SUICIDE OR MURDER?
"At first there was only talk of a terrible accident, the result of some
inexplicable carelessness which perhaps the evidence at the inquest
would help to elucidate.
"Medical assistance came too late; the unfortunate woman was indeed
dead, frozen to death, inside her own room. Further examination showed
that she had received a severe blow at the back of the head, which must
have stunned her and caused her to fall, helpless, beside the open
window. Temperature at five degrees below zero had done the rest.
Detective Inspector Howell discovered close to the window a wrought-iron
gas bracket, the height of which corresponded exactly with the bruise at
the back of Mrs. Owen's head.
"Hardly however had a couple of days elapsed when public curiosity was
whetted by a few startling headlines, such as the halfpenny evening
papers alone know how to concoct.
"'The mysterious death in Percy Street.' 'Is it Suicide or Murder?'
'Thrilling details--Strange developments.' 'Sensational Arrest.'
"What had happened was simply this:
"At the inquest a few certainly very curious facts connected with Mrs.
Owen's life had come to light, and this had led to the apprehension of a
young man of very respectable parentage on a charge of being concerned
in the tragic death of the unfortunate caretaker.
"To begin with, it happened that her life, which in an ordinary way
should have been very monotonous and regular, seemed, at any rate
latterly, to have been more than usually chequered and excited. Every
witness who had known her in the past concurred in the statement that
since October last a great change had come over the worthy and honest
woman.
"I happen to have a photo of Mrs. Owen as she was before this great
change occurred in her quiet and uneventful life, and which led, as far
as the poor soul was concerned, to such disastrous results.
"Here she is to the life," added the funny creature, placing the photo
before Polly--"as respectable, as stodgy, as uninteresting as it is well
possible for a member of your charming sex to be; not a face, you will
admit, to lead any youngster to temptation or to induce him to commit a
crime.
"Nevertheless one day all the tenants of the Rubens Studios were
surprised and shocked to see Mrs. Owen, quiet, respectable Mrs. Owen,
sallying forth at six o'clock in the afternoon, attired in an
extravagant bonnet and a cloak trimmed with imitation astrakhan
which--slightly open in front--displayed a gold locket and chain of
astonishing proportions.
"Many were the comments, the hints, the bits of sarcasm levelled at the
worthy woman by the frivolous confraternity of the brush.
"The plot thickened when from that day forth a complete change came over
the worthy caretaker of the Rubens Studios. While she appeared day after
day before the astonished gaze of the tenants and the scandalized looks
of the neighbours, attired in new and extravagant dresses, her work was
hopelessly neglected, and she was always 'out' when wanted.
"There was, of course, much talk and comment in various parts of the
Rubens Studios on the subject of Mrs. Owen's 'dissipations.' The tenants
began to put two and two together, and after a very little while the
general consensus of opinion became firmly established that the honest
caretaker's demoralisation coincided week for week, almost day for day,
with young Greenhill's establishment in No. 8 Studio.
"Every one had remarked that he stayed much later in the evening than
any one else, and yet no one presumed that he stayed for purposes of
work. Suspicions soon rose to certainty when Mrs. Owen and Arthur
Greenhill were seen by one of the glass workmen dining together at
Gambia's Restaurant in Tottenham Court Road.
"The workman, who was having a cup of tea at the counter, noticed
particularly that when the bill was paid the money came out of Mrs.
Owen's purse. The dinner had been sumptuous--veal cutlets, a cut from
the joint, dessert, coffee and liqueurs. Finally the pair left the
restaurant apparently very gay, young Greenhill smoking a choice cigar.
"Irregularities such as these were bound sooner or later to come to the
ears and eyes of Mr. Allman, the landlord of the Rubens Studios; and a
month after the New Year, without further warning, he gave her a week's
notice to quit his house.
"'Mrs. Owen did not seem the least bit upset when I gave her notice,'
Mr. Allman declared in his evidence at the inquest; 'on the contrary,
she told me that she had ample means, and had only worked latterly for
the sake of something to do. She added that she had plenty of friends
who would look after her, for she had a nice little pile to leave to any
one who would know how "to get the right side of her."'
"Nevertheless, in spite of this cheerful interview, Miss Bedford, the
tenant of No. 6 Studio, had stated that when she took her key to the
caretaker's room at 6.30 that afternoon she found Mrs. Owen in tears.
The caretaker refused to be comforted, nor would she speak of her
trouble to Miss Bedford.
"Twenty-four hours later she was found dead.
"The coroner's jury returned an open verdict, and Detective-Inspector
Jones was charged by the police to make some inquiries about young Mr.
Greenhill, whose intimacy with the unfortunate woman had been
universally commented upon.
"The detective, however, pushed his investigations as far as the
Birkbeck Bank. There he discovered that after her interview with Mr.
Allman, Mrs. Owen had withdrawn what money she had on deposit, some
£800, the result of twenty-five years' saving and thrift.
"But the immediate result of Detective-Inspector Jones's labours was
that Mr. Arthur Greenhill, lithographer, was brought before the
magistrate at Bow Street on the charge of being concerned in the death
of Mrs. Owen, caretaker of the Rubens Studios, Percy Street.
"Now that magisterial inquiry is one of the few interesting ones which I
had the misfortune to miss," continued the man in the corner, with a
nervous shake of the shoulders. "But you know as well as I do how the
attitude of the young prisoner impressed the magistrate and police so
unfavourably that, with every new witness brought forward, his position
became more and more unfortunate.
"Yet he was a good-looking, rather coarsely built young fellow, with
one of those awful Cockney accents which literally make one jump. But he
looked painfully nervous, stammered at every word spoken, and repeatedly
gave answers entirely at random.
"His father acted as lawyer for him, a rough-looking elderly man, who
had the appearance of a common country attorney rather than of a London
solicitor.
"The police had built up a fairly strong case against the lithographer.
Medical evidence revealed nothing new: Mrs. Owen had died from exposure,
the blow at the back of the head not being sufficiently serious to cause
anything but temporary disablement. When the medical officer had been
called in, death had intervened for some time; it was quite impossible
to say how long, whether one hour or five or twelve.
"The appearance and state of the room, when the unfortunate woman was
found by Mr. Charles Pitt, were again gone over in minute detail. Mrs.
Owen's clothes, which she had worn during the day, were folded neatly on
a chair. The key of her cupboard was in the pocket of her dress. The
door had been slightly ajar, but both the windows were wide open; one of
them, which had the sash-line broken, had been fastened up most
scientifically with a piece of rope.
"Mrs. Owen had obviously undressed preparatory to going to bed, and the
magistrate very naturally soon made the remark how untenable the theory
of an accident must be. No one in their five senses would undress with a
temperature at below zero, and the windows wide open.
"After these preliminary statements the cashier of the Birkbeck was
called and he related the caretaker's visit at the bank.
"'It was then about one o'clock,' he stated. 'Mrs. Owen called and
presented a cheque to self for £827, the amount of her balance. She
seemed exceedingly happy and cheerful, and talked about needing plenty
of cash, as she was going abroad to join her nephew, for whom she would
in future keep house. I warned her about being sufficiently careful with
so large a sum, and parting from it injudiciously, as women of her class
are very apt to do. She laughingly declared that not only was she
careful of it in the present, but meant to be so for the far-off future,
for she intended to go that very day to a lawyer's office and to make a
will.'
"The cashier's evidence was certainly startling in the extreme, since in
the widow's room no trace of any kind was found of any money; against
that, two of the notes handed over by the bank to Mrs. Owen on that day
were cashed by young Greenhill on the very morning of her mysterious
death. One was handed in by him to the West End Clothiers Company, in
payment for a suit of clothes, and the other he changed at the Post
Office in Oxford Street.
"After that all the evidence had of necessity to be gone through again
on the subject of young Greenhill's intimacy with Mrs. Owen. He listened
to it all with an air of the most painful nervousness, his cheeks were
positively green, his lips seemed dry and parched, for he repeatedly
passed his tongue over them, and when Constable E 18 deposed that at 2
a.m. on the morning of February 2nd he had seen the accused and spoken
to him at the corner of Percy Street and Tottenham Court Road, young
Greenhill all but fainted.
"The contention of the police was that the caretaker had been murdered
and robbed during that night before she went to bed, that young
Greenhill had done the murder, seeing that he was the only person known
to have been intimate with the woman, and that it was, moreover, proved
unquestionably that he was in the immediate neighbourhood of the Rubens
Studios at an extraordinarily late hour of the night.
"His own account of himself, and of that same night, could certainly not
be called very satisfactory. Mrs. Owen was a relative of his late
mother's, he declared. He himself was a lithographer by trade, with a
good deal of time and leisure on his hands. He certainly had employed
some of that time in taking the old woman to various places of
amusement. He had on more than one occasion suggested that she should
give up menial work, and come and live with him, but, unfortunately, she
was a great deal imposed upon by her nephew, a man of the name of Owen,
who exploited the good-natured woman in every possible way, and who had
on more than one occasion made severe attacks upon her savings at the
Birkbeck Bank.
"Severely cross-examined by the prosecuting counsel about this supposed
relative of Mrs. Owen, Greenhill admitted that he did not know him--had,
in fact, never seen him. He knew that his name was Owen and that was
all. His chief occupation consisted in sponging on the kind-hearted old
woman, but he only went to see her in the evenings, when he presumably
knew that she would be alone, and invariably after all the tenants of
the Rubens Studios had left for the day.
"I don't know whether at this point it strikes you at all, as it did
both magistrate and counsel, that there was a direct contradiction in
this statement and the one made by the cashier of the Birkbeck on the
subject of his last conversation with Mrs. Owen. 'I am going abroad to
join my nephew, for whom I am going to keep house,' was what the
unfortunate woman had said.
"Now Greenhill, in spite of his nervousness and at times contradictory
answers, strictly adhered to his point, that there was a nephew in
London, who came frequently to see his aunt.
"Anyway, the sayings of the murdered woman could not be taken as
evidence in law. Mr. Greenhill senior put the objection, adding: 'There
may have been two nephews,' which the magistrate and the prosecution
were bound to admit.
"With regard to the night immediately preceding Mrs. Owen's death,
Greenhill stated that he had been with her to the theatre, had seen her
home, and had had some supper with her in her room. Before he left her,
at 2 a.m., she had of her own accord made him a present of £10, saying:
'I am a sort of aunt to you, Arthur, and if you don't have it, Bill is
sure to get it.'
"She had seemed rather worried in the early part of the evening, but
later on she cheered up.
"'Did she speak at all about this nephew of hers or about her money
affairs? asked the magistrate.
"Again the young man hesitated, but said, 'No! she did not mention
either Owen or her money affairs.'
"If I remember rightly," added the man in the corner, "for recollect I
was not present, the case was here adjourned. But the magistrate would
not grant bail. Greenhill was removed looking more dead than
alive--though every one remarked that Mr. Greenhill senior looked
determined and not the least worried. In the course of his examination
on behalf of his son, of the medical officer and one or two other
witnesses, he had very ably tried to confuse them on the subject of the
hour at which Mrs. Owen was last known to be alive.
"He made a very great point of the fact that the usual morning's work
was done throughout the house when the inmates arrived. Was it
conceivable, he argued, that a woman would do that kind of work
overnight, especially as she was going to the theatre, and therefore
would wish to dress in her smarter clothes? It certainly was a very nice
point levelled against the prosecution, who promptly retorted: Just as
conceivable as that a woman in those circumstances of life should,
having done her work, undress beside an open window at nine o'clock in
the morning with the snow beating into the room.
"Now it seems that Mr. Greenhill senior could produce any amount of
witnesses who could help to prove a conclusive _alibi_ on behalf of his
son, if only some time subsequent to that fatal 2 a.m. the murdered
woman had been seen alive by some chance passer-by.
"However, he was an able man and an earnest one, and I fancy the
magistrate felt some sympathy for his strenuous endeavours on his son's
behalf. He granted a week's adjournment, which seemed to satisfy Mr.
Greenhill completely.
"In the meanwhile the papers had talked of and almost exhausted the
subject of the mystery in Percy Street. There had been, as you no doubt
know from personal experience, innumerable arguments on the puzzling
alternatives:--
"Accident?
"Suicide?
"Murder?
"A week went by, and then the case against young Greenhill was resumed.
Of course the court was crowded. It needed no great penetration to
remark at once that the prisoner looked more hopeful, and his father
quite elated.
"Again a great deal of minor evidence was taken, and then came the turn
of the defence. Mr. Greenhill called Mrs. Hall, confectioner, of Percy
Street, opposite the Rubens Studios. She deposed that at 8 o'clock in
the morning of February 2nd, while she was tidying her shop window, she
saw the caretaker of the Studios opposite, as usual, on her knees, her
head and body wrapped in a shawl, cleaning her front steps. Her husband
also saw Mrs. Owen, and Mrs. Hall remarked to her husband how thankful
she was that her own shop had tiled steps, which did not need scrubbing
on so cold a morning.
"Mr. Hall, confectioner, of the same address, corroborated this
statement, and Mr. Greenhill, with absolute triumph, produced a third
witness, Mrs. Martin, of Percy Street, who from her window on the second
floor had, at 7.30 a.m., seen the caretaker shaking mats outside her
front door. The description this witness gave of Mrs. Owen's get-up,
with the shawl round her head, coincided point by point with that given
by Mr. and Mrs. Hall.
"After that Mr. Greenhill's task became an easy one; his son was at home
having his breakfast at 8 o'clock that morning--not only himself, but
his servants would testify to that.
"The weather had been so bitter that the whole of that day Arthur had
not stirred from his own fireside. Mrs. Owen was murdered after 8 a.m.
on that day, since she was seen alive by three people at that hour,
therefore his son could not have murdered Mrs. Owen. The police must
find the criminal elsewhere, or else bow to the opinion originally
expressed by the public that Mrs. Owen had met with a terrible untoward
accident, or that perhaps she may have wilfully sought her own death in
that extraordinary and tragic fashion.
"Before young Greenhill was finally discharged one or two witnesses were
again examined, chief among these being the foreman of the glassworks.
He had turned up at the Rubens Studios at 9 o'clock, and been in
business all day. He averred positively that he did not specially notice
any suspicious-looking individual crossing the hall that day. 'But,' he
remarked with a smile, 'I don't sit and watch every one who goes up and
downstairs. I am too busy for that. The street door is always left open;
any one can walk in, up or down, who knows the way.'
"That there was a mystery in connection with Mrs. Owen's death--of that
the police have remained perfectly convinced; whether young Greenhill
held the key of that mystery or not they have never found out to this
day.
"I could enlighten them as to the cause of the young lithographer's
anxiety at the magisterial inquiry, but, I assure you, I do not care to
do the work of the police for them. Why should I? Greenhill will never
suffer from unjust suspicions. He and his father alone--besides
myself--know in what a terribly tight corner he all but found himself.
"The young man did not reach home till nearly _five_ o'clock that
morning. His last train had gone; he had to walk, lost his way, and
wandered about Hampstead for hours. Think what his position would have
been if the worthy confectioners of Percy Street had not seen Mrs. Owen
'wrapped up in a shawl, on her knees, doing the front steps.'
"Moreover, Mr. Greenhill senior is a solicitor, who has a small office
in John Street, Bedford Row. The afternoon before her death Mrs. Owen
had been to that office and had there made a will by which she left all
her savings to young Arthur Greenhill, lithographer. Had that will been
in other than paternal hands, it would have been proved, in the natural
course of such things, and one other link would have been added to the
chain which nearly dragged Arthur Greenhill to the gallows--'the link of
a very strong motive.'
"Can you wonder that the young man turned livid, until such time as it
was proved beyond a doubt that the murdered woman was alive hours after
he had reached the safe shelter of his home?
"I saw you smile when I used the word 'murdered,'" continued the man in
the corner, growing quite excited now that he was approaching the
_dénouement_ of his story. "I know that the public, after the magistrate
had discharged Arthur Greenhill, were quite satisfied to think that the
mystery in Percy Street was a case of accident--or suicide."
"No," replied Polly, "there could be no question of suicide, for two
very distinct reasons."
He looked at her with some degree of astonishment. She supposed that he
was amazed at her venturing to form an opinion of her own.
"And may I ask what, in your opinion, these reasons are?" he asked very
sarcastically.
"To begin with, the question of money," she said--"has any more of it
been traced so far?"
"Not another £5 note," he said with a chuckle; "they were all cashed in
Paris during the Exhibition, and you have no conception how easy a thing
that is to do, at any of the hotels or smaller _agents de change_."
"That nephew was a clever blackguard," she commented.
"You believe, then, in the existence of that nephew?"
"Why should I doubt it? Some one must have existed who was sufficiently
familiar with the house to go about in it in the middle of the day
without attracting any one's attention."
"In the middle of the day?" he said with a chuckle.
"Any time after 8.30 in the morning."
"So you, too, believe in the 'caretaker, wrapped up in a shawl,'
cleaning her front steps?" he queried.
"But--"
"It never struck you, in spite of the training your intercourse with me
must have given you, that the person who carefully did all the work in
the Rubens Studios, laid the fires and carried up the coals, merely did
it in order to gain time; in order that the bitter frost might really
and effectually do its work, and Mrs. Owen be not missed until she was
truly dead."
"But--" suggested Polly again.
"It never struck you that one of the greatest secrets of successful
crime is to lead the police astray with regard to the time when the
crime was committed. That was, if you remember, the great point in the
Regent's Park murder.
"In this case the 'nephew,' since we admit his existence, would--even if
he were ever found, which is doubtful--be able to prove as good an
_alibi_ as young Greenhill."
"But I don't understand--"
"How the murder was committed?" he said eagerly. "Surely you can see it
all for yourself, since you admit the 'nephew'--a scamp, perhaps--who
sponges on the good-natured woman. He terrorises and threatens her, so
much so that she fancies her money is no longer safe even in the
Birkbeck Bank. Women of that class are apt at times to mistrust the Bank
of England. Anyway, she withdraws her money. Who knows what she meant to
do with it in the immediate future?
"In any case, she wishes to secure it after her death to a young man
whom she likes, and who has known how to win her good graces. That
afternoon the nephew begs, entreats for more money; they have a row; the
poor woman is in tears, and is only temporarily consoled by a pleasant
visit at the theatre.
"At 2 o'clock in the morning young Greenhill parts from her. Two minutes
later the nephew knocks at the door. He comes with a plausible tale of
having missed his last train, and asks for a 'shake down' somewhere in
the house. The good-natured woman suggests a sofa in one of the studios,
and then quietly prepares to go to bed. The rest is very simple and
elementary. The nephew sneaks into his aunt's room, finds her standing
in her nightgown; he demands money with threats of violence; terrified,
she staggers, knocks her head against the gas bracket, and falls on the
floor stunned, while the nephew seeks for her keys and takes possession
of the £800. You will admit that the subsequent _mise en scène_--is
worthy of a genius.
"No struggle, not the usual hideous accessories round a crime. Only the
open windows, the bitter north-easterly gale, and the heavily falling
snow--two silent accomplices, as silent as the dead.
"After that the murderer, with perfect presence of mind, busies himself
in the house, doing the work which will ensure that Mrs. Owen shall not
be missed, at any rate, for some time. He dusts and tidies; some few
hours later he even slips on his aunt's skirt and bodice, wraps his
head in a shawl, and boldly allows those neighbours who are astir to see
what they believe to be Mrs. Owen. Then he goes back to her room,
resumes his normal appearance and quietly leaves the house."
"He may have been seen."
"He undoubtedly _was_ seen by two or three people, but no one thought
anything of seeing a man leave the house at that hour. It was very cold,
the snow was falling thickly, and as he wore a muffler round the lower
part of his face, those who saw him would not undertake to know him
again."
"That man was never seen nor heard of again?" Polly asked.
"He has disappeared off the face of the earth. The police are searching
for him, and perhaps some day they will find him--then society will be
rid of one of the most ingenious men of the age."