A STRANGE SYMPOSIUM
It came upon me with something of a shock of surprise to find the scrap
of paper still tacked to the oak of Thorndyke's chambers. So much had
happened since I had last looked on it that it seemed to belong to
another epoch of my life. I removed it thoughtfully and picked out the
tack before entering, and then, closing the inner door, but leaving the
oak open, I lit the gas and fell to pacing the room.
What a wonderful episode it had been! How the whole aspect of the
world had been changed in a moment by Thorndyke's revelation! At
another time, curiosity would have led me to endeavor to trace back the
train of reasoning by which the subtle brain of my teacher had attained
this astonishing conclusion. But now my own happiness held exclusive
possession of my thoughts. The image of Ruth filled the field of my
mental vision. I saw her again as I had seen her in the cab with her
sweet, pensive face and downcast eyes; I felt again the touch of her
soft cheek and the parting kiss by the gate, so frank and simple, so
intimate and final.
I must have waited quite a long time, though the golden minutes sped
unreckoned, for when my two colleagues arrived they tendered needless
apologies.
"And I suppose," said Thorndyke, "you have been wondering what I wanted
you for."
I had not, as a matter of fact, given the matter a moment's
consideration.
"We are going to call on Mr. Jellicoe," Thorndyke explained. "There is
something behind this affair, and until I have ascertained what it is,
the case is not complete from my point of view."
"Wouldn't it have done as well to-morrow?" I asked.
"It might; and then it might not. There is an old saying as to
catching a weasel asleep. Mr. Jellicoe is a somewhat wide-awake
person, and I think it best to introduce him to Inspector Badger at the
earliest possible moment."
"The meeting of a weasel and a badger suggests a sporting interview,"
remarked Jervis. "But you don't expect Jellicoe to give himself away,
do you?"
"He can hardly do that, seeing that there is nothing to give away. But
I think he may make a statement. There were some exceptional
circumstances, I feel sure."
"How long have you known that the body was in the Museum?" I asked.
"About thirty or forty seconds longer than you have, I should say."
"Do you mean," I exclaimed, "that you did not know until the negative
was developed?"
"My dear fellow," he replied, "do you suppose that, if I had had
certain knowledge where the body was, I should have allowed that noble
girl to go on dragging out a lingering agony of suspense that I could
have cut short in a moment? Or that I should have made these
humbugging pretenses of scientific experiments if a more dignified
course had been open to me?"
"As to the experiments," said Jervis, "Norbury could hardly have
refused if you had taken him into your confidence."
"Indeed he could, and probably would. My 'confidence' would have
involved a charge of murder against a highly respectable gentleman who
was well known to him. He would probably have referred me to the
police, and then what could I have done? I had plenty of suspicions,
but not a single solid fact."
Our discussion was here interrupted by hurried footsteps on the stairs
and a thundering rat-tat on our knocker.
As Jervis opened the door, Inspector Badger burst into the room in a
highly excited state.
"What is all this, Doctor Thorndyke?" he asked. "I see you've sworn an
information against Mr. Jellicoe, and I have a warrant to arrest him;
but before anything else is done I think it right to tell you that we
have more evidence than is generally known pointing to quite a
different quarter."
"Derived from Mr. Jellicoe's information," said Thorndyke. "But the
fact is that I have just examined and identified the body at the
British Museum, where it was deposited by Mr. Jellicoe. I don't say
that he murdered John Bellingham--though that is what appearances
suggest--but I do say that he will have to account for his secret
disposal of the body."
Inspector Badger was thunderstruck. Also he was visibly annoyed. The
salt which Mr. Jellicoe had so adroitly sprinkled on the constabulary
tail appeared to develop irritating properties, for when Thorndyke had
given him a brief outline of the facts he stuck his hands in his
pockets and exclaimed gloomily:
"Well, I'm hanged! And to think of all the time and trouble I've spent
on those damned bones! I suppose they were just a plant?"
"Don't let us disparage them," said Thorndyke. "They have played a
useful part. They represent the inevitable mistake that every criminal
makes sooner or later. The murderer will always do a little too much.
If he would only lie low and let well alone, the detectives might
whistle for a clue. But it is time we are starting."
"Are we all going?" asked the inspector, looking at me in particular
with no very gracious recognition.
"We will all come with you," said Thorndyke; "but you will, naturally,
make the arrest in the way that seems best to you."
"It's a regular procession," grumbled the inspector; but he made no
more definite objection, and we started forth on our quest.
The distance from the Temple to Lincoln's Inn is not great. In five
minutes we were at the gateway in Chancery Lane, and a couple of
minutes later saw us gathered round the threshold of the stately old
house in New Square.
"Seems to be a light in the first-floor front," said Badger. "You'd
better move away before I ring the bell."
But the precaution was unnecessary. As the inspector advanced to the
bell-pull a head was thrust out of the open window immediately above
the street door.
"Who are you?" inquired the owner of the head in a voice which I
recognized as that of Mr. Jellicoe.
"I am Inspector Badger of the Criminal Investigation Department. I
wish to see Mr. Arthur Jellicoe."
"Then look at me. I am Mr. Arthur Jellicoe."
"I hold a warrant for your arrest, Mr. Jellicoe. You are charged with
the murder of Mr. John Bellingham, whose body has been discovered in
the British Museum."
"By whom?"
"By Doctor Thorndyke."
"Indeed," said Mr. Jellicoe. "Is he here?"
"Yes."
"Ha! and you wish to arrest me, I presume?"
"Yes. That is what I am here for."
"Well, I will agree to surrender myself subject to certain conditions."
"I can't make any conditions, Mr. Jellicoe."
"No, I will make them, and you will accept them. Otherwise you will
not arrest me."
"It's no use for you to talk like that," said Badger. "If you don't
let me in I shall have to break in. And I may as well tell you," he
added mendaciously, "that the house is surrounded."
"You may accept my assurance," Mr. Jellicoe replied calmly, "that you
will not arrest me if you do not accept my conditions."
"Well, what are you conditions?" demanded Badger.
"I desire to make a statement," said Mr. Jellicoe.
"You can do that, but I must caution you that anything you say may be
used in evidence against you."
"Naturally. But I wish to make the statement in the presence of Doctor
Thorndyke, and I desire to hear a statement from him of the method of
investigation by which he discovered the whereabouts of the body. That
is to say, if he is willing."
"If you mean that we should mutually enlighten one another, I am very
willing indeed," said Thorndyke.
"Very well. Then my conditions, Inspector, are that I shall hear
Doctor Thorndyke's statement and that I shall be permitted to make a
statement myself, and that until those statements are completed, with
any necessary interrogation and discussion, I shall remain at liberty
and shall suffer no molestation or interference of any kind. And I
agree that, on the conclusion of the said proceedings, I will submit
without resistance to any course that you may adopt."
"I can't agree to that," said Badger.
"Can't you?" said Mr. Jellicoe coldly; and after a pause he added:
"Don't be hasty. I have given you warning."
There was something in Mr. Jellicoe's passionless tone that disturbed
the inspector exceedingly, for he turned to Thorndyke and said in a low
tone:
"I wonder what his game is? He can't get away, you know."
"There are several possibilities," said Thorndyke.
"M'yes," said Badger, stroking his chin perplexedly.
"After all, is there any objection? His statement might save trouble,
and you'd be on the safe side. It would take you some time to break
in."
"Well," said Mr. Jellicoe, with his hand on the window, "do you
agree--yes or no?"
"All right," said Badger sulkily. "I agree."
"You promise not to molest me in any way until I have quite finished?"
"I promise."
Mr. Jellicoe's head disappeared and the window closed. After a short
pause we heard the jar of massive bolts and the clank of a chain, and,
as the heavy door swung open, Mr. Jellicoe stood revealed, calm and
impassive, with an old-fashioned office candlestick in his hand.
"Who are the others?" he inquired, peering out sharply through his
spectacles.
"Oh, they are nothing to do with me," replied Badger.
"They are Doctor Berkeley and Doctor Jervis," said Thorndyke.
"Ha!" said Mr. Jellicoe; "very kind and attentive of them to call.
Pray, come in, gentlemen. I am sure you will be interested to hear our
little discussion."
He held the door open with a certain stiff courtesy, and we all entered
the hall led by Inspector Badger. He closed the door softly and
preceded us up the stairs and into the apartment from the window of
which he had dictated the terms of surrender. It was a fine old room,
spacious, lofty, and dignified, with paneled walls and a carved
mantelpiece, the central escutcheon of which bore the initials "J. W.
P." with the date "1671." A large writing-table stood at the farther
end, and behind it was an iron safe.
"I have been expecting this visit," Mr. Jellicoe remarked tranquilly as
he placed four chairs opposite the table.
"Since when?" asked Thorndyke.
"Since last Monday evening, when I had the pleasure of seeing you
conversing with my friend Doctor Berkeley at the Inner Temple gate, and
then inferred that you were retained in the case. That was a
circumstance that had not been fully provided for. May I offer you
gentlemen a glass of sherry?"
As he spoke he placed on the table a decanter and a tray of glasses,
and looked at us interrogatively with his hand on the stopper.
"Well, I don't mind if I do, Mr. Jellicoe," said Badger, on whom the
lawyer's glance had finally settled. Mr. Jellicoe filled a glass and
handed it to him with a stiff bow; then, with the decanter still in his
hand, he said persuasively: "Doctor Thorndyke, pray allow me to fill
you a glass?"
"No, thank you," said Thorndyke, in a tone so decided that the
inspector looked round at him quickly. And as Badger caught his eye,
the glass which he was about to raise to his lips became suddenly
arrested and was slowly returned to the table untasted.
"I don't want to hurry you, Mr. Jellicoe," said the inspector, "but
it's rather late, and I should like to get this business settled. What
is it that you wish to do?"
"I desire," replied Mr. Jellicoe, "to make a detailed statement of the
events that have happened, and I wish to hear from Doctor Thorndyke
precisely how he arrived at his very remarkable conclusion. When this
has been done I shall be entirely at your service; and I suggest that
it would be more interesting if Doctor Thorndyke would give us his
statement before I furnish you with the actual facts."
"I am entirely of your opinion," said Thorndyke.
"Then in that case," said Mr. Jellicoe, "I suggest that you disregard
me, and address your remarks to your friends as if I were not present."
Thorndyke acquiesced with a bow, and Mr. Jellicoe, having seated
himself in his elbow-chair behind the table, poured himself out a glass
of water, selected a cigarette from a neat silver case, lighted it
deliberately, and leaned back to listen at his ease.
"My first acquaintance with this case," Thorndyke began without
preamble, "was made through the medium of the daily papers about two
years ago; and I may say that, although I had no interest in it beyond
the purely academic interest of a specialist in a case that lies in his
particular specialty, I considered it with deep attention. The
newspaper reports contained no particulars of the relations of the
parties that could furnish any hints as to motives on the part of any
of them, but merely a bare statement of the events. And this was a
distinct advantage, inasmuch as it left one to consider the facts of
the case without regard to motive--to balance the _prima facie_
probabilities with an open mind. And it may surprize you to learn that
those _prima facie_ probabilities pointed from the very first to that
solution which has been put to the test of experiment this evening.
Hence it will be well for me to begin by giving the conclusions that I
reached by reasoning from the facts set forth in the newspapers before
any of the further facts came to my knowledge.
"From the facts as stated in the newspaper reports it is obvious that
there were four possible explanations of the disappearance.
"1. The man might be alive and in hiding. This was highly improbable,
for the reasons that were stated by Mr. Loram at the late hearing of
the application, and for a further reason that I shall mention
presently.
"2. He might have died by accident or disease, and his body failed to
be identified. This was even more improbable, seeing that he carried
on his person abundant means of identification, including visiting
cards.
"3. He might have been murdered by some stranger for the sake of his
portable property. This was highly improbable for the same reason: his
body could hardly have failed to be identified.
"These three explanations are what we may call the outside
explanations. They touched none of the parties mentioned; they were
all obviously improbable on general grounds; and to all of them there
was one conclusive answer--the scarab which was found in Godfrey
Bellingham's garden. Hence I put them aside and gave my attention to
the fourth explanation. This was that the missing man had been made
away with by one of the parties mentioned in the report. But, since
the reports mentioned three parties, it was evident that there was a
choice of three hypotheses, namely:
"(_a_) That John Bellingham had been made away with by Hurst; or (_b_)
by the Bellinghams; or (_c_) by Mr. Jellicoe.
"Now, I have constantly impressed on my pupils that the indispensable
question that must be asked at the outset of such an inquiry as this
is, 'When was the missing person last undoubtedly seen or known to be
alive?' That is the question that I asked myself after reading the
newspaper report; and the answer was, that he was last certainly seen
alive on the fourteenth of October, nineteen hundred and two, at 141,
Queen Square, Bloomsbury. Of the fact that he was alive at that time
and place there could be no doubt whatever; for he was seen at the same
moment by two persons, both of whom were intimately acquainted with
him, and one of whom, Doctor Norbury, was apparently a disinterested
witness. After that date he was never seen, alive or dead, by any
person who knew him and was able to identify him. It was stated that
he had been seen on the twenty-third of November following by the
housemaid of Mr. Hurst; but as this person was unacquainted with him,
it was uncertain whether the person whom she saw was or was not John
Bellingham.
"Hence the disappearance dated, not from the twenty-third of November,
as every one seems to have assumed, but from the fourteenth of October;
and the question was not, 'What became of John Bellingham after he
entered Mr. Hurst's house?' but, 'What became of him after his
interview in Queen Square?'
"But as soon as I had decided that that interview must form the real
starting point of the inquiry, a most striking set of circumstances
came into view. It became obvious that if Mr. Jellicoe had had any
reason for wishing to make away with John Bellingham, he had such an
opportunity as seldom falls to the lot of an intending murderer.
"Just consider the conditions. John Bellingham was known to be setting
out alone upon a journey beyond the sea. His exact destination was not
stated. He was to be absent for an undetermined period, but at least
three weeks. His disappearance would occasion no comment; his absence
would lead to no inquiries, at least for several weeks, during which
the murderer would have leisure quietly to dispose of the body and
conceal all traces of the crime. The conditions were, from a
murderer's point of view, ideal.
"But that was not all. During that very period of John Bellingham's
absence Mr. Jellicoe was engaged to deliver to the British Museum what
was admittedly a dead human body; and that body was to be enclosed in a
sealed case. Could any more perfect or secure method of disposing of a
body be devised by the most ingenious murderer? The plan would have
had only one weak point: the mummy would be known to have left Queen
Square _after_ the disappearance of John Bellingham, and suspicion
might in the end have arisen. To this point I shall return presently;
meanwhile we will consider the second hypothesis--that the missing man
was made away with by Mr. Hurst.
"Now, there seemed to be no doubt that some person, purporting to be
John Bellingham, did actually visit Mr. Hurst's house; and he must
either have left the house or remained in it. If he left, he did so
surreptitiously; if he remained, there could be no reasonable doubt
that he had been murdered and that his body had been concealed. Let us
consider the probabilities in each case.
"Assuming--as every one seems to have done--that the visitor was really
John Bellingham, we are dealing with a responsible, middle-aged
gentleman, and the idea that such a person would enter a house,
announce his intention of staying, and then steal away unobserved is
very difficult to accept. Moreover, he would appear to have come down
to Eltham by rail immediately on landing in England, leaving his
luggage in the cloakroom at Charing Cross. This pointed to a
definiteness of purpose quite inconsistent with his casual
disappearance from the house.
"On the other hand, the idea that he might have been murdered by Hurst
was not inconceivable. The thing was physically possible. If
Bellingham had really been in the study when Hurst came home, the
murder could have been committed--by appropriate means--and the body
temporarily concealed in the cupboard or elsewhere. But although
possible it was not at all probable. There was no real opportunity.
The risk and the subsequent difficulties would be very great; there was
not a particle of positive evidence that a murder had occurred; and the
conduct of Hurst in immediately leaving the house in possession of the
servants is quite inconsistent with the supposition that there was a
body concealed in it. So that, while it is almost impossible to
believe that John Bellingham left the house of his own accord, it is
equally difficult to believe that he did not leave it.
"But there is a third possibility, which, strange to say, no one seems
to have suggested. Supposing that the visitor was not John Bellingham
at all, but some one who was impersonating him? That would dispose of
the difficulties completely. The strange disappearance ceases to be
strange, for a personator would necessarily make off before Mr. Hurst
should arrive and discover the imposture. But if we accept this
supposition, we raise two further questions: 'Who was the personator?'
and 'What was the object of the personation?'
"Now, the personator was clearly not Hurst himself, for he would have
been recognized by his housemaid; he was therefore either Godfrey
Bellingham or Mr. Jellicoe or some other person; and as no other person
was mentioned in the newspaper reports I confined my speculations to
these two.
"And, first, as to Godfrey Bellingham. It did not appear whether he
was or was not known to the housemaid, so I assumed--wrongly, as it
turns out--that he was not. Then he might have been the personator.
But why should he have personated his brother? He could not have
already committed the murder. There had not been time enough. He
would have had to leave Woodford before John Bellingham had set out for
Charing Cross. And even if he had committed the murder, he would have
no object in raising this commotion. His cue would have been to remain
quiet and know nothing. The probabilities were all against the
personator being Godfrey Bellingham.
"Then could it be Mr. Jellicoe? The answer to this question is
contained in the answer to the further question: 'What could have been
the object of the personation?'
"What motive could this unknown person have had in appearing,
announcing himself as John Bellingham, and forthwith vanishing? There
could only have been one motive: that, namely, of fixing the date of
John Bellingham's disappearance--of furnishing a definite moment at
which he was last seen alive.
"But who was likely to have had such a motive? Let us see.
"I said just now that if Mr. Jellicoe had murdered John Bellingham and
disposed of the body in the mummy-case, he would have been absolutely
safe for the time being. But there would be a weak spot in his armor.
For a month or more the disappearance of his client would occasion no
remark. But presently, when he failed to return, inquiries would be
set on foot; and then it would appear that no one had seen him since he
left Queen Square. Then it would be noted that the last person with
whom he was seen was Mr. Jellicoe. It might, further, be remembered
that the mummy had been delivered to the Museum some time _after_ the
missing man was last seen alive. And so suspicion might arise and be
followed by disastrous investigations. But supposing it should be made
to appear that John Bellingham had been seen alive more than a month
after his interview with Mr. Jellicoe and some weeks after the mummy
had been deposited in the Museum? Then Mr. Jellicoe would cease to be
in any way connected with the disappearance and henceforth would be
absolutely safe.
"Hence, after carefully considering this part of the newspaper report,
I came to the conclusion that the mysterious occurrence at Mr. Hurst's
house had only one reasonable explanation, namely, that the visitor was
not John Bellingham, but some one personating him; and that that some
one was Mr. Jellicoe.
"It remains to consider the case of Godfrey Bellingham and his
daughter, though I cannot understand how any sane person can have
seriously suspected either" (here Inspector Badger smiled a sour
smile). "The evidence against them was negligible, for there was
nothing to connect them with the affair save the finding of the scarab
on their premises; and that event which might have been highly
suspicious under other circumstances, was robbed of any significance by
the fact that the scarab was found on a spot which had been passed a
few minutes previously by the other suspected party, Hurst. The
finding of the scarab did, however, establish two important
conclusions: namely, that John Bellingham had probably met with foul
play, and that of the four persons present when it was found, one at
least had had possession of the body. As to which of the four was the
one, the circumstances furnished only a hint, which was this: If the
scarab had been purposely dropped, the most likely person to find it
was the one who dropped it. And the person who discovered it was Mr.
Jellicoe.
"Following up this hint, if we ask ourselves what motive Mr. Jellicoe
could have had for dropping it--assuming him to be the murderer--the
answer is obvious. It would not be his policy to fix the crime on any
particular person, but rather to set up a complication of conflicting
evidence which would occupy the attention of investigators and divert
it from himself.
"Of course, if Hurst had been the murderer, he would have had a
sufficient motive for dropping the scarab, so that the case against Mr.
Jellicoe was not conclusive; but the fact that it was he who found it
was highly significant.
"This completes the analysis of the evidence contained in the original
newspaper report describing the circumstances of the disappearance.
The conclusions that followed from it were, as you will have seen:
"1. That the missing man was almost certainly dead, as proved by the
finding of the scarab after his disappearance.
"2. That he had probably been murdered by one or more of four persons,
as proved by the finding of the scarab on the premises occupied by two
of them and accessible to the others.
"3. That, of those four persons, one--Mr. Jellicoe--was the last person
who was known to have been in the company of the missing man; had had
an exceptional opportunity for committing the murder; and was known to
have delivered a dead body to the Museum subsequently to the
disappearance.
"4. That the supposition that Mr. Jellicoe had committed the murder
rendered all the other circumstances of the disappearance clearly
intelligible, whereas on any other supposition they were quite
inexplicable."
"The evidence of the newspaper report, therefore, clearly pointed to
the probability that John Bellingham had been murdered by Mr. Jellicoe
and his body concealed in the mummy-case.
"I do not wish to give you the impression that I, then and there,
believed that Mr. Jellicoe was the murderer. I did not. There was no
reason to suppose that the report contained all the essential facts,
and I merely considered it speculatively as a study in probabilities.
But I did decide that that was the only probable conclusion from the
facts that were given.
"Nearly two years had passed before I heard anything more of the case.
Then it was brought to my notice by my friend, Doctor Berkeley, and I
became acquainted with certain new facts, which I will consider in the
order in which they became known to me.
"The first new light on the case came from the will. As soon as I had
read the document I felt convinced that there was something wrong. The
testator's evident intention was that his brother should inherit the
property, whereas the construction of the will was such as almost
certainly to defeat that intention. The devolution of the property
depended on the burial clause--clause two; but the burial arrangement
would ordinarily be decided by the executor, who happened to be Mr.
Jellicoe. Thus the will left the disposition of the property under the
control of Mr. Jellicoe, though his action could have been contested.
"Now, this will, although drawn up by John Bellingham, was executed in
Mr. Jellicoe's office as is proved by the fact that it was witnessed by
two of his clerks. He was the testator's lawyer, and it was his duty
to insist on the will being properly drawn. Evidently he did nothing
of the kind, and this fact strongly suggested some kind of collusion on
his part with Hurst, who stood to benefit by the miscarriage of the
will. And this was the odd feature in the case, for whereas the party
responsible for the defective provisions was Mr. Jellicoe, the party
who benefited was Hurst.
"But the most startling peculiarity of the will was the way in which it
fitted the circumstances of the disappearance. It looked as if clause
two had been drawn up with those very circumstances in view. Since,
however, the will was ten years old, this was impossible. But if
clause two could not have been devised to fit the disappearance, could
the disappearance not have been devised to fit clause two? That was by
no means impossible: under the circumstances it looked rather probable.
And if it had been so contrived, who was the agent in that contrivance?
Hurst stood to benefit, but there was no evidence that he even knew the
contents of the will. There only remained Mr. Jellicoe, who had
certainly connived at the misdrawing of the will for some purpose of
his own--some dishonest purpose.
"The evidence of the will, then, pointed to Mr. Jellicoe as the agent
in the disappearance, and, after reading it, I definitely suspected him
of the crime.
"Suspicion, however, is one thing and proof is another; I had not
nearly enough evidence to justify me in laying an information, and I
could not approach the Museum officials without making a definite
accusation. The great difficulty of the case was that I could discover
no motive. I could not see any way in which Mr. Jellicoe would benefit
by the disappearance. His own legacy was secure, whenever and however
the testator died. The murder and concealment apparently benefited
Hurst alone; and, in the absence of any plausible motive, the facts
required to be much more conclusive than they were."
"Did you form absolutely no opinion as to motive?" asked Mr. Jellicoe.
He put the question in a quiet, passionless tone, as if he were
discussing some _cause celebre_ in which he had nothing more than a
professional interest. Indeed, the calm, impersonal interest that he
displayed in Thorndyke's analysis, his unmoved attention, punctuated by
little nods of approval at each telling point in the argument, were the
most surprising features of this astounding interview.
"I did form an opinion," replied Thorndyke, "but it was merely
speculative, and I was never able to confirm it. I discovered that
about ten years ago Mr. Hurst had been in difficulties and that he had
suddenly raised a considerable sum of money, no one knew how or on what
security. I observed that this even coincided with the execution of
the will, and I surmised that there might be some connection between
them. But that was only a surmise; and, as the proverb has it, 'He
discovers who proves.' I could prove nothing, so that I never
discovered Mr. Jellicoe's motive, and I don't know it now."
"Don't you really?" said Mr. Jellicoe, in something approaching a tone
of animation. He laid down the end of his cigarette, and, as he
selected another from the silver case, he continued: "I think that is
the most interesting feature of your really remarkable analysis. It
does you great credit. The absence of motive would have appeared to
most persons a fatal objection to the theory, of what I may call, the
prosecution. Permit me to congratulate you on the consistency and
tenacity with which you have pursued the actual, visible facts."
He bowed stiffly to Thorndyke (who returned his bow with equal
stiffness), lighted a fresh cigarette, and once more leaned back in his
chair with the calm, attentive manner of a man who is listening to a
lecture or a musical performance.
"The evidence, then, being insufficient to act upon," Thorndyke
resumed, "there was nothing for it but to wait for some new facts.
Now, the study of a large series of carefully conducted murders brings
into view an almost invariable phenomenon. The cautious murderer, in
his anxiety to make himself secure, does too much; and it is this
excess of precaution that leads to detection. It happens constantly;
indeed, I may say that it always happens--in those murders that are
detected; of those that are not we say nothing--and I had strong hopes
that it would happen in this case. And it did.
"At the very moment when my client's case seemed almost hopeless, some
human remains were discovered at Sidcup. I read the account of the
discovery in the evening paper, and scanty as the report was, it
recorded enough facts to convince me that the inevitable mistake had
been made."
"Did it, indeed?" said Mr. Jellicoe. "A mere, inexpert, hearsay
report! I should have supposed it to be quite valueless from a
scientific point of view."
"So it was," said Thorndyke. "But it gave the date of the discovery
and the locality, and it also mentioned what bones had been found.
Which were all vital facts. Take the question of time. These remains,
after lying _perdu_ for two years, suddenly come to light just as the
parties--who have also been lying _perdu_--have begun to take action in
respect of the will; in fact, within a week or two of the hearing of
the application. It was certainly a remarkable coincidence. And when
the circumstances that occasioned the discovery were considered, the
coincidence became more remarkable still. For these remains were found
on land actually belonging to John Bellingham, and their discovery
resulted from certain operations (the clearing of the watercress-beds)
carried out on behalf of the absent landlord. But by whose orders were
those works undertaken? Clearly by the orders of the landlord's agent.
But the landlord's agent was known to be Mr. Jellicoe. Therefore these
remains were brought to light at this peculiarly opportune moment by
the action of Mr. Jellicoe. The coincidence, I say again, was very
remarkable.
"But what instantly arrested my attention on reading the newspaper
report was the unusual manner in which the arm had been separated; for,
besides the bones of the arm proper, there were those of what
anatomists call the 'shoulder-girdle'--the shoulder-blade and
collar-bone. This was very remarkable. It seemed to suggest a
knowledge of anatomy, and yet no murderer, even if he possessed such
knowledge, would make a display of it on such an occasion. It seemed
to me that there must be some other explanation. Accordingly, when
other remains had come to light and all had been collected at Woodford,
I asked my friend Berkeley to go down there and inspect them. He did
so, and this is what he found:
"Both arms had been detached in the same peculiar manner; both were
complete, and all the bones were from the same body. The bones were
quite clean--of soft structures, I mean. There were no cuts, scratches
or marks on them. There was not a trace of adipocere--the peculiar
waxy soap that forms in bodies that decay in water or in a damp
situation. The right hand had been detached at the time the arm was
thrown into the pond, and the left ring finger had been separated and
had vanished. This latter fact had attracted my attention from the
first, but I will leave its consideration for the moment and return to
it later."
"How did you discover that the hand had been detached?" Mr. Jellicoe
asked.
"By the submersion marks," replied Thorndyke. "It was lying on the
bottom of the pond in a position which would have been impossible if it
had been attached to the arm."
"You interest me exceedingly," said Mr. Jellicoe. "It appears that a
medico-legal expert finds 'books in the running brooks, sermons in
bones, and evidence in everything.' But don't let me interrupt you."
"Doctor Berkeley's observations," Thorndyke resumed, "together with the
medical evidence at the inquest, led me to certain conclusions.
"Let me state the facts which were disclosed.
"The remains which had been assembled formed a complete human skeleton
with the exception of the skull, one finger, and the legs from the knee
to the ankle, including both knee-caps. This was a very impressive
fact; for the bones that were missing included all those which could
have been identified as belonging or not belonging to John Bellingham;
and the bones that were present were the unidentifiable remainder.
"It had a suspicious appearance of selection.
"But the parts that were present were also curiously suggestive. In
all cases the mode of dismemberment was peculiar; for an ordinary
person would have divided the knee-joint leaving the knee-cap attached
to the thigh, whereas it had evidently been left attached to the
shinbone; and the head would most probably have been removed by cutting
through the neck instead of being neatly detached from the spine. And
all these bones were almost entirely free from marks or scratches such
as would naturally occur in an ordinary dismemberment and all were
quite free from adipocere. And now as to the conclusions which I drew
from these facts. First, there was the peculiar grouping of the bones.
What was the meaning of that? Well, the idea of a punctilious
anatomist was obviously absurd, and I put it aside. But was there any
other explanation? Yes, there was. The bones had appeared in the
natural groups that are held together by ligaments; and they had
separated at points where they were attached principally by muscles.
The knee-cap, for instance, which really belongs to the thigh, is
attached to it by muscle, but to the shin-bone by a stout ligament.
And so with the bones of the arm; they are connected to one another by
ligaments; but to the trunk only by muscle, excepting at one end of the
collar-bone.
"But this was a very significant fact. Ligament decays much more
slowly than muscle, so that in a body of which the muscles had largely
decayed the bones might still be held together by ligament. The
peculiar grouping therefore suggested that the body had been partly
reduced to a skeleton before it was dismembered; that it had then been
merely pulled apart and not divided with a knife.
"This suggestion was remarkably confirmed by the total absence of
knife-cuts or scratches.
"Then there was the fact that all the bones were quite free from
adipocere. Now, if an arm or a thigh should be deposited in water and
left undisturbed to decay, it is certain that large masses of adipocere
would be formed. Probably more than half of the flesh would be
converted into this substance. The absence of adipocere therefore
proved that the bulk of the flesh had disappeared or been removed from
the bones before they were deposited in the pond. That, in fact, it
was not a body, but a skeleton, that had been deposited.
"But what kind of skeleton? If it was the recent skeleton of a
murdered man, then the bones had been carefully stripped of flesh so as
to leave the ligaments intact. But this was highly improbable; for
there could be no object in preserving the ligaments. And the absence
of scratches was against this view.
"Then they did not appear to be graveyard bones. The collection was
too complete. It is very rare to find a graveyard skeleton of which
many of the small bones are not missing. And such bones are usually
more or less weathered and friable.
"They did not appear to be bones such as may be bought at an
osteological dealer's, for these usually have perforations to admit the
macerating fluid to the marrow cavities. Dealers' bones, too, are very
seldom all from the same body; and the small bones of the hand are
drilled with holes to enable them to be strung on catgut.
"They were not dissecting-room bones, as there was no trace of red lead
in the openings for the nutrient arteries.
"What the appearances did suggest was that these were parts of a body
which had decayed in a very dry atmosphere (in which no adipocere would
be formed), and which had been pulled or broken apart. Also that the
ligaments which held the body--or rather skeleton--together were
brittle and friable as suggested by the detached hand, which had
probably broken off accidentally. But the only kind of body that
completely answered this description is an Egyptian mummy. A mummy, it
is true, has been more or less preserved; but on exposure to the air of
such a climate as ours it perishes rapidly, the ligaments being the
last of the soft parts to disappear.
"The hypothesis that these bones were parts of a mummy naturally
suggested Mr. Jellicoe. If he had murdered John Bellingham and
concealed his body in the mummy-case, he would have a spare mummy on
his hands, and that mummy would have been exposed to the air and to
somewhat rough handling.
"A very interesting circumstance connected with these remains was that
the ring finger was missing. Now, fingers have on sundry occasions
been detached from dead hands for the sake of the rings on them. But
in such cases the object has been to secure a valuable ring uninjured.
If this hand was the hand of John Bellingham, there was no such object.
The purpose was to prevent identification; and that purpose would have
been more easily, and much more completely, achieved by sacrificing the
ring, by filing through it or breaking it off the finger. The
appearances, therefore, did not quite agree with the apparent purpose.
"Then, could there be any other purpose with which they agreed better?
Yes, there could.
"If it had happened that John Bellingham were known to have worn a ring
on that finger, and especially if that ring fitted tightly, the removal
of the finger would serve a very useful purpose. It would create an
impression that the finger had been removed on account of a ring, to
prevent identification; which impression would, in turn, produce a
suspicion that the hand was that of John Bellingham. And yet it would
not be evidence that could be used to establish identity. Now, if Mr.
Jellicoe were the murderer and had the body hidden elsewhere, vague
suspicion would be precisely what he would desire, and positive
evidence what he would wish to avoid.
"It transpired later that John Bellingham did wear a ring on that
finger and that the ring fitted very tightly. Whence it followed that
the absence of the finger was an additional point tending to implicate
Mr. Jellicoe.
"And now let us briefly review this mass of evidence. You will see
that it consists of a multitude of items, each either trivial or
speculative. Up to the time of the actual discovery I had not a single
crucial fact, nor any clue as to motive. But, slight as the individual
points of evidence were, they pointed with impressive unanimity to one
person--Mr. Jellicoe. Thus:
"The person who had the opportunity to commit murder and dispose of the
body was Mr. Jellicoe.
"The deceased was last certainly seen alive with Mr. Jellicoe.
"An unidentified human body was delivered to the Museum by Mr. Jellicoe.
"The only person who could have a motive for personating the deceased
was Mr. Jellicoe.
"The only known person who could possibly have done so was Mr. Jellicoe.
"One of the two persons who could have had a motive for dropping the
scarab was Mr. Jellicoe. The person who found that scarab was Mr.
Jellicoe, although, owing to his defective eyesight and his spectacles,
he was the most unlikely person of those present to find it.
"The person who was responsible for the execution of the defective will
was Mr. Jellicoe.
"Then as to the remains. They were apparently not those of John
Bellingham, but parts of a particular kind of body. But the only
person who was known to have had such a body in his possession was Mr.
Jellicoe.
"The only person who could have had any motive for substituting those
remains for the remains of the deceased was Mr. Jellicoe.
"Finally, the person who caused the discovery of those remains at that
singularly opportune moment was Mr. Jellicoe.
"This was the sum of the evidence that was in my possession up to the
time of the hearing and, indeed, for some time after, and it was not
enough to act upon. But when the case had been heard in Court, it was
evident either that the proceedings would be abandoned--which was
unlikely--or that there would be new developments.
"I watched the progress of events with profound interest. An attempt
had been made (by Mr. Jellicoe or some other person) to get the will
administered without producing the body of John Bellingham; and that
attempt had failed. The coroner's jury had refused to identify the
remains; the Probate Court had refused to presume the death of the
testator. As affairs stood the will could not be administered.
"What would be the next move?
"It was virtually certain that it would consist in the production of
something which would identify the unrecognized remains as those of the
testator.
"But what would that something be?
"The answer to that question would contain the answer to another
question: 'Was my solution of the mystery the true solution?'
"If I was wrong, it was possible that some of the undoubtedly genuine
bones of John Bellingham might presently be discovered; for instance,
the skull, the knee-cap, or the left fibula, by any of which the
remains could be positively identified.
"If I was right, only one thing could possibly happen. Mr. Jellicoe
would have to play the trump card that he had been holding back in case
the Court should refuse the application; a card that he was evidently
reluctant to play.
"He would have to produce the bones of the mummy's finger, together
with John Bellingham's ring. No other course was possible.
"But not only would the bones and the ring have to be found together.
They would have to be found in a place which was accessible to Mr.
Jellicoe, and so far under his control that he could determine the
exact time when the discovery should be made.
"I waited patiently for the answer to my question. Was I right or was
I wrong?
"And, in due course, the answer came.
"The bones and the ring were discovered in the well in the grounds of
Godfrey Bellingham's late house. That house was the property of John
Bellingham. Mr. Jellicoe was John Bellingham's agent. Hence it was
practically certain that the date on which the well was emptied was
settled by Mr. Jellicoe.
"The oracle had spoken.
"The discovery proved conclusively that the bones were not those of
John Bellingham (for if they had been the ring would have been
unnecessary for identification). But if the bones were not John
Bellingham's, the ring was; from which followed the important corollary
that whoever had deposited those bones in the well had had possession
of the body of John Bellingham. And there could be no doubt that that
person was Mr. Jellicoe.
"On receiving this final confirmation of my conclusions, I applied
forthwith to Doctor Norbury for permission to examine the mummy of
Sebek-hotep, with the result that you are already acquainted with."
As Thorndyke concluded, Mr. Jellicoe regarded him thoughtfully for a
moment and then said: "You have given us a most complete and lucid
exposition of your method of investigation, sir. I have enjoyed it
exceedingly, and should have profited by it hereafter--under other
circumstances. Are you sure you won't allow me to fill your glass?"
He touched the stopper of the decanter, and Inspector Badger
ostentatiously consulted his watch.
"Time is running on, I fear," said Mr. Jellicoe.
"It is, indeed," Badger assented emphatically.
"Well, I need not detain you long," said the lawyer. "My statement is
a narration of events. But I desire to make it, and you, no doubt,
will be interested to hear it."
He opened the silver case and selected a fresh cigarette, which,
however, he did not light. Inspector Badger produced a funereal
notebook, which he laid open on his knee; and the rest of us settled
ourselves in our chairs with no little curiosity to hear Mr. Jellicoe's
statement.