Poor little Fred was stretched sideways across his bed, quite dead. He
looked as if he had been rising and had fallen backwards. His face was
so peaceful and smiling that I could hardly have recognised the worried,
fever-worn features of yesterday. There is great promise, I think, on
the faces of the dead. They say it is but the post-mortem relaxation of
the muscles, but it is one of the points on which I should like to see
science wrong.
Miss Williams and I stood for five minutes without a word, hushed by the
presence of that supreme fact. Then we laid him straight, and drew the
sheet over him. She knelt down and prayed and sobbed, while I sat on
the bed, with the cold hand in mine. Then my heart turned to lead as I
remembered that it lay for me to break the news to the mother.
However, she took it most admirably. They were all three at breakfast
when I came round, the general, Mrs. La Force, and the daughter. Somehow
they seemed to know all that I had to say at the very sight of me; and
in their womanly unselfishness their sympathy was all for me, for the
shock I had suffered, and the disturbance of my household. I found
myself turned from the consoler into the consoled. For an hour or more
we talked it over, I explaining what I hope needed no explanation, that
as the poor boy could not tell me his symptoms it was hard for me to
know how immediate was his danger. There can be no doubt that the fall
of temperature and the quietness which both Porter and I had looked upon
as a hopeful sign, were really the beginning to the end.
Mrs. La Force asked me to see to everything, the formalities, register,
and funeral. It was on a Wednesday, and we thought it best that the
burial should be on the Friday. Back I hurried, therefore, not
knowing what to do first, and found old Whitehall waiting for me in my
consulting room, looking very jaunty with a camelia in his button-hole.
Not an organ in its right place, and a camelia in his button-hole!
Between ourselves, I was sorry to see him, for I was in no humour for
his company; but he had heard all about it from Miss Williams, and had
come to stop. Only then did I fully realise how much of the kindly,
delicate-minded gentleman remained behind that veil of profanity and
obscenity which he so often held before him.
“I’ll trot along with you, Dr. Munro, sir. A man’s none the worse for a
companion at such times. I’ll not open my mouth unless you wish it, sir;
but I am an idle man, and would take it as a kindness if you would let
me come round with you.”
Round he came, and very helpful he was. He seemed to know all about the
procedure--“Buried two wives, Dr. Munro, sir!” I signed the certificate
myself, conveyed it to the registrar, got the order for burial, took
it round to the parish clerk, arranged an hour, then off to the
undertaker’s, and back to my practice. It was a kind of nightmare
morning to look back upon, relieved only by the figure of my old
Bohemian, with his pea jacket, his black thorn, his puffy, crinkly face,
and his camelia.
To make a long story short, then, the funeral came off as arranged,
General Wainwright, Whitehall, and I being the sole mourners. The
captain had never seen poor Fred in the flesh, but he “liked to be in at
the finish, sir,” and so he gave me his company. It was at eight in the
morning, and it was ten before we found ourselves at Oakley Villa. A
burly man with bushy whiskers was waiting for us at the door.
“Are you Dr. Munro, sir?” he asked.
“I am.”
“I am a detective from the local office. I was ordered to inquire into
the death of the young man in your house lately.”
Here was a thunderbolt! If looking upset is a sign of guilt, I must have
stood confessed as a villain. It was so absolutely unexpected. I hope,
however, that I had command of myself instantly.
“Pray step in!” said I. Any information I can give you is entirely at
your service. Have you any objection to my friend Captain Whitehall
being present?
“Not in the least.” So in we both went, taking this bird of ill-omen.
He was, however, a man of tact and with a pleasant manner.
“Of course, Dr. Munro,” said he, “you are much too well known in the
town for any one to take this matter seriously. But the fact is that we
had an anonymous letter this morning saying that the young man had died
yesterday and was to be buried at an unusual hour to-day, and that the
circumstances were suspicious.”
“He died the day before yesterday. He was buried at eight to-day,” I
explained; and then I told him the whole story from the beginning. He
listened attentively and took a note or two.
“Who signed the certificate?” he asked.
“I did,” said I.
He raised his eyebrows slightly. “There is really no one to check your
statement then?” said he.
“Oh yes, Dr. Porter saw him the night before he died. He knew all about
the case.”
The detective shut his note-book with a snap. “That is final, Dr.
Munro,” said he. “Of course I must see Dr. Porter as a matter of form,
but if his opinion agrees with yours I can only apologise to you for
this intrusion.”
“And there is one more thing, Mr. Detective, sir,” said Whitehall
explosively. “I’m not a rich man, sir, only the ---- half-pay skipper
of an armed transport; but by ----, sir, I’d give you this hat full of
dollars to know the name of the ---- rascal who wrote that anonymous
letter, sir. By ---- sir, you’d have a real case to look after then.”
And he waved his black thorn ferociously.
So the wretched business ended, Bertie. But on what trifling chances do
our fortunes depend! If Porter had not seen him that night, it is more
than likely that there would have been an exhumation. And then,--well,
there would be chloral in the body; some money interests _DID_ depend upon
the death of the lad--a sharp lawyer might have made much of the case.
Anyway, the first breath of suspicion would have blown my little rising
practice to wind. What awful things lurk at the corners of Life’s
highway, ready to pounce upon us as we pass!
And so you really are going a-voyaging! Well, I won’t write again until
I hear that you are back from the Islands, and then I hope to have
something a little more cheery to talk about.