Mr. Ludgrove’s Invitation
April gave place to May, and May to June, with no further development
in the mystery which surrounded the Praed Street murders. The
discovery of the knife in the pocket of Mr. Copperdock’s overcoat,
combined with the fact that although Dr. Priestley and Mr. Ludgrove
had each received a numbered counter, they had not so far been menaced
by any particular danger, had convinced the police that the secret had
died with Mr. Copperdock. A very careful examination of the handle
showed that it bore his finger-marks, and his son, although he could
not account for its presence where he had found it, was emphatic that
it could not have been placed there since the night of his death.
The Professor made no reference whatever to the case, either to Harold
or to Hanslet. The latter during his infrequent visits to the house in
Westbourne Terrace, made no reference to the case. He was becoming
more and more convinced that the Professor’s interview with the Black
Sailor had been a pure hallucination; that the Professor, having
imagined the sequel to his theory of the jurymen, had somehow been
under the illusion that the events of his imagination had actually
taken place. In his own mind, however, he was by no means satisfied
with the official view of the matter, of which Whyland was the
principal exponent. It left so much to be explained, chiefly
Copperdock’s motive, to say nothing of his methods. To begin with, how
had he contrived to murder Mr. Tovey, when at the moment of the
latter’s death he was sitting comfortably before his own fire? And, if
the answer to this was that he had accomplices, who and where were
they?
However, his superiors appeared to be satisfied, and, towards the
beginning of June Hanslet went off upon his long postponed leave. The
Professor’s time was fully occupied in correcting the proofs of _Some
Aspects of Modern Thought_, which were now coming in from the printer,
whose reader, appalled by some of the Professor’s strictures upon his
contemporaries, had scattered here and there across the margin the
ominous words “Query, libellous?” To each of these the Professor added
the note: “Nonsense!” in letters half an inch long at least. It was
perhaps fortunate for the conscientious reader that he was beyond the
reach of the Professor’s tongue.
The rigid police protection which had at first been imposed upon both
the Professor and Mr. Ludgrove had been gradually relaxed until now it
had dwindled to nothing more serious than a casual glance at their
houses by the constable on beat when he happened to pass them. The
professor himself appeared to have forgotten the warning given to him
by the Black Sailor, and to have acquiesced in the official view that,
since the perpetrator had committed suicide, nothing further would be
heard of the murders.
It was while matters were in this state that Dr. Priestley received
one Saturday morning a letter which obviously caused him some
satisfaction. It was signed “Elmer Ludgrove” and was written in a
curiously neat and clerkly hand. The contents of it were as follows:
“Dear Sir. I should not venture to write to you, but for the fact
that I know that you are as interested in the recent affair of the
numbered counters as I am myself. I have recently come across,
wholly by accident, certain curious facts which may serve to throw
an entirely fresh light upon the deaths of six men, which, to my
mind, have not yet been satisfactorily explained. I am not anxious
to approach the police, at least until I have consulted you. The
police, as is perhaps natural, could scarcely be expected to welcome
disclosures which would completely upset their official theory. They
believe, as I confess I did at one time myself, that the late Mr.
Copperdock was guilty, and that his mania finally culminated in his
own suicide.
“If I am correct in my deductions from the new evidence which has
come into my hands, I can prove beyond question that Mr. Copperdock
was innocent, indeed, that he himself fell a victim to the agency
which committed the other murders. I must ask you to respect my
confidence until you have allowed me to put my evidence before you.
When this has been done, I shall ask your advice as to the best
means of laying it before the authorities. You, I have reason to
believe, are on friendly terms with Inspector Hanslet, and perhaps
you will agree, when you have examined the evidence I shall put
before you, that it will be best to call him into consultation.
“I suggest, as the various exhibits to which I shall be compelled to
refer are at present at my house, and as it may be necessary for me
to point out to you certain peculiarities of the locations in which
the murders took place, that your examination be carried out there.
As I believe that as little time as possible should be wasted, I
suggest, if it meets with your approval, that you should do me the
honour of calling upon me this evening. As, in the light of recent
events, you may not care to come to Praed Street alone, I propose to
call upon you after your dinner this evening, and to learn your
wishes in the matter. If you agree to my suggestion, we can then
walk to my house together. I am, sir, yours faithfully,
“Elmer Ludgrove”
The Professor read this letter through twice. His final conclusion was
that this man Ludgrove had in some way discovered that the dead men
had all been members of the Morlandson jury. After all, he knew from
the Black Sailor’s words that Ludgrove had made inconvenient
enquiries, and it was possible that he had somehow stumbled upon the
truth. Anyway, there could be no harm in going to see him and hearing
what he had to say. Besides, he had never conveyed to him the Black
Sailor’s warning. Hanslet might have, but the Professor, who had
penetrated the ill-concealed scepticism of the Inspector, considered
this unlikely. In any case, by comparing notes with this man, who had
been living in Praed Street throughout the period of the murders, he
might derive a hint which would lead him to his goal.
For Dr. Priestley, although he appeared to have put the whole affair
out of his mind, was in fact determined to find the solution of the
problem. He felt that so far the part he had played had been a
distinctly ignominious one. Both his theory of the motive of the
crimes and his account of his meeting with the Black Sailor had been
disregarded. And although Dr. Priestley affected to regard his
excursions into the solution of criminal problems with half-amused
tolerance, his ill-success hitherto in this instance was a secret, but
none the less bitter, blow to his pride.
Yes, he would certainly go to see this man Ludgrove. His letter showed
him to be a man above the ordinary standard of education of people in
his position. Hanslet had spoken of him as a man of considerable
intelligence. The Professor, considering the matter, felt that he
might well have got into touch with him before. He began to think that
he had been too ready to rely upon the police descriptions of the
events which had taken place, and had neglected an alternative source
of information which might contain many details of value. And, his
determination made, the Professor fidgeted all day until, having
hurried through dinner and found himself in his study earlier than
usual, he could expect his visitor.
Mary had been instructed to show him straight in, and, when he was at
length announced, the Professor rose at once to greet him. Mr.
Ludgrove, seen for the first time, was certainly an imposing and
dignified figure. His snowy white hair and beard gave him a
patriarchal appearance, produced an almost severe impression, which
was only modified by the kindly smile which habitually hovered at the
corner of his mouth. His eyes were screened by his powerful
spectacles, but one guessed them to be direct and piercing in their
expression.
“I am delighted to meet you, Mr. Ludgrove,” said the Professor warmly.
“Yes, I am Dr. Priestley, and this is my secretary, Mr. Merefield. I
received your letter, and am much obliged to you for your suggestion,
which I shall be very glad to fall in with.”
“Thank you, Dr. Priestley, you are very kind,” replied Mr. Ludgrove,
in his deep and pleasant voice. The Professor glanced at him in
astonishment. Neither the voice nor the intonation were such as he
would have expected of a herbalist in Praed Street.
“It is a beautiful evening,” continued Mr. Ludgrove. “Shall we walk to
my house, or would you prefer to call a taxi? I know that the vicinity
of Praed Street has a bad reputation as a result of these deaths, but
although, as you probably know, I received a numbered counter some
weeks ago, I have so far come to no harm. You need have no
apprehensions once we reach my house. The police still display
considerable concern for my safety.”
Mr. Ludgrove smiled, and even the Professor’s set features relaxed a
little. “I am not afraid to walk to Praed Street, especially in your
company, Mr. Ludgrove,” he replied.
“And coming back?” persisted the herbalist. “I fear I have no
telephone, and it may take me some minutes to find you a cab. I should
be happy to walk back here with you.”
The Professor made an impatient gesture. “Believe me, Mr. Ludgrove, I
am no more afraid of Praed Street than you are. If you insist upon
walking home with me, I shall be very glad of your company. If not, I
am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“It will be late, I am afraid, that is, if you have the patience to
listen to me for so long,” replied Mr. Ludgrove. “I shall be compelled
to inflict upon you a long and possibly tedious tale. However, you
shall decide how much of it you wish to listen to.”
“I am usually considered a good listener,” said the Professor. “Shall
we walk to your house, Mr. Ludgrove?”
The herbalist assenting, they left the house and walked down
Westbourne Terrace together. Mr. Ludgrove’s shop was scarcely half a
mile away, and they covered the distance in a few minutes, conversing
about anything but the matter uppermost in their thoughts. The
Professor found Mr. Ludgrove a most entertaining companion, and found
himself wondering what such a man was doing to be compelled to keep a
shop in such an odd neighbourhood.
They walked down Praed Street without adventure, and Mr. Ludgrove
unlocked the door of his shop with his latchkey. They passed through
it into the inner room, the window of which was already curtained and
the gas lighted. Dr. Priestley cast a swift glance round it, noting
with interest the scientific instruments on the bench, the cases full
of books, and two comfortable armchairs. “This is a very comfortable
room of yours, Mr. Ludgrove,” he remarked approvingly.
“It has heard some queer stories in its time,” replied Mr. Ludgrove
with a smile. “You can form no idea of the extraordinary confessions
which some of my clients force me to listen to. But I can assure you
that it has heard nothing more amazing that the story which I am about
to unfold to you this evening.”
“May I ask a question before you begin, Mr. Ludgrove?” said the
Professor quietly.
“Certainly, pray ask as many as you please,” replied Mr. Ludgrove with
a smile.
“How did you learn of my interest in this affair? So far as I am
aware, it is not common property.”
“I am afraid that Inspector Hanslet was indiscreet,” replied Mr.
Ludgrove. “When he first took over the case, he came here and had a
long talk with me. He said then that he would put the facts before one
whose powers of deduction were unrivalled. When I next saw him, he
happened to mention your name, which I already knew as that of the
boldest and most enterprising scientist of the age. It required very
little intelligence on my part to infer that you would be interested
in these extraordinary happenings, and that you were scarcely likely
to accept the official explanation of them.”
“I see,” said the Professor. “Well, as it happens, your inference is
correct. I am greatly interested, and I have a theory of my own as to
the motive for the murders, which the police have been pleased to
reject. I am all the more anxious to hear the evidence you have to put
before me. There is still one more point in which I am interested. I
am informed that, sometime before his death, Mr. Copperdock reported
that he had met an individual known as the Black Sailor. Upon this
being reported to you, you stated that you happened to have Mr.
Copperdock under observation at the moment when he stated the meeting
took place, and that no Black Sailor was present. Is this correct?”
“I can assure you, Dr. Priestley, that at that moment there was nobody
in sight but Mr. Copperdock and myself,” replied Mr. Ludgrove simply.
“Thank you,” said the Professor. “Now, I am prepared to examine the
evidence you have to show me.”
Mr. Ludgrove rose from his chair. “Will you excuse me for a few
minutes, Dr. Priestley?” he said. “Before I begin my explanation, I
should like to fetch certain things which I have put in a place of
security upstairs. I will not keep you very long.”
He passed into the shop as he spoke, and the Professor could hear the
sound of his footsteps as he climbed the stairs. The Professor, left
alone in the room, proceeded to examine the titles of the books in the
shelves. They were mainly botanical works, such as one might expect to
find in the library of a herbalist. But here and there among them were
a few volumes of general scientific interest. Dr. Priestley smiled as
he saw, lying inconspicuously at the end of one of the shelves, a work
he had published a year or so before, _Fact and Fallacy_. No doubt
this had given Ludgrove the cue to his own interest in a problem so
intricate as that of the Praed Street murders.
Lying next to it was a book bearing the name of an author well-known
in the scientific world, which the Professor had never heard of. He
took it up and began to turn over the pages with interest. His eye
caught a passage dealing with one of the subtler mathematical problems
raised by a particular aspect of relativity. He became absorbed in
this, forgetting all about Mr. Ludgrove and his promised
demonstration. So he remained for several minutes, until he had read
the passage from beginning to end. Then, all at once, he became
conscious that he was no longer alone in the room, that somebody was
standing just inside the door, awaiting his pleasure. The Professor
laid the book down, and turned on his heel, an apology upon his lips.
But the words died in his throat, and he stood for an instant staring
at the figure with unbelieving eyes.
It was the Black Sailor.