"I expect so. They'll get into trouble one of these nights."
And so the curious incident ended. I walked with them to the further
end of Britten Street, taking leave of the unsuspecting detective in the
King's Road. He returned to his vigil, but I laughed within myself
knowing how ingeniously the wily pair had slipped through his fingers.
On my drive back to the club I wondered whether I had acted wisely. At
any rate I had made the acquaintance of the woman Lejeune, and had
succeeded in showing her that I was prepared to aid her in exchange for
the secret upon the knowledge of which Lolita's future depended.
Whether she would keep faith with me was quite another matter.
I deeply regretted that I had not been able to ascertain the name of the
man who had been Lolita's companion and had talked so earnestly with her
in the wood. Without doubt he knew of the tragedy in the park--if,
indeed, he were not the actual murderer. This latter suspicion became
somehow impressed upon me. His face had gone ashen grey when I had
revealed to them that a detective was awaiting them round the corner.
Was it possible that he had come to London in order to hide, knowing
that the Metropolis is the best place to secrete oneself in all the
world.
Next day at noon I sat in the schoolroom at Sibberton, listening to the
opening of the Coroner's inquiry into the tragedy. The facts having
already got into the papers, the small room was crowded to suffocation
by villagers and outsiders. The jury had viewed the body over at the
_Stanchester Arms_ opposite, and after a few introductory remarks from
the Coroner, a solicitor from Northampton, I was called as the first
witness.
I told how I had obtained the assistance of the publican Warr, and
described how we had found the body of the murdered man. Then, when I
had concluded, the foreman of the jury, a man who combined the avocation
of baker and local preacher, asked--
"What first aroused your attention?"
"I heard a noise," I replied. I did not intend to tell them the truth--
that it was a woman's cry. "A noise from behind the trees in the
avenue," I added. "It was very dark at that point."
"You saw no one?"
"Nobody. I came to the village at once for assistance."
"Any other questions to ask?" inquired the Coroner of the jury.
"I would like, sir, to inquire whether Mr Woodhouse had any suspicion
of the body having been searched before he discovered it?" asked Redway,
the police officer.
My answer was a negative one. I feared he was about to question me
regarding the footprints, and held my breath in fear and expectation.
"What time elapsed between the hour when you heard the noise and the
discovery of the tragic occurrence?" the Coroner asked.
"About half an hour."
A dozen other questions upon points of detail were put to me, but they
were of no importance. Neither was the evidence given by Warr or any
other of the witnesses, except perhaps that of Dr Pink, who, in his
sharp way and using many medical terms which conveyed no meaning to the
majority of those in the room, explained that the result of the
post-mortem was that the man had been fatally stabbed.
"The instrument used was not an ordinary knife," the doctor continued.
"From the appearance of the wound it must have been inflicted by a long
thin triangular instrument almost like a skewer. With a sharp point
this would penetrate the man's clothing much more easily than a knife or
dagger, which requires considerable force to drive to the heart. My
colleague, Doctor Newman, agrees with me that such an instrument as was
used could be used fatally with very little force. It was, at the
point, almost as sharp as a needle, and each of the three sides were
keen-edged as razors--a terrible weapon. I don't think it was much more
than a quarter of an inch across at its widest part."
The public heard this and sat mystified.
"Then it would appear very much as though the crime were a premeditated
one," remarked the Coroner, looking up when he had finished laboriously
writing down the depositions with his scratchy quill.
"Undoubtedly," replied the doctor. "The man is a complete stranger, and
no doubt kept an appointment at that spot and was done to death. The
steel inflicted a mortal wound, and he must have expired in a few
moments."
"Any questions to ask the doctor?" inquired the Coroner turning to the
twelve villagers who sat in a row in their Sunday clothes.
There was no response, therefore Redway was called, and the public, to
whom he was well-known, were instantly on the alert.
"Philip Redway, inspector, Northamptonshire Constabulary," he commenced,
giving his evidence with the business-like air of police officials. "I
was called by Constable Knight of Sibberton at five AM on the 18th of
August and drove back with him to a spot in Sibberton Park where the
deceased had been discovered. I examined the ground carefully and found
certain marks of footprints, casts of which I have taken. I afterwards
saw the body of the deceased, but do not identify him. His description
has been circulated throughout the Kingdom, but up to the present no one
has recognised him. I have also had the body photographed."
"These footprints?" asked the Coroner, laying down his pen and looking
at the inspector. "Are you of opinion that they will form any
substantial clue to the assassin?"
"The marks were those of a woman's feet," Redway explained, whereat
there was a stir of sensation among the public, who sat so quiet and
open-mouthed that the proverbial pin might hitherto have been heard had
it been dropped.
"Recent?"
"No doubt," was his reply. "There were also the marks of the boots worn
by deceased--and of others. The latter were probably those of Mr
Woodhouse, Mr Warr and Constable Knight. They were so overtrodden that
it was very difficult to recognise any distinctly. One fact, however,
that I might mention, sir, and which adds a peculiar mystery to this
case, is that I discovered that certain footprints had been deliberately
erased."
"Erased!" exclaimed the Coroner, surprised. "How do you mean?"
"Scratched over by some person who was able to visit the spot before I
could arrive there."
"Some accomplice?"
"It seems so. The spot was unfortunately left unguarded during Knight's
absence to warn me, and in that time it would appear that some one went
there and deliberately set about to defeat the ends of justice."
"This seems very curious and suspicious, gentlemen," remarked the
Coroner, re-adjusting his gold pince-nez as he turned to the twelve
expectant jurymen. "If the theory of the police is true, then some
second person, having knowledge of the crime, risked arrest and actually
went to the spot and effaced those tell-tale marks. That the assassin
had an accomplice is thus proved without a doubt. Therefore I think
that under such peculiar circumstances you should leave the matter in
the hands of the police to investigate. They will, I hope, be able both
to establish the dead man's identity, and to fix the crime upon the
guilty person. In cases such as this it is always best for the jury to
return a verdict of `Wilful Murder against some person or persons
unknown,' as it allows the police an entirely free hand afterwards, and
prevents them from being compelled in evidence to disclose the nature or
direction of the inquiries."
"Redway's a fool. He'll discover nothing," whispered the Earl to me, as
he stood beside me in the further corner of the schoolroom. "If Sir
Stephen had stirred up Scotland Yard we might have hoped for success.
But now it's in Redway's hands we may rest assured it will be bungled
from the very first."
"I fear so," was my reply, although at heart I was honestly glad that
the inquiries were left to the local constabulary.
"Well, sir," exclaimed the foreman of the jury to the Coroner, "we are,
I think, entirely in your hands."
"You've heard the evidence, and that is as far as we can proceed
to-day," he said. "Of course if you deem it wiser to adjourn for a week
you may do so. You are here to decide not who committed the murder but
to inquire by what means the deceased came by his death. About the
latter I think you can have no doubt, and if you return a verdict in
accordance with the evidence--a verdict of wilful murder--then the
police will push their inquiries, I hope, to some successful issue. Are
you all agreed?"
The twelve villagers in their Sunday tweeds whispered together and the
local baker at last replied in the affirmative. Then the verdict was
signed, and Knight in a loud voice thanked the jury for their attendance
and declared the court closed.
Thus ended the official inquiry into the death of the man unknown--the
man who had carried secreted within his vest the paper with those
strange cabalistic numbers written upon it, and who, strangest of all,
had worn in the ring upon his finger a portrait of my love!