THE INQUEST
There was considerable excitement over the murder in Sand Lane,
especially in theatrical and journalistic circles. The deceased was a
well-known figure in Bohemia, as for years he had consorted with
actors, with reporters, and with sundry idle men, who, doing nothing
themselves, sought the company of those gifted with creative and
mimetic powers. Walter Starth, being cursed with enough to live on,
had developed into a thorough loafer, and chose Bohemia to dwell in,
because its gaslight attractions were congenial to his mind.
Occasionally he wrote an article or short story himself, and sometimes
walked on in a melodrama as a guest; but he never did any real work,
preferring idle talk and constant drinking. He was not a favourite
with the Slaves of the Lamp, but his burly figure and red head were
excessively familiar. Consequently there was immense curiosity
manifested regarding his untimely and terrible death.
Who had killed him? That was the first question which everyone asked.
But before the inquest took place it was known that Frank Lancaster
was the assassin. How the rumour had started no one knew, but somehow,
within twenty-four hours after the discovery of the body, Lancaster's
name was on every lip. Now, Frank, moving in the same Bohemia, was as
great a favourite as Starth was the reverse, and at the outset
everyone declined to believe that he had slain Starth in so brutal a
manner. But afterwards the open enmity between the two men was
recalled, their attentions to Fairy Fan were mentioned, and an
exaggerated version was given of the quarrel in the Piccadilly
Theatre. When the inquest was held it was quite believed that
Lancaster was the guilty man. His flight proved his guilt.
Frank, concealed under the dyed hair and brown face of Desmond O'Neil,
wished Eustace to be present at the inquest, but Jarman did not think
it wise to put in an appearance.
"Captain Berry will be there," said he, "and, as I stated before, I am
pretty sure that for some unexplained reason he is your enemy. It is
probable that he has made himself acquainted with as much of your
sayings and doings as he can gather, and he doubtless knows that I am
your friend. I'll keep out of it, Frank, lest Captain Berry should be
induced to run down here and ask questions. If so, he might spot you
in spite of your disguise. Besides, we'll see all that there is to be
seen in the papers, and what isn't reported Mildred will explain when
she returns."
"Is she stopping in town for the inquest?"
"Yes. Mrs. Perth has gone up also, as the poor girl is much cut up. A
brother is a brother, however bad he may be."
Frank reflected for a few moments. "Eustace," said he at last, "do you
remember what I told you about Starth taunting me with not knowing my
father. That's true, you know."
"Yes. But afterwards he confessed that he said that only to get you
dandered."
"How did he know that he would rile me in that way? Why should he hit
the bull's-eye with a pot-shot? I fancied at the time that you might
have told him something."
"No!" denied Jarman. "I keep my pores open and my mouth shut. It's
probable that Starth learnt something about your family history from
the egregious Berry."
"But how does Berry come to know anything?"
"That's one of the things we must find out, one of the elements
connected with his attitude towards you."
"Do you think he knows what the Scarlet Bat means?"
"Yes. He knows more than you do, and, on the face of it, he purposely
made your acquaintance to get you into trouble. Witness the way in
which he brought you and Starth together, and secured Fairy Fan's aid
to make bad blood between you. He wanted Starth dead and you hanged.
At least, I think so; but, of course, I'm groping in the dark."
"But what's hanging to it?" asked Frank, much puzzled.
"I don't know. Money, I should say."
"So far as I know, there's no money worth all this trouble on Berry's
part coming my way."
"Observe, my son," said Jarman, paternally, "so far as you know. That
is the crux of the whole thing. You are as puzzled as myself over the
meaning of the Scarlet Bat. As it's the only mystery about you, save
the reason of Berry's enmity, I take leave to jam the two mysteries
together. When they make one, we may perhaps be able to get at the
truth."
"I don't see how we're to start," said Lancaster, knitting his brows.
"Nor I. Wait till the inquest is over. Then we'll have something to go
upon. Berry will be a witness as to your quarrelling with the dead
man. Berry will collect evidence to make the case blacker. And when
Berry has done his worst, we'll know his cards. See! Then you and I
will play our game with a hidden hand. And now, my son, start in with
the typing. I have to get this story sent in to-morrow, and you must
do something to keep up the fiction of being my secretary."
While Jarman and his friend were engaged in literary pursuits in
Essex, the inquest was being held in London on the body of Walter
Starth. After the jury had surveyed the corpse, and had particularly
examined the bullet hole and the knife wound, either one of which was
sufficient to cause death, the police inspector in charge of the case
detailed facts. He had been called in by Mrs. Betts, the landlady of
the deceased, and found Walter Starth dead in his sitting-room. The
body was on the floor, with a wound in the heart and a bullet hole
under the left eye. No knife had been found, but a pistol--to be more
accurate, a Derringer revolver--was discovered in the fireless grate.
There was no sign of a struggle. Everything was in its place. The man,
apparently taken by surprise, must have died instantly. It was
impossible to say whether he was knifed first or shot afterwards--but
that was part of the doctor's evidence. A card had been found torn in
two and lying on the floor. It bore the name of Frank Lancaster, and
an address. On the silver plate of the Derringer were the initials
"F. L.," so the inspector, presuming that Lancaster, owner of the
pistol, was the assassin, had called at that address given on the card
to arrest him.
At this point the coroner said that witness was assuming too much.
Inspector Herny submitted that the revolver used was the property of
Lancaster, that the torn card bore his name, and that the servant
Matilda Samuels stated that a man answering to the description of
Lancaster had called to see the deceased. Also Lancaster and Starth
had quarrelled at the Piccadilly Theatre on the night before the
committal of the crime, and Lancaster had been heard to threaten the
deceased. Finally, Captain Berry, whom the inspector had come into
contact with at Lancaster's chambers--where he was paying a
visit--stated that the two men were bitter rivals for the hand of his
niece, Miss Berry, known on the stage as Fairy Fan.
"Why was not Lancaster arrested?" asked the coroner.
"He fled, sir," replied Herny. "After the committal of the crime, he
did not return to his rooms. The last seen of him was when he passed
Matilda Samuels a few minutes after nine o'clock."
The doctor who had examined the body deposed that either wound was
sufficient to cause death. From the condition of the body he thought
that the man was killed between six and eight o'clock. It was the
doctor's opinion that Starth had been shot first and stabbed
afterwards. He could give no absolute reason, save that if the
suspected person using a knife had thus secured his end, he would
hardly fire a shot into a dead body, especially into the head. "The
noise would have attracted the neighbours," said the doctor, "and as
the man was dead, there would be no sense in acting so foolishly. But
in a vindictive spirit the assassin might certainly have mutilated the
body with the knife. I am convinced that he killed Starth with the
revolver."
The coroner interposed. Twice the witness had referred to the assassin
as "he." How did he know that the criminal was a man?
The doctor answered that he did _not_ know, but the presumption
favoured a male criminal. It was improbable that a woman would be such
a straight shot (the doctor had been in South America and talked so),
and, moreover, the knife had been driven so deeply into the heart that
he doubted whether a woman would have strength to make such a wound.
Besides, after firing the shot and securing her purpose, a woman would
never have had the nerve to stop in the room for over an hour.
"There is no evidence that any woman stopped in the room for an hour."
The witness explained that he was thinking of Inspector Herny's remark
of Lancaster having been seen by the servant leaving at nine. If
Lancaster were guilty, he must have stopped in the room with his
victim's body for over an hour. The murder took place between six and
eight, and Lancaster did not leave till after nine.
"Most irregular, these remarks," said the coroner, discontentedly.
"You have no right to assume so much. Which wound killed the man?"
"Either wound would cause death," said the doctor, sticking to his
opinion, "but it is my belief the shot was the cause. The mutilation
was an after-thought."
When this witness stepped down, Mrs. Betts the landlady was called.
She knew nothing at all. On that day she had gone to a wedding--one of
her cousins--and had been absent from midday till half-past nine. She
returned to find Tilly (the servant) in hysterics, and her lodger
dead. She then called in the police. Mrs. Betts never knew that her
lodger expected anyone. He had said nothing to her. She had never
given Tilly permission to go out during her absence, and had severely
reprimanded her for leaving the house. It was Tilly's duty to have
remained in until Mrs. Betts returned. The landlady declared that she
never heard of any quarrel, that she never saw Lancaster, and that she
knew of no one likely to have killed her lodger. Mr. Starth was a
quiet gentleman in the house, whatever he may have been outside. He
rarely had a visitor. Captain Berry was one of the few who called.
Sometimes Mr. Starth would go away for a week, and always returned
looking ill.
All this and much more of little account was extracted from the
garrulous landlady, but she could throw no light on the darkness of
the crime. She was succeeded as a witness by Tilly, whose evidence was
delivered amidst floods of tears. The poor little wretch had been
severely frightened when she entered the house after leaving her young
man.
"I went to take Mr. Starth's lamp," she said, sobbing, "as he allays
liked oil an' not gas. He was lying a deaden, so I 'owled and dropped,
till missus shook me up. There wasn't anyone in the house. But that
gentleman what called come out just as I wos talking to Alf. He looked
white an' queer like. I spoke of the long time he'd bin, but he said
nothin', and jus' cut."
"Were the two men on good terms?" asked the coroner.
"Well, sir," said Tilly, hesitating, "I can't 'ardly say for certing.
I wos left in the 'ouse when missus went to the weddin', and Mr.
Starth, he called me up, arskin' if I wos in the humour to see Alf,
which is my young man, a bricklayer. I sed, 'Right oh!' and he tells
me I could cut when a gentleman called to see him. 'There might be a
row,' ses he, 'cos this gent 'ates me awful, an' I don't want you to
'ear bad language,' ses he. So I gets ready for Alf, and when the gent
comes after four, and very late he wos, I shoves him into the room and
cuts."
"Did you hear the greeting given by Starth to Lancaster?"
"No! I jus' shoves him in, and cuts."
"It was Lancaster who called?"
"Yuss. Mr. Starth ses as the gent he expected wos Lancaster by name,
an' a fair, yeller-'aired cove. He seemed to 'ate 'im, tho' he ses as
it wos Lancaster who 'ated 'im," finished Tilly, confusedly.
"Do you think Mr. Starth got you out of the house so as to quarrel
freely with his visitor?"
"Yuss. He said as there would be a row."
"Could anyone have got into the lower part of the house during your
absence?"
Tilly stole a look at hard-faced Mrs. Betts. "Why, bless y'no, sir. I
wos perticler about lockin' an' barrin' the winders. But Mr. Starth
could 'ave let anyone in. I left him with Mr. Lancaster, that's all I
knows. W'en I come back after leaving Alf, I sawr 'im dead, w'en I
brought the lamp. I nearly dropped with 'orror, an' after puttin' the
lamp down I ran to woller on the kitchen floor with fear till missus
come an' shook me up. I wos too feared to holler fur the perlice."
When Tilly was dismissed with a streaming face to the companionship of
Alf, who lurked at the back of the court, Captain Berry was called.
The little skipper looked harder than ever, and delivered his evidence
in a dry fashion, with unwinking eyes and without saying more than was
needful. His language smacked of the Great Waste Lands.
"Yes, sir, I guess I knew the corpse, and Lancaster. They fair hated
one another, and there was always a shine between them when they met.
My niece sent 'em fair crazy. They both wanted to marry her, but she
shied when they asked her. She didn't want to run in double harness
with either. Not much. I tried to make them two boys friends, but they
wouldn't cotton to one another nohow. Starth _did_ liquidate
considerable, and at the Piccadilly Theatre made trouble. Oh! he came
right along, callin' Lancaster high-and-mighty names. I wanted to put
the stopper on Starth's jaw, but Lancaster sailed in and levelled him
straight. A pretty hitter is Lancaster; but I don't call it square of
a man to wish another out of the world."
"Did Lancaster say that?" asked the coroner.
Berry spat and nodded. "Several times, you bet. He said he'd like to
wring Starth's neck, that he'd be better out of the world than in it,
and that he'd like to kick him out of the world. Oh, there was an holy
show. I took Starth home, but he never let on that he was goin' to
make it up with Lancaster next day. They made no appointment as I
heard on. Oh! I guess Lancaster had a row with Starth in his own
shanty, and let out at him with the Derringer. A clean shot, sir."
Berry spat again. "The knife? Don't know anythin' of th' knife. But I
heard as Lancaster was in 'Frisco once, so he might have imported a
bowie. Yes, sir, that wound was made by a bowie."
Berry said much more to the same effect, and appeared to be quite sure
that Lancaster was guilty. He was followed by Baird, who had been
imported into the case by the skipper on a word to Inspector Herny.
Baird admitted reluctantly that Lancaster had threatened to kick
Starth out of the world, and that the two men were on the worst of
terms.
Afterwards followed the cause of the trouble. Fairy Fan, exquisitely
dressed, and quite overcome with emotion, deposed that the two men
both asked her to marry them. She refused both, as she wished to stay
with her dear uncle. Starth and Lancaster hated one another, but she
never thought it would come to this. Starth usually started the
quarrel, but it was always Lancaster who threatened. He frequently
expressed a wish that Starth was dead. Lancaster told her that when
slumming for his newspaper he sometimes carried a revolver. The weapon
produced in court was his. She had seen it once. It had belonged to
his father, Lancaster said. The elder Lancaster's name was Frank also,
hence the initials on the silver plate. The death of Starth and the
wickedness of Lancaster had inflicted two several shocks on her, so
that she had been out of the bill at the Piccadilly Theatre. She never
thought Lancaster was so bloodthirsty. He always seemed to be such a
quiet young man. Starth's language was certainly most insulting.
Mildred Starth was then called. She deposed that she was a sister of
the deceased. She lived in Essex, and saw very little of her brother.
They got on pretty well, but she was fond of a quiet life, and her
brother was never happy unless he was leading a fast one. On the night
previous to the murder she was in town. Her brother was in the box at
the Piccadilly Theatre; that was the last she saw of him. He seemed
excited and a little overcome with drink. She had heard him express
hatred of Lancaster, but he was careful in her presence not to explain
the reason. She had never heard him threaten Lancaster, but twice she
had heard him express fears lest Lancaster should kill him. He
described Lancaster as a ruffian from San Francisco. Witness had never
seen the accused man.
This formed the gist of evidence collected by the police, and it was
quite enough to permit the coroner making a speech strongly condemning
Lancaster. He said that no doubt Lancaster had intimated his intention
of calling on Starth, as there was no reason to believe that Starth,
who was manifestly afraid of his opponent, had invited him to come.
Lancaster had undoubtedly brought the revolver with him, and it would
seem that he had called on deceased with the intention of committing
the murder. Perhaps Starth--as seemed probable--had torn Lancaster's
card in two (the pieces having been found), and the insult had fired
Lancaster's rage. Hence the murder. It seems that no one heard the
shot; at all events no one could be found who could give such
evidence. The jury must therefore take the doctor's opinion that
Starth had been shot between six and eight. It was impossible to say
why Lancaster had remained behind with his victim's body until nine.
But he apparently did, as he was seen leaving the house by the
servant, Matilda Samuels. The jury had inspected the body, they had
heard the evidence and the cause of death, and on the facts before
them would give their verdict.
This was easily given. Without the least hesitation the jury brought
in a verdict of wilful murder against Frank Lancaster. After that the
crowd went out, and the neighbourhood buzzed with excitement. The one
question asked was whether the police knew the whereabouts of the
guilty man.
The police did not, and to a reporter Inspector Herny confessed that
he had absolutely no clue. Lancaster had vanished like a water bubble.