Tom looked blankly at Kennedy, and then at his sister, who was sitting
alone. I thought I could read what was passing in his mind. With all
his faults Lewis Langley had been a good foster-parent to his adopted
children. But it was all over now if the will was lost.
“What can I do?” asked Tom hopelessly. “I have nothing to reply to him.”
“But I have,” quietly returned Kennedy, deliberately folding up the
message and handing it back. “Tell them all to be in the library in
fifteen minutes. This message hurries me a bit, but I am prepared. You
will have something to wire Mr. Clark after that.” Then he strode
off toward the house, leaving us to gather the group together in
considerable bewilderment.
A quarter of an hour later we had all assembled in the library, across
the hall from the room in which Lewis Langley had been found. As usual
Kennedy began by leaping straight into the middle of his subject.
“Early in the eighteenth century;” he commenced slowly, “a woman was
found burned to death. There were no clues, and the scientists of that
time suggested spontaneous combustion. This explanation was accepted.
The theory always has been that the process of respiration by which
the tissues of the body are used up and got rid of gives the body a
temperature, and it has seemed that it may be possible, by preventing
the escape of this heat, to set fire to the body.”
We were leaning forward expectantly, horrified by the thought that
perhaps, after all, the Record was correct.
“Now,” resumed Kennedy, his tone changing, “suppose we try a little
experiment--one that was tried very convincingly by the immortal Liebig.
Here is a sponge. I am going to soak it in gin from this bottle, the
same that Mr. Langley was drinking from on the night of the--er--the
tragedy.”
Kennedy took the saturated sponge and placed it in an agate-iron pan
from the kitchen. Then he lighted it. The bluish flame shot upward,
and in tense silence we watched it burn lower and lower, till all the
alcohol was consumed. Then he picked up the sponge and passed it around.
It was dry, but the sponge itself had not been singed.
“We now know,” he continued, “that from the nature of combustion it
is impossible for the human body to undergo spontaneous ignition
or combustion in the way the scientific experts of the past century
believed. Swathe the body in the thickest of non-conductors of heat, and
what happens? A profuse perspiration exudes, and before such an ignition
could possibly take place all the moisture of the body would have to be
evaporated. As seventy-five per cent or more of the body is water, it
is evident that enormous heat would be necessary--moisture is the great
safeguard. The experiment which I have shown you could be duplicated
with specimens of human organs preserved for years in alcohol in
museums. They would burn just as this sponge--the specimen itself would
be very nearly uninjured by the burning of the alcohol.”
“Then, Professor Kennedy, you maintain that my brother did not meet his
death by such an accident” asked James Langley.
“Exactly that, sir,” replied Craig. “One of the most important aspects
of the historic faith in this phenomenon is that of its skilful
employment in explaining away what would otherwise appear to be
convincing circumstantial evidence in cases of accusations of murder.”
“Then how do you explain Mr. Langley's death?” demanded Harrington. “My
theory of a spark from a cigar may be true, after all.”
“I am coming to that in a moment,” answered Kennedy quietly. “My first
suspicion was aroused by what not even Doctor Putnam seems to have
noticed. The skull of Mr. Langley, charred and consumed as it was,
seemed to show marks of violence. It might have been from a fracture of
the skull or it might have been an accident to his remains as they were
being removed to the anteroom. Again, his tongue seemed as though it was
protruding. That might have been natural suffocation, or it might have
been from forcible strangulation. So far I had nothing but conjecture to
work on. But in looking over the living-room I found near the table, on
the hardwood floor, a spot--just one little round spot. Now, deductions
from spots, even if we know them to be blood, must be made very
carefully. I did not know this to be a blood-spot, and so was very
careful at first.
“Let us assume it was a blood-spot, however. What did it show? It was
just a little regular round spot, quite thick. Now, drops of blood
falling only a few inches usually make a round spot with a smooth
border. Still the surface on which the drop falls is quite as much a
factor as the height from which it falls. If the surface is rough
the border may be irregular. But this was a smooth surface and not
absorbent. The thickness of a dried blood-spot on a non-absorbent
surface is less the greater the height from which it has fallen. This
was a thick spot. Now if it had fallen, say, six feet, the height of Mr.
Langley, the spot would have been thin--some secondary spatters
might have been seen, or at least an irregular edge around the spot.
Therefore, if it was a blood-spot, it had fallen only one or two feet.
I ascertained next that the lower part of the body showed no wounds or
bruises whatever.
“Tracks of blood such as are left by dragging a bleeding body differ
very greatly from tracks of arterial blood which are left when the
victim has strength to move himself. Continuing my speculations,
supposing it to be a blood-spot, what did it indicate? Clearly that
Mr. Langley was struck by somebody on the head with a heavy instrument,
perhaps in another part of the room, that he was choked, that as the
drops of blood oozed from the wound on his head, he was dragged across
the floor, in the direction of the fireplace--”
“But, Professor Kennedy,” interrupted Doctor Putnam, “have you proved
that the spot was a blood-spot? Might it not have been a paint-spot or
something of that sort?”
Kennedy had apparently been waiting for just such a question.
“Ordinarily, water has no effect on paint,” he answered. “I found that
the spot could be washed off with water. That is not all. I have a test
for blood that is so delicately sensitive that the blood of an Egyptian
mummy thousands of years old will respond to it. It was discovered by
a German scientist, Doctor Uhlenhuth, and was no longer ago than last
winter applied in England in connection with the Clapham murder.
The suspected murderer declared that stains on his clothes were only
spatters of paint, but the test proved them to be spatters of blood.
Walter, bring in the cage with the rabbits.”
I opened the door and took the cage from the groom, who had brought it
up from the stable and stood waiting with it some distance away.
“This test is very simple, Doctor Putnam,” continued Craig, as I placed
the cage on the table and Kennedy unwrapped the sterilised test-tubes.
“A rabbit is inoculated with human blood, and after a time the serum
that is taken from the rabbit supplies the material for the test.
“I will insert this needle in one of these rabbits which has been so
inoculated and will draw off some of the serum, which I place in this
test-tube to the right. The other rabbit has not been inoculated. I draw
off some of its serum and place that tube here on the left--we will call
that our 'control tube.' It will check the results of our tests.
“Wrapped up in this paper I have the scrapings of the spot which I
found on the floor--just a few grains of dark, dried powder. To show
how sensitive the test is, I will take only one of the smallest of these
minute scrapings. I dissolve it in this third tube with distilled water.
I will even divide it in half, and place the other half in this fourth
tube.
“Next I add some of the serum of the uninoculated rabbit to the half in
this tube. You observe, nothing happens. I add a little of the serum of
the inoculated rabbit to the other half in this other tube. Observe how
delicate the test is--”
Kennedy was leaning forward, almost oblivious of the rest of us in the
room, talking almost as if to himself. We, too, had riveted our eyes on
the tubes.
As he added the serum from the inoculated rabbit, a cloudy milky ring
formed almost immediately in the hitherto colourless, very dilute
blood-solution.
“That,” concluded Craig, triumphantly holding the tube aloft, “that
conclusively proves that the little round spot on the hardwood floor was
not paint, was not anything in this wide world but blood.”
No one in the room said a word, but I knew there must have been someone
there who thought volumes in the few minutes that elapsed.
“Having found one blood-spot, I began to look about for more, but was
able to find only two or three traces where spots seemed to have been.
The fact is that the blood spots had been apparently carefully wiped up.
That is an easy matter. Hot water and salt, or hot water alone, or even
cold water, will make quite short work of fresh blood-spots--at least
to all outward appearances. But nothing but a most thorough cleaning
can conceal them from the Uhlenhuth test, even when they are apparently
wiped out. It is a case of Lady Macbeth over again, crying in the face
of modern science, 'Out, out, damned spot.'
“I was able with sufficient definiteness to trace roughly a course
of blood-spots from the fireplace to a point near the door of the
living-room. But beyond the door, in the hall, nothing.”
“Still,” interrupted Harrington, “to get back to the facts in the case.
They are perfectly in accord either with my theory of the cigar or the
Record's of spontaneous combustion. How do you account for the facts?”
“I suppose you refer to the charred head, the burned neck, the upper
chest cavity, while the arms and legs were untouched?”
“Yes, and then the body was found in the midst of combustible
furniture that was not touched. It seems to me that even the
spontaneous-combustion theory has considerable support in spite of this
very interesting circumstantial evidence about blood-spots. Next to my
own theory, the combustion theory seems most in harmony with the facts.”
“If you will go over in your mind all the points proved to have been
discovered--not the added points in the Record story--I think you
will agree with me that mine is a more logical interpretation than
spontaneous combustion,” reasoned Craig. “Hear me out and you will see
that the facts are more in harmony with my less fanciful explanation.
No, someone struck Lewis Langley down either in passion or in cold
blood, and then, seeing what he had done, made a desperate effort to
destroy the evidence of violence. Consider my next discovery.”
Kennedy placed the five glasses which I had carefully sealed and
labelled on the table before us.
“The next step,” he said, “was to find out whether any articles of
clothing in the house showed marks that might be suspected of being
blood-spots. And here I must beg the pardon of all in the room for
intruding in their private wardrobes. But in this crisis it was
absolutely necessary, and under such circumstances I never let ceremony
stand before justice.
“In these five glasses on the table I have the washings of spots from
the clothing worn by Tom, Mr. James Langley, Junior, Harrington Brown,
and Doctor Putnam. I am not going to tell you which is which--indeed I
merely have them marked, and I do not know them myself. But Mr. Jameson
has the marks with the names opposite on a piece of paper in his pocket.
I am simply going to proceed with the tests to see if any of the stains
on the coats were of blood.”
Just then Doctor Putnam interposed. “One question, Professor Kennedy.
It is a comparatively easy thing to recognise a blood-stain, but it is
difficult, usually impossible, to tell whether the blood is that of a
man or of an animal. I recall that we were all in our hunting-jackets
that day, had been all day. Now, in the morning there had been an
operation on one of the horses at the stable, and I assisted the
veterinary from town. I may have got a spot or two of blood on my coat
from that operation. Do I understand that this test would show that?”
“No,” replied Craig, “this test would not show that. Other tests would,
but not this. But if the spot of human blood were less than the size of
a pin-head, it would show--it would show if the spot contained even
so little as one twenty-thousandth of a gram of albumin. Blood from a
horse, a deer, a sheep, a pig, a dog, could be obtained, but when the
test was applied the liquid in which they were diluted would remain
clear. No white precipitin, as it is called, would form. But let human
blood, ever so diluted, be added to the serum of the inoculated rabbit,
and the test is absolute.”
A death-like silence seemed to pervade the room. Kennedy slowly and
deliberately began to test the contents of the glasses. Dropping into
each, as he broke the seal, some of the serum of the rabbit, he waited a
moment to see if any change occurred.
It was thrilling. I think no one could have gone through that fifteen
minutes without having it indelibly impressed on his memory. I recall
thinking as Kennedy took each glass, “Which is it to be, guilt or
innocence, life or death?” Could it be possible that a man's life might
hang on such a slender thread? I knew Kennedy was too accurate and
serious to deceive us. It was not only possible, it was actually a fact.
The first glass showed no reaction. Someone had been vindicated.
The second was neutral likewise--another person in the room had been
proved innocent.
The third--no change. Science had released a third.