A STARTLING PHASE IN THE MYSTERY.
"We hark back now to the point at which we left Constable Nightingale.
He had returned to Gerard Street without having found the man. During
his absence nothing further had occurred to alarm the housekeeper and
the constable who kept her company, and they were in doubt as to what
was best to be done. There was no evidence that the man had entered
the house with the intention of robbing it, but he might have done so,
and being disturbed before he effected his purpose, thought it
expedient to make his escape as quickly as possible. They were
debating this view when they were startled by what they declare was an
'apparition.' It was the apparition of a half-starved cat, which in
some way must have found an entrance into the house before Mrs.
Middlemore came back with her supper-beer. The cat did not belong to
the house, for M. Felix had a horror of such creatures, and would not
allow one to be kept on the premises. It was not the cat that startled
them, but the color of the cat, which seemed to have been rolling
itself in blood. They saw it only for an instant, and then it
disappeared, and has not since been seen again; but it left its marks
behind it. On the oil-cloth were marks of blood, made by the cat's
paws. These signs decided their course of action, and they proceeded
upstairs to the apartments occupied by M. Felix. They knocked and
called out loudly to him, but received no answer. By an ingenious
arrangement, devised presumably by M. Felix himself, the keyhole of
the door by which they stood was masked by a brass plate, the secret
of which was known only to M. Felix. The silence strengthened their
apprehensions of foul play, and they determined to force the door
open. To effect this it was necessary to obtain the assistance of a
locksmith, and Constable Nightingale issued forth once more, and
brought back with him not only a locksmith, but a doctor in the
neighborhood, Dr. Lamb, who was coming home late from a professional
visit. With some difficulty the door was forced open, and the first
thing that met their eyes was a pool of blood on the floor of the
sitting-room. They describe it as such, although subsequent
examination proved that there was a decided exaggeration in calling it
a pool, the quantity of blood which had fallen not being very serious.
M. Felix was not in this room, but when they entered the bedroom
adjoining they discovered him in an arm-chair, bearing the appearance
of a man who had fallen asleep. He was not asleep, however; he was
dead. The natural presumption was that he had been murdered, and that
the blood on the floor was his, but Dr. Lamb very soon declared that
this was not the case. M. Felix was dead, certainly, but his death was
produced by natural causes, heart disease. In this conclusion Dr. Lamb
was supported by other medical evidence which was sought on the
following day, and this being supposed to be sufficiently established,
the necessity of a post-mortem was not immediately recognized. The
body was lifted on the bed, and there lay, dressed, as it had fallen
into the arm-chair.
"Accounts of these strange occurrences did not appear in the morning
newspapers of January 17th, and the first intimation the public
received of them was through the evening papers of that date. Even in
this initial stage we scented a mystery, and we despatched our
reporters to Mrs. Middlemore to obtain such information as would prove
interesting to our readers. Our reporters, however, were not able to
see Mrs. Middlemore; neither were they able to get access to the
house; some absurd orders on the part of the police were being carried
out, which converted the house into a kind of safe. But such
ridiculous methods are not difficult to circumvent, and we determined
that the public should not be robbed of their privileges. On January
18th, that is, some thirty-four hours after the death of M. Felix, we
inserted the following advertisement in the first edition of the
_Evening Moon_, and repeated it in all our subsequent editions. We
printed it in such bold type, and placed it in such a prominent
position, that it could not fail to reach the eyes of persons who were
interested in the case:
"'The Strange Death of M. Felix in Gerard Street, Soho. Persons who
had private or other interviews with M. Felix between the hours of
eight in the morning and twelve at night on January 16th, or who are
in possession of information which will throw light upon the
circumstances surrounding his death, are urgently requested to call at
the office of the _Evening Moon_ at any time after the appearance of
this advertisement. Liberal rewards will be paid to all who give such
information, and the best legal assistance is offered by the
proprietors of this journal, entirely at their own expense, to all who
may desire it and who are in any way interested in M. Felix's death.'
"Meanwhile, so far as the police were concerned, matters remained in
abeyance. They seemed to do nothing, and certainly discovered nothing.
One of our contemporaries, in a leading article, has suggested that
the insertion of this advertisement in our columns was an attempt to
tamper with justice, or, if not to tamper, to defeat its ends. We can
afford to smile at such an insinuation. There was no case before the
public courts, and no person was accused of anything whatever in
connection with the strange affair. The action we took was taken in
the cause of justice, to arouse it to action and assist it. In the
lighted torch of publicity there is an irresistible moral force. It
would be well if material light were thrown upon the black spaces in
this mighty city--upon the black spaces in which crimes are committed,
the perpetrators of which are enabled to escape because of the
convenient darkness in which they carry their horrible plans to a
successful issue. If old-time officialism refuses to stir out of the
old routine of useless and pernicious methods, forces which are not
amenable to red tapeism must take the reins, must take into their own
hands the plain duties of lawful authority, duties which they neglect
and evade to the injury of society at large. We do not preach
socialism, we preach justice--and light.
"Thus far in our narrative we have brought matters up to the night of
January 18th. The house in Gerard Street is dark and silent; the body
of M. Felix is lying on the bed to which it was lifted from the
arm-chair in which it was discovered.
"The night was unusually dark. The snow-storm had ceased on the
previous day, and the reflected light of white thoroughfares no longer
helped to dispel the pervading gloom.
"The morning newspapers of the 19th contained no items of particular
interest in connection with the death of M. Felix. We were the first
to announce an extraordinary and apparently inexplicable move in the
mystery. In order to do this we published our first edition two hours
earlier than usual.
"At nine o'clock on this morning one of our reporters, in the exercise
of his duty, was outside the house in Gerard Street, looking up at the
window of the sitting-room which M. Felix had occupied. He had
exchanged a few words with a policeman in the street.
"'I am on the staff of the _Evening Moon_,' he said to the policeman.
'Is there anything new concerning M. Felix?'
"'Nothing,' replied the policeman, quite civilly, and passed on.
"Our reporter remained outside the house. Patient and persevering, he
hoped to pick up some item of interest which he might be able to weave
into a paragraph.
"Suddenly the street door was opened from within, and Mrs. Middlemore
appeared. Her face was flushed, and in her eyes was a wandering look
as she turned them this way and that. The moment our reporter observed
these symptoms of distress he came to the conclusion that there was
some interesting item of which he could avail himself. He stepped up
to Mrs. Middlemore.
"'What is the matter?' he asked.
"'He's gone!' gasped Mrs. Middlemore, wringing her hands. 'He's
vanished!'
"'Who has gone? Who has vanished?' inquired our reporter.
"'M. Felix,' said Mrs. Middlemore, in a faint tone.
"'My good creature,' said our reporter, 'you must be dreaming.'
"'I'm not dreaming,' said Mrs. Middlemore. 'He's vanished. If you don't
believe me, go up and look for yourself. Where are the police. Oh,
where are the police?'
"'Don't make a disturbance,' said our reporter, soothingly. 'Let us
see if you're not mistaken.'
"Gladly availing himself of the invitation to go up and look for
himself, our reporter entered the house, and ascended the stairs,
followed by Mrs. Middlemore, moaning in a helpless, distracted
fashion.
"The door of the sitting-room was open, and also the inner door,
leading to the bedroom. There was no person, living or dead, in either
of the rooms.
"'Where was he?' asked our reporter.
"'There, on the bed,' moaned Mrs. Middlemore. 'He was there last night
before I locked the door; and when I looked in a minute ago he was
gone.'
"It was undeniably true. The bed bore the impression of a human form,
but that was all. The body of M. Felix had, indeed, disappeared!"