THE WILL OF JULIAN EDERMONT.
After that interview Allen came no more to the Red House. He was aware
that his behaviour appeared shameful; for no other word was applicable
to the conduct of a man who forsook a girl to whom he had been engaged
a year, and refused to disclose the reason of such desertion. Yet he
could act in no other way, for the bar to the marriage, as revealed by
Edermont, was so insuperable and terrible that Allen could not bring
himself to enlighten Dora on the subject. If things looked black
against him, he would have to put up with the situation as best he
could. But to justify his conduct by telling the truth--he could not
do so. In mercy to herself he spared her that revelation.
But if Allen remained absent, others did not. When the fact of the
murder became known, quite a stream of morbid people set forth to view
the scene of the crime. Thanks to the presence of the police, and the
stubborn fact of the high wall, these folk were unable to push
themselves into the house; but they gathered in crowds on the road,
staring and staring, as though they hoped to see through the bricks
and mortar and behold the dead body within. Much speculation was rife
as to the cause of the crime, but the generally accepted opinion was
that Edermont had been murdered by a burglar or burglars. Indeed,
Inspector Jedd inclined to this opinion himself.
This official was a fussy, pompous man, with an immense idea of his
own importance; now that an opportunity occurred of displaying that
importance he made the most of it. What with examining the grounds,
the house, the postern-gate; what with questioning the living inmates
and the doctor who had examined the body, he was as active as a
squirrel, and about as useful. In his sublime self-conceit he could
not see an inch beyond his nose, and accepted the first idea that came
into his head. The bureau was smashed, the drawers pulled out and
emptied of their contents. On these grounds Inspector Jedd concluded
that the death was due to the wrath of an interrupted housebreaker.
"Tramp, you see," he said in his jerky way to admiring subordinates.
"Mr. Edermont--rich house, full of treasures and loose cash--mistaken
whim, very; but tramp, hearing such tales in beer-shops, believes them.
He climbs over the wall; Mr. Edermont has omitted to lock side-door.
Tramp enters easily--sees bureau--thinks money there. Smashes desk with
the bludgeon taken from the wall"--so the inspector denominated the
"knobkerrie"--"Mr. Edermont hears noise--comes in--tramp startled--turns
at bay--kills Mr. Edermont. Takes what he can--steals keys from dead man
and unlocks postern-gate--gets away. There you are! What could be
simpler?"
None of Inspector Jedd's underlings disputed the theory of their
chief, for the simple reason that they believed in it, as they would
have believed in any other he chose to put forward. Joad sneered when
this explanation was repeated in his hearing, but, on the plea that he
knew nothing about such matters, he made no comment upon it. Dora also
disagreed with Jedd, but, being a judicious young woman, she said
nothing. She herself believed that the death was due to revenge, but
as yet she was too uncertain of her ground, too ignorant of Mr.
Edermont's past life, to venture an opinion. The reading of the dead
man's will proved that her insight into the matter was keener than
Jedd's.
But before the reading of the will came the holding of the inquest.
Jedd gathered together all the obtainable evidence, called all the
available witnesses, with the result that nothing was discovered
likely to lead to the assassin's detection. The inquest was held in
the dining-room of the Red House, and everybody who could obtain
admittance was present; but when Dora looked round the crowded room
she noted that three persons whom she expected to see were absent.
These were Allen Scott, because he was her lover, and should have been
at hand to support her in this trial; Mr. Pallant, as he had evidently
some knowledge of Mr. Edermont's past life, and might be curious
concerning his violent death; and Lady Burville, because the sight of
her in church had been, as Dora truly believed, the genesis of all
these woes. But none of the three put in an appearance, and their
absence gave Dora food for reflection.
The first witness called was Meg Gance, the cook, who deposed that she
was usually locked up in her kitchen, with bedroom attached, by the
deceased. On the night of the second of August he had omitted to lock
her up as usual--why, she did not know. It was her custom to rise at
seven and wait till Mr. Edermont came to let her into the main portion
of the house, so that she could go about her work. She was general
servant as well as cook. On the morning of the third she rose as
usual, but Mr. Edermont never came. To her surprise she found the door
leading to the front of the house was unlocked. She passed through
with broom and dust-pan to seek the study, which she usually cleaned
the first thing in the morning. There she saw Mr. Edermont lying dead
near the desk, with his head smashed. The bureau was smashed also, the
drawers were pulled out, and their contents untidily tumbled on the
floor. Near the dead body lay a pistol and a stick (the knobkerrie)
which had been taken from the wall. At once she called Miss Carew. The
witness stated that she had heard no noise during the night. She had
noticed no tramps or suspicious characters looking round the house of
late.
The second witness was Dora Carew, who stated that she had retired as
usual on the previous night at half-past nine, leaving Mr. Edermont to
lock up. Her guardian usually locked the door which closed the passage
on the first-floor leading to her bedroom. On this night he did not do
so, although she was not aware of the fact until summoned by Meg the
next morning. During the night she was awakened by a cry--as it seemed
to her, an appeal for mercy. She listened, but could hear nothing
further, and, thinking she had been dreaming, she had lain down and
gone to sleep again. When she awoke in the morning she was called by
Meg to see the dead body. She was aware that Mr. Edermont considered
himself a threatened man, but she had no knowledge of the person or
persons whom he feared. In reply to a question, this witness stated
that she heard the cry immediately before the clock in the hall struck
"one." She believed that the murder had been committed at that time.
The third witness was Lambert Joad, who gave his evidence as follows:
He was accustomed to leave the Red House at nine o'clock every night
for his cottage, which was on the other side of the road. On the night
of the murder he left as usual, and heard the gate locked behind him.
He went to his cottage, and took his supper and read. Later on he was
joined by Mr. Pride, a tutor in a local private school, who was, like
himself, a classical scholar. Pride talked with him till after two
o'clock in the morning, when he went away. The witness was up at seven
to take a walk before breakfast, as was his custom. In crossing the
fields he noticed that the postern door was open. Astonished at this,
and knowing that Mr. Edermont was particular about keeping the door
closed, he went across to see what was the matter. On entering through
the postern gate he went to the house. To gain the front-door he had
to follow the path between laurel hedges, which passed by the glass
door of the disused drawing-room, off the study. He saw that this door
had no shutters up on the glass, as was customary, and was standing
wide open. He uttered an exclamation of surprise, which brought Miss
Carew into the drawing-room. She called him in, and he saw the dead
body and the smashed desk. He was not aware that Mr. Edermont had
enemies. The witness believed that Edermont's fancy of being
threatened with a violent death was monomania. He recognised the
revolver as the property of the deceased.
The fourth witness was Dr. Chambers, of Canterbury, who deposed that
he had been summoned by Inspector Jedd to examine the body of the
deceased. The head was smashed in by a violent blow on the left
temple, and death must have been instantaneous, After giving some
technical evidence relative to the injuries inflicted, this witness
concluded by stating that, from the condition of the body, he was
satisfied the crime had been committed between twelve and one o'clock
in the morning. This assertion bore out the statement of Miss Carew,
that she had heard the hall clock strike one shortly after the cry for
mercy had awakened her.
The fifth and last witness was Inspector Jedd. He deposed to the state
of the body, the state of the bureau, and the finding of the
knobkerrie and pistol. Evidently the criminal had entered the house
through the side-door of the drawing-room, which was wide open, and
had retreated the same way. No clue had been obtained likely to lead
to the detection of the assassin. The postern gate, usually kept
locked, had been found open on the morning after the crime. Several
tramps had been arrested on suspicion, but one and all had explained
their movements on the night of the second. No one but deceased knew
what was in the bureau, therefore witness was unable to say if
anything was missing.
These five witnesses having given their evidence, the coroner summed
up, after which the jury brought in a verdict that Julian Edermont had
been murdered by some person or persons unknown. It was the only
conclusion to which they could come in the face of such scanty facts
as had been placed before them, and all present departed with the
unsatisfactory feeling that the death of Mr. Edermont was a mystery,
and, what is more, was likely to remain a mystery. And so a very
trying and exciting day came to a conclusion.
Mr. Edermont was duly buried in Chillum churchyard, and again Dora
noticed that Allen was not present at the funeral. When she returned
to the house, Mr. Carver, the long, lean lawyer from Canterbury,
produced the will of the dead man, and read it to herself and Joad. As
Mr. Edermont had no relations, these two were the only people likely
to be interested in the disposition of his property. The will was a
peculiar one, and reflected the lifelong fear of Edermont. Since he
had been relieved of that fear by the visit of Mr. Pallant, he had not
troubled to execute another testament; so the document read by Mr.
Carver showed how vivid had been his presentiment of meeting with a
violent end. The result had justified his fears.
The property included the Red House and its surrounding acres, the
pictures and silver, and also the rental of three farms, amounting to
two hundred a year. All this--house, pictures, silver, and income--was
left to Dora, on condition that she remained at the Red House, and
permitted Lambert Joad to continue his life there on the same footing
as during the life of the deceased. The rest of the property,
consisting of stocks and shares and various investments, amounted in
all to some fifty thousand pounds. And now came the surprising part of
the will. This large sum of money was left unconditionally to such
person or persons as should discover and punish the assassin of the
testator.
"For years," said the maker of the will, "I have been threatened with
violent death by a certain enemy. Sooner or later, in spite of all my
precautions, he will succeed in carrying out his wicked purpose. In
that event I am content to reward the person who punishes him, or
whomsoever he employs, with the sum of fifty thousand pounds. The
story of my life, which sets forth how I incurred the wrath of this
enemy, will be found in my bureau, sealed with my seal. Let my ward,
Dora Carew, read the document, and discover the assassin, so that she
can at once revenge my death and inherit my money. But in any case she
is provided for, as is Lambert Joad; and the bulk of my estate must go
to him or her who punishes my enemy."
Then followed the usual clauses ending the will, the signatures of the
testator, and of two witnesses.
When Carver had finished there was a dead silence, which was broken by
the lawyer himself.
"It is a strange will," said he, taking off his spectacles, "and
hardly worded in a legal manner. But it holds good, nevertheless, so I
can only recommend you, Miss Carew, or you, Mr. Joad, to gain fifty
thousand pounds if you can."
"Will that sum actually be paid over to the discoverer of the
assassin?" cried Joad, with sparkling eyes.
"My dear sir," said Carver, with a solemn smile on his lean face, "the
man or woman who discovers the murderer of my late client will
receive"--he smacked his lips--"fifty thousand pounds!"