There was no confusion in his manner; he answered unhesitatingly and frankly. His demeanour was entirely that of a man who was giving his evidence with honest intention."
"Interrupting you here, Mr. Coroner," said the Juror, "was not the evidence of Dr. Pye given in a manner which invited entire belief in his honesty and straightforwardness?"
"I was coming to Dr. Pye," said the Coroner. "Yes, there was nothing in his conduct in the witness box that would warrant a belief that he was not speaking truthfully. It cannot be denied that the evidence he gave threw a startling suspicion on Mr. Reginald Boyd, and were it not for the evidence of Mrs. Abel Death which, in point of time, is in direct conflict with that of Dr. Pye, I should be addressing you in different terms, so far as Mr. Reginald Boyd is concerned. Here we are confronted with a most singular discrepancy. Dr. Pye states that he saw a man issue from Mr. Samuel Boyd's house at three o'clock in the morning. Mrs. Abel Death states that she was in Catchpole Square from half past two till half past three on the same morning, and that during the whole of that time the door of Mr. Boyd's house was not opened. I do not see how these conflicting statements can be brought into reconcilement. The presumption that Mrs. Death may have been mistaken as to the time of her visit to, and her departure from, Catchpole Square is disposed of by her further statement that, while she was in Catchpole Square, she heard the hour of three struck from a neighbouring church clock. And we have evidence that the chimes of Saint Michael's Church can be heard in the Square."
The Juror: "Might she not have been mistaken, Mr. Coroner? It may have struck two. If Mrs. Death reached Catchpole Square at half past one and remained till half past two, the discrepancy would vanish."
The Coroner: "Just so; but it is not for us to alter the statements of witnesses in order to make them fit in with one another. We have to take the evidence as it is presented to us, and draw our conclusions from them. I asked Mrs. Death if she was certain that the church clock struck three, and she answered that she was, and that she counted the strokes. However, gentlemen, there is the discrepancy, and you must place your own construction upon it.
"With respect to the night on which the murder was committed we may safely assume that it was Friday night. Mrs. Death's repeated knocking at the street door would surely have aroused the inmate had he been living. Mr. Boyd was in the habit of going out daily, but from that fatal Friday night he was not seen alive.
"So much of the morbid interest attaching to this case has been centred upon Mr. Reginald Boyd and Mr. Abel Death, that there is a danger of matters being overlooked which have an important bearing upon the inquiry. The disposal of the body in bed and the composing of the limbs after a violent life and death struggle had taken place, the orderly condition of the rooms after the confusion into which this violent struggle must have thrown their contents, direct our minds to a consideration of the kind of men responsible for the murder and the robbery. That so much trouble should have been taken to remove and obliterate all signs of the struggle, and to make it appear that a ruthlesss and brutal deed had not been committed, would seem to point to the probability that the men are not experienced members of the criminal classes; while the skill and cunning of the plot, and the cool and deliberate way in which it was carried out, denote that they are men of infinite resource and daring. I use the plural because I share the belief that the deed and all that followed it were not the work of one hand. A master mind there certainly must be, and I can conceive no greater danger to society than that such a man should be at large, watching this case and guarding against its consequences.
"Undoubtedly the leading motive was robbery, but behind this leading motive were others as to the nature of which we have no clue. For what reason were the books of accounts and the private papers of the murdered man removed? Valueless in a commercial sense, why should the robbers have encumbered themselves with articles of considerable bulk, the carrying of which, by night or by day, would have drawn attention upon them? Some ulterior motive there must have been. The close and secret manner in which the deceased conducted his business, the circumstance that he admitted no man into his confidence, serve, in the present aspect of the case, as a stumbling block to justice. The criminals must have been familiar with the premises and with the habits of the deceased. They must have known where the key of the safe was kept, they must have known that it contained property of value. It is difficult to understand why a sum of money was left in the pockets of Mr. Boyd, but it is only one of many circumstances which it is difficult to understand.
"And mark the hardihood, confidence, and patience with which the plot was carried to issues not included in the original plan of the crime. On Saturday morning Mr. Boyd lies dead in his bed, and the criminals, if not still in the house, have free access to it. I am following this out now because it is quite likely to have escaped you in the multitudinous incidents and circumstances of the mystery which it is necessary for you to bear in mind. On Monday Lady Wharton recollects that Mr. Boyd, when he received the fresh acceptances signed by Lord Wharton and endorsed by Lord Fairfax, omitted to hand back the old bills for which the new ones were given in exchange. She writes to Mr. Boyd, she being then in Bournemouth and he lying dead in London. In her letter she requests him to bring the old bills to Bournemouth, and also requests that the loan of £1,000 already arranged between them, for which she had deposited jewels as security, should be increased to £1,500, promising, for the additional £500, to hand him other jewels as security when they meet in Bournemouth. The letter written and posted, is left by the postman in the post box of Mr. Boyd's house in Catchpole Square. And here we are brought face to face with the unparallelled audacity of the criminals. Having access to the house they obtain possession of the letter, and they conceive the idea of personating the dead man for the purpose of getting hold of these additional jewels. No illiterate, uneducated criminals these; past-masters in forgery as well as in murder, who shall say what undiscovered crimes may be laid at their door? I have no hesitation in declaring that no parallel exists in criminal records to the expedient they adopted and carried to a successful end. You have heard the astonishing story from Lady Wharton's own lips, you have heard it corroborated by her brother, Lord Fairfax. It is an extraordinary revelation, more like a chapter from the dark pages of romance than a chapter from real life. The closer the attention we devote to the many-sided aspects of this mystery, the longer we consider it and turn it this way and that in the endeavour to grasp a tangible clue, the more bewildering does it become. One moment suspicion rests upon one person, the next moment upon another, the next our suspicions fade away; while behind those whom we already know as being connected--and bear in mind, as likely as not innocently connected--with the awful tragedy lurk others whose identity up to the present moment is a sealed mystery.
"It has been my desire to place the matter before you in as clear a light as possible, and I am fully sensible of the difficulty of your task. Justice demands that this mystery shall be cleared up, but be careful that you do not take a false step, for at the same time justice demands that you do injustice to no man because of some theory or prejudice you may have in your mind."
While her mother was being examined in the Coroner's Court, little Gracie Death, glowing with gratitude to Aunt Rob and her family, and solemnly impressed with a sense of the importance of the task she had undertaken, set out on the trail of Dr. Vinsen. She clearly understood that she was serving Dick's friends as well as Dick himself, but it was of Dick she thought most, and it was him she most ardently wished to serve. The attachments formed by children, and the ideals they create, are often stronger and more binding than those of men and women; and no stronger attachment was ever formed by a child, and no more lofty and beautiful an ideal created than those which reigned in Gracie's soul for Dick. Her heart throbbed with pride to think that the man she loved best in the world next to her father had taken her into partnership, and had entrusted her with a mission. There was no indication of this on her quiet, sallow face, or in her black eyes. When passion is demonstrative it is far less enduring than when it lies hidden in the soul.
Gracie intended to fulfil the mission entrusted to her. Dick had said that between them they would make Scotland Yard sit up. Well, they would. Inspired not only by the kiss which he had given her for good luck, but by an absolute reliance upon herself, Gracie pondered upon her course of action. She must go somewhere. Where? She had no idea in which direction Dr. Vinsen lived, and she was not the kind of girl to flounder about without something to guide her. Once she set eyes upon him she would stick to him like a limpet to a rock till her purpose was achieved. She turned her face homeward; he might by chance be there.
He was there. She heard his voice as she was ascending the stairs, and she paused to listen. He was asking the children for their mother, and a chorus of voices informed him that Mrs. Death had gone to the "inkage," which was the nearest approach the little ones could make to "inquest." Gracie thought it was a curious question for him to ask, because she had heard him and her mother speaking of Mrs. Death being a witness in the inquiry. She crept up a step to hear what further he had to say.
"And Gracie," he said, "where's our little Gracie--our lit-tle Gra-cie? Has she gone to the 'inkage' too?" Who could doubt that it was out of mere playfulness he gave their pronunciation of the word?
"Oh, no," answered the most forward of the children, "she can't get in, she can't. And mother didn't want her to."
Other questions of no importance were asked and answered, and then the door of the room was opened, and Gracie saw Dr. Vinsen's legs on the landing. Down she slid, as noiselessly as a cat, out into the mews she sped, and from the recess of a neighbouring front door watched him issue from the house. He stopped and exchanged words with a woman whom Gracie knew, and with whom she was a great favourite; they were close to her hiding place, and Gracie heard what passed. He was very gracious, he smiled blandly, spoke in a smooth voice, and pushed his hat to the back of his head to wipe his brow, thereby affording a glimpse of his halo. To Gracie's surprise he was inquiring for her again, and the woman could not inform him where she was.
"She's a busy little thing, sir," said the woman; "she runs in and out as if all the world and his wife was depending on her. We all like little Gracie Death."
"I trust she is deserving of it," said Dr. Vinsen, with a number of amiable nods. "Sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child."
"If that's a dig into little Gracie," said the woman, with spirit, "it's what she don't deserve. Beggin' your pardon, sir, I won't have little Gracie run down."
"One for him," thought Gracie, with a chuckle. "Give it him hot. You're a good sort, Mrs. Thomson."
"Dear me, dear me!" said Dr. Vinson. "Run our little Gracie down--our lit-tle Gra-cie down! No, no, indeed! The sweetest child, the sweetest child!"
"That she is, sir," said the woman, "and I beg your pardon again for speaking so hasty."
"No offence, my good creature, no offence," said Dr. Vinsen; "where none is meant, none should be taken. Is this your little one?" A sturdy blue-eyed toddlekins was tugging at her apron strings, and he stooped and patted the curly head. "Here's a penny for lollypops. Good day--goodday!"
He raised his hat, which caused the woman to stare, and strolled out of Draper's Mews. She gave a start when Gracie glided from behind the door.
"I didn't want him to see me," said Gracie. "Thank you ever so much for sticking up for me."
And she, also, strolled out of Draper's Mews, and followed Dr. Vinsen at a distance so carefully and warily, and apparently with so much unconcern, that no one would have suspected that she was engaged upon the most important task she had ever undertaken. "Now I've got you," was her thought, "and I don't let you go." She kept her sharp eyes fixed upon him. When he stopped she stopped, when he lingered she lingered, when he walked slowly she walked slowly, when he quickened his steps she quickened hers. It appeared as if he were undecided as to the course he should pursue, for now and then he looked about him, and seemed to debate which way to turn. It was evident that he had no definite business to attend to, and no definite goal to reach. Passing a public house of a superior kind, he had gone a dozen yards beyond it when he turned back and entered the private bar. Grace made a rapid survey, to see how many doors there were by which he could leave. In point of fact, although of course it was a corner house, there was only one, but of this she was not aware, so she posted herself on the opposite corner and watched all the doors, and if there had been twice as many she would have had eyes for them all. He remained a long time in the private bar, and when he made his reappearance he was still as undecided as to his course. It may have been out of mere idleness that he entered a chemist's shop and purchased something, which he put into his pocket as he came out. In this aimless way he and Gracie strolled on through Park Street, Islington, at one part of which he crossed the road and looked up at the windows of a house. It was the house in which Reginald had lodged. Gracie noted the number, and would not forget it. So they strolled on, past the Grand Theatre, past Sadler's Wells, through Clerkenwell into Holborn, where he hailed a bus for Charing Cross, and got inside. "It's a good job Dick gave me some money," thought Gracie, as she scrambled to the top without being observed by the gentleman she had been following.