Thursday night was wet and dismal in London as I stood outside the
underground railway station at King's Cross at eight o'clock, keeping my
appointment with the Honourable Sybil.
There was a good deal of traffic and bustle in the Pentonville Road; the
shops were still open, and the working-class population, notwithstanding
the rain, were out with their baskets, making their purchases after
their day's labour.
At that spot in the evening one sees a veritable panorama of London
life, its humours and its tragedies, for there five of the great
arteries of traffic converge, while every two minutes the subterranean
railway belches forth its hurrying, breathless crowds to swell the
number of passers-by.
The station front towards the King's Cross Road is somewhat in the
shadow, and there I stood in patience and in wonder.
What Eric and had discovered in Winsloe's kitbag had rendered the
mystery the more tantalising, it being a cheap carte-de-visite
photograph of the dead stranger--a picture which showed him in a dark
tweed suit and golf-cap stuck slightly askew, as many young men of the
working-class wear their caps.
We were both greatly puzzled. How came the portrait in Ellice's
possession? And why, if he were not in fear of some secret being
divulged, did he not identify the stranger?
Again I recollected well how Sybil had declared her intention to marry
Ellice. For what reason? Was it in order to prevent her own secret
being exposed?
We had replaced the photograph--which, unfortunately, bore no
photographer's name--re-locked the bag, and left the room utterly
confounded.
During the two days that followed both of us had watched Winsloe
carefully, and had seen his ill-concealed anxiety lest the dead man
should be identified by Jack. Once or twice, as was but natural, at
table or in the billiard-room, Scarcliff had referred to the strange
affair and declared,--
"I'm sure I've seen the poor chap before, but where, I can't for the
life of me recollect."
The face was constantly puzzling him, and thus Winsloe remained anxious
and agitated.
In order to watch and learn what I could, I remained Jack's guest until
after the inquest. The inquiry was duly held at the Spread Eagle at
Midhurst, with the usual twelve respectable tradesmen as Jurymen, and
created great excitement in the little town. Ellice went out shooting
with Wydcombe on that day, while Jack, Eric and myself drove over to
hear the evidence.
There was very little to hear. The affair was still a complete mystery.
According to the two doctors who had made the examination the stranger
had been shot through the heart about eight hours prior to his
discovery--murdered by an unknown hand, for although the police had made
a strict search the weapon had not been discovered.
The fact that not a scrap of anything remained to lead to the dead man's
identity puzzled the police, more especially the absence of the tab from
the back of the coat. The two detectives from London sat beside us and
listened to the evidence with dissatisfaction. Booth made his
statement, and then the inquiry was formally adjourned.
There was nothing else. Both police and public were puzzled and the
coroner remarked to the jury that he hoped when they next met some
information would be forthcoming which might lead to the stranger's
identity.
We drove back in the dog-cart, and on the way Jack turned to me,
saying,--
"I'd give worlds to know the real truth of that affair. I'm quite
positive I've seen the face somewhere, but where, I can't fix."
"That's a pity," Eric remarked. "One day, however, it'll come to you,
and when it does we may hope to discover the guilty person."
That night in the billiard-room Winsloe asked us what had taken place at
the inquest, endeavouring to put his question unconcernedly. Eric and I
could, however, see how anxious he was.
"Nobody knows yet who he is," Jack answered, as he chalked his cue
preparatory to making a shot. "The police have discovered nothing--
except that a woman was seen coming from the wood just about four
o'clock."
"A woman!" I cried, staring at him. "Who said so? It was not given in
evidence."
"No," he replied. "Booth told me just as we came out that somebody had
said so, but that he did not give it in evidence, as he considered it
wiser to say nothing."