trouble thus to disguise himself, and thus to hide his occupation
even from his wife, he had some very good reason for secrecy. Now the
goods which a man would be likely to carry secretly in a cart or van,
as a regular piece of business, would probably be either stolen or
smuggled. When I examined those pieces of linoleum, I became
convinced that they were intended merely as receptacles for some
other sort of article altogether. They were old, and had evidently
been thus rolled for a very long period. They appeared to have been
exposed to weather, but on the outside only. Moreover they were all
of one size and shape, each forming a long, hollow cylinder, with
plenty of interior room. Now from this it was plainly unlikely that
they were intended to hold _stolen_ goods. Stolen goods are not apt
to be always of one size and shape, adaptable to a cylindrical
recess. Perhaps they were smuggled. Now the only goods profitable to
be smuggled nowadays are tobacco and spirits, and plainly these rolls
of linoleum would be excellent receptacles for either. Tobacco could
be packed inside the rolls and the ends stopped artistically with
narrow rolls of linoleum. Spirits could be contained in metal
cylinders exactly fitting the cavity, and the ends filled in the same
way as for tobacco. But for tobacco a smart man would probably make
his linoleum rolls of different sizes, for the sake of a more
innocent appearance, while for spirits it would be a convenience to
have vessels of uniform measure, to save trouble in quicker delivery
and calculation of quantity. Bearing these things in mind, I went in
search of the gentle nurseryman at Crouch End. My general survey of
the nursery ground and the house behind it inspired me with the
notion that the situation and arrangement were most admirably adapted
for the working of a large illicit still--a form of misdemeanour, let
me tell you, that is much more common nowadays than is generally
supposed. I remembered Geldard’s engineering experience, and I heard
something of the odd manners of Mr. Fuller; my theory of a traffic in
untaxed spirits became strengthened. But why a nursery? Was this a
mere accident of the design? There were commonly irrigation pipes
about nurseries, and an extra one might easily be made to carry
whisky. With this in mind I visited the nursery with the result you
know of. The stand-pipe I tested (which was where I expected--handy
to the vehicle-entrance) could produce simple New River water or raw
whisky at command of one of two stop-cocks. My duty was plain. As you
know, I am a citizen first and an investigator after, and I find the
advantage of it in my frequent intercourse with the police and other
authorities. As soon as I could get away I telegraphed to Somerset
House. But then I grew perplexed on a point of conduct. I was
commissioned by Mrs. Geldard. It scarcely seemed the loyal thing to
put my client’s husband in gaol because of what I had learnt in
course of work on her behalf. I decided to give him, and nobody else,
a sporting chance. If I could possibly get at him in the time at my
disposal, by himself, so that no accomplice should get the benefit of
my warning, I would give him a plain hint to run; then he could take
his chance. I returned to the place and began to work round the
grounds, examining the place as I went; but at the very first
outhouse I put my head into I was surprised in the rear by Mrs.
Geldard coming in hot haste to stop me and rescue her husband. She
most unmistakably gave me the sack, and so now the police may catch
Geldard or not, as their luck may be.”
They did catch him. In the next day’s papers a report of a great
capture of illicit distillers occupied a prominent place. The
prisoners were James Fuller, Henry Matthew Trennatt, Sarah Blatten, a
deaf woman, Samuel Geldard, and his wife Rebecca Geldard. The two
women were found on the premises in violent altercation when the
officers arrived, a few minutes after Hewitt and I had left the
police station on our way home. It was considered by far the greatest
haul for the revenue authorities since the seizure of the famous
ship’s boiler on a wagon in the East End stuffed full of tobacco,
after that same ship’s boiler had made about a dozen voyages to the
Continent and back “for repair.” Geldard was found dressed as a
workman, carrying out extensive alterations and repairs to the still.
And a light van was found in a shed belonging to the nursery loaded
with seventeen rolls of linoleum, each enclosing a cylinder
containing two gallons of spirits, and packed at each end with narrow
linoleum rolls. It will be remembered that seventeen was the number
of crosses at the foot of Emma Trennatt’s note.
[Illustration: THE PRISONERS.]
The subsequent raids on a number of obscure public-houses in
different parts of London, in consequence of information gathered on
the occasion of the Geldard capture, resulted in the seizure of a
large quantity of secreted spirit for which no permit could be shown.
It demonstrated also the extent of Geldard’s connection, and
indicated plainly what was done with the spirit when he had carted it
away from Crouch End. Some of the public-houses in question must have
acquired a notoriety among the neighbours for frequent purchases of
linoleum.
THE CASE OF THE LATE MR. REWSE
I
Of this case I personally saw nothing beyond the first advent in
Hewitt’s office of Mr. Horace Bowyer, who put the case in his hands,
and then I merely saw Mr. Bowyer’s back as I passed downstairs from
my rooms. But I noted the case in full detail after Hewitt’s return
from Ireland, as it seemed to me one not entirely without interest,
if only as an exemplar of the fatal ease with which a man may
unwittingly dig a pit for his own feet--a pit from which there is no
climbing out.
A few moments after I had seen the stranger disappear into Hewitt’s
office, Kerrett brought to Hewitt in his inner room a visitor’s slip
announcing the arrival on urgent business of Mr. Horace Bowyer. That
the visitor was in a hurry was plain from a hasty rattling of the
closed wicket in the outer room where Mr. Bowyer was evidently making
impatient attempts to follow his announcement in person. Hewitt
showed himself at the door and invited Mr. Bowyer to enter, which he
did, as soon as Kerrett had released the wicket, with much
impetuosity. He was a stout, florid gentleman with a loud voice and a
large stare.
“Mr. Hewitt,” he said, “I must claim your immediate attention to a
business of the utmost gravity. Will you please consider yourself
commissioned, wholly regardless of expense, to set aside whatever you
may have in hand and devote yourself to the case I shall put in your
hands?”
“Certainly not,” Hewitt replied with a slight smile. “What I have in
hand are matters which I have engaged to attend to, and no mere
compensation for loss of fees could persuade me to leave my clients
in the lurch, else what would prevent some other gentleman coming
here to-morrow with a bigger fee than yours and bribing me away from
you?”
“But this--this is a most serious thing, Mr. Hewitt. A matter of
life or death--it is indeed!”
“Quite so,” Hewitt replied; “but there are a thousand such matters
at this moment pending of which you and I know nothing, and there are
also two or three more of which you know nothing, but on which I am
at work. So that it becomes a question of practicability. If you will
tell me your business I can judge whether or not I may be able to
accept your commission concurrently with those I have in hand. Some
operations take months of constant attention; some can be conducted
intermittently; others still are a mere matter of a few days--many of
hours simply.”
“I will tell you then,” Mr. Bowyer replied. “In the first place,
will you have the kindness to read that? It is a cutting from the
_Standard’s_ column of news from the provinces of two days ago.”
Hewitt took the cutting and read as follows:--
“The epidemic of small-pox in County Mayo, Ireland, shows few signs
of abating. The spread of the disease has been very remarkable
considering the widely-scattered nature of the population, though
there can be no doubt that the market-towns are the centres of
infection, and that it is from these that the germs of contagion are
carried into the country by people from all parts who resort thither
on market days. In many cases the disease has assumed a particularly
malignant form, and deaths have been very rapid and numerous. The
comparatively few medical men available are sadly overworked, owing
largely to the distances separating their different patients. Among
those who have succumbed within the last few days is Mr. Algernon
Rewse, a young English gentleman who has been staying with a friend
at a cottage a few miles from Cullanin, on a fishing excursion.”
[Illustration: ALGERNON REWSE.]
Hewitt placed the cutting on the table at his side. “Yes?” he said
inquiringly. “It is to Mr. Algernon Rewse’s death you wish to draw my
attention?”
“It is,” Mr. Bowyer answered; “and the reason I come to you is that
I very much suspect--more than suspect, indeed--that Mr. Algernon
Rewse has _not_ died by small-pox, but has been murdered--murdered
cold-bloodedly, and for the most sordid motives, by the friend who
has been sharing his holiday.”
“In what way do you suppose him to have been murdered?”
“That I cannot say--that, indeed, I want you to find out, among
other things--chiefly, perhaps, the murderer himself, who has made
off.”
“And your own status in the matter,” queried Hewitt, “is that of--?”
“I am trustee under a will by which Mr. Rewse would have benefited
considerably had he lived but a month or two longer. That
circumstance indeed lies rather near the root of the matter. The
thing stood thus. Under the will I speak of--that of young Rewse’s
uncle, a very old friend of mine in his lifetime--the money lay in
trust till the young fellow should attain twenty-five years of age.
His younger sister, Miss Mary Rewse, was also benefited, but to a
much smaller extent. She was to come into her property also on
attaining the age of twenty-five, or on her marriage, whichever event
happened first. It was further provided that in case either of these
young people died before coming into the inheritance, his or her
share should go to the survivor. I want you particularly to remember
this. You will observe that now, in consequence of young Algernon
Rewse’s death, barely two months before his twenty-fifth birthday,
the whole of the very large property--all personalty, and free from
any tie or restriction--which would otherwise have been his, will, in
the regular course, pass, on her twenty-fifth birthday, _or on her
marriage,_ to Miss Mary Rewse, whose own legacy was comparatively
trifling. You will understand the importance of this when I tell you
that the man whom I suspect of causing Algernon Rewse’s death, and
who has been his companion on his otherwise lonely holiday, is
engaged to be married to Miss Rewse.”
Mr. Bowyer paused at this, but Hewitt only raised his eyebrows and
nodded.
“I have never particularly liked the man,” Mr. Bowyer went on. “He
never seemed to have much to say for himself. I like a man who holds
up his head and opens his mouth. I don’t believe in the sort of
modesty that he showed so much of--it isn’t genuine. A man can’t
afford to be genuinely meek and retiring who has his way to make in
the world--and he was clever enough to know _that.”_
“He is poor, then?” Hewitt asked.
“Oh yes, poor enough. His name, by the bye, is Main--Stanley
Main--and he is a medical man. He hasn’t been practising, except as
assistant, since he became qualified, the reason being, I understand,
that he couldn’t afford to buy a good practice. He is the person who
will profit by young Rewse’s death--or at any rate who intended to;
but we will see about that. As for Mary, poor girl, she wouldn’t have
lost her brother for fifty fortunes.”
“As to the circumstances of the death, now?”
“Yes, yes, I am coming to that. Young Algernon Rewse, you must know,
had rather run down in health, and Main persuaded him that he wanted
a change. I don’t know what it was altogether, but Rewse seemed to
have been having his own little love troubles and that sort of thing,
you know. He’d been engaged, I think, or very nearly so, and the
young lady died, and so on. Well, as I said, he had run down and got
into low health and spirits, and no doubt a change of some sort would
have done him good. This Stanley Main always seemed to have a great
influence over the poor boy--he was about four or five years older
than Rewse--and somehow he persuaded him to go away, the two
together, to some outlandish wilderness of a place in the West of
Ireland for salmon-fishing. It seemed to me at the time rather a
ridiculous sort of place to go to, but Main had his way, and they
went. There was a cottage--rather a good sort of cottage, I believe,
for the district--which some friend of Main’s, once a landowner in
the district, had put up as a convenient box for salmon-fishing, and
they rented it. Not long after they got there this epidemic of
small-pox got about in the district--though that, I believe, has had
little to do with poor young Rewse’s death. All appeared to go well
until a day over a week ago, when Mrs. Rewse received this letter
from Main.” Mr. Bowyer handed Martin Hewitt a letter, written in an
irregular and broken hand, as though of a person writing under stress
of extreme agitation. It ran thus:--
“MY DEAR MRS. REWSE,--
“You will probably have heard through the newspapers--indeed I think
Algernon has told you in his letters--that a very bad epidemic of
small-pox is abroad in this district. I am deeply grieved to have to
tell you that Algernon himself has taken the disease in a rather bad
form. He showed the first symptoms to-day (Tuesday), and he is now in
bed in the cottage. It is fortunate that I, as a medical man, happen
to be on the spot, as the nearest local doctor is five miles off at
Cullanin, and he is working and travelling night and day as it is. I
have my little medicine chest with me, and can get whatever else is
necessary from Cullanin, so that everything is being done for
Algernon that is possible, and I hope to bring him up to scratch in
good health soon, though of course the disease is a dangerous one.
Pray don’t unnecessarily alarm yourself, and don’t think about coming
over here, or anything of that sort. You can do no good, and will
only run risk yourself. I will take care to let you know how things
go on, so please don’t attempt to come. The journey is long and would
be very trying to you, and you would have no place to stay at nearer
than Cullanin, which is quite a centre of infection. I will write
again to-morrow.
“Yours most sincerely,
“STANLEY MAIN.”
Not only did the handwriting of this letter show signs of agitation,
but here and there words had been repeated, and sometimes a letter
had been omitted. Hewitt placed the letter on the table by the
newspaper cutting, and Mr. Bowyer proceeded.
“Another letter followed on the next day,” he said, handing it to
Hewitt as he spoke; “a short one, as you see; not written with quite
such signs of agitation. It merely says that Rewse is very bad, and
repeats the former entreaties that his mother will not think of going
to him.” Hewitt glanced at the letter and placed it with the other,
while Mr. Bowyer continued: “Notwithstanding Main’s persistent
anxiety that she should stay at home, Mrs. Rewse, who was of course
terribly worried about her only son, had almost made up her mind, in
spite of her very delicate health, to start for Ireland, when she
received a third letter announcing Algernon’s death. Here it is. It
is certainly the sort of letter that one might expect to be written
in such circumstances, and yet there seems to me at least a certain
air of disingenuousness about the wording. There are, as you see, the
usual condolences, and so forth. The disease was of the malignant
type, it says, which is terribly rapid in its action, often carrying
off the patient even before the eruption has time to form. Then--and
this is a thing I wish you especially to note--there is once more a
repetition of his desire that neither the young man’s mother nor his
sister shall come to Ireland. The funeral must take place
immediately, he says, under arrangements made by the local
authorities, and before they could reach the spot. Now doesn’t this
obtrusive anxiety of his that no connection of young Rewse’s should
be near him during his illness, nor even at the funeral, strike you
as rather singular?”
“Well, possibly it is; though it may easily be nothing but zeal for
the health of Mrs. Rewse and her daughter. As a matter of fact, what
Main says is very plausible. They could do no sort of good in the
circumstances, and might easily run into danger themselves, to say
nothing of the fatigue of the journey and general nervous upset. Mrs.
Rewse is in weak health, I think you said?”
“Yes, she’s almost an invalid, in fact; she is subject to heart
disease. But tell me now, as an entirely impartial observer, doesn’t
it seem to you that there is a very forced, unreal sort of tone in
all these letters?”
“Perhaps one may notice something of the sort, but fifty things may
cause that. The case from the beginning may have been worse than he
made it out. What ensued on the receipt of this letter?”
“Mrs. Rewse was prostrated, of course. Her daughter communicated
with me as a friend of the family, and that is how I heard of the
whole thing for the first time. I saw the letters, and it seemed to
me, looking at all the circumstances of the case, that somebody at
least ought to go over and make certain that everything was as it
should be. Here was this poor young man, staying in a lonely cottage
with the only man in the world who had any reason to desire his
death, or any profit to gain by it, and he had a very great
inducement indeed. Moreover he was a medical man, _carrying his
medicine chest with him,_ remember, as he says himself in his letter.
In this situation Rewse suddenly dies, with nobody about him, so far
as there is anything to show, but Main himself. As his medical
attendant it would be Main who would certify and register the death,
and no matter what foul play might have taken place he would be safe
as long as nobody was on the spot to make searching inquiries--might
easily escape even then, in fact. When one man is likely to profit
much by the death of another a doctor’s medicine chest is likely to
supply but too easy a means to his end.”
“Did you say anything of your suspicions to the ladies?”
“Well--well, I hinted perhaps--no more than hinted, you know. But
they wouldn’t hear of it--got indignant, and ‘took on’ as people call
it, worse than ever, so that I had to smooth them over. But since it
seemed somebody’s duty to see into the matter a little more closely,
and there seemed to be nobody to do it but myself, I started off that
very evening by the night mail. I was in Dublin early the next
morning, and spent that day getting across Ireland. The nearest
station was ten miles from Cullanin, and that, as you remember, was
five miles from the cottage, so that I drove over on the morning of
the following day. I must say Main appeared very much taken aback at
seeing me. His manner was nervous and apprehensive, and made me more
suspicious than ever. The body had been buried, of course, a couple
of days or more. I asked a few rather searching questions about the
illness, and so forth, and his answers became positively confused. He
had burned the clothes that Rewse was wearing at the time the disease
first showed itself, he said, as well as all the bedclothes, since
there was no really efficient means of disinfection at hand. His
story in the main was that he had gone off to Cullanin one morning on
foot to see about a top joint of a fishing-rod that was to be
repaired. When he returned early in the afternoon he found Algernon
Rewse sickening of small-pox, at once put him to bed, and there
nursed him till he died. I wanted to know, of course, why no other
medical man had been called in. He said that there was only one
available, and it was doubtful if he could have been got at even a
day’s notice, so overworked was he; moreover he said this man, with
his hurry and over-strain, could never have given the patient such
efficient attention as he himself, who had nothing else to do. After
a while I put it to him plainly that it would at any rate have been
more prudent to have had the body at least inspected by some
independent doctor, considering the fact that he was likely to profit
so largely by young Rewse’s death, and I suggested that with an
exhumation order it might not be too late now, as a matter of justice
to himself. The effect of that convinced me. The man gasped and
turned blue with terror. It was a full minute, I should think, before
he could collect himself sufficiently to attempt to dissuade me from
doing what I had hinted at. He did so as soon as he could by every
argument he could think of--entreated me, in fact, almost
desperately. That decided me. I said that after what he had said, and
particularly in view of his whole manner and bearing, I should
insist, by every means in my power, on having the body properly
examined, and I went off at once to Cullanin to set the telegraph
going, and see whatever local authority might be proper. When I
returned in the afternoon Stanley Main had packed his bag and
vanished, and I have not heard nor seen anything of him since. I
stayed in the neighbourhood that day and the next, and left for
London in the evening. By the help of my solicitors proper
representations were made at the Home Office, and, especially in view
of Main’s flight, a prompt order was made for exhumation and medical
examination preliminary to an inquest. I am expecting to hear that
the disinterment has been effected to-day. What I want you to do, of
course, is chiefly to find Main. The Irish constabulary in that
district are fine big men, and no doubt most excellent in quelling a
faction fight or shutting up a shebeen, but I doubt their efficiency
in anything requiring much more finesse. Perhaps also you may be able
to find out something of the means by which the murder--it is plain
it is one--was committed. It is quite possible that Main may have
adopted some means to give the body the appearance, even to a medical
man, of death from small-pox.”
“That,” Hewitt said, “is scarcely likely, else, indeed, why did he
not take care that another doctor should see the body before the
burial? That would have secured him. But that is not a thing one can
deceive a doctor over. Of course in the circumstances exhumation is
desirable, but if the case _is_ one of small-pox, I don’t envy the
medical man who is to examine. At any rate the business is, I should
imagine, not likely to be a very long one, and I can take it in hand
at once. I will leave to-night for Ireland by the 6.30 train from
Euston.”
“Very good. I shall go over myself, of course. If anything comes to
my knowledge in the meanwhile, of course I’ll let you know.”
An hour or two after this a cab stopped at the door, and a young
lady dressed in black sent in her name and a minute later was shown
into Hewitt’s room. It was Miss Mary Rewse. She wore a heavy veil,
and all she said she uttered in evidently deep distress of mind.
Hewitt did what he could to calm her, and waited patiently.
At length she said: “I felt that I must come to you, Mr. Hewitt, and
yet now that I am here I don’t know what to say. Is it the fact that
Mr. Bowyer has commissioned you to investigate the circumstances of
my poor brother’s death, and to discover the whereabouts of Mr. Main?”
“Yes, Miss Rewse, that is the fact. Can you tell me anything that
will help me?”
“No, no, Mr. Hewitt, I fear not. But it is such a dreadful thing,
and Mr. Bowyer is--I’m afraid he is so much prejudiced against Mr.
Main that I felt I ought to do something--to say something at least
to prevent you entering on the case with your mind made up that he
has been guilty of such an awful thing. He is really quite incapable
of it, I assure you.”
“Pray, Miss Rewse,” Hewitt replied, “don’t allow that apprehension
to disturb you. If Mr. Main is, as you say, incapable of such an act
as perhaps he is suspected of, you may rest assured no harm will come
to him. So far as I am concerned, at any rate, I enter the case with
a perfectly open mind. A man in my profession who accepted prejudices
at the beginning of a case would have very poor results to show
indeed. As yet I have no opinion, no theory, no prejudice--nothing
indeed but a bare outline of facts. I shall derive no opinion and no
theory from anything but a consideration of the actual circumstances
and evidences on the spot. I quite understand the relation in which
Mr. Main stands in regard to yourself and your family. Have you heard
from him lately?”
“Not since the letter informing us of my brother’s death.”
“Before then?”
Miss Rewse hesitated.
“Yes,” she said, “we corresponded. But--but there was really
nothing--the letters were of a personal and private sort--they were--”