"Six-thirty edition: High Court Judge murdered!"
It was not quite 5 p.m., but the enterprising section of the London
evening newspapers had their 6.30 editions on sale in the streets. To
such a pitch had the policy of giving the public what it wants been
elevated that the halfpenny newspapers were able to give the people of
London the news each afternoon a full ninety minutes before the
edition was supposed to have left the press. The time of the edition
was boldly printed in the top right-hand corner of each paper as a
guarantee of enterprise if not of good faith. On practical enterprise
of this kind does journalism forge ahead. Some people who have been
bred up in a conservative atmosphere sneer at such journalistic
enterprise. They affect to regard as unreliable the up-to-date news
contained in newspapers which are unable to tell the truth about the
hands of the clock.
From the cries of the news-boys and from the announcements on the
newspaper bills which they displayed, it was assumed by those with a
greedy appetite for sensations that a judge of the High Court had been
murdered on the bench. Such an appetite easily swallowed the difficulty
created by the fact that the Law Courts had been closed for the long
vacation. In imagination they saw a dramatic scene in court--the
disappointed demented desperate litigant suddenly drawing a revolver and
with unerring aim shooting the judge through the brain before the deadly
weapon could be wrenched from his hands. But though the sensation created
by the murder of a judge of the High Court was destined to grow and to be
fed by unexpected developments, the changing phases of which monopolised
public attention throughout England on successive occasions, there was
little in the evening papers to satisfy the appetite for sensation. In
journalistic vernacular "they were late in getting on to it," and
therefore their reference to the crime occupied only a few lines in the
"stop press news," beneath some late horse-racing results. The _Evening
Courier,_ which was first in the streets with the news, made its
announcement of the crime in the following brief paragraph:
"The dead body of Sir Horace Fewbanks, the distinguished High Court
judge, was found by the police at his home, Riversbrook in Tanton
Gardens, Hampstead, to-day. Deceased had been shot through the heart. The
police have no doubt that he was murdered."
But the morning papers of the following day did full justice to the
sensation. It was the month of August when Parliament is "up," the Law
Courts closed for the long vacation, and when everybody who is anybody is
out of London for the summer holidays. News was scarce and the papers
vied with one another in making the utmost of the murder of a High Court
judge. Each of the morning papers sent out a man to Hampstead soon after
the news of the crime reached their offices in the afternoon, and some of
the more enterprising sent two or three men. Scotland Yard and
Riversbrook were visited by a succession of pressmen representing the
London dailies, the provincial press, and the news agencies.
The two points on which the newspaper accounts of the tragedy laid stress
were the mysterious letter which had been sent to Scotland Yard stating
that Sir Horace Fewbanks had been murdered, and the mystery surrounding
the sudden return of Sir Horace from Scotland to his town house. On the
first point there was room for much varied speculation. Why was
information about the murder sent to Scotland Yard, and why was it sent
in a disguised way? If the person who had sent this letter had no
connection with the crime and was anxious to help the police, why had he
not gone to Scotland Yard personally and told the detectives all he knew
about the tragedy? If, on the other hand, he was implicated in the crime,
why had he informed the police at all?
It would have been to his interest as an accomplice--even if he had been
an unwilling accomplice--to leave the crime undiscovered as long as
possible, so that he and those with whom he had been associated might
make their escape to another country. But he had sent his letter to
Scotland Yard within a few hours of the perpetration of the crime, and
had not given the actual murderer time to get out of England. Was he not
afraid of the vengeance the actual murderer would endeavour to exact for
this disclosure which would enable the police to take measures to prevent
his escape?
No light was thrown on the cause of the murdered man's sudden return from
grouse-shooting in Scotland. The newspaper accounts, though they differed
greatly in their statements, surmises, and suggestions concerning the
tragedy, agreed on the point that Sir Horace had been a keen sportsman
and was a very fine shot. In years past he had made a practice of
spending the early part of the long vacation in Scotland, going there for
the opening of the grouse season on the 12th of August. This year he had
been one of a party of five who had rented Craigleith Hall in the Western
Highlands, and after five days' shooting he had announced that he had to
go to London on urgent business, but would return in the course of a week
or less. It was suggested in some of the newspaper accounts that an
explanation of the cause of his return might throw some light on the
murder. Inquiries were being made at Craigleith Hall to ascertain the
reason for his journey to London, or whether any telegram had been
received by him previous to his departure.
The fact that one of the windows on the ground floor of Riversbrook had
been found open was regarded as evidence that the murderer had broken
into the house. Imprints of footsteps had been found in the ground
outside the window, and the police had taken several casts of these; but
whether the man who had broken into the house with the intention of
committing burglary or murder was a matter on which speculation differed.
If the murderer was a criminal who had broken into the house with the
intention of committing a burglary, there could be no connection between
the return of Sir Horace Fewbanks from Scotland and his murder. The
burglary had probably been arranged in the belief that the house was
empty, Sir Horace having sent the servants away to his country house in
Dellmere a week before. But if the murderer was a burglar he had stolen
nothing and had not even collected any articles for removal. The only
thing that was known to be missing was the dead man's pocket-book, but
there was nothing to prove that the murderer had stolen it. It was quite
possible that it had been lost or mislaid by Sir Horace; it was even
possible that it had been stolen from him in the train during his journey
from Scotland.
It might be that while prowling through the rooms after breaking into the
house, and before he had collected any goods for removal, the burglar had
come unexpectedly on Sir Horace, and after shooting him had fled from the
house. Only as a last resort to prevent capture did burglars commit
murder. Had Sir Horace been shot while attempting to seize the intruder?
The position in which the body was found did not support that theory. Two
shots had been fired, the first of which had missed its victim, and
entered the wall of the library. Evidently the murdered man had been hit
by the second while attempting to leave the room. It was ingeniously
suggested by the _Daily Record_ that the murderer was a criminal who
knew Sir Horace, and was known to him as a man who had been before him at
Old Bailey. This would account for Sir Horace being ruthlessly shot down
without having made any attempt to seize the intruder. The burglar would
have felt on seeing Sir Horace in the room that he was identified, and
that the only way of escaping ultimate arrest by the police was to kill
the man who could put the police on his track. Mr. Justice Fewbanks had
had the reputation of being a somewhat severe judge, and it was possible
that some of the criminals who had been sentenced by him at Old Bailey
entertained a grudge against him.
The question of when the murder was committed was regarded as important.
Dr. Slingsby, of the Home Office, who had examined the body shortly after
it was discovered by the police, was of opinion that death had taken
place at least twelve hours before and probably longer than that. His
opinion on this point lent support to the theory that the murder had been
committed before midnight on Wednesday. It was the _Daily Record_ that
seized on the mystery contained in the facts that the body when
discovered was fully clothed and that the electric lights were not turned
on. If the murder was committed late at night how came it that there were
no lights in the empty house when the police discovered the body? Had the
murderer, after shooting his victim, turned out the lights so that on the
following day no suspicion would be created as would be the case if
anyone saw lights burning in the house in the day-time? If he had done
so, he was a cool hand. But if the burglar was such a cool hand as to
stop to turn out the lights after the murder why did he not also stop to
collect some valuables? Was he afraid that in attempting to get rid of
them to a "fence" or "drop" he would practically reveal himself as the
murderer and so place himself in danger in case the police offered a
reward for the apprehension of the author of the crime?
If Sir Horace had gone to bed before the murderer entered the house it
would have been natural to expect no lights turned on. But he had
returned unexpectedly; there were no servants in the house, and there was
no bed ready for him. In any case, if he intended stopping in the empty
house instead of going to a hotel he would have been wearing a sleeping
suit when his body was discovered; or, at most, he would be only
partially dressed if he had got up on hearing somebody moving about the
house. But the body was fully dressed, even to collar and tie. It was
absurd to suppose that the victim had been sitting in the darkness when
the murderer appeared.
Another difficult problem Scotland Yard had to face was the discovery of
the person who had sent them the news of the murder. How had Scotland
Yard's anonymous correspondent learned about the murder, and what were
his motives in informing the police in the way he had done? Was he
connected with the crime? Had the murderer a companion with him when he
broke into Riversbrook for the purpose of burglary? That seemed to be the
most probable explanation. The second man had been horrified at the
murder, and desired to disassociate himself from it so that he might
escape the gallows. The only alternative was to suppose that the murderer
had confessed his crime to some one, and that his confidant had lost no
time in informing the police of the tragedy.
The newspaper accounts of the case threw some light on the private and
domestic affairs of the victim. He was a widower with a grown-up
daughter; his wife, a daughter of the late Sir James Goldsworthy, who
changed his ancient family patronymic from Granville to Goldsworthy on
inheriting the great fortune of an American kinsman, had died eight years
before. Sir Horace's Hampstead household consisted of a housekeeper,
butler, chauffeur, cook, housemaid, kitchenmaid and gardener. With the
exception of the butler the servants had been sent the previous week to
Sir Horace's country house in Dellmere, Sussex. It appeared that Miss
Fewbanks spent most of her time at the country house and came up to
London but rarely. She was at Dellmere when the murder was committed, and
had been under the impression that her father was in Scotland. According
to a report received from the police at Dellmere the first intimation
that Miss Fewbanks had received of the tragic death of her father came
from them. Naturally, she was prostrated with grief at the tragedy.
The butler who had been left behind in charge of Riversbrook was a man
named Hill, but he was not in the house on the night of the tragedy. He
was a married man, and his wife and child lived in Camden Town, where
Mrs. Hill kept a confectionery shop. Hill's master had given him
permission to live at home for three weeks while he was in Scotland. The
house in Tanton Gardens had been locked up and most of the valuables had
been sent to the bank for safe-keeping, but there were enough portable
articles of value in the house to make a good haul for any burglar. Hill
had instructions to visit the house three times a week for the purpose of
seeing that everything was safe and in order. He had inspected the place
on Wednesday morning, and everything was as it had been left when his
master went to Scotland. Sir Horace Fewbanks had returned to London on
Wednesday evening, reaching St. Pancras by the 6.30 train. Hill was
unaware that his master was returning, and the first he learned of the
murder was the brief announcement in the evening papers on Thursday.