* * * * *In the meantime I must return to my account of what happened later on that day, which began with the melancholy apparition of the disappointed constable beside my bed.As I have already stated, it was my intention to have Evelina arrested that day. There was no longer anything to wait for after the actor had disappeared; and when I, in addition, received information from one of my men that she had left Villa Ballarat to visit her mother, I decided to avail myself of the opportunity. As before mentioned, I wished to prevent the arrest taking place at old Frick's.I have no liking for this sort of work, but this time I decided to take it in hand myself, for several reasons.It appeared to me, beyond all doubt, that Evelina's motive for the robbery must be sought for in her relations to the actor. In any case, I felt she deserved some pity, and I wished therefore to make the arrest myself in order that it might be effected as gently and considerately as possible.It occurred to me to be quite likely that the mother might be an accomplice, or in any case be cognizant of the crime and the place where Jurgens's money was to be found. To get hold of this was now my chief aim, and I hoped to take the woman by surprise and get her to reveal it.It was not later than nine o'clock in the morning when I drove to Russelök Street with a policeman in plain clothes.We told the driver to wait outside the gate; the constable remained behind in the yard, and I went up alone.I stopped outside Mrs. Reierson's door and listened. I heard voices within, but very indistinctly. As I opened the door, I saw the first room was empty; then I heard the voices still more plainly in the inner room, although the door was shut."You should have done as your mother told you, you unlucky child; then we should have been able to take things as easy as any one—but—"It was Mrs. Reierson's shrill angry voice. It was interrupted by a sound of suppressed sobbing, and then by a youthful voice rendered hoarse by passion and sorrow. I stepped nearer to the door and listened, although the task before me was most repulsive to my feelings."Don't talk to me any more, mother! you know that what you wanted me to do I could never have done, never in this world! and what I already have done cannot now be undone—I have nothing more to do now but to put an end to myself—if only I had the strength to—"Here the unhappy girl's words were interrupted by loud sobbing, and some angry exclamations from her mother.Soon after the door was opened, and the ugly old woman appeared in the doorway, while her daughter could be seen lying across the bed with her head buried in the pillows.I have seldom felt so uncomfortable.The mother's shrill imprecations against the police in general, and me in particular, passed me by unheeded. I only saw the young girl's deadly pale face, as she lifted it to me, and the hopeless expression of her eyes.She was gifted, however, with a strength of mind which few persons possess. She got up hurriedly, stroked back her hair from her face, and was the first to speak.Her voice was low, but wonderfully calm; every drop of blood seemed to have fled from her lips."You have come to arrest me, Mr. Monk, because I have stolen Mr. Frick's diamond. Well, I have been expecting it both yesterday and to-day. Yesterday I should probably have denied it, but to-day I don't! I have stolen the diamond—let me be taken to prison and be sentenced as soon as possible, only let it be done quickly."Her mother had become purple in the face on hearing what her daughter said, and tried several times to interrupt her; but there was a dignity in her daughter's words and bearing which stayed her."Don't lose courage, Evelina," I said, and I hope my voice was sympathetic. "There are probably extenuating circumstances which may make your guilt less than it seems. If you are only frank, and confess all, your punishment will be less,—perhaps even—"The young girl interrupted me. "Thank you very much for your kindness, Mr. Monk. You are a good man; but I don't wish my punishment to be lessened. I have told you I have stolen the diamond. More than that I shall not say, even if you put me on the rack.""For God's sake don't talk like that, Evelina."Her mother could now control herself no longer, and began:—"What are you saying, Evelina, you stupid fool! Just fancy!—That one should hear one's own flesh and blood tell lies about herself and get herself convicted! You can see very well, sir, that she is out of her senses, and doesn't know what she is saying.""You had better look after yourself, Mrs. Reierson, and help us to get a full confession and the money back. The diamond has been sold for five thousand kroners, and perhaps you have got the money yourself."I shan't weary you by recalling the scene which followed; suffice it to say that the mother raged like a fury, and denied knowing anything whatever about the diamond or the money. The young girl did not utter a single word from this moment until she was taken to the police station. I let her mother accompany us in the carriage, to which she seemed to have no objection.Before the examining magistrate the same scene was gone through. The young girl confessed she was guilty of the robbery, but refused to give any further explanation. She only asked that there might be no delay in passing sentence upon her. The mother declared her daughter was mad, and denied all knowledge of the matter.At the domiciliary visit to Mrs. Reierson's, no trace could be found of the money.I informed Mr. Frick, by letter, that the diamond was found, and of Evelina's arrest and confession; at the same time, I asked him for the present not to mention the matter to Mr. Howell, who was expected back about this time.Mr. Jurgens was declared by his relations incapable of looking after his affairs, and the authorities decided to drop the proceedings against him for having bought stolen goods.It was discovered that the money for the diamond had been paid in thousand kroner notes. Next day a person had changed five of these in one of the banks in the town. But the cashier had not taken any particular notice of the appearance of the person. He declared it might possibly be Frederiksen the actor, but he could not say anything definitely about it.No trace of the remaining notes could be discovered.CHAPTER IXTHE PHOTOGRAPHThe next morning, as I was sitting in my office, writing a note to Mr. Howell—it was on the day he was expected back—to request the favour of an interview with him, the constable came in with a visiting card. A gentleman desired to speak to me. I read:—[image]Visiting card of Mr. Reginald Howell"Ask him to step in."Mr. Howell entered and shook my hand in his free-and-easy English manner."Glad to see you.""Welcome back again."He had quickly mastered Norwegian, and we always talked together in that language."I was just writing a note to you, Mr. Howell, to request the favour of an interview with you; you have forestalled me, perhaps for the same purpose.""I—suppose so," answered the Englishman, hesitating. "I should like to say a few words to you in confidence, with regard to the robbery at Mr. Frick's."He looked round as if to assure himself that we were alone."You can speak freely: we are alone; I was wishing to ask you a few questions about this same matter. You were, of course, in the house on the day, right up to seven o'clock.""Quite right; but tell me, Mr. Monk, shall I be called as a witness in this case?""When the case comes before the court, there is every probability that you will be called to give testimony.""But am I bound to appear and answer?""Yes, you are! I hope you have no objection."There was something in the young man's manner which caused me to pay the greatest attention to his words and behaviour."But can the matter come before the court before you have found the thief?""As soon as we have got sufficient evidence against some person, that person will be charged and brought before the court.""But before this happens it is not necessary for me to reply to any questions about the affair?""When the police, who are conducting the inquiries into the matter, ask you, you should certainly answer. To refuse to answer would be considered somewhat strange, and might even lead to unpleasantnesses for you.""Many thanks for your information," answered Mr. Howell; he had got up and was walking restlessly up and down the room. "It is not pleasant for a man to contribute to the ruin of some wretched creature, but perhaps it is impossible to avoid it."From the words which bad been exchanged between us, I felt sure the young Englishman did not know of Evelina's arrest. As you remember, I had requested old Frick and Sigrid not to speak to him about the affair. I could also see that my answers to the questions he put to me had not told him anything which he did not know before; he was not altogether so ignorant about the matter. He must have put these questions to me as a feint, for some purpose or another. I was almost certain that he knew something of importance to the discovery of the robbery.I decided at once to inform him of Evelina's arrest but not of her confession. It would, indeed, be strange if he did not betray how far the knowledge he had of the matter did not point in the same direction."Besides," I continued, "you need not be afraid that your evidence will be of such fatal significance. We have already got the diamond back, and the guilty party arrested. It is Evelina, Miss Frick's maid. Circumstantial evidence is so strong that a confession is unnecessary.""Well," said Mr. Howell, quietly, "I can just as well tell you now what I know, as later on. It was on the afternoon when the diamond disappeared, after the old crank, Jurgens, had dined at Villa Ballarat. Soon after we had had some coffee in the museum I went up to my room and loaded some cartridges, for I was going to Osterdal for some shooting, you know.""Yes; I know what took place in the house that afternoon. Please go on.""Well, when I was ready with the cartridges, I went down into the garden to smoke a cigar. The other people had gone to their rooms, I suppose, for I did not see any of them. As I went by the museum it seemed to me that the door wasn't shut, and when I touched it it slid right up. You know it is a large iron door, but so well balanced and oiled that it moves quite noiselessly. Well, I glanced into the museum, and there I saw a lady standing before the cupboard on the opposite side of the room, with her back toward me. With one hand she held up the iron lid, and in the other she had an article which she seemed to have just taken from the case, and which she was examining. It did not occur to me to think it was anybody but Miss Frick; I thought I recognized the light spring jacket with dark braid."I looked up suddenly and met Mr. Howell's gaze; his eyes did not impress me pleasantly, and it appeared to me that their expression was dark and cunning."Continue," I said hurriedly, and, I believe, rather roughly."Well, you know, Mr. Monk, that I am very fond of photography, and that I always go about with a little snap-shot camera. You know it, of course,—we have often had fun at Villa Ballarat photographing people when they least expected it!"I nodded."I had the apparatus with me, and so it struck me that I would photograph Miss Frick as she stood there, without her knowing it. I went hurriedly and softly inside the door, took the photograph, and went out again without her seeing me. She stood quite still, as if she was wondering what she should do with what she had in her hand."The Englishman paused, as if to give me an opportunity to speak. But as I did not even look up, but went on drawing figures on the paper before me, with as careless an expression as possible, he continued:—"Later in the afternoon I took a carriage outside and drove to the station. On the way I took some negatives to the photographer, amongst them the picture of which I have just spoken, as there were some of them that I wanted to get developed by the time I got back. On my return from Osterdal I heard that the diamond had disappeared, and then I remembered the photograph. I naturally said nothing about it to Mr. Frick or his niece, but I called for the prints. Would you like to see the one from the museum?"This was the second time that Sigrid's name had been mentioned in connection with the disappearance of the diamond. It awoke the most unpleasant feelings in me; but as I felt Mr. Howell's searching look resting upon me, I assumed perfect calmness, and took what he handed me.It was quite a small photograph on thin prepared paper, and placed between two glass plates held together by an india-rubber band.I took it with me to the window to examine it closely.It was, as before said, a small picture, only two or three inches high and very narrow, but exceedingly clear.A young girl stood before the well-known cupboard in old Frick's museum. Her position was exactly as Mr. Howell had described it.The one hand held the lid open, the other held an article which was hidden by the shoulder; the head and neck were bent somewhat forward, examining the object.It was a tall, fine figure in a light walking costume, trimmed with dark braid.There was not much to be seen of the room. One saw part of the cupboard on both sides, a chair, the arm of another chair, but nothing else. Over the cupboard, at about the same height as the young girl, was a shelf. Part of this shelf, on which could be seen several small curios, was included in the picture.One glance was enough for me to be certain who the young girl was.I turned round to Mr. Howell. "It is Evelina, as I suspected.""Yes, of course; I am only astonished that I could have taken her for Miss Frick when first I saw her. It must have been the costume which deceived me. Miss Frick has worn it all the spring.""Yes, I know," I answered curtly. It was irritating always to have to return to Sigrid in this manner."Very well; on this occasion I also played the detective, Mr. Monk. I have privately found out from the other servants that Miss Frick had, that same afternoon, given the costume to Evelina. You see everything is quite clear in that respect.""Will you allow the police to keep the photograph, Mr. Howell, and is there anything else you can tell us about the matter?" My manner was, perhaps, somewhat abrupt."Wait a little," he answered; "I hope you understand now the reason for the question which I put to you at the beginning of our conversation?""Yes; you would rather not appear as a witness, as far as I could understand.""Exactly; and, as you yourself say, the person in question is already arrested, and the circumstantial evidence is so strong that my evidence cannot be of much importance one way or other. This being the case, would it not be possible for me to avoid appearing in court? and could you not consider what I have said as confidential, so that I might take the photograph and destroy it? Otherwise I shall appear very much in the light of a spy or a thief-catcher, Mr. Monk. Also, it would be most objectionable to me to have to testify against the unfortunate woman.""Your sentiments do you all honour, Mr. Howell; but I cannot, all the same, prevent your being called as a witness. Neither can I, of course, keep your photograph against your will; but I must mention it in my report, and most earnestly request you to preserve it. What you have said to me in my office, with respect to a matter concerning which inquiries are now being conducted, I cannot, in my capacity as a police official, consider confidential.""Well, Mr. Monk, I see it cannot be helped, and I ought, perhaps, to have denied all knowledge of the matter. But you can, at any rate, bear evidence that I appear most reluctantly; I would like both the unhappy girl and the Frick family to understand this.""I can only confirm what you yourself say, Mr. Howell," I answered stiffly, for I began to be more and more convinced that the man was playing a part. "You will leave the photograph then in the hands of the police?" I continued.."Yes, I may just as well leave it; I cannot see that I can do any one any good by not doing so. You police deal with people in your own way,—we speak and do just as you want us to do.""Allow me one question, Mr. Howell,"—I had again taken the photograph in my hand,—"this photograph is very small; it looks as though it had been clipped at the sides. Was the photograph originally broader, and did it include nothing more of the room?""Yes, it was originally broader, but only the middle part was clear and distinct. Either side of it was, for some reason or another, very foggy, so I cut it off to get the picture to fit between the two glass plates. I had, besides, no interest for anything but what you see there. The young girl is, of course, the principal object of interest,"—he sighed gently."What time could it have been when you took the photograph?""Well, that question I cannot answer very exactly. I thought, of course, at the time, that I should never be asked about it, but—let me see—it can't have been far off six o'clock, for it was not long after that I left for the railway station, and that was somewhere about seven."* * * * *The next minute Mr. Howell was gone, and I sat beside my desk in deep thought.The Englishman's visit had made an unpleasant impression upon me, and I could not make out what his purpose in making it really was.The man wished to come forward as a witness—that I felt sure about. All the rest was mere dissimulation; but for what purpose? What could be his motives?It puzzled me at the time, and it puzzles me still!* * * * *During the whole of this long story, Monk had remained calm. He had been speaking evenly and dispassionately, as if he had been reading a police report. But now he changed in expression and manner. He began to pace up and down the floor with contracted eyebrows, and I saw that the perspiration stood on his brow.* * * * *You look astonished at me (he continued). After what you have heard, does the whole affair seem clear to you? It will, perhaps, seem still clearer when you have heard me for a few minutes longer: and you will not be able to understand how it could become an enigma! Yes, an enigma which I would give half or the whole of my life to solve!—But wait a bit! When you have heard the rest of my story, you will join with me in asking, "Who stole old Frick's diamond?" And you will likewise understand that upon that question my fate has depended from that day to this. But I shan't proceed any longer in that strain; I will continue as impartially as I can. On that will, perhaps, depend how far you or anybody else can help me—alone I can do nothing. I, who was so proud of my own acuteness and ability to penetrate where others failed to see a way!—No, don't interrupt me. We shall discuss it afterward, when I have finished my story.I had got as far as Evelina's arrest and that Mr. Howell had called on me with the photograph. So far, everything was in order. The accused had confessed, and the stolen article had been brought to light. But it had been impossible to discover where the five thousand kroners had disappeared.Evelina refused positively to say a word beyond the confession, and as we were not able to prove any complicity against the actor and Mrs. Reierson, they were discharged.The state of affairs in Mr. Frick's house was anything but satisfactory. Sigrid had been suffering from nervous headaches ever since a few days before the robbery. Old Frick was in a rage, and spent the whole day in swearing at the duplicity and untrustworthiness of mankind. I believe, however, that sympathy for the wretched Evelina was the true cause of his anger. The young girl's arrest had, in fact, brought gloom and sadness into the house. Einar Frick was still absent on business. Mr. Howell decided to go to Spitzbergen as soon as the case against Evelina was settled.It vexed me that I could not trace the money, or obtain any proof of the actor's complicity; and I took it for granted that the sly fellow had succeeded in getting it safely put away in Gothenburg, before he was arrested.But although we had a clever officer there, and got all possible assistance from the Swedish police, we did not succeed in obtaining any proofs, and as long as Evelina would not speak we could proceed no further in the affair.Thus matters stood, and I think that all the actors in this drama were only wishing that it would come to an end as soon as possible.Suddenly one day I received the most astonishing news—Evelina had demanded to be brought before the examining magistrate, and had retracted before him her confession in full. She had declared that when she confessed she had not been herself, and that she was really innocent and knew nothing of the robbery. She would not say anything further, and refused to answer any questions.Of course, those who knew the ins and the outs of the case only shook their heads at this unexpected development, and began to doubt her reason. The doctors, however, who examined her, could not discover any signs of a deranged mind.The proofs were otherwise very strong against her; and as there was no prospect of any new evidence in the matter, the hearing of the case was fixed for the first sitting of the court.I visited the young girl in prison and found her taciturn, depressed, and pale; but she gave me the impression of being entirely normal. I tried earnestly, and in a friendly way, to prevail upon her to adhere to her confession and to give a full explanation; but she only smiled sadly, and begged to be left alone. What could have caused her to retract her confession? The more I pondered over this, the more sure I became that this step must be due to some outside influence; that she must have received some message or communication from without. She did not wish to receive any visitors in her cell. Only the mother had obtained permission to visit her once, and then the conversation had been quite short, and had taken place in the presence of a constable.The mother had, on that occasion, until interrupted by the constable, tried to continue her reproaches against her daughter, because she had confessed something which she had not done.But her daughter had contemptuously turned away from her, and soon after the mother was taken away without the robbery having been further discussed between them.I felt sure that these reproaches from the mother, which the daughter seemed to treat with disgust and contempt, had had no effect, and that the explanation must be sought for elsewhere.By closely examining the jailer, he at last told me that he one day surprised the young girl while she had a small piece of paper in her hand, but that she immediately turned away and had probably put the paper in her mouth and swallowed it. The man declared, however, that it all happened so quickly that he could hardly be quite certain about the matter, and Evelina, as usual when I spoke to her about it, took refuge in an obstinate silence.My suspicion that Evelina acted on other people's advice was now strengthened. How far this circumstance can have any influence upon your opinion, when you have heard me out, I don't know. To me, all is dark; but I shall try to tell my story in such a way, that nothing of what I know shall be hidden from you.Fortunately, I have got on so far with it that I can now let others speak for me—at least for a while. The next great event in my story is the trial of Evelina, which took place about three weeks after her arrest.The proceedings are to be found fully reported in all the papers at that time, and you will get a more complete idea of the case by reading one of these reports, than if I give you a verbal account.* * * * *Monk opened a drawer in his writing-table, and took out a locked portfolio, from which he produced a large grey envelope. The envelope proved to contain several cuttings from theMorning News, which Monk laid before me."But," I objected hurriedly, "I would much rather hear the account from your own lips. Otherwise I should miss your impressions, which, to me, have much more value than a newspaper reporter's idiotic and irrelevant remarks. And even if he does report the bare facts, such a report cannot possibly be as satisfactory as your own account.""There is a difference in newspaper reporters," was Monk's dry reply. "As you will see, theMorning Newsman has not only reported carefully and judiciously, but his remarks are impartial, and show good sense and power of observation.""That's all very well; but I depend, however, more upon your power of observation.""In this case, you cannot do so. If a detective ever has made a great fiasco, I did so on that occasion, as you yourself will learn. Don't you understand that I am afraid that you are beginning to look at the events with my eyes? I am afraid to lead you into the labyrinth in which I, myself, am lost, and which I probably have myself built up!"It struck me that Monk's reasoning was correct, and I made no further comment."Only one question," I said; "have you any objection to Clara hearing your story?""No; on the contrary, it was my intention to ask you to tell her everything, when we are finished. I hope for help from her; she is an unusually intelligent woman, and besides, women have, in many respects, much finer feelings,—instinct, or what you call it,—than we men.""Then I have a proposal to make to you. We shall not continue to-night, but I shall tell Clara all that you have now told me. Clara and I will read the newspaper account together, and then we will see you again.""I gladly accept your proposal," said Monk, a little hesitatingly; "but if I could be allowed, I would ask you both to read the account in the paper in my presence. Of course I have read it, not once, but ten times, to myself, without any result; but now it has struck me that the whole affair might appear to me in a new light, if I heard some one else read an exact account of what happened on that fateful day.""Yes, with pleasure," I exclaimed. "I promise to do this, both on my own and on Clara's behalf."Monk shook me by the hand, and asked if Clara and I would come up to him one day, when I had told her all I had heard from him."You shall see us here to-morrow," I answered quickly, and so we parted that evening or, more correctly, that night. It was half-past one when I reached my home.I had had a busy day, and the intense interest with which I had listened to Monk's account had tired me. I only longed to get to sleep as quickly as possible. But then happened what a more experienced man than I might perhaps have foreseen.When I got home Clara was sitting up waiting for me. So I explained to her, as casually as possible, that next day she should hear Monk's remarkable story,—a story, the continuation of which we were to read together; well—what further happened I cannot remember, but I am sure it was past four that night before I got to sleep, and then Clara had heard everything that the reader knows of Monk's history."Pshaw! it isn't difficult to understand how the story will end! The horrid Englishman naturally managed things so that Miss Frick should be suspected of having stolen her uncle's diamond; and—"These were the last words I heard Clara utter as sleep overcame me. "Yes, if there must be a villain in the drama, Clara must be right in thinking that the Englishman must have played that rôle," I thought with my last efforts, before my senses were entirely bedimmed.* * * * *The next day we all three were sitting in Monk's study."We mustn't lose any time," said Clara, as she smartly cleared aside the tea and cakes to which Monk's kindly landlady had treated us. "Remember, Mr. Monk, that we now change rôles. It is you who seek advice and help, while Frederick and I represent the detective firm. Well! we had got so far that the case was on for trial,—my husband has told me everything,—and here are the newspaper accounts of the case, which you want Frederick to read aloud, isn't that so? So set to work, Frederick!"PART IICHAPTER ITHE TRIALIn theMorning Newsof June 2, 189-, appeared the following, under the heading:—THE BLACK TORTOISE IN COURTThe court to-day was filled to overflowing, and a large number were unable to gain admittance.The disappearance of old Frick's diamond—we hope our respected fellow-citizen will excuse our using the familiar name by which he is so well known—has been eagerly discussed and commented upon by the newspapers for the last few weeks.The case did not promise to become a particularly difficult or complicated one, although it was known that the accused had retracted her confession; but the stolen article was of such an unusual kind, and of such great value, and the persons who were to appear in the case were so well-known, that it was only to be expected that the proceedings would attract as many people as the court would hold. One could hardly imagine anything more sadly interesting than the pale and pretty girl who stood charged before the court with the theft of the now famous diamond. By her side sat her counsel, a young advocate who is already known in legal circles as a most able and successful counsel for the defence.Among the witnesses was the well-known figure of old Frick, and by his side his niece, Miss Frick. Not far off stood Mr. Monk, acting chief of the detective department, already a well-known and popular figure in our town, as much appreciated for his acuteness and boldness as for his tactful conduct when in the execution of his duty as a police official.The dark distinguished-looking man beside Miss Frick was the Englishman, Mr. Howell, who, as everybody knows, has been compelled by a strange coincidence to appear as a witness in the case, and who, it is said, will give the most remarkable evidence ever heard in our courts of justice. The Englishman did not appear particularly edified with his task. From what I hear, it seems he has tried to escape giving evidence. It is anything but a pleasant duty to give evidence against a young woman when one feels that it will mean conviction for her.* * * * *The presiding judge of the court took his seat, the case for the prosecution was stated, and the usual questions asked of the accused as to her name, age, etc.She did not look up, but answered in a fairly audible voice. Then she was asked whether she was guilty or not guilty.All waited anxiously for the answer.Her voice was this time so low that the judge had to lean toward her and request her to speak more loudly.The silence was so intense that the answer, although scarcely more than a whisper, was heard all over the court: "Not guilty."Had the public expected anything else? Perhaps—perhaps not....The public prosecutor then began his charge:—The crime with which the accused was charged was not of a particularly complicated nature with regard to the question as to how, or by whom, the theft had been committed. But it was a different matter with regard to the motives and the circumstances under which it had taken place, and he was willing to admit that in this respect little or no light had been thrown upon the matter. An uncommon article, an object of great value, in other words, the black diamond, which now lay on the judge's table, was stolen on May 10 from Mr. Frick, who was now present in court as a witness. The police were at once informed of the theft, and they succeeded not only in recovering the stolen object, but also in providing such information that the public prosecutor was able to prove fully before the court, both how the theft had been perpetrated, by whom, and how the thief had disposed of the stolen object.He would call witnesses to prove at what time the theft had been committed, that the accused at that time had been at least half an hour in the house, that she during that time had the opportunity of going into the room where the diamond was kept, and at a time when the cupboard was not locked. He could prove by a means which seldom fell to the lot of the authorities, that the accused, in the time during which the theft had taken place, had been into the room and even opened the case where the diamond was kept. He could next prove that the accused at an earlier hour of the same day had had an opportunity of hearing an assurance from a rich man that he would pay a large sum of money to become possessed of the diamond. She thus knew beforehand that she could sell the stolen article without any difficulty.Finally, he could prove that the diamond was actually sold by the accused on the same day to the man just mentioned.Thus far the chain of evidence was as complete as any could be, and in order to substantiate the guilt of the accused it was of no consequence that she had retracted her confession, and had hitherto refused to give any explanation whatsoever; every experienced judge would know exactly what value to put on circumstantial evidence of such a character. It was just as good, if not surer, than a confession.What still had to be explained was, what had become of the money which the accused had received for the diamond and what could be the particular motives for this criminal act.Some information might possibly be obtained during the examination of the witnesses; but if this was not the case, the prosecutor would be obliged to maintain that the punishment be in accordance with the utmost rigour of the Law. The public prosecutor would, therefore, conclude with the request to the judge that he ask the accused most earnestly to give a full explanation. If she still persisted in her refusal to give this explanation, he must warn her that it would be with detriment to her cause, and possibly to that of justice.It was so quiet in the court, when the public prosecutor sat down, that one could hear a pin drop.The judge then turned and addressed the young girl. In calm, considerate words he called her attention to the fact that she had the right, in any case, to do as she pleased—either to speak or to keep silent; and that no pressure would be brought to bear upon her, least of all to make her confess. This much, however, he felt it his duty to tell her, that she was certainly not acting in her own interests by maintaining silence. If she were innocent, which he still hoped, then her own explanations would only serve to show it: and if she were guilty, they would enable the court to consider her case in the most lenient manner possible.Every eye in the room was turned on the unhappy girl, but her face remained as impassive as that of a statue; her lips were pressed together, and her eyes cast down.Her counsel leaned toward her and whispered something in her ear. She did not raise her eyes; her only answer was a slight inclination of the head."I must request," said the young advocate, "that my client's wish to make no further statements shall be respected. She has decided to say nothing; and I know that her resolution in this respect is not to be shaken. Whether this decision is wise or no, and whether or no it is taken by my advice, is not for the moment a subject for discussion. It is enough to say that whatever appeals were directed toward her to state what she knows of the case would, however well meant, only prolong the proceedings."No sooner had the counsel sat down than a murmur went around the court, giving expression to nearly all the different feelings which move the human heart. Some feared that the accused would damage her own cause, others admired her firmness, while many expressed astonishment at her audacity. As all the papers have already published detailed accounts of what happened at Villa Ballarat upon the day that the robbery was committed, it will be sufficient to mention that the evidence of all the witnesses only served to corroborate what the public already knew, thanks to the unremitting zeal of the newspaper reporters.It also seemed as if the counsel for the defence understood that it would be hopeless to upset that part of the evidence.He certainly tried to make it appear possible that some strange person might have crept into the garden of the villa between five and half-past seven in the afternoon; but this attempt was stranded, upon the gardener's definite assurance that the gate had been locked the whole time, and on the evidence of the chief of the detective police with regard to the examination he had made of the railing and the ground round the garden.The counsel for the defence was more fortunate in his attempt to obtain evidence of good character and behaviour for the accused. Mr. Frick and his niece were especially unremitting in their praise of the young girl.Miss Frick caused much excitement when, in answer to a question by the counsel for the defence, she answered:—"Evelina has for several years had all my trinkets and jewels in her custody. Thanks to my uncle's generosity, I have more of those kinds of things than I need, and it would have been very easy for her to take any one of many of these, without fear of discovery. Her mere assertion that something had been lost would have been enough.... No! she is honesty itself! She could never steal my uncle's diamond, of that I am convinced, however much appearances are against her!..."There was great sensation in court when Mr. Howell was called as witness. Every one, of course, knew of the strange circumstances under which he had been involved in the matter.He began by asking the judge if he might be excused from appearing as witness. The judge asked him to give his reasons for this request. Mr. Howell explained that he was a private gentleman and not a police spy. It was quite by an accident he had come to play a rôle in this affair—a rôle which did not please him. He had already given his explanation to the police, and had hoped that would have been sufficient.The judge answered that none of these explanations could exempt him from appearing as witness. One could not help respecting his feelings; but since no lawful reasons could be given, they must request him to give what evidence he could.Mr. Howell, who spoke the Norwegian language fluently, submitted to the inevitable, and gave a short and clear account of how he came to photograph the accused, so to speak, "in flagrante."The papers have already published an account of this scene, so that I shall not repeat his evidence "in extenso." I shall only reproduce the following of the examination.Public prosecutor: "What did you do with the film after you had taken the photograph?"Witness: "I went to my room with it, took the films out of the apparatus, and took them to the photographer's to be developed. I called at the photographer's on my way to the railway station."Public prosecutor: "You maintain, then, that it is the accused whom you have photographed, but without your being aware of it? Are you sure it is the accused?"Witness: "Any one who has seen the accused a few times will see that she is the person in the photograph."Public prosecutor(taking an object from the judge's table): "Is this the photograph in question, which you, yourself, delivered up to the police?"Witness(taking the photograph in his hand and carefully examining it): "Yes, it is."The public prosecutor declared himself satisfied, and the counsel for the defence began: "Now, are you quite sure that when you photographed the accused you did not believe her to be some one else—for instance, Miss Frick?"Witness: "Yes, I believe I have already explained myself sufficiently clearly on that point."Counsel for the defence: "I cannot understand how you can now be so sure that the picture represents my client, while you believed quite otherwise when you had the living person before you. What is the reason for this?"Witness: "I have before explained I was in a great hurry at the time. I wanted to get away before the person should turn round—it was all done in fun on my part. Besides, I thought I recognized Miss Frick's jacket,—she had been in the habit of wearing a jacket trimmed with braid. Later, I got to hear that Miss Frick that same day had given it to her maid as a present, and on looking at the photo I became convinced it was the maid."Counsel for the defence: "Good! Are you also quite sure that the picture you now see here is the same as that you took on that occasion? The film has been several days out of your keeping, and in other hands."The young Englishman seemed rather impatient at this examination. "If the film has not been tampered with at the photographer's," he exclaimed quickly, "it is the picture of what I saw in the museum. Whether it has been tampered with or not, I see here before me the same person, in the same position, and in the same room—others must now decide which is most probable."He took up the picture again, examined it carefully, and handed it back to the public prosecutor."I have only wanted to show," said the counsel for the defence, quietly, "that you yourself at one time have doubted the identity of the person who stands in front of Miss Frick's cupboard in the photograph. I have now only two other questions to ask you."What was the time when you took the photograph?"Witness: "About six."Counsel for the defence: "Are you not able to give the time more exactly? Might it not just as well have been half-past six?"Witness: "I cannot give the exact time. I didn't attach much importance to the incident. When I had taken the photograph I went up to my room, and was busy there for some time before I left. It was then about seven, so from that I conclude that the photograph was taken about six."Counsel: "Might it not have been a little over half-past six?"Witness: "No! I can be quite certain it was not over half-past six."Counsel: "Could you see that the person held the diamond in her hand? In the photograph the object which she holds is hidden by her shoulder."Witness: "When first I caught sight of her, she held the diamond somewhat higher, so that I was able to see it; afterward she lowered her arm, and while in that position she was photographed."The counsel for the defence seemed to be satisfied.Then Mr. Rodin, the photographer, was called as witness.The well-known artist, whose pleasant manners have obtained for him so many customers and friends, bowed to the judge and court, and, the usual formalities having been observed, he answered quickly and decisively the questions which the public prosecutor put to him.Public prosecutor: "Do you recognize this photograph? Has it been in your hands before?"Witness: "Yes; this film, together with some others, was given me to develop, by Mr. Howell, on the evening of the 10th of May, about seven or half-past."Public prosecutor: "And are you sure that this photograph is an exact reproduction of the negative?"Witness(smiling): "The photograph cannot lie, sir! Even if I had wished it, I could not have produced anything else than what was to be seen in front of the apparatus at the moment it was opened to take the photograph."The public prosecutor finished his examination, and the counsel for the defence began his.Counsel: "Can you be certain that this photograph is the same one which you developed several weeks ago for Mr. Howell? It has not been in your possession since?"Witness: "Yes, sir, I am quite sure; you can see for yourself that my initials are written on the back;—look, O.R. 10/5, H. 10. The first are my initials, then follows the date it was received, then the initial of Mr. Howell's name, from whom I received it, and lastly, the number in the series. The roll which he brought me that day consisted of ten films; this was number ten, the last photograph he had taken."Counsel: "You cannot, however, be quite certain that this is the same picture which Mr. Howell brought you. During the work, some of your people might have mixed Mr. Howell's pictures together with other people's. Such a thing might happen, might it not?"Witness: "No, sir; I develop all Mr. Howell's films with my own hands. He is very particular about them. As you will see, this picture is very clear and distinct, and I flatter myself that all the pictures which have passed through my hands are the same,—that is to say, when such an expert snap-shot taker as Mr. Howell has taken them."Counsel: "Is there any reason, Mr. Rodin, why one could not photograph first the room, then a person, and then transfer that person to the first picture, so that a person appears in the room on the picture?"The public had remained unusually silent and attentive during the whole of the proceedings; at this question the silence became still more intense. Every one understood the counsel's object in putting this question—that each one of his questions was an attempt to clutch at a last straw in the interest of his client; but all understood also that each straw slipped out of his hand, one by one. The same happened to this question. The witness answered, without any hesitation, "It is possible, sir; but every experienced photographer would tell you that this has not been attempted in the present case."The young advocate looked disappointed. He made a motion like one who washes his hands, and allowed the witness to step down.The photograph was sent round among the members of the jury and the court, while the next witness was being called. It was the young chief of the detective police, Charles Monk. The public hailed his appearance with murmurs of approbation which must be just as much attributed to his winning appearance as to the reputation he had already gained as a police officer. His evidence was calm, clear, and concise, as befits a policeman, and all listened with breathless attention to the account of how the young chief had taken upon himself the rôle of detective, and had not rested until Mr. Frick's diamond was in the hands of the police. When Mr. Monk, in his evidence, came to speak of his visit to Jurgens, and of the stratagem he had used to deceive the old man, many of the spectators began to clap their hands and shout, Bravo! The judge's authority for the moment had to be called into account to produce silence.Although there was scarcely a person in the court who did not wish that the young girl in the dock should be acquitted, so paradoxical is human nature that the same people applauded the great skill with which the net had been drawn around her.The last hope for the prisoner seemed to vanish at the evidence of the detective.The counsel for the defence had not many questions to ask. He tried to show that both on her arrest and upon Mr. Monk's first visit to her mother's home, she had been in an irresponsible condition, and for that purpose he had no doubt summoned her mother and her lover, the actor, to give evidence. Although their evidence was a voluntary matter, owing to the relation in which they stood to the accused, they both declared themselves willing to tell what they knew. Their evidence did not, however, throw any new light on the matter. Both were convinced of the young girl's innocence, and asked the court not to believe her, even if she should again confess. She had always been of a nervous temperament, and often a little strange.Neither the loquacious woman with the ruddy complexion, nor the pomatummed Don Juan, whose shady character is so well known in the town, made a good impression; and the counsel for the defence concluded their examination as soon as possible. The general impression was that he, for the defence, had originally intended to prove that his client was irresponsible, but that during the proceedings before the court he had abandoned this line of defence.
* * * * *
In the meantime I must return to my account of what happened later on that day, which began with the melancholy apparition of the disappointed constable beside my bed.
As I have already stated, it was my intention to have Evelina arrested that day. There was no longer anything to wait for after the actor had disappeared; and when I, in addition, received information from one of my men that she had left Villa Ballarat to visit her mother, I decided to avail myself of the opportunity. As before mentioned, I wished to prevent the arrest taking place at old Frick's.
I have no liking for this sort of work, but this time I decided to take it in hand myself, for several reasons.
It appeared to me, beyond all doubt, that Evelina's motive for the robbery must be sought for in her relations to the actor. In any case, I felt she deserved some pity, and I wished therefore to make the arrest myself in order that it might be effected as gently and considerately as possible.
It occurred to me to be quite likely that the mother might be an accomplice, or in any case be cognizant of the crime and the place where Jurgens's money was to be found. To get hold of this was now my chief aim, and I hoped to take the woman by surprise and get her to reveal it.
It was not later than nine o'clock in the morning when I drove to Russelök Street with a policeman in plain clothes.
We told the driver to wait outside the gate; the constable remained behind in the yard, and I went up alone.
I stopped outside Mrs. Reierson's door and listened. I heard voices within, but very indistinctly. As I opened the door, I saw the first room was empty; then I heard the voices still more plainly in the inner room, although the door was shut.
"You should have done as your mother told you, you unlucky child; then we should have been able to take things as easy as any one—but—"
It was Mrs. Reierson's shrill angry voice. It was interrupted by a sound of suppressed sobbing, and then by a youthful voice rendered hoarse by passion and sorrow. I stepped nearer to the door and listened, although the task before me was most repulsive to my feelings.
"Don't talk to me any more, mother! you know that what you wanted me to do I could never have done, never in this world! and what I already have done cannot now be undone—I have nothing more to do now but to put an end to myself—if only I had the strength to—"
Here the unhappy girl's words were interrupted by loud sobbing, and some angry exclamations from her mother.
Soon after the door was opened, and the ugly old woman appeared in the doorway, while her daughter could be seen lying across the bed with her head buried in the pillows.
I have seldom felt so uncomfortable.
The mother's shrill imprecations against the police in general, and me in particular, passed me by unheeded. I only saw the young girl's deadly pale face, as she lifted it to me, and the hopeless expression of her eyes.
She was gifted, however, with a strength of mind which few persons possess. She got up hurriedly, stroked back her hair from her face, and was the first to speak.
Her voice was low, but wonderfully calm; every drop of blood seemed to have fled from her lips.
"You have come to arrest me, Mr. Monk, because I have stolen Mr. Frick's diamond. Well, I have been expecting it both yesterday and to-day. Yesterday I should probably have denied it, but to-day I don't! I have stolen the diamond—let me be taken to prison and be sentenced as soon as possible, only let it be done quickly."
Her mother had become purple in the face on hearing what her daughter said, and tried several times to interrupt her; but there was a dignity in her daughter's words and bearing which stayed her.
"Don't lose courage, Evelina," I said, and I hope my voice was sympathetic. "There are probably extenuating circumstances which may make your guilt less than it seems. If you are only frank, and confess all, your punishment will be less,—perhaps even—"
The young girl interrupted me. "Thank you very much for your kindness, Mr. Monk. You are a good man; but I don't wish my punishment to be lessened. I have told you I have stolen the diamond. More than that I shall not say, even if you put me on the rack."
"For God's sake don't talk like that, Evelina."
Her mother could now control herself no longer, and began:—
"What are you saying, Evelina, you stupid fool! Just fancy!—That one should hear one's own flesh and blood tell lies about herself and get herself convicted! You can see very well, sir, that she is out of her senses, and doesn't know what she is saying."
"You had better look after yourself, Mrs. Reierson, and help us to get a full confession and the money back. The diamond has been sold for five thousand kroners, and perhaps you have got the money yourself."
I shan't weary you by recalling the scene which followed; suffice it to say that the mother raged like a fury, and denied knowing anything whatever about the diamond or the money. The young girl did not utter a single word from this moment until she was taken to the police station. I let her mother accompany us in the carriage, to which she seemed to have no objection.
Before the examining magistrate the same scene was gone through. The young girl confessed she was guilty of the robbery, but refused to give any further explanation. She only asked that there might be no delay in passing sentence upon her. The mother declared her daughter was mad, and denied all knowledge of the matter.
At the domiciliary visit to Mrs. Reierson's, no trace could be found of the money.
I informed Mr. Frick, by letter, that the diamond was found, and of Evelina's arrest and confession; at the same time, I asked him for the present not to mention the matter to Mr. Howell, who was expected back about this time.
Mr. Jurgens was declared by his relations incapable of looking after his affairs, and the authorities decided to drop the proceedings against him for having bought stolen goods.
It was discovered that the money for the diamond had been paid in thousand kroner notes. Next day a person had changed five of these in one of the banks in the town. But the cashier had not taken any particular notice of the appearance of the person. He declared it might possibly be Frederiksen the actor, but he could not say anything definitely about it.
No trace of the remaining notes could be discovered.
CHAPTER IX
THE PHOTOGRAPH
The next morning, as I was sitting in my office, writing a note to Mr. Howell—it was on the day he was expected back—to request the favour of an interview with him, the constable came in with a visiting card. A gentleman desired to speak to me. I read:—
[image]Visiting card of Mr. Reginald Howell
[image]
[image]
Visiting card of Mr. Reginald Howell
"Ask him to step in."
Mr. Howell entered and shook my hand in his free-and-easy English manner.
"Glad to see you."
"Welcome back again."
He had quickly mastered Norwegian, and we always talked together in that language.
"I was just writing a note to you, Mr. Howell, to request the favour of an interview with you; you have forestalled me, perhaps for the same purpose."
"I—suppose so," answered the Englishman, hesitating. "I should like to say a few words to you in confidence, with regard to the robbery at Mr. Frick's."
He looked round as if to assure himself that we were alone.
"You can speak freely: we are alone; I was wishing to ask you a few questions about this same matter. You were, of course, in the house on the day, right up to seven o'clock."
"Quite right; but tell me, Mr. Monk, shall I be called as a witness in this case?"
"When the case comes before the court, there is every probability that you will be called to give testimony."
"But am I bound to appear and answer?"
"Yes, you are! I hope you have no objection."
There was something in the young man's manner which caused me to pay the greatest attention to his words and behaviour.
"But can the matter come before the court before you have found the thief?"
"As soon as we have got sufficient evidence against some person, that person will be charged and brought before the court."
"But before this happens it is not necessary for me to reply to any questions about the affair?"
"When the police, who are conducting the inquiries into the matter, ask you, you should certainly answer. To refuse to answer would be considered somewhat strange, and might even lead to unpleasantnesses for you."
"Many thanks for your information," answered Mr. Howell; he had got up and was walking restlessly up and down the room. "It is not pleasant for a man to contribute to the ruin of some wretched creature, but perhaps it is impossible to avoid it."
From the words which bad been exchanged between us, I felt sure the young Englishman did not know of Evelina's arrest. As you remember, I had requested old Frick and Sigrid not to speak to him about the affair. I could also see that my answers to the questions he put to me had not told him anything which he did not know before; he was not altogether so ignorant about the matter. He must have put these questions to me as a feint, for some purpose or another. I was almost certain that he knew something of importance to the discovery of the robbery.
I decided at once to inform him of Evelina's arrest but not of her confession. It would, indeed, be strange if he did not betray how far the knowledge he had of the matter did not point in the same direction.
"Besides," I continued, "you need not be afraid that your evidence will be of such fatal significance. We have already got the diamond back, and the guilty party arrested. It is Evelina, Miss Frick's maid. Circumstantial evidence is so strong that a confession is unnecessary."
"Well," said Mr. Howell, quietly, "I can just as well tell you now what I know, as later on. It was on the afternoon when the diamond disappeared, after the old crank, Jurgens, had dined at Villa Ballarat. Soon after we had had some coffee in the museum I went up to my room and loaded some cartridges, for I was going to Osterdal for some shooting, you know."
"Yes; I know what took place in the house that afternoon. Please go on."
"Well, when I was ready with the cartridges, I went down into the garden to smoke a cigar. The other people had gone to their rooms, I suppose, for I did not see any of them. As I went by the museum it seemed to me that the door wasn't shut, and when I touched it it slid right up. You know it is a large iron door, but so well balanced and oiled that it moves quite noiselessly. Well, I glanced into the museum, and there I saw a lady standing before the cupboard on the opposite side of the room, with her back toward me. With one hand she held up the iron lid, and in the other she had an article which she seemed to have just taken from the case, and which she was examining. It did not occur to me to think it was anybody but Miss Frick; I thought I recognized the light spring jacket with dark braid."
I looked up suddenly and met Mr. Howell's gaze; his eyes did not impress me pleasantly, and it appeared to me that their expression was dark and cunning.
"Continue," I said hurriedly, and, I believe, rather roughly.
"Well, you know, Mr. Monk, that I am very fond of photography, and that I always go about with a little snap-shot camera. You know it, of course,—we have often had fun at Villa Ballarat photographing people when they least expected it!"
I nodded.
"I had the apparatus with me, and so it struck me that I would photograph Miss Frick as she stood there, without her knowing it. I went hurriedly and softly inside the door, took the photograph, and went out again without her seeing me. She stood quite still, as if she was wondering what she should do with what she had in her hand."
The Englishman paused, as if to give me an opportunity to speak. But as I did not even look up, but went on drawing figures on the paper before me, with as careless an expression as possible, he continued:—
"Later in the afternoon I took a carriage outside and drove to the station. On the way I took some negatives to the photographer, amongst them the picture of which I have just spoken, as there were some of them that I wanted to get developed by the time I got back. On my return from Osterdal I heard that the diamond had disappeared, and then I remembered the photograph. I naturally said nothing about it to Mr. Frick or his niece, but I called for the prints. Would you like to see the one from the museum?"
This was the second time that Sigrid's name had been mentioned in connection with the disappearance of the diamond. It awoke the most unpleasant feelings in me; but as I felt Mr. Howell's searching look resting upon me, I assumed perfect calmness, and took what he handed me.
It was quite a small photograph on thin prepared paper, and placed between two glass plates held together by an india-rubber band.
I took it with me to the window to examine it closely.
It was, as before said, a small picture, only two or three inches high and very narrow, but exceedingly clear.
A young girl stood before the well-known cupboard in old Frick's museum. Her position was exactly as Mr. Howell had described it.
The one hand held the lid open, the other held an article which was hidden by the shoulder; the head and neck were bent somewhat forward, examining the object.
It was a tall, fine figure in a light walking costume, trimmed with dark braid.
There was not much to be seen of the room. One saw part of the cupboard on both sides, a chair, the arm of another chair, but nothing else. Over the cupboard, at about the same height as the young girl, was a shelf. Part of this shelf, on which could be seen several small curios, was included in the picture.
One glance was enough for me to be certain who the young girl was.
I turned round to Mr. Howell. "It is Evelina, as I suspected."
"Yes, of course; I am only astonished that I could have taken her for Miss Frick when first I saw her. It must have been the costume which deceived me. Miss Frick has worn it all the spring."
"Yes, I know," I answered curtly. It was irritating always to have to return to Sigrid in this manner.
"Very well; on this occasion I also played the detective, Mr. Monk. I have privately found out from the other servants that Miss Frick had, that same afternoon, given the costume to Evelina. You see everything is quite clear in that respect."
"Will you allow the police to keep the photograph, Mr. Howell, and is there anything else you can tell us about the matter?" My manner was, perhaps, somewhat abrupt.
"Wait a little," he answered; "I hope you understand now the reason for the question which I put to you at the beginning of our conversation?"
"Yes; you would rather not appear as a witness, as far as I could understand."
"Exactly; and, as you yourself say, the person in question is already arrested, and the circumstantial evidence is so strong that my evidence cannot be of much importance one way or other. This being the case, would it not be possible for me to avoid appearing in court? and could you not consider what I have said as confidential, so that I might take the photograph and destroy it? Otherwise I shall appear very much in the light of a spy or a thief-catcher, Mr. Monk. Also, it would be most objectionable to me to have to testify against the unfortunate woman."
"Your sentiments do you all honour, Mr. Howell; but I cannot, all the same, prevent your being called as a witness. Neither can I, of course, keep your photograph against your will; but I must mention it in my report, and most earnestly request you to preserve it. What you have said to me in my office, with respect to a matter concerning which inquiries are now being conducted, I cannot, in my capacity as a police official, consider confidential."
"Well, Mr. Monk, I see it cannot be helped, and I ought, perhaps, to have denied all knowledge of the matter. But you can, at any rate, bear evidence that I appear most reluctantly; I would like both the unhappy girl and the Frick family to understand this."
"I can only confirm what you yourself say, Mr. Howell," I answered stiffly, for I began to be more and more convinced that the man was playing a part. "You will leave the photograph then in the hands of the police?" I continued..
"Yes, I may just as well leave it; I cannot see that I can do any one any good by not doing so. You police deal with people in your own way,—we speak and do just as you want us to do."
"Allow me one question, Mr. Howell,"—I had again taken the photograph in my hand,—"this photograph is very small; it looks as though it had been clipped at the sides. Was the photograph originally broader, and did it include nothing more of the room?"
"Yes, it was originally broader, but only the middle part was clear and distinct. Either side of it was, for some reason or another, very foggy, so I cut it off to get the picture to fit between the two glass plates. I had, besides, no interest for anything but what you see there. The young girl is, of course, the principal object of interest,"—he sighed gently.
"What time could it have been when you took the photograph?"
"Well, that question I cannot answer very exactly. I thought, of course, at the time, that I should never be asked about it, but—let me see—it can't have been far off six o'clock, for it was not long after that I left for the railway station, and that was somewhere about seven."
* * * * *
The next minute Mr. Howell was gone, and I sat beside my desk in deep thought.
The Englishman's visit had made an unpleasant impression upon me, and I could not make out what his purpose in making it really was.
The man wished to come forward as a witness—that I felt sure about. All the rest was mere dissimulation; but for what purpose? What could be his motives?
It puzzled me at the time, and it puzzles me still!
* * * * *
During the whole of this long story, Monk had remained calm. He had been speaking evenly and dispassionately, as if he had been reading a police report. But now he changed in expression and manner. He began to pace up and down the floor with contracted eyebrows, and I saw that the perspiration stood on his brow.
* * * * *
You look astonished at me (he continued). After what you have heard, does the whole affair seem clear to you? It will, perhaps, seem still clearer when you have heard me for a few minutes longer: and you will not be able to understand how it could become an enigma! Yes, an enigma which I would give half or the whole of my life to solve!—But wait a bit! When you have heard the rest of my story, you will join with me in asking, "Who stole old Frick's diamond?" And you will likewise understand that upon that question my fate has depended from that day to this. But I shan't proceed any longer in that strain; I will continue as impartially as I can. On that will, perhaps, depend how far you or anybody else can help me—alone I can do nothing. I, who was so proud of my own acuteness and ability to penetrate where others failed to see a way!—No, don't interrupt me. We shall discuss it afterward, when I have finished my story.
I had got as far as Evelina's arrest and that Mr. Howell had called on me with the photograph. So far, everything was in order. The accused had confessed, and the stolen article had been brought to light. But it had been impossible to discover where the five thousand kroners had disappeared.
Evelina refused positively to say a word beyond the confession, and as we were not able to prove any complicity against the actor and Mrs. Reierson, they were discharged.
The state of affairs in Mr. Frick's house was anything but satisfactory. Sigrid had been suffering from nervous headaches ever since a few days before the robbery. Old Frick was in a rage, and spent the whole day in swearing at the duplicity and untrustworthiness of mankind. I believe, however, that sympathy for the wretched Evelina was the true cause of his anger. The young girl's arrest had, in fact, brought gloom and sadness into the house. Einar Frick was still absent on business. Mr. Howell decided to go to Spitzbergen as soon as the case against Evelina was settled.
It vexed me that I could not trace the money, or obtain any proof of the actor's complicity; and I took it for granted that the sly fellow had succeeded in getting it safely put away in Gothenburg, before he was arrested.
But although we had a clever officer there, and got all possible assistance from the Swedish police, we did not succeed in obtaining any proofs, and as long as Evelina would not speak we could proceed no further in the affair.
Thus matters stood, and I think that all the actors in this drama were only wishing that it would come to an end as soon as possible.
Suddenly one day I received the most astonishing news—Evelina had demanded to be brought before the examining magistrate, and had retracted before him her confession in full. She had declared that when she confessed she had not been herself, and that she was really innocent and knew nothing of the robbery. She would not say anything further, and refused to answer any questions.
Of course, those who knew the ins and the outs of the case only shook their heads at this unexpected development, and began to doubt her reason. The doctors, however, who examined her, could not discover any signs of a deranged mind.
The proofs were otherwise very strong against her; and as there was no prospect of any new evidence in the matter, the hearing of the case was fixed for the first sitting of the court.
I visited the young girl in prison and found her taciturn, depressed, and pale; but she gave me the impression of being entirely normal. I tried earnestly, and in a friendly way, to prevail upon her to adhere to her confession and to give a full explanation; but she only smiled sadly, and begged to be left alone. What could have caused her to retract her confession? The more I pondered over this, the more sure I became that this step must be due to some outside influence; that she must have received some message or communication from without. She did not wish to receive any visitors in her cell. Only the mother had obtained permission to visit her once, and then the conversation had been quite short, and had taken place in the presence of a constable.
The mother had, on that occasion, until interrupted by the constable, tried to continue her reproaches against her daughter, because she had confessed something which she had not done.
But her daughter had contemptuously turned away from her, and soon after the mother was taken away without the robbery having been further discussed between them.
I felt sure that these reproaches from the mother, which the daughter seemed to treat with disgust and contempt, had had no effect, and that the explanation must be sought for elsewhere.
By closely examining the jailer, he at last told me that he one day surprised the young girl while she had a small piece of paper in her hand, but that she immediately turned away and had probably put the paper in her mouth and swallowed it. The man declared, however, that it all happened so quickly that he could hardly be quite certain about the matter, and Evelina, as usual when I spoke to her about it, took refuge in an obstinate silence.
My suspicion that Evelina acted on other people's advice was now strengthened. How far this circumstance can have any influence upon your opinion, when you have heard me out, I don't know. To me, all is dark; but I shall try to tell my story in such a way, that nothing of what I know shall be hidden from you.
Fortunately, I have got on so far with it that I can now let others speak for me—at least for a while. The next great event in my story is the trial of Evelina, which took place about three weeks after her arrest.
The proceedings are to be found fully reported in all the papers at that time, and you will get a more complete idea of the case by reading one of these reports, than if I give you a verbal account.
* * * * *
Monk opened a drawer in his writing-table, and took out a locked portfolio, from which he produced a large grey envelope. The envelope proved to contain several cuttings from theMorning News, which Monk laid before me.
"But," I objected hurriedly, "I would much rather hear the account from your own lips. Otherwise I should miss your impressions, which, to me, have much more value than a newspaper reporter's idiotic and irrelevant remarks. And even if he does report the bare facts, such a report cannot possibly be as satisfactory as your own account."
"There is a difference in newspaper reporters," was Monk's dry reply. "As you will see, theMorning Newsman has not only reported carefully and judiciously, but his remarks are impartial, and show good sense and power of observation."
"That's all very well; but I depend, however, more upon your power of observation."
"In this case, you cannot do so. If a detective ever has made a great fiasco, I did so on that occasion, as you yourself will learn. Don't you understand that I am afraid that you are beginning to look at the events with my eyes? I am afraid to lead you into the labyrinth in which I, myself, am lost, and which I probably have myself built up!"
It struck me that Monk's reasoning was correct, and I made no further comment.
"Only one question," I said; "have you any objection to Clara hearing your story?"
"No; on the contrary, it was my intention to ask you to tell her everything, when we are finished. I hope for help from her; she is an unusually intelligent woman, and besides, women have, in many respects, much finer feelings,—instinct, or what you call it,—than we men."
"Then I have a proposal to make to you. We shall not continue to-night, but I shall tell Clara all that you have now told me. Clara and I will read the newspaper account together, and then we will see you again."
"I gladly accept your proposal," said Monk, a little hesitatingly; "but if I could be allowed, I would ask you both to read the account in the paper in my presence. Of course I have read it, not once, but ten times, to myself, without any result; but now it has struck me that the whole affair might appear to me in a new light, if I heard some one else read an exact account of what happened on that fateful day."
"Yes, with pleasure," I exclaimed. "I promise to do this, both on my own and on Clara's behalf."
Monk shook me by the hand, and asked if Clara and I would come up to him one day, when I had told her all I had heard from him.
"You shall see us here to-morrow," I answered quickly, and so we parted that evening or, more correctly, that night. It was half-past one when I reached my home.
I had had a busy day, and the intense interest with which I had listened to Monk's account had tired me. I only longed to get to sleep as quickly as possible. But then happened what a more experienced man than I might perhaps have foreseen.
When I got home Clara was sitting up waiting for me. So I explained to her, as casually as possible, that next day she should hear Monk's remarkable story,—a story, the continuation of which we were to read together; well—what further happened I cannot remember, but I am sure it was past four that night before I got to sleep, and then Clara had heard everything that the reader knows of Monk's history.
"Pshaw! it isn't difficult to understand how the story will end! The horrid Englishman naturally managed things so that Miss Frick should be suspected of having stolen her uncle's diamond; and—"
These were the last words I heard Clara utter as sleep overcame me. "Yes, if there must be a villain in the drama, Clara must be right in thinking that the Englishman must have played that rôle," I thought with my last efforts, before my senses were entirely bedimmed.
* * * * *
The next day we all three were sitting in Monk's study.
"We mustn't lose any time," said Clara, as she smartly cleared aside the tea and cakes to which Monk's kindly landlady had treated us. "Remember, Mr. Monk, that we now change rôles. It is you who seek advice and help, while Frederick and I represent the detective firm. Well! we had got so far that the case was on for trial,—my husband has told me everything,—and here are the newspaper accounts of the case, which you want Frederick to read aloud, isn't that so? So set to work, Frederick!"
PART II
CHAPTER I
THE TRIAL
In theMorning Newsof June 2, 189-, appeared the following, under the heading:—
THE BLACK TORTOISE IN COURT
The court to-day was filled to overflowing, and a large number were unable to gain admittance.
The disappearance of old Frick's diamond—we hope our respected fellow-citizen will excuse our using the familiar name by which he is so well known—has been eagerly discussed and commented upon by the newspapers for the last few weeks.
The case did not promise to become a particularly difficult or complicated one, although it was known that the accused had retracted her confession; but the stolen article was of such an unusual kind, and of such great value, and the persons who were to appear in the case were so well-known, that it was only to be expected that the proceedings would attract as many people as the court would hold. One could hardly imagine anything more sadly interesting than the pale and pretty girl who stood charged before the court with the theft of the now famous diamond. By her side sat her counsel, a young advocate who is already known in legal circles as a most able and successful counsel for the defence.
Among the witnesses was the well-known figure of old Frick, and by his side his niece, Miss Frick. Not far off stood Mr. Monk, acting chief of the detective department, already a well-known and popular figure in our town, as much appreciated for his acuteness and boldness as for his tactful conduct when in the execution of his duty as a police official.
The dark distinguished-looking man beside Miss Frick was the Englishman, Mr. Howell, who, as everybody knows, has been compelled by a strange coincidence to appear as a witness in the case, and who, it is said, will give the most remarkable evidence ever heard in our courts of justice. The Englishman did not appear particularly edified with his task. From what I hear, it seems he has tried to escape giving evidence. It is anything but a pleasant duty to give evidence against a young woman when one feels that it will mean conviction for her.
* * * * *
The presiding judge of the court took his seat, the case for the prosecution was stated, and the usual questions asked of the accused as to her name, age, etc.
She did not look up, but answered in a fairly audible voice. Then she was asked whether she was guilty or not guilty.
All waited anxiously for the answer.
Her voice was this time so low that the judge had to lean toward her and request her to speak more loudly.
The silence was so intense that the answer, although scarcely more than a whisper, was heard all over the court: "Not guilty."
Had the public expected anything else? Perhaps—perhaps not....
The public prosecutor then began his charge:—
The crime with which the accused was charged was not of a particularly complicated nature with regard to the question as to how, or by whom, the theft had been committed. But it was a different matter with regard to the motives and the circumstances under which it had taken place, and he was willing to admit that in this respect little or no light had been thrown upon the matter. An uncommon article, an object of great value, in other words, the black diamond, which now lay on the judge's table, was stolen on May 10 from Mr. Frick, who was now present in court as a witness. The police were at once informed of the theft, and they succeeded not only in recovering the stolen object, but also in providing such information that the public prosecutor was able to prove fully before the court, both how the theft had been perpetrated, by whom, and how the thief had disposed of the stolen object.
He would call witnesses to prove at what time the theft had been committed, that the accused at that time had been at least half an hour in the house, that she during that time had the opportunity of going into the room where the diamond was kept, and at a time when the cupboard was not locked. He could prove by a means which seldom fell to the lot of the authorities, that the accused, in the time during which the theft had taken place, had been into the room and even opened the case where the diamond was kept. He could next prove that the accused at an earlier hour of the same day had had an opportunity of hearing an assurance from a rich man that he would pay a large sum of money to become possessed of the diamond. She thus knew beforehand that she could sell the stolen article without any difficulty.
Finally, he could prove that the diamond was actually sold by the accused on the same day to the man just mentioned.
Thus far the chain of evidence was as complete as any could be, and in order to substantiate the guilt of the accused it was of no consequence that she had retracted her confession, and had hitherto refused to give any explanation whatsoever; every experienced judge would know exactly what value to put on circumstantial evidence of such a character. It was just as good, if not surer, than a confession.
What still had to be explained was, what had become of the money which the accused had received for the diamond and what could be the particular motives for this criminal act.
Some information might possibly be obtained during the examination of the witnesses; but if this was not the case, the prosecutor would be obliged to maintain that the punishment be in accordance with the utmost rigour of the Law. The public prosecutor would, therefore, conclude with the request to the judge that he ask the accused most earnestly to give a full explanation. If she still persisted in her refusal to give this explanation, he must warn her that it would be with detriment to her cause, and possibly to that of justice.
It was so quiet in the court, when the public prosecutor sat down, that one could hear a pin drop.
The judge then turned and addressed the young girl. In calm, considerate words he called her attention to the fact that she had the right, in any case, to do as she pleased—either to speak or to keep silent; and that no pressure would be brought to bear upon her, least of all to make her confess. This much, however, he felt it his duty to tell her, that she was certainly not acting in her own interests by maintaining silence. If she were innocent, which he still hoped, then her own explanations would only serve to show it: and if she were guilty, they would enable the court to consider her case in the most lenient manner possible.
Every eye in the room was turned on the unhappy girl, but her face remained as impassive as that of a statue; her lips were pressed together, and her eyes cast down.
Her counsel leaned toward her and whispered something in her ear. She did not raise her eyes; her only answer was a slight inclination of the head.
"I must request," said the young advocate, "that my client's wish to make no further statements shall be respected. She has decided to say nothing; and I know that her resolution in this respect is not to be shaken. Whether this decision is wise or no, and whether or no it is taken by my advice, is not for the moment a subject for discussion. It is enough to say that whatever appeals were directed toward her to state what she knows of the case would, however well meant, only prolong the proceedings."
No sooner had the counsel sat down than a murmur went around the court, giving expression to nearly all the different feelings which move the human heart. Some feared that the accused would damage her own cause, others admired her firmness, while many expressed astonishment at her audacity. As all the papers have already published detailed accounts of what happened at Villa Ballarat upon the day that the robbery was committed, it will be sufficient to mention that the evidence of all the witnesses only served to corroborate what the public already knew, thanks to the unremitting zeal of the newspaper reporters.
It also seemed as if the counsel for the defence understood that it would be hopeless to upset that part of the evidence.
He certainly tried to make it appear possible that some strange person might have crept into the garden of the villa between five and half-past seven in the afternoon; but this attempt was stranded, upon the gardener's definite assurance that the gate had been locked the whole time, and on the evidence of the chief of the detective police with regard to the examination he had made of the railing and the ground round the garden.
The counsel for the defence was more fortunate in his attempt to obtain evidence of good character and behaviour for the accused. Mr. Frick and his niece were especially unremitting in their praise of the young girl.
Miss Frick caused much excitement when, in answer to a question by the counsel for the defence, she answered:—
"Evelina has for several years had all my trinkets and jewels in her custody. Thanks to my uncle's generosity, I have more of those kinds of things than I need, and it would have been very easy for her to take any one of many of these, without fear of discovery. Her mere assertion that something had been lost would have been enough.... No! she is honesty itself! She could never steal my uncle's diamond, of that I am convinced, however much appearances are against her!..."
There was great sensation in court when Mr. Howell was called as witness. Every one, of course, knew of the strange circumstances under which he had been involved in the matter.
He began by asking the judge if he might be excused from appearing as witness. The judge asked him to give his reasons for this request. Mr. Howell explained that he was a private gentleman and not a police spy. It was quite by an accident he had come to play a rôle in this affair—a rôle which did not please him. He had already given his explanation to the police, and had hoped that would have been sufficient.
The judge answered that none of these explanations could exempt him from appearing as witness. One could not help respecting his feelings; but since no lawful reasons could be given, they must request him to give what evidence he could.
Mr. Howell, who spoke the Norwegian language fluently, submitted to the inevitable, and gave a short and clear account of how he came to photograph the accused, so to speak, "in flagrante."
The papers have already published an account of this scene, so that I shall not repeat his evidence "in extenso." I shall only reproduce the following of the examination.
Public prosecutor: "What did you do with the film after you had taken the photograph?"
Witness: "I went to my room with it, took the films out of the apparatus, and took them to the photographer's to be developed. I called at the photographer's on my way to the railway station."
Public prosecutor: "You maintain, then, that it is the accused whom you have photographed, but without your being aware of it? Are you sure it is the accused?"
Witness: "Any one who has seen the accused a few times will see that she is the person in the photograph."
Public prosecutor(taking an object from the judge's table): "Is this the photograph in question, which you, yourself, delivered up to the police?"
Witness(taking the photograph in his hand and carefully examining it): "Yes, it is."
The public prosecutor declared himself satisfied, and the counsel for the defence began: "Now, are you quite sure that when you photographed the accused you did not believe her to be some one else—for instance, Miss Frick?"
Witness: "Yes, I believe I have already explained myself sufficiently clearly on that point."
Counsel for the defence: "I cannot understand how you can now be so sure that the picture represents my client, while you believed quite otherwise when you had the living person before you. What is the reason for this?"
Witness: "I have before explained I was in a great hurry at the time. I wanted to get away before the person should turn round—it was all done in fun on my part. Besides, I thought I recognized Miss Frick's jacket,—she had been in the habit of wearing a jacket trimmed with braid. Later, I got to hear that Miss Frick that same day had given it to her maid as a present, and on looking at the photo I became convinced it was the maid."
Counsel for the defence: "Good! Are you also quite sure that the picture you now see here is the same as that you took on that occasion? The film has been several days out of your keeping, and in other hands."
The young Englishman seemed rather impatient at this examination. "If the film has not been tampered with at the photographer's," he exclaimed quickly, "it is the picture of what I saw in the museum. Whether it has been tampered with or not, I see here before me the same person, in the same position, and in the same room—others must now decide which is most probable."
He took up the picture again, examined it carefully, and handed it back to the public prosecutor.
"I have only wanted to show," said the counsel for the defence, quietly, "that you yourself at one time have doubted the identity of the person who stands in front of Miss Frick's cupboard in the photograph. I have now only two other questions to ask you.
"What was the time when you took the photograph?"
Witness: "About six."
Counsel for the defence: "Are you not able to give the time more exactly? Might it not just as well have been half-past six?"
Witness: "I cannot give the exact time. I didn't attach much importance to the incident. When I had taken the photograph I went up to my room, and was busy there for some time before I left. It was then about seven, so from that I conclude that the photograph was taken about six."
Counsel: "Might it not have been a little over half-past six?"
Witness: "No! I can be quite certain it was not over half-past six."
Counsel: "Could you see that the person held the diamond in her hand? In the photograph the object which she holds is hidden by her shoulder."
Witness: "When first I caught sight of her, she held the diamond somewhat higher, so that I was able to see it; afterward she lowered her arm, and while in that position she was photographed."
The counsel for the defence seemed to be satisfied.
Then Mr. Rodin, the photographer, was called as witness.
The well-known artist, whose pleasant manners have obtained for him so many customers and friends, bowed to the judge and court, and, the usual formalities having been observed, he answered quickly and decisively the questions which the public prosecutor put to him.
Public prosecutor: "Do you recognize this photograph? Has it been in your hands before?"
Witness: "Yes; this film, together with some others, was given me to develop, by Mr. Howell, on the evening of the 10th of May, about seven or half-past."
Public prosecutor: "And are you sure that this photograph is an exact reproduction of the negative?"
Witness(smiling): "The photograph cannot lie, sir! Even if I had wished it, I could not have produced anything else than what was to be seen in front of the apparatus at the moment it was opened to take the photograph."
The public prosecutor finished his examination, and the counsel for the defence began his.
Counsel: "Can you be certain that this photograph is the same one which you developed several weeks ago for Mr. Howell? It has not been in your possession since?"
Witness: "Yes, sir, I am quite sure; you can see for yourself that my initials are written on the back;—look, O.R. 10/5, H. 10. The first are my initials, then follows the date it was received, then the initial of Mr. Howell's name, from whom I received it, and lastly, the number in the series. The roll which he brought me that day consisted of ten films; this was number ten, the last photograph he had taken."
Counsel: "You cannot, however, be quite certain that this is the same picture which Mr. Howell brought you. During the work, some of your people might have mixed Mr. Howell's pictures together with other people's. Such a thing might happen, might it not?"
Witness: "No, sir; I develop all Mr. Howell's films with my own hands. He is very particular about them. As you will see, this picture is very clear and distinct, and I flatter myself that all the pictures which have passed through my hands are the same,—that is to say, when such an expert snap-shot taker as Mr. Howell has taken them."
Counsel: "Is there any reason, Mr. Rodin, why one could not photograph first the room, then a person, and then transfer that person to the first picture, so that a person appears in the room on the picture?"
The public had remained unusually silent and attentive during the whole of the proceedings; at this question the silence became still more intense. Every one understood the counsel's object in putting this question—that each one of his questions was an attempt to clutch at a last straw in the interest of his client; but all understood also that each straw slipped out of his hand, one by one. The same happened to this question. The witness answered, without any hesitation, "It is possible, sir; but every experienced photographer would tell you that this has not been attempted in the present case."
The young advocate looked disappointed. He made a motion like one who washes his hands, and allowed the witness to step down.
The photograph was sent round among the members of the jury and the court, while the next witness was being called. It was the young chief of the detective police, Charles Monk. The public hailed his appearance with murmurs of approbation which must be just as much attributed to his winning appearance as to the reputation he had already gained as a police officer. His evidence was calm, clear, and concise, as befits a policeman, and all listened with breathless attention to the account of how the young chief had taken upon himself the rôle of detective, and had not rested until Mr. Frick's diamond was in the hands of the police. When Mr. Monk, in his evidence, came to speak of his visit to Jurgens, and of the stratagem he had used to deceive the old man, many of the spectators began to clap their hands and shout, Bravo! The judge's authority for the moment had to be called into account to produce silence.
Although there was scarcely a person in the court who did not wish that the young girl in the dock should be acquitted, so paradoxical is human nature that the same people applauded the great skill with which the net had been drawn around her.
The last hope for the prisoner seemed to vanish at the evidence of the detective.
The counsel for the defence had not many questions to ask. He tried to show that both on her arrest and upon Mr. Monk's first visit to her mother's home, she had been in an irresponsible condition, and for that purpose he had no doubt summoned her mother and her lover, the actor, to give evidence. Although their evidence was a voluntary matter, owing to the relation in which they stood to the accused, they both declared themselves willing to tell what they knew. Their evidence did not, however, throw any new light on the matter. Both were convinced of the young girl's innocence, and asked the court not to believe her, even if she should again confess. She had always been of a nervous temperament, and often a little strange.
Neither the loquacious woman with the ruddy complexion, nor the pomatummed Don Juan, whose shady character is so well known in the town, made a good impression; and the counsel for the defence concluded their examination as soon as possible. The general impression was that he, for the defence, had originally intended to prove that his client was irresponsible, but that during the proceedings before the court he had abandoned this line of defence.