CHAPTER XX

THE END OF THE CASE

A profound silence had fallen on the room and its occupants. Mr.

Jellicoe sat with his eyes fixed on the table as if deep in thought,

the unlighted cigarette in one hand, the other grasping the tumbler of

water. Presently Inspector Badger coughed impatiently and he looked

up. "I beg your pardon, gentleman," he said. "I am keeping you

waiting."

He took a sip from the tumbler, opened a match-box and took out a

match, but apparently altering his mind, laid it down and commenced:

"The unfortunate affair which has brought you here to-night, had its

origin ten years ago. At that time my friend Hurst became suddenly

involved in financial difficulties--am I speaking too fast for you, Mr.

Badger?"

"No, not at all," replied Badger. "I am taking it down in shorthand."

"Thank you," said Mr. Jellicoe. "He became involved in serious

difficulties and came to me for assistance. He wished to borrow five

thousand pounds to enable him to meet his engagements. I had a certain

amount of money at my disposal, but I did not consider Hurst's security

satisfactory; accordingly I felt compelled to refuse. But on the very

next day, John Bellingham called on me with a draft of his will which

he wished me to look over before it was executed.

"It was an absurd will, and I nearly told him so; but then an idea

occurred to me in connection with Hurst. It was obvious to me, as soon

as I glanced through the will, that, if the burial clause was left as

the testator had drafted it, Hurst had a very good chance of inheriting

the property; and, as I was named as the executor I should be able to

give full effect to that clause. Accordingly, I asked for a few days

to consider the will, and then I called upon Hurst and made a proposal

to him; which was this: That I should advance him five thousand pounds

without security; that I should ask for no repayment, but that he

should assign to me any interest that he might have or acquire in the

estate of John Bellingham up to ten thousand pounds, or two-thirds of

any sum that he might inherit if over that amount. He asked if John

had yet made any will, and I replied, quite correctly, that he had not.

He inquired if I knew what testamentary arrangements John intended to

make, and again I answered, quite correctly, that I believed John

proposed to devise the bulk of his property to his brother, Godfrey.

"Thereupon, Hurst accepted my proposal; I made him the advance and he

executed the assignment. After a few days' delay, I passed the will as

satisfactory. The actual document was written from the draft by the

testator himself; and a fortnight after Hurst had executed the

assignment, John signed the will in my office. By the provisions of

that will I stood an excellent chance of becoming virtually the

principal beneficiary, unless Godfrey should contest Hurst's claim and

the Court should override the conditions of clause two.

"You will now understand the motives which governed my subsequent

actions. You will also see, Doctor Thorndyke, how very near to the

truth your reasoning carried you; and you will understand, as I wish

you to do, that Mr. Hurst was no party to any of these proceedings

which I am about to describe.

"Coming now to the interview in Queen Square in October, nineteen

hundred and two, you are aware of the general circumstances from my

evidence in Court, which was literally correct up to a certain point.

The interview took place in a room on the third floor, in which were

stored the cases which John had brought with him from Egypt. The mummy

was unpacked, as were some other objects that he was not offering to

the Museum, but several cases were still unopened. At the conclusion

of the interview I accompanied Doctor Norbury down to the street door,

and we stood on the doorstep conversing for perhaps a quarter of an

hour. Then Doctor Norbury went away and I returned upstairs.

"Now the house in Queen Square is virtually a museum. The upper part

is separated from the lower by a massive door which opens from the hall

and gives access to the staircase and which is fitted with a Chubb

night-latch. There are two latch-keys, of which John used to keep one

and I the other. You will find them both in the safe behind me. The

caretaker had no key and no access to the upper part of the house

unless admitted by one of us.

"At the time when I came in, after Doctor Norbury had left, the

caretaker was in the cellar, where I could hear him breaking coke for

the hot-water furnace. I had left John on the third floor opening some

of the packing-cases by the light of a lamp with a tool somewhat like a

plasterer's hammer; that is, a hammer with a small axe-blade at the

reverse of the head. As I stood talking to Doctor Norbury, I could

hear him knocking out the nails and wrenching up the lids; and when I

entered the doorway leading to the stairs, I could still hear him.

Just as I closed the staircase door behind me, I heard a rumbling noise

from above; then all was still.

"I went up the stairs to the second floor, where, as the staircase was

all in darkness, I stopped to light the gas. As I turned to ascend the

next flight, I saw a hand projecting over the edge of the half-way

landing. I ran up the stairs, and there, on the landing, I saw John

lying huddled up in a heap at the foot of the top flight. There was a

wound at the side of his forehead from which a little blood was

trickling. The case-opener lay on the floor close by him and there was

blood on the axe-blade. When I looked up the stairs I saw a rag of

torn matting over the top stair.

"It was quite easy to see what had happened. He had walked quickly out

on the landing with the case-opener in his hand. His foot had caught

in the torn matting and he had pitched head foremost down the stairs

still holding the case-opener. He had fallen so that his head had come

down on the upturned edge of the axe-blade; he had then rolled over and

the case-opener had dropped from his hand.

"I lit a wax match and stooped down to look at him. His head was in a

very peculiar position, which made me suspect that his neck was broken.

There was extremely little bleeding from the wound; he was perfectly

motionless; I could detect no sign of breathing; and I felt no doubt

that he was dead.

"It was an exceedingly regrettable affair, and it placed me, as I

perceived at once, in an extremely awkward position. My first impulse

was to send the caretaker for a doctor and a policeman; but a moment's

reflection convinced me that there were serious objections to this

course.

"There was nothing to show that I had not, myself, knocked him down

with the case-opener. Of course, there was nothing to show that I had;

but we were alone in the house with the exception of the caretaker, who

was down in the basement out of earshot.

"There would be an inquest. At the inquest inquiries would be made as

to the will which was known to exist. But as soon as the will was

produced, Hurst would become suspicious. He would probably make a

statement to the coroner and I should be charged with the murder. Or,

even if I were not charged, Hurst would suspect me and would probably

repudiate the assignment; and, under the circumstances, it would be

practically impossible for me to enforce it. He would refuse to pay

and I could not take my claim into Court.

"I sat down on the stairs just above poor John's body and considered

the matter in detail. At the worst, I stood a fair chance of hanging;

at the best, I stood to lose close upon fifty thousand pounds. These

were not pleasant alternatives.

"Supposing, on the other hand, I concealed the body and gave out that

John had gone to Paris. There was, of course, the risk of discovery,

in which case I should certainly be convicted of the murder. But if no

discovery occurred, I was not only safe from suspicion, but I secured

the fifty thousand pounds. In either case there was considerable risk,

but in one there was the certainty of loss, whereas in the other there

was a material advantage to justify the risk. The question was whether

it would be possible to conceal the body. If it were, then the

contingent profit was worth the slight additional risk. But a human

body is a very difficult thing to dispose of, especially by a person of

so little scientific culture as myself.

"It is curious that I considered this question for a quite considerable

time before the obvious solution presented itself. I turned over at

least a dozen methods of disposing of the body, and rejected them all

as impracticable. Then, suddenly, I remembered the mummy upstairs.

"At first it only occurred to me as a fantastic possibility that I

could conceal the body in the mummy-case. But as I turned over the

idea I began to see that it was really practicable; and not only

practicable but easy; and not only easy but eminently safe. If once

the mummy-case was in the Museum, I was rid of it for ever.

"The circumstances were, as you, sir, have justly observed, singularly

favorable. There would be no hue and cry, no hurry, no anxiety; but

ample time for all the necessary preparations. Then the mummy-case

itself was curiously suitable. Its length was ample, as I knew from

having measured it. It was a cartonnage of rather flexible material

and had an opening behind, secured with a lacing so that it could be

opened without injury. Nothing need be cut but the lacing, which could

be replaced. A little damage might be done in extracting the mummy and

in introducing the deceased; but such cracks as might occur would be of

no importance. For here again Fortune favored me. The whole of the

back of the mummy-case was coated with bitumen, and it would be easy

when once the deceased was safely inside to apply a fresh coat, which

would cover up not only the cracks but also the new lacing.

"After careful consideration, I decided to adopt the plan. I went

downstairs and sent the caretaker on an errand to the Law Courts. Then

I returned and carried the deceased up to one of the third-floor rooms,

where I removed his clothes and laid him out on a long packing-case in

the position in which he would lie in the mummy-case. I folded his

clothes neatly and packed them, with the exception of his boots, in a

suit-case that he had been taking to Paris and which contained nothing

but his nightclothes, toilet articles, and a change of linen. By the

time I had done this and thoroughly washed the oilcloth on the stairs

and landing, the caretaker had returned. I informed him that Mr.

Bellingham had started for Paris and then I went home. The upper part

of the house was, of course, secured by the Chubb lock, but I had

also--_ex abundantia cautelae_--locked the door of the room in which I

had deposited the deceased.

"I had, of course, some knowledge of the methods of embalming, but

principally of those employed by the ancients. Hence, on the following

day, I went to the British Museum library and consulted the most recent

works on the subject; and exceedingly interesting they were, as showing

the remarkable improvements that modern knowledge has effected in this

ancient art. I need not trouble you with details that are familiar to

you. The process that I selected as the simplest for a beginner was

that of formalin injection, and I went straight from the Museum to

purchase the necessary materials. I did not, however, buy an embalming

syringe: the book stated that an ordinary anatomical injecting syringe

would answer the same purpose, and I thought it a more discreet

purchase.

"I fear that I bungled the injection terribly, although I had carefully

studied the plates in a treatise on anatomy--Gray's, I think. However,

if my methods were clumsy, they were quite effectual. I carried out

the process on the evening of the third day; and when I locked up the

house that night, I had the satisfaction of knowing that poor John's

remains were secure from corruption and decay.

"But this was not enough. The great weight of a fresh body as compared

with that of a mummy would be immediately noticed by those who had the

handling of the mummy-case. Moreover, the damp from the body would

quickly ruin the cartonnage and would cause a steamy film on the inside

of the glass case in which it would be exhibited. And this would

probably lead to an examination. Clearly, then, it was necessary that

the remains of the deceased should be thoroughly dried before they were

enclosed in the cartonnage.

"Here my unfortunate deficiency in scientific knowledge was a great

drawback. I had no idea how this result would be achieved and, in the

end, was compelled to consult a taxidermist, to whom I represented that

I wished to collect some small animals and reptiles and rapidly dry

them for convenience of transport. By this person I was advised to

immerse the dead animals in a jar of methylated spirit for a week and

then expose them in a current of warm, dry air.

"But the plan of immersing the remains of the deceased in a jar of

methylated spirit was obviously impracticable. However, I bethought me

that we had in our collection a porphyry sarcophagus, the cavity of

which had been shaped to receive a small mummy in its case. I tried

the deceased in the sarcophagus and found that he just fitted the

cavity loosely. I obtained a few gallons of methylated spirit, which I

poured into the cavity, just covering the body, and then I put on the

lid and luted it down air-tight with putty. I trust I do not weary you

with these particulars?"

"I'll ask you to cut it as short as you can, Mr. Jellicoe," said

Badger. "It has been a long yarn and time is running on."

"For my part," said Thorndyke, "I find these details deeply interesting

and instructive. They fill in the outline that I had drawn by

inference."

"Precisely," said Mr. Jellicoe, "then I will proceed."

"I left the deceased soaking in the spirit for a fortnight and then

took him out, wiped him dry, and laid him on four cane-bottomed chairs

just over the hot-water pipes, and I let a free current of air pass

through the room. The result interested me exceedingly. By the end of

the third day the hands and feet had become quite dry and shriveled and

horny--so that the ring actually dropped off the shrunken finger--the

nose looked like a fold of parchment; and the skin of the body was so

dry and smooth that you could have engrossed a lease on it. For the

first day or two I turned the deceased at intervals so that he should

dry evenly, and then I proceeded to get the case ready. I divided the

lacing and extracted the mummy with great care--with great care as to

the case, I mean; for the mummy suffered some injury in the extraction.

It was very badly embalmed, and so brittle that it broke in several

places while I was getting it out; and when I unrolled it the head

separated and both the arms came off.

"On the sixth day after the removal from the sarcophagus, I took the

bandages that I had removed from Sebek-hotep and very carefully wrapped

the deceased in them, sprinkling powdered myrrh and gum benzoin freely

on the body and between the folds of the wrappings to disguise the

faint odor of the spirit and the formalin that still lingered about the

body. When the wrappings had been applied, the deceased really had a

most workmanlike appearance; he would have looked quite well in a glass

case even without the cartonnage, and I felt almost regretful at having

to put him out of sight for ever.

"It was a difficult business getting him into the case without

assistance, and I cracked the cartonnage badly in several places before

he was safely enclosed. But I got him in at last, and then, when I had

closed up the case with a new lacing, I applied a fresh layer of

bitumen which effectually covered up the cracks and the new cord. A

dusty cloth dabbed over the bitumen when it was dry disguised its

newness, and the cartonnage with its tenant was ready for delivery. I

notified Doctor Norbury of the fact, and five days later he came and

removed it to the Museum.

"Now that the main difficulty was disposed of, I began to consider the

further difficulty to which you, sir, have alluded with such admirable

perspicuity. It was necessary that John Bellingham should make one

more appearance in public before sinking into final oblivion.

"Accordingly, I devised the visit to Hurst's house, which was

calculated to serve two purposes. It created a satisfactory date for

the disappearance, eliminating me from any connection with it, and by

throwing some suspicion on Hurst it would make him more amenable--less

likely to dispute my claim when he learned the provisions of the will.

"The affair was quite simple. I knew that Hurst had changed his

servants since I was last at his house, and I knew his habits. On that

day I took the suitcase to Charing Cross and deposited it in the

cloakroom, called at Hurst's office to make sure that he was there, and

went from thence direct to Cannon Street and caught the train to

Eltham. On arriving at the house, I took the precaution to remove my

spectacles--the only distinctive feature of my exterior--and was duly

shown into the study at my request. As soon as the housemaid had left

the room I quietly let myself out by the French window, which I closed

behind me but could not fasten, went out at the side gate and closed

that also behind me, holding the bolt of the latch back with my

pocket-knife so that I need not slam the gate to shut it.

"The other events of that day, including the dropping of the scarab, I

need not describe, as they are known to you. But I may fitly make a

few remarks on the unfortunate tactical error into which I fell in

respect of the bones. That error arose, as you have doubtless

perceived, from the lawyer's incurable habit of underestimating the

scientific expert. I had no idea mere bones were capable of furnishing

so much information to a man of science.

"The way in which the affair came about was this: the damaged mummy of

Sebek-hotep, perishing gradually by exposure to the air, was not only

an eyesore to me: it was a definite danger. It was the only remaining

link between me and the disappearance. I resolved to be rid of it and

cast about for some means of destroying it. And then, in an evil

moment, the idea of utilizing it occurred to me.

"There was an undoubted danger that the Court might refuse to presume

death after so short an interval; and if the permission should be

postponed, the will might never be administered during my lifetime.

Hence, if these bones of Sebek-hotep could be made to simulate the

remains of the deceased testator, a definite good would be achieved.

But I knew that the entire skeleton could never be mistaken for his.

The deceased had broken his knee-caps and damaged his ankle, injuries

which I assumed would leave some permanent trace. But if a judicious

selection of the bones were deposited in a suitable place, together

with some object clearly identifiable as appertaining to the deceased,

it seemed to me that the difficulty would be met. I need not trouble

you with details. The course which I adopted is known to you with the

attendant circumstances, even the accidental detachment of the right

hand--which broke off as I was packing the arm in my handbag.

Erroneous as that course was, it would have been successful but for the

unforeseen contingency of your being retained in the case.

"Thus, for nearly two years, I remained in complete security. From

time to time I dropped in at the Museum to see if the deceased was

keeping in good condition; and on those occasions I used to reflect

with satisfaction on the gratifying circumstance--accidental though it

was--that his wishes, as expressed (very imperfectly) in clause two,

had been fully complied with, and that without prejudice to my

interests.

"The awakening came on that evening when I saw you at the Temple gate

talking with Doctor Berkeley. I suspected immediately that something

was gone amiss and that it was too late to take any useful action.

Since then, I have waited here in hourly expectation of this visit.

And now the time has come. You have made the winning move and it

remains only for me to pay my debts like an honest gambler."

He paused and quietly lit his cigarette. Inspector Badger yawned and

put away his notebook.

"Have you done, Mr. Jellicoe?" the inspector asked. "I want to carry

out my contract to the letter, you know, though it's getting devilish

late."

Mr. Jellicoe took his cigarette from his mouth and drank a glass of

water.

"I forgot to ask," he said, "whether you unrolled the mummy--if I may

apply the term to the imperfectly treated remains of my deceased

client."

"I did not open the mummy-case," replied Thorndyke.

"You did not!" exclaimed Mr. Jellicoe. "Then how did you verify your

suspicions?"

"I took an X-ray photograph."

"Ah! Indeed!" Mr. Jellicoe pondered for some moments. "Astonishing!"

he murmured; "and most ingenious. The resources of science at the

present day are truly wonderful."

"Is there anything more that you want to say?" asked Badger; "because

if you don't, time's up."

"Anything more?" Mr. Jellicoe repeated slowly; "anything more?

No--I--think--think--the time--is--up. Yes--the--the--time----"

He broke off and sat with a strange look fixed on Thorndyke.

His face had suddenly undergone a curious change. It looked shrunken

and cadaverous and his lips had assumed a peculiar cherry-red color.

"Is anything the matter, Mr. Jellicoe?" Badger asked uneasily. "Are

you not feeling well, sir?"

Mr. Jellicoe did not appear to have heard the question, for he returned

no answer, but sat motionless, leaning back in his chair, with his

hands spread out on the table and his strangely intent gaze bent on

Thorndyke.

Suddenly his head dropped on his breast and his body seemed to

collapse; and as with one accord we sprang to our feet, he slid forward

off his chair and disappeared under the table.

"Good Lord! The man's fainted!" exclaimed Badger. In a moment he was

down on his hands and knees, trembling with excitement, groping under

the table. He dragged the unconscious lawyer out into the light and

knelt over him, staring into his face.

"What's the matter with him, Doctor?" he asked, looking up at

Thorndyke. "Is it apoplexy? Or is it a heart attack, think you?"

Thorndyke shook his head, though he stooped and put his fingers on the

unconscious man's wrist.

"Prussic acid or potassium cyanide is what the appearances suggest," he

replied.

"But can't you do anything?" demanded the inspector.

Thorndyke dropped the arm, which fell limply to the floor.

"You can't do much for a dead man," he said.

"Dead! Then he has slipped through our fingers after all!"

"He has anticipated the sentence. That is all." Thorndyke spoke in an

even, impassive tone which struck me as rather strange, considering the

suddenness of the tragedy, as did also the complete absence of surprize

in his manner. He seemed to treat the occurrence as a perfectly

natural one.

Not so Inspector Badger; who rose to his feet and stood with his hands

thrust into his pockets scowling sullenly down at the dead lawyer.

"I was an infernal fool to agree to his blasted conditions," he growled

savagely.

"Nonsense," said Thorndyke. "If you had broken in you would have found

a dead man. As it was you found a live man and obtained an important

statement. You acted quite properly."

"How do you suppose he managed it?" asked Badger.

Thorndyke held out his hand.

"Let us look at his cigarette case," said he.

Badger extracted the little silver case from the dead man's pocket and

opened it. There were five cigarettes in it, two of which were plain,

while the other three were gold-tipped. Thorndyke took out one of each

kind and gently pinched their ends. The gold-tipped one he returned;

the plain one he tore through, about a quarter of an inch from the end;

when two little black tabloids dropped out on to the table. Badger

eagerly picked one up and was about to smell it when Thorndyke grasped

his wrist. "Be careful," said he; and when he had cautiously sniffed

at the tabloid--held at a safe distance from his nose--he added: "Yes,

potassium cyanide. I thought so when his lips turned that queer color.

It was in that last cigarette; you can see that he has bitten the end

off."

For some time we stood silently looking down at the still form

stretched on the floor. Presently Badger looked up.

"As you pass the porter's lodge on your way out," said he, "you might

just drop in and tell him to send a constable to me."

"Very well," said Thorndyke. "And by the way, Badger, you had better

tip that sherry back into the decanter and put it under lock and key,

or else pour it out of the window."

"Gad, yes!" exclaimed the inspector. "I'm glad you mentioned it. We

might have had an inquest on a constable as well as a lawyer.

Good-night, gentlemen, if you are off."

We went out and left him with his prisoner--passive enough, indeed,

according to his ambiguously worded promise. As we passed through the

gateway Thorndyke gave the inspector's message, curtly and without

comment, to the gaping porter, and then we issued forth into Chancery

Lane.

We were all silent and very grave, and I thought that Thorndyke seemed

somewhat moved. Perhaps Mr. Jellicoe's last intent look--which I

suspect he knew to be the look of a dying man--lingered in his memory

as it did in mine. Half-way down Chancery Lane he spoke for the first

time; and then it was only to ejaculate, "Poor devil!"

Jervis took him up. "He was a consummate villain, Thorndyke."

"Hardly that," was the reply. "I should rather say that he was

non-moral. He acted without malice and without scruple or remorse.

His conduct exhibited a passionateless expediency which was dreadful

because utterly unhuman. But he was a strong man--a courageous,

self-contained man, and I had been better pleased if it could have been

ordained that some other hand than mine should let the axe fall."

Thorndyke's compunction may appear strange and inconsistent, but yet

his feeling was also my own. Great as was the misery and suffering

that this inscrutable man had brought into the lives of those I loved,

I forgave him; and in his downfall forgot the callous relentlessness

with which he had pursued his evil purpose. For it was he who had

brought Ruth into my life; who had opened for me the Paradise of Love

into which I had just entered. And so my thoughts turned away from the

still shape that lay on the floor of the stately old room in Lincoln's

Inn, away to the sunny vista of the future, where I should walk hand in

hand with Ruth until my time, too, should come; until I, too, like the

grim lawyer, should hear the solemn evening bell bidding me put out

into the darkness of the silent sea.

The Eye of Osiris · 第 20 / 20 章