A Mystery of the Thames
It was the name, Purley Lock, which had fastened my attention. "Horrible
Discovery near Purley Lock!" the headline announced. I read on, rapidly,
but thoughtfully. Two boys from Great Marlow had, it seemed, been
wandering beside the river bank, between that village and Purley Lock.
Straying along a small backwater, leading out from a larger one, they
had noticed a peculiar object caught among a number of reeds. One of the
boys had curiously poked at it with his stick, bringing it nearer to the
shore, when it appeared to be a heavy, almost formless, mass sewn up in
a rough sack. The boys, being frightened, had run home with their story,
and a member of the local police force, going to the spot, had found the
children's suspicions confirmed. The unclothed body of a man, partially
consumed by fire and lacking the head, as well as otherwise mutilated in
a seemingly aimless way, had been doubled up and sewn in the sack.
Weights had evidently been attached to the horrible bundle, but had in
some manner become detached. So far no clue whatever, either as to the
identity of the murdered man, or that of the murderer, had been brought
to light. The body had been in the water for some days, but might still
have been recognisable had the head not been removed.
The horror of my dream on Christmas Eve came back to me as I read. No
doubt there had been many river mysteries and "shocking discoveries" in
the Thames, and perhaps I had read of them, dismissing them from my mind
with the alacrity with which one does rid one's thoughts of such sordid
tragedies, when they do not happen to concern oneself or one's
acquaintances. But this tragedy I could not so dismiss.
I could even picture the very spot where the boys must have seen the
sack caught among the dry and rattling reeds. "A small backwater leading
out of a larger one, between Great Marlow and Purley Lock." The larger
one was doubtless that on which Carson Wildred's house was situated; the
smaller one--a mere alley of water, leading away under a drooping tangle
of willow and chestnut branches--one had to pass in walking from Purley
to the House by the Lock. I was sure, as I recalled the place in memory,
that the scene of the discovered mystery could have been no other than
this.
Having read to the end, I folded up the paper and put it away in a
pocket of my greatcoat for future reference. Then I began walking slowly
on towards the Savoy Hotel.
Had it not been for the odd chance which had induced two boys to stroll,
in the middle of winter, along the bank of an insignificant outlet of a
Thames backwater, what a fine place, I told myself, this would have been
for the concealment of a crime! Even without the weights, which had
probably become detached from the sack by tangling among the roots under
the surface of the water, the body might have been expected to remain
hidden for months--at least, till the coming of the spring.
Then, as I so reflected, my mind turned to darker thoughts. Had a crime
been committed by the inhabitants of the House by the Lock, what a
convenient hiding-place would that adjacent waterway have been! I had no
reason to fancy that such a crime had been done, and yet--my thoughts
went back to the day on which I paid my somewhat memorable visit to
Wildred and Farnham.
Suddenly came the recollection of the awful cry I had heard as I waited
in the curious octagonal room, looking at the covered portrait of
Karine. The sound had been explained, but there had been a certain
flurry and clumsiness in the explanation, I had thought, even then.
I remembered the smoke and sparks which had so mysteriously risen from
the tower, and the heat of the octagonal room adjoining it. All this,
too, had been accounted for. I had not cared at the time to invent
romances to fit into the strange appearances, which I had assured myself
were doubtless strange only in appearance; but now I could not help
dwelling upon them with an almost morbid persistency that would not be
set aside.
I thought of the woman's face which had for an instant gazed at me
through the narrow window beside the door. I reminded myself of the
surprise on the features of the decorous male factotum when he had
learned that I was not the man expected by his master, and I went over
word for word, as nearly as I could, each sentence whispered by Wildred
and his servant in the hall.
What if there were some ghastly connection between the apparent mystery
in the House by the Lock and the half-charred, headless body found
to-day in the Thames!
I was ready to accuse my own enmity towards Wildred, and my vague
suspicions of him, also my merciless desire to fasten some stigma upon
the man, of being potent factors in these mental suggestions of mine.
But I could not banish them even if I would. Continually throughout the
remainder of the evening and night I pieced together various theories,
all more or less defective, and next morning the desire was strong
within me to go and see the headless corpse.
There were at least twenty chances to one against my being able to
identify it, or finding in the pitiful remains of a tragedy any clue
such as I sought. But strange fancies steeped my brain with their potent
fumes, and I knew that I should not be able to rest until, at least, I
had absolutely proved myself mistaken.
Permission to view the body at the mortuary was easily obtained at the
local police station, when I had given my name, and mentioned that I had
come for purposes of identification.
Fortunately for my self-control, I had looked upon many a gruesome sight
during my somewhat chequered career, though scarcely one more hideous
than this which I had deliberately sought.
It would be worse than useless to enter into a detailed description of
what my eyes turned from with loathing. There was only one possible way
of identification, however, that of finding some mark upon the partially
charred body, or _something lacking_ which might be suggestive of a
theory.
I had a theory, which as yet I had scarcely dared dwell upon in my own
mind, so wild, so improbable did it appear at any other time than dead
of night, when all strange things seem possible. But now, as I judged
what the height and size of the body must have been, and let my glance
travel almost fearfully to the left hand, I saw that which tended in a
ghastly manner to confirm it. All the four fingers were missing, having
been cut off between the second joint and knuckles.
Harvey Farnham had worn the ring given to Karine Cunningham by Wildred
on the little finger of the left hand; and in the light of this
discovery my dream of Christmas Eve came back to me as a prophetic
vision.