THE CASE.
"Out of the night, and into the light,
Comes the doer of evil deeds.
Out of the light, and into the night,
With a sin on his soul he speeds.
But the hemp is sown, and the tree is grown,
That will hang him high as a murderer known,
Himself hath planted the seeds."
To be an amateur detective requires a certain amount of capital. There
are people "who know" to be discovered, and a search after them cannot
be successfully conducted without money; and when the people "who
know" are brought under the eye of the inquirer, they frequently
decline to speak unless well paid for their information. Money,
therefore, is essential to the success of solving a mystery, and when
Archie Maxwell sat down calmly to consider the aspect of affairs, he
found himself at once face to face with the question of funds.
He was young, he had talents, he had a profession; so with all these
endowments looked forward to making a fortune, which is the ambition
of every well-constituted youth in this age of gold. Unfortunately,
like the magical draught of Mephistopheles, time is required to make
money, and as every moment was of importance in finding out the
mystery of Sir Rupert's death, Archie could not waste four or five
years in getting together sufficient to prosecute his inquiries. It
was true that he was engaged to go out to Buenos Ayres at the end of
the year, but the firm who employed him were hard to deal with, and
refused to let him draw in advance of his salary. Toby was not well
off, so he could not apply to him for aid, besides which that young
man was already on his way to the Antipodes; so Mr. Maxwell found
himself with comparatively little money in the bank and a difficult
case to solve without funds.
Luckily Archie was of a very sanguine nature, and hopeful in a
Micawberish sense of "something turning up;" so making up his mind to
at all events make a start in the affair, he collected all the
newspaper reports of the inquest, and made himself thoroughly
acquainted with the ins and outs of the baronet's death.
It appeared, from the evidence of the butler, that on the night of the
murder Sir Rupert had informed him that he would be sitting up late in
his study, looking over some papers, and that the household could go
to bed at their usual time. Sir Rupert appeared cheerful, but somewhat
preoccupied, and went into his study shortly after dinner. The butler,
according to his instructions, locked up all the house, leaving the
hall lamp burning for Sir Rupert to put out, and then, with the rest
of the servants, retired to rest. He heard no pistol-shot, no sounds
of any one being in the house, and knew nothing about the terrible
event which had taken place until the next morning.
The housemaid stated that she had entered the study, according to her
usual custom, to put it to rights, and had there found the body of her
master lying half in and half out of the French window, which was
open. Her shriek of terror brought her fellow-servants to the spot,
and the police were sent for but she knew nothing more.
Miss Pethram deposed that her father had said good-night to her
shortly after dinner, and had retired to his study to attend to some
business. She remained in the drawing-room for some time with Mr.
Dombrain, her father's solicitor, who was then staying in the house,
and retired to bed about nine o'clock, as she had a bad headache. She
had heard no pistol-shot during the night There was nothing in her
father's demeanour that led her to think he contemplated suicide.
Mr. Dombrain, the dead man's solicitor, said that he had come down to
Thornstream in order to witness the signing of Sir Rupert's will. The
signing took place in the afternoon, and at night the baronet went to
his study to look over some papers. He (witness) offered to accompany
him, but Sir Rupert refused, as he said it was not necessary. Miss
Pethram retired to bed about nine o'clock, and as he was left alone,
he also retired half an hour afterwards. Sir Rupert never gave him the
least idea that he contemplated suicide--in fact, on the night of the
murder he seemed very cheerful. Witness was a very heavy sleeper, but
he certainly had heard no pistol-shot during the night, and it was
only next morning that he learned about the crime.
Mrs. Belswin, chaperon to Miss Pethram, gave her evidence, which was
rather important, as she was the last person who saw Sir Rupert alive.
She had been engaged when Sir Rupert was in New Zealand, and on his
arrival had gone up to London on business. She only returned on the
day when the crime was committed, and went to see Sir Rupert in his
study between eight and nine o'clock. She only had a short interview
with him, as they had nothing particular to talk about, and had gone
up to her room shortly after nine o'clock. Knowing that Miss Pethram
had retired with a bad headache, she did not disturb her, but went
straight to bed. Some of the servants might have noticed her going
upstairs to her room; she did not know. Sir Rupert was a complete
stranger to her. He seemed well and cheerful; certainly the idea of
suicide never crossed her mind for a moment. She heard no sounds of a
struggle nor any pistol-shot, and knew nothing of the committal of the
crime until next morning.
The doctor's evidence was to the effect that the deceased had been
shot somewhere between ten and eleven o'clock at night. The bullet,
penetrating the right eye, had entered the brain, causing death almost
instantaneously. From the slanting upward direction of the bullet from
the eye towards the back part of the head he would think the pistol or
gun had been fired from a low position. According to his idea, the
murderer had been crouching behind some shrubs on the terrace. Sir
Rupert came to the window, and, as the study was lighted, his form
would be clearly defined against the brilliant background. This was
the opportunity chosen by the assassin, who had fired from the
crouching position he occupied, so that the bullet had travelled
upwards and penetrated into the brain through the right eye.
During the evidence of this witness the bullet was produced to the
Court, and afterwards the Coroner summed up. Going on the evidence
produced, the jury brought in a verdict of murder against some person
or persons unknown. In addition to this bold report of the case, there
was a short leader, which theorised a great deal, but ultimately came
to the conclusion that nothing could be done to unravel the mystery,
and (as usual) complimented the police on their vigilance, a
compliment wholly undeserved, as, from all appearances, the case had
been conducted in a singularly slip-slop fashion, utterly unworthy of
English justice.
Being an engineer, Maxwell was consequently a mathematician,
therefore, having been trained in that exact science, he had a
singularly logical mind. Two and two, according to his way of looking
at things, made four, but in this instance he was doubtful as to
whether they did so. Everything in connection with the case was
wrapped in mystery, and there seemed to be no one on whom suspicion
could rest. All the people present in the house on the night in
question had given satisfactory accounts of their movements, except,
perhaps, Mrs. Belswin, and the only possible suspicion against her was
that she had been last in the company of the dead man.
This was all very well, but the committal of a crime pre-supposes a
motive, and as Mrs. Belswin, according to her own account, was a
complete stranger to Sir Rupert, it would certainly be very foolish to
even hint such a thing against her. She had seen the baronet, spoken
to him for a few minutes, and then retired to bed. Nothing could be
simpler, and whosoever had a hand in the murder it was certainly not
Mrs. Belswin, so Archie dismissed this fancy as a foolish one.
The curious part about the whole affair was that no one had heard any
report, and, as Sir Rupert had been shot the sound of the weapon
employed would certainly have been heard. Yet all present in the house
averred that they heard nothing; which was, to say the least, very
peculiar.
Judging from the evidence of the doctor, Sir Rupert was shot from the
terrace, which argued that the assassin must have been a stranger to
the house. With this idea in his head, Maxwell wondered whether any
suspicious stranger had been about the neighbourhood at that time, and
made up his mind to inquire. Sir Rupert, from all accounts, was not a
loveable character, and, in fact, his conduct towards Maxwell had been
anything but courteous, so that he was just the kind of man to have
enemies. This being the case, what was more probable than that some
man or woman whom he had wronged had followed him to Thornstream and
revenged themselves by killing him. It was rather a wild idea, still
it seemed the only feasible one, so Maxwell made up his mind to go
down to Deswarth, ask the hospitality of the vicarage for a few days,
and make inquiries regarding what strangers had been to the village on
that fatal day.
This was the conclusion he came to, but then the assertion of every
one that they had heard no shot was puzzling, and the more Maxwell
thought the more puzzled he became.
Suddenly an idea struck him and he jumped to his feet.
"I have it," he cried, "it was an air-gun."