A STARTLING DISCOVERY
The morning of the trial, so long looked forward to, had at length
arrived, and the train of events which it has been my business to
chronicle in this narrative was now fast drawing to an end. To me those
events had been in many ways of the deepest moment. Not only had they
transported me from a life of monotonous drudgery into one charged with
novelty and dramatic interest; not only had they introduced me to a
renascence of scientific culture and revived under new conditions my
intimacy with the comrade of my student days; but, far more momentous
than any of these, they had given me the vision--all too fleeting--of
happiness untold, with the reality of sorrow and bitter regret that
promised to be all too enduring.
Whence it happened that on this morning my thoughts were tinged with a
certain greyness. A chapter in my life that had been both bitter and
sweet was closing, and already I saw myself once more an Ishmaelite and
a wanderer among strangers.
This rather egotistical frame of mind, however, was soon dispelled when
I encountered Polton, for the little man was in a veritable twitter of
excitement at the prospect of witnessing the clearing up of the
mysteries that had so severely tried his curiosity; and even Thorndyke,
beneath his habitual calm, showed a trace of expectancy and pleasurable
anticipation.
"I have taken the liberty of making certain little arrangements on your
behalf," he said, as we sat at breakfast, "of which I hope you will not
disapprove. I have written to Mrs. Hornby, who is one of the witnesses,
to say that you will meet her at Mr. Lawley's office and escort her and
Miss Gibson to the court. Walter Hornby may be with them, and, if he is,
you had better leave him, if possible, to come on with Lawley."
"You will not come to the office, then?"
"No. I shall go straight to the court with Anstey. Besides, I am
expecting Superintendent Miller from Scotland Yard, who will probably
walk down with us."
"I am glad to hear that," I said; "for I have been rather uneasy at the
thought of your mixing in the crowd without some kind of protection."
"Well, you see that I am taking precautions against the assaults of the
too-ingenious X, and, to tell the truth--and also to commit a flagrant
bull--I should never forgive myself if I allowed him to kill me before I
had completed Reuben Hornby's defence. Ah, here is Polton--that man is
on wires this morning; he has been wandering in and out of the rooms
ever since he came, like a cat in a new house."
"It's quite true, sir," said Polton, smiling and unabashed, "so it's no
use denying it. I have come to ask what we are going to take with us to
the court."
"You will find a box and a portfolio on the table in my room," replied
Thorndyke. "We had better also take a microscope and the micrometers,
though we are not likely to want them; that is all, I think."
"A box and a portfolio," repeated Polton in a speculative tone. "Yes,
sir, I will take them with me." He opened the door and was about to
pass out, when, perceiving a visitor ascending the stairs, he turned
back.
"Here's Mr. Miller, from Scotland Yard, sir; shall I show him in?"
"Yes, do." He rose from his chair as a tall, military-looking man
entered the room and saluted, casting, at the same time, an inquiring
glance in my direction.
"Good morning, Doctor," he said briskly. "I got your letter and couldn't
make much of it, but I have brought down a couple of plain-clothes men
and a uniform man, as you suggested. I understand you want a house
watched?"
"Yes, and a man, too. I will give you the particulars presently--that
is, if you think you can agree to my conditions."
"That I act entirely on my own account and make no communication to
anybody? Well, of course, I would rather you gave me all the facts and
let me proceed in the regular way; but if you make conditions I have no
choice but to accept them, seeing that you hold the cards."
Perceiving that the matter in hand was of a confidential nature, I
thought it best to take my departure, which I accordingly did, as soon
as I had ascertained that it wanted yet half-an-hour to the time at
which Mrs. Hornby and Juliet were due at the lawyer's office.
Mr. Lawley received me with stiffness that bordered on hostility. He was
evidently deeply offended at the subordinate part that he had been
compelled to play in the case, and was at no great pains to conceal the
fact.
"I am informed," said he, in a frosty tone, when I had explained my
mission, "that Mrs. Hornby and Miss Gibson are to meet you here. The
arrangement is none of my making; none of the arrangements in this case
are of my making. I have been treated throughout with a lack of ceremony
and confidence that is positively scandalous. Even now, I--the
solicitor for the defence--am completely in the dark as to what defence
is contemplated, though I fully expect to be involved in some ridiculous
fiasco. I only trust that I may never again be associated with any of
your hybrid practitioners. _Ne sutor ultra crepidam_, sir, is an
excellent motto; let the medical cobbler stick to his medical last."
"It remains to be seen what kind of boot he can turn out on the legal
last," I retorted.
"That is so," he rejoined; "but I hear Mrs. Hornby's voice in the outer
office, and as neither you nor I have any time to waste in idle talk, I
suggest that you make your way to the court without delay. I wish you
good morning!"
Acting on this very plain hint, I retired to the clerks' office, where I
found Mrs. Hornby and Juliet, the former undisguisedly tearful and
terrified, and the latter calm, though pale and agitated.
"We had better start at once," I said, when we had exchanged greetings.
"Shall we take a cab, or walk?"
"I think we will walk, if you don't mind," said Juliet. "Mrs. Hornby
wants to have a few words with you before we go into court. You see, she
is one of the witnesses, and she is terrified lest she should say
something damaging to Reuben."
"By whom was the subpoena served?" I asked.
"Mr. Lawley sent it," replied Mrs. Hornby, "and I went to see him about
it the very next day, but he wouldn't tell me anything--he didn't seem
to know what I was wanted for, and he wasn't at all nice--not at all."
"I expect your evidence will relate to the 'Thumbograph,'" I said.
"There is really nothing else in connection with the case that you have
any knowledge of."
"That is just what Walter said," exclaimed Mrs. Hornby. "I went to his
rooms to talk the matter over with him. He is very upset about the whole
affair, and I am afraid he thinks very badly of poor Reuben's prospects.
I only trust he may be wrong! Oh dear! What a dreadful thing it is, to
be sure!" Here the poor lady halted to mop her eyes elaborately, to the
surprise and manifest scorn of a passing errand boy.
"He was very thoughtful and sympathetic--Walter, I mean, you know,"
pursued Mrs. Hornby, "and most helpful. He asked me all I knew about
that horrid little book, and took down my answers in writing. Then he
wrote out the questions I was likely to be asked, with my answers, so
that I could read them over and get them well into my head. Wasn't it
good of him! And I made him print them with his machine so that I could
read them without my glasses, and he did it beautifully. I have the
paper in my pocket now."
"I didn't know Mr. Walter went in for printing," I said. "Has he a
regular printing press?"
"It isn't a printing press exactly," replied Mrs. Hornby; "it is a small
thing with a lot of round keys that you press down--Dickensblerfer, I
think it is called--ridiculous name, isn't it? Walter bought it from one
of his literary friends about a week ago; but he is getting quite clever
with it already, though he does make a few mistakes still, as you can
see." She halted again, and began to search for the opening of a
pocket which was hidden away in some occult recess of her clothing, all
unconscious of the effect that her explanation had produced on me. For,
instantly, as she spoke, there flashed into my mind one of the points
that Thorndyke had given me for the identification of the mysterious X.
"He has probably purchased, quite recently, a second-hand
Blickensderfer, fitted with a literary typewheel." The coincidence was
striking and even startling, though a moment's reflection convinced me
that it was nothing more than a coincidence; for there must be hundreds
of second-hand "Blicks" on the market, and, as to Walter Hornby, he
certainly could have no quarrel with Thorndyke, but would rather be
interested in his preservation on Reuben's account.
These thoughts passed through my mind so rapidly that by the time Mrs.
Hornby had run her pocket to earth I had quite recovered from the
momentary shock.
"Ah! here it is," she exclaimed triumphantly, producing an obese Morocco
purse. "I put it in here for safety, knowing how liable one is to get
one's pocket picked in these crowded London streets." She opened the
bulky receptacle and drew it out after the manner of a concertina,
exhibiting multitudinous partitions, all stuffed with pieces of paper,
coils of tape and sewing silk, buttons, samples of dress materials and
miscellaneous rubbish, mingled indiscriminately with gold, silver, and
copper coins.
"Now just run your eye through that, Dr. Jervis," she said, handing me a
folded paper, "and give me your advice on my answers."
I opened the paper and read: "The Committee of the Society for the
Protection of Paralysed Idiots, in submitting this--"
"Oh! that isn't it; I have given you the wrong paper. How silly of me!
That is the appeal of--you remember, Juliet, dear, that troublesome
person--I had, really, to be quite rude, you know, Dr. Jervis; I had to
tell him that charity begins at home, although, thank Heaven! none of us
are paralysed, but we must consider our own, mustn't we? And then--"
"Do you think this is the one, dear?" interposed Juliet, in whose pale
cheek the ghost of a dimple had appeared. "It looks cleaner than most of
the others."
She selected a folded paper from the purse which Mrs. Hornby was holding
with both hands extended to its utmost, as though she were about to
produce a burst of music, and, opening it, glanced at its contents.
"Yes, this is your evidence," she said, and passed the paper to me.
I took the document from her hand and, in spite of the conclusion at
which I had arrived, examined it with eager curiosity. And at the very
first glance I felt my head swim and my heart throb violently. For the
paper was headed: "Evidence respecting the Thumbograph," and in every
one of the five small "e's" that occurred in that sentence I could see
plainly by the strong out-door light a small break or interval in the
summit of the loop.
I was thunderstruck.
One coincidence was quite possible and even probable; but the two
together, and the second one of so remarkable a character, were beyond
all reasonable limits of probability. The identification did not seem to
admit of a doubt, and yet--
"Our legal adviser appears to be somewhat preoccupied," remarked Juliet,
with something of her old gaiety of manner; and, in fact, though I held
the paper in my hand, my gaze was fixed unmeaningly on an adjacent
lamp-post. As she spoke, I pulled myself together, and, scanning the
paper hastily, was fortunate enough to find in the first paragraph
matter requiring comment.
"I observe, Mrs. Hornby," I said, "that in answer to the first question,
'Whence did you obtain the "Thumbograph"?' you say, 'I do not remember
clearly; I think I must have bought it at a railway bookstall.' Now I
understood that it was brought home and given to you by Walter himself."
"That was what I thought," replied Mrs. Hornby, "but Walter tells me
that it was not so, and, of course, he would remember better than I
should."
"But, my dear aunt, I am sure he gave it to you," interposed Juliet.
"Don't you remember? It was the night the Colleys came to dinner, and we
were so hard pressed to find amusement for them, when Walter came in and
produced the 'Thumbograph.'"
"Yes, I remember quite well now," said Mrs. Hornby. "How fortunate that
you reminded me. We must alter that answer at once."
"If I were you, Mrs. Hornby," I said, "I would disregard this paper
altogether. It will only confuse you and get you into difficulties.
Answer the questions that are put, as well as you can, and if you don't
remember, say so."
"Yes, that will be much the wisest plan," said Juliet. "Let Dr. Jervis
take charge of the paper and rely on your own memory." "Very well, my
dear," replied Mrs. Hornby, "I will do what you think best, and you can
keep the paper, Dr. Jervis, or throw it away."
I slipped the document into my pocket without remark, and we proceeded
on our way, Mrs. Hornby babbling inconsequently, with occasional
outbursts of emotion, and Juliet silent and abstracted. I struggled to
concentrate my attention on the elder lady's conversation, but my
thoughts continually reverted to the paper in my pocket, and the
startling solution that it seemed to offer of the mystery of the
poisoned cigar.
Could it be that Walter Hornby was in reality the miscreant X? The thing
seemed incredible, for, hitherto, no shadow of suspicion had appeared to
fall on him. And yet there was no denying that his description tallied
in a very remarkable manner with that of the hypothetical X. He was a
man of some means and social position; he was a man of considerable
knowledge and mechanical skill, though as to his ingenuity I could not
judge. He had recently bought a second-hand Blickensderfer which
probably had a literary typewheel, since it was purchased from a
literary man; and that machine showed the characteristic mark on the
small "e." The two remaining points, indeed, were not so clear.
Obviously I could form no opinion as to whether or not Thorndyke held
any exclusive information concerning him, and, with reference to his
knowledge of my friend's habits, I was at first inclined to be doubtful
until I suddenly recalled, with a pang of remorse and self-accusation,
the various details that I had communicated to Juliet and that she might
easily, in all innocence, have handed on to Walter. I had, for instance,
told her of Thorndyke's preference for the Trichinopoly cheroot, and of
this she might very naturally have spoken to Walter, who possessed a
supply of them. Again, with regard to the time of our arrival at King's
Cross, I had informed her of this in a letter which was in no way
confidential, and again there was no reason why the information should
not have been passed on to Walter, who was to have been one of the party
at the family dinner. The coincidence seemed complete enough, in all
truth; yet it was incredible that Reuben's cousin could be so
blackhearted a villain or could have any motive for these dastardly
crimes.
Suddenly a new idea struck me. Mrs. Hornby had obtained access to this
typewriting machine; and if Mrs. Hornby could do so, why not John
Hornby? The description would, for the most part, fit the elder man as
well as the younger, though I had no evidence of his possessing any
special mechanical skill; but my suspicions had already fastened upon
him, and I remembered that Thorndyke had by no means rejected my theory
which connected him with the crime.
At this point, my reflections were broken in upon by Mrs. Hornby, who
grasped my arm and uttered a deep groan. We had reached the corner of
the Old Bailey, and before us were the frowning walls of Newgate. Within
those walls, I knew--though I did not mention the fact--that Reuben
Hornby was confined with the other prisoners who were awaiting their
trial; and a glance at the massive masonry, stained to a dingy grey by
the grime of the city, put an end to my speculations and brought me back
to the drama that was so nearly approaching its climax.
Down the old thoroughfare, crowded with so many memories of hideous
tragedy; by the side of the gloomy prison; past the debtors' door with
its forbidding spiked wicket; past the gallows gate with its festoons
of fetters; we walked in silence until we reached the entrance to the
Sessions House.
Here I was not a little relieved to find Thorndyke on the look-out for
us, for Mrs. Hornby, in spite of really heroic efforts to control her
emotion, was in a state of impending hysteria, while Juliet, though
outwardly calm and composed, showed by the waxen pallor of her cheeks
and a certain wildness of her eyes that all her terror was reviving; and
I was glad that they were spared the unpleasantness of contact with the
policemen who guarded the various entrances.
"We must be brave," said Thorndyke gently, as he took Mrs. Hornby's
hand, "and show a cheerful face to our friend who has so much to bear
and who bears it so patiently. A few more hours, and I hope we shall see
restored, not only his liberty, but his honour. Here is Mr. Anstey, who,
we trust, will be able to make his innocence apparent."
Anstey, who, unlike Thorndyke, had already donned his wig and gown,
bowed gravely, and, together, we passed through the mean and grimy
portals into a dark hall. Policemen in uniform and unmistakable
detectives stood about the various entries, and little knots of people,
evil-looking and unclean for the most part, lurked in the background or
sat on benches and diffused through the stale, musty air that
distinctive but indescribable odour that clings to police vans and
prison reception rooms; an odour that, in the present case, was
pleasantly mingled with the suggestive aroma of disinfectants. Through
the unsavoury throng we hurried, and up a staircase to a landing from
which several passages diverged. Into one of these passages--a sort of
"dark entry," furnished with a cage-like gate of iron bars--we passed
to a black door, on which was painted the inscription, "Old Court.
Counsel and clerks."
Anstey held the door open for us, and we passed through into the court,
which at once struck me with a sense of disappointment. It was smaller
than I had expected, and plain and mean to the point of sordidness. The
woodwork was poor, thinly disguised by yellow graining, and slimy with
dirt wherever a dirty hand could reach it. The walls were distempered a
pale, greenish grey; the floor was of bare and dirty planking, and the
only suggestions of dignity or display were those offered by the canopy
over the judge's seat--lined with scarlet baize and surmounted by the
royal arms--the scarlet cushions of the bench, and the large, circular
clock in the gallery, which was embellished with a gilded border and
asserted its importance by a loud, aggressive tick.
Following Anstey and Thorndyke into the well of the court, we were
ushered into one of the seats reserved for counsel--the third from the
front--where we sat down and looked about us, while our two friends
seated themselves in the front bench next to the central table. Here, at
the extreme right, a barrister--presumably the counsel for the
prosecution--was already in his place and absorbed in the brief that lay
on the desk before him. Straight before us were the seats for the jury,
rising one above the other, and at their side the witness-box. Above us
on the right was the judge's seat, and immediately below it a structure
somewhat resembling a large pew or a counting-house desk, surmounted by
a brass rail, in which a person in a grey wig--the clerk of the
court--was mending a quill pen. On our left rose the dock--suggestively
large and roomy--enclosed at the sides with high glazed frames; and
above it, near the ceiling, was the spectators' gallery.
"What a hideous place!" exclaimed Juliet, who separated me from Mrs.
Hornby. "And how sordid and dirty everything looks!"
"Yes," I answered. "The uncleanness of the criminal is not confined to
his moral being; wherever he goes, he leaves a trail of actual,
physical dirt. It is not so long ago that the dock and the bench alike
used to be strewn with medicinal herbs, and I believe the custom still
survives of furnishing the judge with a nosegay as a preventive of
jail-fever."
"And to think that Reuben should be brought to a place like this!"
Juliet continued bitterly; "to be herded with such people as we saw
downstairs!"
She sighed and looked round at the benches that rose behind us, where a
half-dozen reporters were already seated and apparently in high spirits
at the prospect of a sensational case.
Our conversation was now interrupted by the clatter of feet on the
gallery stairs, and heads began to appear over the wooden parapet.
Several junior counsel filed into the seats in front of us; Mr. Lawley
and his clerk entered the attorney's bench; the ushers took their stand
below the jury-box; a police officer seated himself at a desk in the
dock; and inspectors, detectives and miscellaneous officers began to
gather in the entries or peer into the court through the small glazed
openings in the doors.