With some difficulty I at last found my way back to the house, but all
was quiet, and the passer-by would little dream of the terrible tragedy
that had taken place within. I had no time for reflection, however, for
I heard the well-known creaking footstep, and saw the flashing of a
distant bull's-eye, betokening the arrival of a policeman from the
opposite direction.
Hastening to meet the constable, with excited gesture and confused
accents, I told him of my horrible discovery. At first the man seemed
inclined to disbelieve it, but seeing I was in earnest, accompanied me
to the house, and peeped in at the window as directed.
He started when his gaze fell upon the prostrate woman.
"Do you know who lives 'ere?" he asked.
"No. Haven't I told you I'm an utter stranger?" I replied.
As I spoke he ran up the short flight of stone steps and pulled the
large brass knob beside the door.
Clear and distinct the deep-toned bell clanged out somewhere in the
regions at the rear, but there was no response.
As suddenly as it had risen the wind sank; the streets were silent, the
houses gloomy as rows of sepulchres tenanted only by the departed; and
as the day broke, cold and grey, light fleecy clouds gathered over the
waning moon.
Twice the constable tugged at the bell in his efforts to awaken the
inmates of the house, but all was still, save for the bark of a distant
dog. Although we both strained our ears, no sounds of life were
apparent within.
"Shall I go round to the station for help? I can find it if you will
direct me," I said to the man.
"No; you stay 'ere. There's no necessity," replied he gruffly. "I'll
soon call my mates," and applying his whistle to his lips, he blew a
series of shrill calls, which were immediately answered by others.
Ten minutes later three policemen had arrived, and, finding there was no
entrance from the rear, had burst open the door.
The houses adjoining were both empty, so no neighbours were awakened by
the noise.
We entered undisturbed.
From the spacious hall several doors opened right and left; while
immediately opposite was a broad staircase.
With but a hasty glance around we passed to a door which stood open, and
from which a flood of light was issuing. There our eyes encountered a
terrible sight.
Lying on her back upon the carpet, with her arms outstretched above her
head, was a tall and undeniably beautiful woman of about thirty years of
age. Her wealth of fair hair had become unfastened, and fell in
disorder about her bare shoulders. Her lips were still apart, as if in
her last moments she had uttered a cry, and her clear blue eyes, wide
open, had in them a stony stare--that of death.
Attired in an elegant evening dress of soft white silk, her low bodice
revealed the fatal wound in her breast from which the blood slowly
oozed, forming a dark crimson pool upon the carpet. Upon her wrist was
a splendid diamond bracelet of an uncommon pattern, for it was shaped to
represent a double-headed snake, and under the gaslight the gems danced
and gleamed with a thousand fires.
The appearance of the murdered woman was hideous enough in itself, but
something else we saw startled us, and sent an increased thrill of
horror through our nerves.
We were awe-struck by the sight of it, yet there was nothing
extraordinarily revolting--merely a half sheet of notepaper upon which
was a large red seal of a peculiar character, fastened to the breast of
the dress.
"Good God! The Seal!"
It was the ejaculation of one of the constables as he knelt and unpinned
the paper.
Breathlessly, we bent over the piece of paper and closely examined it,
for we were all aware of the unparalleled and inexplicable mysteries
with which not only London but the whole world was ringing.
It had an awful significance.
That its exact dimensions and strange hieroglyphics may be the more
readily conceived, I reproduce it here:--
The horrible mystery connected with the fatal device flashed vividly
across my mind in an instant, as, with a sickly, giddy feeling in my
head, my heart beating violently, and my hands trembling as if palsied,
I examined it. What did it mean? I wondered in a dazed fashion, for my
thoughts seemed in a whirl of maddening velocity. There was no power in
my mind to grasp the meaning of the hideous fact at first, and only a
stupefied, dull sense of evil filled my soul.
My mental vision grew gradually clearer after a few moments; as if
slowly awakening from a frightful dream, I drew myself together, trying
to grasp the full interpretation of the mysterious symbol.
Within the past few months there had been no fewer than six murders in
different countries, and in every case a piece of paper with a seal
identical with the one we had just discovered had been found pinned upon
the breast of the victim; yet in no instance had there been a clue to
the murderer, though all the vigilance of the police, both at Scotland
Yard and elsewhere, had been directed towards the elucidation of the
mystery.
We stood aghast and pale, for the discovery had completely dumbfounded
us.
There had been something so uncanny, almost supernatural, about the six
other crimes, which so closely followed each other, that for the moment
we were quite unnerved at this latest essay of the unrevealed assassin.
A momentary glance sufficed to convince the constables that a brutal
murder had been committed, and after a few moments' hesitation two of
their number hurried out--one to fetch the divisional surgeon, the other
to report to the inspector on duty at the station.
The two constables remaining gently lifted the corpse, and placing it
upon a low lounge near, began to examine the apartment. It was a
luxuriously-furnished drawing-room, and the gas, which burned in crimson
glass, threw a soft harmonious light over the furniture and hangings,
which were composed of pale blue satin; and upon the costly nick-nacks
which plainly showed the owner was possessed of artistic tastes and
refinement. A room, in fact, which bore the unmistakable traces of the
daily presence of a woman of wealth and culture.
Glancing round, I could see that some of the articles were of great
value. The pictures were for the most part rare, the quaint old Dresden
and Sevres upon the brackets, and the ivory carvings, were all
curiosities of no ordinary character, while upon the mantelshelf stood a
French clock, the tiny peal of silver bells of which chimed merrily,
even as I looked.
Presently the officers concluded their examination of the room, and
taking one of the candles from the piano, proceeded upstairs to search
the house.
Accompanying them, I, an unwilling witness of this midnight tragedy,
found the whole of the rooms furnished in elegant taste, no expense
having been spared to make them the acme of comfort and luxury. Every
nook and corner was searched, without success, so we returned again to
the drawing-room.
To our surprise we found the body had moved slightly from the position
in which we had placed it. The woman's bloodless face seemed gradually
to assume the faintest flush, her eyelids quivered, and in a strange,
low whisper she uttered a word which to us was unintelligible.
Again she articulated it with evident difficulty; then a convulsive
shudder shook her frame, her breast heaved, and her features again grew
pale and rigid.
We stood watching her for a moment. One of the constables placed his
hand upon her breast, but withdrew it, saying, "It's all over with her,
poor thing; I'm afraid the doctor won't be able to do her any good."
And we sat down to await the arrival of the inspector and surgeon,
conversing only in low whispers.
A few minutes had elapsed, when they entered.
The doctor, as soon as he saw her, shook his head, saying, "Dead, poor
woman! Ah! stabbed to the heart, I see."
"Murder, evidently," exclaimed the inspector, glancing round; then
turning to the constables, he asked, "Have you searched the house?"
"Yes, sir," they replied.
"Found anything?"
"This, we found in the hall," replied one of the men, taking a small
Indian dagger from a side-table, "and this paper was pinned upon her
dress."
The production of the seal caused both the inspector and doctor to start
in surprise, and the former, after examining it, placed it carefully in
his pocket-book.
Taking the knife in his hand, the inspector examined it minutely. It
was stained with blood--evidently the weapon with which the murderer had
dealt the fatal blow.
The doctor also looked at it, and wiping the blood from the victim's
breast, gazed upon the wound, saying, "Yes, that's the knife, without a
doubt; but who did it is the question."
"Who's this gentleman?" asked the officer, jerking his thumb towards me.
"Gentleman who informed us, sir."
"Do you know who lives here?" he asked, sharply, turning to me.
"No, I do not. I am quite a stranger; in fact, I have never been in
this street before in my life."
"Hum!" he grunted, in a rather suspicious manner. "And how came you to
know anything about the affair?"
"I chanced to be passing at the time, and my attention was attracted by
a scream. I found a space between the blind and the window, and my
curiosity being aroused, I looked in and saw the woman had been
murdered."
"Is that all you know?" he asked.
"That's all."
"Well, you won't mind just stepping round to the station for a few
minutes, will you? Then you can give us your version of the matter."
"Oh, certainly I will, with pleasure," I replied. The inspector having
given some instructions to his men, the body of the murdered woman was
covered with a table-cloth, and we went out leaving two constables in
charge of the premises.
Dawn was spreading now; the stars had disappeared, and there were some
saffron tints in the east, heralding the sun's coming. At the corner of
Montague Street the doctor wished us "good-morning," and strode away in
an opposite direction, scarcely well pleased at being aroused from his
bed and called out to witness so unpleasant a sight.