"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 the _Morning 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, the _Morning News_ man 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 role," 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 roles. 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 the _Morning News_ of June 2, 189-, appeared the following, under the
heading:--