A WOMAN WITHOUT A PAST
As desired, Gebb looked at the gaily decked figure in the chair, and
tried to find out what Mrs. Presk meant.
"Well, I'm looking," he said at length, "but I'm blest if I can see
anything."
"Of course you can't!" cried the landlady, hysterically triumphant,
"'cause they ain't there!"
"What aren't there?"
"The diamonds!"
"Diamonds!" repeated Gebb, with a start, as he noted that the dead
woman wore no jewellery. "Had she diamonds?"
"I should think she had!" said Mrs. Presk, sitting down again. "Stars
for her hair, rings, bracelets, and the loveliest necklace you ever
saw--just like dewdrops with the sun on them. She wore her jewellery
every night, and all to eat her chop. I saw them diamonds on her afore
I went to the lecture."
"And when you came back they were gone."
"Every one of them," replied Mrs. Presk, defiantly, "and when I
noticed it--for, to own up, Mr. Gebb, I didn't notice they were gone
till I was here with you talking about her dress--but when I did
notice, I ran out of the room 'cause I was a-feared you might say
'Tilda and I stole 'em."
"Nonsense! Why should I say that?"
"Oh, there ain't no tellings," said Mrs. Presk, with a toss of her
head.
"Was that why you made all that howling?"
"Yes, it was, sir; and I ran out to the kitchen to ask 'Tilda if she
had noticed if the diamonds were gone when we came in first; for I was
that flurried I didn't look for 'em."
"And does 'Tilda say the diamonds were gone?"
"Yes! I dessay the murdering villain who killed the poor dear stole
'em. I wish I had the hanging of him."
"Oh, you may assist me to put the rope round his neck," said Gebb.
"Well, Mrs. Presk, I'll come and see you to-morrow, and you must tell
me all you know about this woman. In the mean time, I think I hear the
doctor coming."
The detective's ears had not deceived him, for the approaching
footsteps were those of the doctor. Escorted by the policeman who had
met Mrs. Presk, he entered in no very good humour at being knocked up
at so late an hour. However, the looks of the corpse, and the
appearance of the room both astonished and interested him; and he made
his examination. It took only a few minutes for him to decide that the
death had taken place shortly before or after ten o'clock, and must
have been almost instantaneous. When the examination was concluded,
Gebb and the inspector left the house in charge of the policeman, and
returned to the station to make their report. While the prosaic
Lackland set down the bare details of the case for the information of
the authorities, Gebb mused over the events of the night, and pondered
what was best to be done under the circumstances.
As yet he had gained no information from Mrs. Presk about her lodger,
but intended to examine her on the morrow when she was somewhat
recovered from the strain of the late events. In the mean time, Gebb
fancied that the strange room, designed and furnished by the dead
woman, might turn out a more important factor in the matter than at
present appeared. Even if Mrs. Presk did prove to be ignorant of Miss
Ligram's past--which was extremely unlikely--the strongly marked and
eccentric taste of the lodger, as exemplified in illumination,
colouring, and furnishing, might provide a sufficiently stable basis
for operations. In a word, Gebb considered that the most promising
clue to the mystery was the predominance of the colour yellow in the
sitting-room. Criminal problems, as he knew, had been solved by
slighter means.
As Lackland surmised, Gebb, being high in favour with the authorities
as a detective of no ordinary capabilities, had little difficulty in
gaining their consent to taking charge of the case. The inspector made
his report, Gebb his application, and after the due formalities had
been complied with, the detective found that the responsibility of
tracing Miss Ligram's assassin lay solely on his own shoulders,
which--as he comfortably assured himself--were quite capable of
bearing the burden. He was the more pleased with his employment,
as the Grangebury murder case promised to be one of those mysteries
which he loved. A dead woman: a strangely furnished room: a pack of
cards: these were the elements of the case, and, so far as Gebb could
see at present, there was no clue--save the lavish use of the colour
yellow--to the past of the victim, or the identity of the assassin. In
Mrs. Presk lay his sole hope of gaining intelligence likely to lead to
some practical result; so at eleven o'clock next morning Gebb, in an
anxious frame of mind, was once more on the scene of the murder, and
in the presence of his principal witness.
In the searching light of day Mrs. Presk was more uncomely than ever.
Tall, gaunt, angular, and dressed in the worst possible taste, she
presented few of the alluring graces of her sex. To have woo'd, and
won, and lived with this strident Amazon, the late Mr. Presk must have
been a suitor of no ordinary courage. However, she made an excellent
witness, as her brain was clear, her courage high, and she had not a
morsel of imagination. Moreover, her hysteria of the previous night
had disappeared.
She answered Gebb's leading questions in a cut-and-dried fashion,
without discursive rambling after her own private opinions: but with
all this, the examination, and the details obtainable therefrom,
proved to be anything but satisfactory. Considering the business-like
instincts of detective and widow, a more meagre result can scarcely be
conceived.
"For how long has Miss Ligram been lodging with you?" was Gebb's first
question, put in a form which appeared to assume that the victim was
still in existence.
"For three months," replied Mrs. Presk, referring to a dingy little
book with which she had furnished herself, in anticipation of the
ordeal. "She came to me on the first of May last; she left here--for
heaven, I hope--on the twenty-fourth day of July; so, as you can
see for yourself, Mr. Gebb, she has been with me two months and
twenty-four days, neither more nor less; and there ain't no Court of
Law as I'd swear different in."
"She came in answer to an advertisement, I suppose?"
"No, she didn't," contradicted the widow. "I don't advertise: it's
low. I put a card in the window, and it was that card which made Miss
Ligram apply here for board and lodging. She applied," continued Mrs.
Presk, consulting her book, "on the twenty-ninth of April, and I
agreed to take her on the thirtieth; so that she entered my house on
the first of May."
"Why two days' delay?"
"Because I couldn't make up my mind about taking her in."
"She offered you too little?"
"On the contrary, Mr. Gebb, she offered me too much."
"No wonder you thought her eccentric," said the detective, with irony;
"but kindly explain the position more fully."
"I asked her three pound a week for parlour, bedroom, fire, and
light, which is little enough, I'm sure, as everything in my house is
of the best To my surprise. Miss Ligram offered to pay me six--just
double--on condition that I allowed her to dismantle the front room,
and refurnish it herself."
"Did she give any reason for this singular request?"
"She said she liked her own goods and chattels about her," replied
Mrs. Presk; "and though at first I did not fancy the idea of clearing
out the parlour--which was most handsomely furnished--yet, on thinking
over the matter, I decided that double the money I asked was not to be
despised. I therefore agreed to Miss Ligram's terms, and on the last
day of April I dismantled the parlour. On the first of May Miss Ligram
came in a van and----"
"Came in a van?" interrupted Gebb, profoundly astonished.
"Yes! she rode beside the driver, and he assisted her to set out the
parlour in the style you saw. It was all done in a day by the pair,
for Miss Ligram would not let me help."
"Perhaps she was afraid of your asking the driver questions as to
where she came from?" suggested Gebb, shrewdly.
"She might have saved herself the trouble," said Mrs. Presk, grimly.
"I did speak to the driver, and asked that very question, only to find
that he was deaf and dumb."
"Queer!" murmured the detective, rubbing his nose. "She took good care
to hide her past I wonder why?"
"I don't," snapped the landlady with feminine malevolence; "it's my
opinion that Miss Ligram's past was not respectable."
"H'm! I must say it looks like it. What was the name on the van?"
"There was no name, Mr. Gebb. The van--painted yellow, with one grey
horse and a red-headed driver, deaf and dumb--was the private property
of Miss Ligram. It was not the first time she had moved that yellow
room about," and the widow nodded significantly.
"Why are you doubtful of Miss Ligram's past?"
"Well!" said Mrs. Presk, taking time to answer this question, "you can
only judge a person's past by a person's present, and Miss Ligram knew
too many shady people for my taste."
"Shady people!" echoed Gebb, pricking up his ears at this hint of a
clue; "what sort of people?"
"Fortune-tellers, conjurors, spiritualists, and such-like, sir."
"Ah!" Gebb recalled the spread-out pack of cards, "so she was rather
superstitious."
"Superstitious!" cried Mrs. Presk, casting up her eyes. "She was a
very pagan for omens, and talismans, and consultation of cards. There
wasn't a fortune-teller in London she hadn't down here at one time or
another to read her hand, or question the stars, or look into the
crystal ball, or spread out the cards. She was a perfect gold mine to
those swindlers, believing all their lies, like the poor benighted
heathen she was."
"What did she particularly seek to know?"
"The future!" was the landlady's curt reply.
"No doubt," returned Gebb, dryly; "and her own future at that. But was
there any particular aim in her questioning?"
"Yes!" said Mrs. Presk, with a burst of confidence, "there was. I
found it out from one of her fortune-telling visitors. She wanted to
know if she would die by violence."
"So!" said Gebb, drawling out the word reflectively in the German
fashion. "And was a violent death predicted?"
"It was--by the fortune-teller I asked, Mr. Gebb; and sure enough the
prediction came true, though, as a rule, I don't believe in such
rubbish; still it was queer she should die with the ace of spades in
her lap."
"A fortune-teller was with her on the night she was killed," said
Gebb, after a pause.
"How do you know, sir?" questioned Mrs. Presk, eagerly.
"Because the cards were laid out, and the death-card was in the lap of
the corpse. Now I believe that this man---- By the way," said Gebb,
breaking away from his original speech, "did Miss Ligram smoke?"
"Not to my knowledge," rejoined Mrs. Presk, promptly. "She was a lady
in her habits. Some of 'em was queer, but they were all genteel;
indeed they were."
"It's not out of keeping with well-bred habits for a lady to smoke,"
corrected the detective, mildly. "Many ladies do nowadays. But
as--according to you--Miss Ligram did not smoke herself, it is
probable that her visitor was a man. I found the stump of a cigarette
near the chair. When he got behind it to strangle her----"
"To strangle her!" repeated Mrs. Presk, horrified "Do you think this
fortune-teller killed her?"
"Yes, I do. I believe firmly that, attracted by her diamonds, he
verified his own prediction, and murdered her in the most cold-blooded
fashion."
"Impossible, Mr. Gebb. He was a friend of hers!"
"Ah! you know the man!" cried Gebb, pouncing down on this admission.
"No, I don't!" cried the landlady, in rather a nervous manner for one
of her iron composure, "but I know she had a visitor on that night.
She told me she had a friend coming, but she didn't say if it was a
lady or a gentleman. It was because Miss Ligram expected this person
that she sent 'Tilda and me to the lecture."
"Sent you to the lecture!" said Gebb, emphasizing the first word.
"Well, she didn't exactly send us," explained Mrs. Presk, reluctantly,
"but she gave me two tickets and suggested that we should go. Knowing
her habits, and always willing to oblige, I went, and took 'Tilda."
"What do you mean?" asked Gebb, staring at the landlady.
Mrs. Presk explained herself more clearly.
"On occasions Miss Ligram was ashamed of her superstitions, I think,
sir, for three or four times she got me and 'Tilda out of the house
while she consulted her swindlers. Once," said Mrs. Presk, consulting
her book, "it was the Crystal Palace; again, two seats at the Adelphi;
Earl's Court Exhibition three weeks ago, and the local lecture last
night. But we came back always to find her in bed, until this last
time," concluded Mr. Presk, with a shudder.
"A strange woman," commented Gebb, thoughtfully. "So you never found
out where she came from?"
"No, sir, she was as close as wax. I called her the Lady from
Nowhere."
"You know nothing of her past?"
"Nothing! She might have come from the moon for all I know of her."
"You saw no letters, photographs----"
"Nothing!" interrupted the landlady, emphatically. "I saw nothing."
"Then," said Gebb, rising briskly, "I must stick to the clue of the
Yellow Room."