Transcriber's Notes.
1. Page scan source:
arrow.latrobe.edu.au/store/
3/4/6/4/5/public/B26994884.pdf
(La Trobe University)
2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe].
THE INDIAN BANGLE
THE
INDIAN BANGLE
BY
FERGUS HUME
AUTHOR OF "THE MYSTERY OF A HANSOM CAB"
LONDON
SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON & COMPANY
_LIMITED_
St. Dunstan's House
FETTER LANE, FLEET STREET, E. C.
1899
LONDON:
PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
THE STORY.
_THE FIRST SCENE: AT CASTERWELL_.
CHAPTER
I. DAVID AND JONATHAN.
II. THE SEALED LETTER.
III. AT THE MANOR HOUSE.
IV. A QUEER COINCIDENCE.
V. THE SUSPICIONS OF LAURENCE MALLOW.
VI. THE REVEREND MANNERS BROCK.
VII. MARGERY.
VIII. JEPHTHAH'S DAUGHTER.
IX. "TWENTY-ONE."
X. A PRE-NUPTIAL CONTRACT.
XI. THE NEW MAID.
XII. "WEDDING-BELLS."
_THE SECOND SCENE: AT SANDBEACH_.
I. "THE HAPPY PAIR."
II. "THE BROOCH."
III. "CLARA'S LETTER."
IV. "MORE MYSTERY."
_THE THIRD SCENE IN LONDON_.
I. "MYSTERIOUS MRS. ARNE."
II. "MRS. PURCELL."
III. "A PRIVATE INQUIRY AGENT."
IV. "ONE OF US."
V. "MADAME DEATH-IN-LIFE."
VI. "ANOTHER LINK."
VII. "AN UNEXPECTED MEETING."
VIII. "THE LIGHT-HAIRED MAN."
IX. "MAN PROPOSES."
X. "WOMAN DISPOSES."
_THE FOURTH SCENE: IN FLORENCE_.
I. "ON THE LONG TRAIL."
II. "ONE PORTION OF THE CONSPIRACY."
III. THE SANDAL-WOOD CHEST.
IV. "ANOTHER PORTION OF THE CONSPIRACY."
_THE FIFTH SCENE: IN LONDON_.
I. "THE MISSING MAN."
II. "MONSIEUR ROUGE IS CONFIDENTIAL."
III. "A TERRIBLE ADVENTURE."
IV. "THE ISHMAELS OF HUMANITY."
_THE SIXTH SCENE: AT CASTERWELL_.
I. "AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL."
II. "THE PENANCE OF MARGERY."
III. "MR. BROCK AND THE LETTER."
IV. "THE TREASURES AT KIKAT."
V. "LET THE DEAD PAST BURY ITS DEAD."
VI. "MR. BROCK'S ADDENDA."
VII. "THE CIPHER DIARY."
VIII. "A ROGUE'S MEMOIRS."
EPILOGUE
THE INDIAN BANGLE
PROLOGUE
PART I.
A letter from Mrs. Purcell, of Bombay, to Miss Slarge, of Casterwell,
England:--
"29th of May, 189--.
"MY DEAR SISTER,
"By this time you will have received my previous epistle, in which I
announced the apoplectic seizure and subsequent demise of my beloved
husband, Joshua Ezekiel Purcell, lately a faithful and distinguished
servant in the Indian Civil Service of her Most Gracious Majesty the
Queen and Empress. As over a month has elapsed since my lifelong
companion joined the angelic choir, I am now becoming more resigned to
my widowed condition, and I begin to contemplate with equanimity the
prospect of a solitary future, enlivened, I trust, by the acceptable
companionship of sympathizing friends. In thus submitting myself to
the inevitable, I have obeyed the inspired advice of the great
lexicographer, as expressed in his masterly ethic poem 'The Vanity of
Human Wishes':--
'Pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind,
Obedient passions, and a will resigned.'
Thus in some measure I may emulate, as a Christian gentlewoman should,
the philosophic composure of the sage Doctor Johnson.
"Passing to more mundane considerations, I may mention that the late
partner of my joys and sorrows has left me fairly well endowed with
worldly wealth. Notwithstanding his elegant hospitality, and the
regrettable depreciation of the rupee, he contrived to save and invest
considerable sums of money, the interest on which has been assured for
life to his mourning widow by a generous and provident testament.
"On entering into the necessary details with my worldly adviser--Mr.
Deson, the lawyer--I find that my income will slightly exceed the
yearly sum of two thousand pounds sterling, an amount which will amply
suffice to maintain me in the dignified and easy position to which I
have hitherto been accustomed. On my decease these moneys will be
divided amongst the relatives of my late husband. Thus I shall be
unable to devise any personal property by will other than that which I
save or become possessed of during my widowhood.
"This consideration troubles me but in a minor degree, for, as you--my
sole surviving relative--are in no need of pecuniary aid, it is only
just that, after I have done with earthly vanities, my late husband's
riches should benefit those of his blood who deserve well of his
generosity.
"My position being thus assured, I have decided to leave the 'gorgeous
East,' as the sublime Milton fitly terms our Indian possessions, and I
intend, God willing, to spend my declining years in the country of my
birth. Whether I shall establish my abode in the metropolis, or seek
the retreat of the country, must remain a matter for future and
careful consideration. For the present it is sufficient to state that
in three months--for I cannot complete my duties as executrix in
less--I shall return to the island home of my youth, to lay in due
time my bones with those of my kindred in the family vault at
Casterwell. But, prior to my departure from this torrid clime, it is
my dutiful intention to erect over the remains of the most beloved and
generous of men a monument of stainless marble, inscribed with an
appropriate tribute to his excellent qualities, and an explanatory
inscription of his widow's grief.
"And now--to touch on lighter topics, and thus relieve my mournful
mind--let me inquire, my dearest sister, about your health, and
concerning your interesting attempt to prove that the Romish Church is
the inheritrix of the Babylonian superstitions so frequently condemned
by the Hebrew prophets. Also, I must not omit to request special
information regarding your charge, Olive, the daughter of my dear,
but, alas! departed friend, Mr. Bellairs. I trust that the girl, who
was singularly controllable, if I remember rightly, is growing in
beauty and wisdom, and that she is beginning to reflect on the
responsibilities of wealth and position which the near approach of her
twenty-first birthday will shortly render it incumbent upon her to
assume. With such a companion as you, my dear Rubina, and with so
admirable and conscientious a guardian as the rector of Casterwell, I
feel satisfied that our beloved Olive has become possessed of those
elegant and necessary accomplishments which should embellish the
character of a young gentlewoman.
"The moral Mr. Brock, in his double capacity of clergyman and adviser,
must also have succeeded in impressing on her plastic mind the sacred
precepts of the Established Church, and the needful principles for the
guidance of her conduct towards virtue and discretion.
"When I meet her again--if an over-ruling Providence should permit the
occurrence of so much-desired an event--I shall expect to find Miss
Olive Bellairs the model and paragon of our sex. Do not let us forget,
my dear Rubina, that as a twig is bent so does the tree grow, and that
early moral training in a refined and Christian circle is invariably
productive of a happy result in those fortunate enough to have been
placed by their Maker is so enviable a position.
"The mention of Olive leads me by an obvious sequence of thought to
speak of Mr. Angus Carson, to whom--by a family arrangement--she has
been engaged since her early childhood. I have lately had the
gratification of a somewhat lengthy interview with that young
gentleman, and I made use of my opportunity to observe and question
him closely, so that I might transmit to you an accurate estimate of
his character. He informed me that his respected father lately
departed this life, and that he--young Mr. Carson--was passing through
Bombay on his way to England by the Peninsular and Oriental steamship
_Pharaoh_. It is his declared intention to complete the family
arrangement, spoken of above, entered into so many years ago between
Mr. Bellairs and Dr. Carson, both now deceased.
"As it is not improbable that in your arduous studies you may have
forgotten the precise details of this matrimonial scheme which
concerns so nearly your charge, and thereby yourself, I think it
advisable to recapitulate the same, that it may be freshly impressed
upon your mind. This long and explicit letter is mainly written with
this object in view, and I beg that, for your own sake, and for the
sake of Olive, you will give your whole attention to the details which
I am about to recount concerning the physical and mental attributes of
Angus Carson. We are informed by a very excellent proverb that
'forewarned is forearmed,' therefore my communication--if read with
due care--will place you in the position of knowing Mr. Carson, so to
speak, before you make his personal acquaintance.
"The benefit of such knowledge--having regard to the fact that neither
one of this engaged pair has seen the other--will be of incalculable
value to you, their well-wisher and supervisor. This being the case, I
shall proceed to relate, firstly, the details of the domestic contract
entered into between the parents of our young friends; and, secondly,
the impressions I derived after conversing for two hours--not
unprofitably--with young Mr. Carson.
"It is a matter of general knowledge that between the years '57 and
'59 of this century, our supremacy in Hindostan was endangered by the
revolt of the native troops. During that disturbed period, Mr. Mark
Bellairs and Dr. Alfred Carson, then young and ambitious soldiers,
were united in the bonds of ardent friendship; and afterwards they
gave their affection to Mr. Julian Brock, then a missionary labouring
amongst the benighted heathen. These three friends were together
during the time of the disturbance, and side by side they witnessed
the horrors of Cawnpore and Lucknow, as you have often heard the
ingenious Mr. Bellairs relate, when, to quote Dr. Goldsmith, 'he
fought his battles o'er again,' in the retirement of his luxurious and
stately home. In the year '60 these comrades on many a field were
parted by the exigencies of existence; and, while Mr. Bellairs and the
Rev. Mr. Brock returned to settle on their native shores, Dr. Carson,
having an unconquerable passion for Orientalism, preferred to remain
in India. However, no doubt wearied of warfare, he beat his sword into
a ploughshare, and, withdrawing himself from public life, secluded
himself in the near neighbourhood of the gigantic range of mountains
which are known to geography as the Himalayas. I understand that he
dwelt there as a solitary for ten years, at the end of which time,
feeling that it was not good for man to live alone, he contracted a
marriage with a young Eurasian lady. It is sad to state that his
marital happiness was not destined to continue more than twelve
months, for, in the year '71, his wife died in child-bed, leaving
behind her a son--the Angus I speak of--to solace his distracted
surviving parent.
"In the meantime Mr. Bellairs, by the death of his father, had become
possessed of the ancestral acres at Casterwell, and had taken up his
abode in the family mansion to superintend his heritage and enact the
agreeable part of an English squire. As a mark of his constant
friendship for Mr. Brock, and in token of his appreciation of a
blameless and moral character, he presented him with the living of
Casterwell, a position which our reverend friend has held these many
years to the satisfaction of all who are acquainted with his manifold
good qualities. Mr. Bellairs, as you know, also remained single for a
considerable period, but, bethinking himself that for the dignity of
his name and the welfare of his tenants it was incumbent upon him to
beget heirs of his body, he followed the example of his medical
friend, and married the accomplished Miss Sophia Seymour in the year
'74. By a strange coincidence--which you, my dear sister, will have no
difficulty in recalling--the lady of Mr. Bellairs also died within a
year of her nuptials, leaving, as a pledge of love to her sorrowing
husband, our dear Olive. On hearing of his friend's loss and gain, Dr.
Carson wrote a kind and judicious letter, in which he proposed that,
further to cement their early friendship, his son Angus should be
contracted in marriage with Mr. Bellairs's daughter Olive. To this
proposition Mr. Bellairs readily agreed, with the proviso that the
ceremony should not take place until his child attained the age of
twenty-one years. On this basis the matter was arranged, and for the
last twenty years Olive and Angus have been betrothed, although--the
first dwelling in England, and the second restrained by filial duty in
India--they have never met to enjoy in one another's company the
pre-nuptial pleasures of Cupid's votaries. But these chaste delights
will no longer be deferred, for, now that the lamented father of young
Mr. Carson has journeyed to that bourne whence no traveller returns,'
the impatient lover is hastening to greet his lovely, but, alas!
fatherless, mistress. What joy it will be to you, my dear Rubina, to
witness the coming together of these young hearts, to contemplate
their amiable qualities, and discreetly to superintend their joyous
meeting.
"Mr. Carson is a gentle and well-bred youth of twenty-five, not
without parts, although of too retiring a nature to display them in
company. He is tall, slender, elegant in shape, and from his mother
inherits a somewhat swart complexion. Indeed, so apparent are the
traces of his foreign blood, that in England, doubtless, he will be
taken for a native of Italy. His hair and eyes, and the thick
moustache which adorns his upper lip, are black in the extreme,
resembling in their hue that 'raven down which clothes the night's
vast wings;' and although I own to a predilection for the golden
fairness of our Saxon race, yet I cannot deny that this young
gentleman is prepossessing in no ordinary degree. I regret to say,
however, that, like many half-castes, he is delicate in health, and
owns that his heart is weak, so much so, indeed, that when excited in
any violent degree, he is liable to be so overcome by emotion as to
lapse into a state of insensibility. Therefore, my dear sister, when
he greets your charge, be careful that you restrain his transports of
joy, else it's more than probable that you will see him extended at
your feet--a calamity which may cast a shadow over the united pair. I
must admit that Mr. Carson is somewhat effeminate in his dress and
looks. He even goes so far as to wear a bracelet of gold on his
right wrist. In India we term this a bangle, and frequently such an
ornament is worn by native princes who yet retain barbaric tastes;
but I ventured to remark to Mr. Carson, that in England the wearing
of a bangle by one of the male sex would not be looked upon with
favour. I am bound to say that he took my expostulation in the most
good-humoured manner, and he explained that the bangle was a sacred
ornament taken from a Hindoo idol. It had been presented to his late
lamented father by a certain notability, or Rajah, whose son he had
skilfully cured of a deadly disease, upon the symptoms of which young
Mr. Carson did not dilate. He also informed me that the bracelet had
originally been placed on his arm above the elbow by his ayah, or
Indian nurse, when he was a boy. As gradually he attained to the full
size of manhood, the bangle was slipped down by degrees to the wrist,
whence it cannot now be removed without filing through the broad band
of gold of which it is composed--no very easy operation, as you may
guess. Moreover quite recently Mr. Carson hurt his hand while out
shooting in the hills, whereby some of the small bones have become
diseased, and the breadth of the member much extended; indeed, the
whole hand is largely swollen. I advised him to undergo an operation
in England, and at the same time have the bracelet removed; in fact, I
imagine this would be necessary. He promised me the suggestion should
receive his most careful consideration. He was then pleased to exhibit
the bracelet for my inspection, and I examined it with much interest
and curiosity.
"It is a broad band of ductile gold, wrought with the idol figures of
the Hindoo trinity--Bramah, Siva, and Vishnu--interwoven with the
sacred lotus-flower and other heathen symbols. I confess that I was
weak enough to covet this work of art, for it is not only extremely
beautiful as an exhibition of how exquisitely a goldsmith can
manipulate the precious metal, but it is also an ornament of great
antiquity, and, being sacred, no doubt there is attached to it a
strange and eventful history. Mr. Carson has had golden wrist-buttons
made to match this unique bracelet, wrought after the same style, but
of vastly inferior workmanship.
"On the whole, my dear Rubina, I am prepossessed in favour of
my visitor, as he appears to be modest and intelligent and
high-principled. Notwithstanding his delicate health and effeminate
looks, I am confident that he has a strong will and a somewhat
stubborn nature, both of which may be productive in the future of
either good or evil. If Olive be soft and yielding, her married life
with young Mr. Carson will no doubt be happy and easy, as he requires,
I suspect, to be deferred to in every way, having full confidence in
his own judgment. If, on the contrary, she be wilful, and refuse to
acknowledge her husband as the head of the house, I fear that their
union will not be so perfect a one as we could wish. To use a trite
image, Mr. Carson resembles the iron hand in a velvet glove, so of
this you will do well to warn Olive. 'Verbum sat sapienti,' as the
Latin poet has it; the same may be stretched, my dear, to include our
own sex, although in the estimation of the male, we are not considered
to be gifted greatly with wisdom. Of course, I dissent from this view,
and--but you know full well my opinion on the subject; therefore, I
will not add to this already lengthy epistle by enlarging upon it.
"Mr. Carson is accompanied to England by a certain Major Horace
Semberry, who is, I understand, an officer in one of our native
regiments. He has obtained leave of absence in order to act as a kind
of social tutor to our young friend. I was informed that the Major met
Dr. Carson whilst shooting in the Himalaya Mountains, and so won his
goodwill by an attractive exterior and fascinating manners, that the
doctor asked him to conduct Angus to Europe, and arranged, most
generously, that he should be paid a handsome stipend for his
services.
"Thus it comes about that young Mr. Carson and Major Semberry are
travelling in company; but I must confess that the late Dr. Carson
might easily have shown more wisdom in the selection of a companion
for his son. Major Semberry is a fair, handsome man, an excellent
sportsman, a well-bred gentleman, and he is possessed of a charm of
manner which would impose upon many people. However, it did not impose
upon me, my dear, for I judge this Horace Semberry to be one of those
plausible scamps who roam the world like social Satans, seeking whom
they may devour.
"This is a strong sentiment, I admit, but no stronger than is
necessary, for you know that I am an excellent judge of character,
and that it is not my habit to quote Holy Writ unless the occasion
demand: it. The occasion, my dear Rubina, demands it now, and my
earnest advice to you is to discourage the visits of Major Semberry to
the Manor, and to break off; if possible, the intimacy which now
exists--to my great regret--between him and Olive's future husband. I
speak for his sake as I speak for hers, and you may take my word for
it that the less they see of this military Belial, the better it will
be for both of them.
"And now, my dear sister, I must conclude my long but, I hope, not
uninteresting letter, by inquiring after our mutual friends and
acquaintances. I trust that young Lord Aldean is in good health, and
that he is benefiting to the utmost extent of his mental powers--not
that I think much of them--by the instruction of his tutor, the
amiable Mr. Mallow, whom I esteem greatly for his many admirable
qualities. If Lord Aldean only emulates the moral and social and
scholastic example of his friend and tutor, I am convinced that he
will prove a useful and ornamental member of our House of Peers, in
which, doubtless, he will shortly take his seat.
"Let me also inquire after Miss Ostergaard, the young lady of Danish
extraction, from New Zealand; you will remember how highly I approved
of her on the occasion of my last visit to Casterwell. It is to be
desired that Olive should make an intimate friend of this charming
young gentlewoman, in order that she may have constantly before her
eyes a character of such sterling merit. Miss Ostergaard is a
particular pet of mine, and I could wish our dear Olive no better
fortune than that she should become just such another delightful girl.
"I presume that Dr. Drabble is still in our parish, practising his
profession during his intervals from political excitement and Radical
speeches. It is to be regretted that such a firebrand should endanger
the peace and rustic charm of our quiet corner of England, and, as
I always said, it would be much more to Dr. Drabble's credit if,
instead of promulgating dangerous dogma, he gave more attention to his
hard-working wife and her too-numerous family. The man is a red
Anarchist, a subverter of law and order, and I fully expect that he
will end by throwing a bomb into Casterwell Church--a circumstance
which is the more likely to occur from the fact that he is an atheist
and an ardent follower of Monsieur Voltaire, to say nothing of the
infidel Thomas Payne, and that abominable American, Colonel Ingersoll.
"Concerning myself, my dear sister, I am in moderately good health,
considering the recent loss of my beloved husband, for my friends here
are all that can be desired in the way of sympathy and kindness. Also
I have the company of Pontius Pilate, who, though only a dog, is so
intelligent as to afford me the greatest comfort in my terrible and
overwhelming affliction. The dumb animal seems to be aware of my
bereavement, and in his own way tries to solace me with caresses and
canine attentions generally. Therefore, you will see that the
solitariness of my position is in some degree mitigated.
"And here I must conclude this long letter with the hope that we shall
shortly meet again in England, when I can find in you, my dearest
sister, a relative upon whose bosom I can recline, and pour out my
sorrow for the loss of the best and most excellent of men.
"God bless you, my dear, and may His shield be extended in protection
of our dear Olive. Such, my dear Rubina, is the heartfelt prayer of
"Your affectionate and resigned sister,
"PRISCILLA PURCELL.
"P.S.--On my arrival in England, I wish you to accompany me to Paris,
in order to assist me in the choice of my widow's garb of woe, for I
am but ill-pleased with such garments as I have been able to procure
here."
PART II.
"Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Co., Ltd.,
"Head Office: Leadenhall Street, London, E.C.
"June 24, 189--.
"NOTICE.
"R.M.S. _Pharaoh_ arrived this morning at Gravesend. She is expected
to dock by the afternoon tide in the Royal Albert Docks."
PART III.
Extract from _The Morning Planet_, dated June 29, 189--:--
"A startling discovery was made yesterday at No. 64A, Athelstane
Place, Bloomsbury. Thomas Gale, a baker, of Tottenham-court Road,
complained at the local police station that for two consecutive days
he had been unable to see the occupant of the house. As the window
blinds were drawn, and the doors locked, he believed something to be
wrong. Inspector Jain, and a constable proceeded at once to Athelstane
Place, and, after vainly ringing and knocking, forced the area door.
The house proved to be empty, but in the drawing-room the dead body of
a young man was found, mutilated in a shocking manner. On an
examination being made by Dr. Rayner, of Bloomsbury Square, it was
discovered that a steel knitting-needle had been thrust into his
heart, and that the right hand had been cut off at the wrist. The
missing hand was afterwards found in the grate. Dr. Rayner is of
opinion that the deceased was murdered about two days prior to the
discovery of the body. The police have taken possession of the house
and corpse, and are actively searching for evidence which shall throw
light upon this atrocious crime. The result of their inquiries will be
made known at the inquest, which is to be held to-morrow in the
Bloomsbury Coroner's Court."
PART IV.
Extract from _The Morning Planet_, June 30, 189--:--
"Mr. Mappin held an inquiry yesterday afternoon in the Bloomsbury
Coroner's Court into the circumstances attending the death of the
unknown man who was found dead in the drawing-room of No. 64A,
Athelstane Place. Mr. Julian Pyke, owner of the house in question,
deposed that it was rented from him on June 19th last by a tall,
fair-haired man with a beard, who wore smoke-coloured spectacles, and
gave his name as Francis Hain. He informed witness that he was a
scientist, and that he required a quiet retreat in London in order to
carry out certain experiments, the nature of which he did not
disclose. Mr. Hain took the house furnished for six months and paid a
quarter's rent in advance, an arrangement which was considered
entirely satisfactory by the landlord. Witness saw the man but once,
as the agreement (on a printed form) was approved and executed at one
interview. He knew nothing of the man's antecedents, and his business
with him was confined solely to the business as between landlord and
tenant.
"Thomas Gale, of Tottenham-court Road, baker, deposed that on June
20th a woman called at his shop. She stated that she was the
housekeeper of Mr. Hain, 64A, Athelstane Place, and requested him to
supply the house with bread. She did not give her own name. Her
appearance was refined and ladylike. She spoke excellent English,
though she had a foreign accent. Witness concluded that she was either
Italian or French. She was of medium height with a particularly pale
face, large black eyes, and smooth black hair untouched with grey. She
was not a young woman--about forty, witness thought. Her hair was worn
in bands, and she was dressed entirely in black. Witness presumed she
was a widow--at all events, she looked like one. She herself took in
the bread each day, and paid for it on the spot. He saw no one else in
the house, although he called there up to June 29th. Witness never saw
deceased.
"Richard Brass, of Tottenham-court Road, butcher, gave much the same
evidence. The same woman called on him, and gave a similar account of
herself. He was to call each morning for orders at 64A, Athelstane
Place. He did so up to June 29th, and was paid cash on delivery of the
meat up to the 26th. The woman appeared to be the only person in the
house, and he saw her last on June 26th. But on the 27th and 28th no
meat was taken in, and the house appeared to be deserted. He thereupon
informed the police. Witness never saw either Mr. Hain or the
deceased.
"Amelia Rankin said that she was employed as a domestic servant at the
house opposite to No. 64A. She saw a tall, fair-bearded man enter it
on several occasions; also a pale, dark-haired woman, but she did not
pay much attention to either. Once she noticed a young gentleman with
a dark moustache looking out of the first-floor front window. He was
laughing and talking with some one inside whom she did not see. He
appeared to be quite happy. She believed, after viewing the corpse,
that the young gentleman she saw was the deceased. She heard no noise,
and saw nothing likely to arouse suspicion in any way. As a rule she
was in the kitchen with her mistress (who kept a boarding-house), and
it was seldom either of them was in the front of the house during the
day. It was possible many people might have gone in and out without
her being aware of it.
"Several witnesses resident in Athelstane Place gave much the same
evidence. Some saw Mr. Hain, some the housekeeper, but none save
Amelia Rankin caught a glimpse of the deceased. Nearly all the houses
on either side of and opposite to No. 64A are boarding-houses, from
which the lodgers are absent all day, and as the landladies and their
servants are mostly occupied in the back premises, No. 64A was not
observed in any special degree. Indeed, there was nothing about the
house to arouse remark in any way.
"Dr. Rayner, of Bloomsbury Square, stated as the result of a
post-mortem examination that in his opinion death was caused by a
wound in the heart, apparently inflicted by some such instrument as a
steel knitting-needle. The clothes over the breast: that is to say,
the waistcoat, shirt, and undervest, were unbuttoned, tending to show
that the deceased was unconscious when the wound was inflicted. With
an instrument of the kind supposed, it would probably be necessary to
open the clothes. The right hand had been cut off, and, judging from
the neatness of the operation, a surgical instrument would seem to
have been used for this purpose. The hand itself, distorted and
swollen, was found in the grate. The bones of the hand were diseased,
but not sufficiently so to warrant amputation. Witness was of opinion
that the hand had been cut off by a surgeon. He did not believe that
an untrained person could have performed the operation with the
requisite skill. Deceased had been murdered--judging from the
condition of the body--two days before the discovery of the remains on
June 28th; that is to say, on June 26th. In answer to a question put
by one of the jury, witness stated that there was no smell of
chloroform perceptible about the clothes of the deceased or in the
room.
"Inspector Jain, who discovered the body, said that it was lying on a
sofa placed behind the drawing-room door. The clothing over the chest
and region of the heart had been disturbed, and the collar and necktie
removed. The shirt-studs, sleeve-links, and watch of the deceased were
missing, and the pockets were empty. The marks on the linen had been
cut out. There were no rings on the fingers of the left hand. The
deceased was tall and dark-complexioned, with smooth dark hair and a
small black moustache.
"From the condition of the body--the nails, for instance, were
extremely well-cared for--deceased had evidently been a man accustomed
to the refinements of life. His underlinen was of the finest quality,
and the suit of grey tweed was evidently the work of a high-class
tailor. The boots were of Russia leather, and were particularly
well-shaped. Witness thought deceased must have been a gentleman in
easy circumstances. On searching the house neither trunk, clothes,
linen, nor papers of any kind were to be found; in fact, nothing which
would be likely to reveal deceased's name or position. The only
strange thing he had noticed was the fact that the clothes smelled
strongly of sandal-wood. The furniture and appointments of the house
were the property of the landlord, but neither Mr. Hain nor the
housekeeper had left anything behind them by which they could be
traced. Up to the present, in spite of all efforts, no clue to the
whereabouts of either the tenant or his housekeeper had been found.
"After a brief deliberation the jury returned a verdict of 'wilful
murder' against some person or persons unknown."
PART V.
Extract from _The Morning Planet_, July 1, 1891--:--
"Despite the triteness of the proverb, We are constrained to remark
with regard to the Athelstane Place murder that once again truth is
stranger than fiction. Had one of our writers of detective stories
imagined so extraordinary a crime as having taken place in the heart
of a busy neighbourhood, within hearing, almost within sight of
hundreds of people, he would have been scoffed at for exceeding the
bounds of probability. It would, we assert, have been termed
exaggeration of the wildest order. But it has been proved possible in
fact, and No. 64A, Athelstane Place, Bloomsbury, now enjoys the
distinction, albeit no enviable one, of having provided London with a
mystery so unfathomable that it is extremely doubtful whether it will
ever be plumbed by the keenest of detectives. For the unravelling of
so complex a riddle we need the Sergeant Cuff of Wilkie Collins, or
the Monsieur Dupin of Edgar Allen Poe--in a word, a fabulous detective
such as we have not at the present time amongst us.
"Plainly stated, the facts are these:--A house is taken by a man who
calls himself by the, to us, obviously false name of Francis Hain.
Beyond the fact that he wore a pair of smoked-glass spectacles, there
appears to have been little about him to cause remark. The payment of
a quarter's rent in advance appears to have answered satisfactorily
those questions which the landlord would otherwise surely have felt it
incumbent upon him to ask; at all events, the usual formalities with
respect to references were in this case entirely dispensed with.
Ostensibly, the house was rented with the object of carrying out
certain experiments of a scientific nature. A nameless woman, calling
herself the housekeeper, is the active agent between Mr. Hain, so
called, and the local tradesmen. Observe, the butcher and the baker
see no one but this woman; they neither of them see the tenant of 64A
or the deceased. By chance a domestic servant sees both, but naturally
enough takes small notice of either. Up to June 26th the housekeeper
herself receives the food from the tradesmen, and pays them for it in
cash. This, of itself, might or might not be indicative of a
preconceived intention to leave the house suddenly. After the 26th the
housekeeper is seen no more, and on the 28th the house is broken into,
and the dead man's body is discovered. The medical evidence goes to
prove that he was done to death on the 26th, and it is from that day
also that we lose sight of Mr. Hain. Both tenant and housekeeper
vanish as completely as if the earth had swallowed them up. Thus we
are deprived of the only two persons who at this time seem to have had
any connection with the dead man. Their disappearance, coincident as
it is, of itself arouses suspicion. Moreover, by the careful removal
of all marks from the linen of the deceased, we are left without what
otherwise might have lent an important clue to his identity.
"Here, then, is the problem with which our detective force is
confronted. For ourselves, in a case like this, where the elementary
facts are so completely concealed, we can at most theorise and
surmise. For some reason, impossible to guess, the victim would seem
to have been inveigled into the Athelstane Place house. As his right
hand was diseased, it is not impossible that he went there, or, as we
think, is more likely, was taken there by some accomplice ostensibly
to have an operation performed. That a surgical instrument was used we
may safely conclude from the evidence of Dr. Rayner. Mr. Hain called
himself a scientist, and he may have been that, and that only; but at
all events he, if he it was, was evidently skilled in surgery so far
as to be able to accomplish an amputation at the wrist neatly. Let us
then assume that Mr. Hain was to operate upon the hand of the
deceased. The first thing he would do would be to administer an
anæsthetic. This in all probability would be chloroform, for as the
body was not discovered until two days after death, and as the air was
warm during the interval, it is likely that the chloroform would
evaporate. We take it, therefore, that the deceased was choloroformed
by Mr. Hain with his own consent, since he was about to undergo a
painful operation.
"Up to this point our assumption is comparatively clear; but,
when we are asked to say why this Mr. Hain should have preferred a
knitting-needle to either of the two means which were at his disposal
for the accomplishment of his end (we refer, of course, to the
instruments which he must have had at hand, and to the chloroform), and
further, why the diseased hand, when amputated, should have been thrown
into the grate, we confess ourselves absolutely in the dark.
"In short, our assumption, such as it is, becomes hopelessly worthless
when separated from evidence wholly circumstantial; and circumstantial
evidence is, as we know, frequently misleading. Before we can hope to
obtain data more reliable it is necessary first that the deceased be
identified, and further, that one, if not both of the persons who were
known to be occupants of the house, be traced. We presume that in the
ordinary course a full and sufficiently minute description of the
deceased man will be disseminated by the police. He is apparently a
gentleman, and may be said, therefore, to have occupied a certain
social position. It is fair to assume that he has friends and
acquaintances who will recognize some, if not all, of the
characteristics put forth in the description. Further, he probably has
a home if not relatives somewhere in the kingdom, and if he does not
return within a reasonable time, inquiries will doubtless be made. It
is probably by some such means as this that the deceased will be
identified. Once that is done, there may be some chance of capturing
his murderer.
"It is remarkable that the deceased's clothes smelled of sandal-wood.
This is essentially an Eastern perfume, and a man, especially a
gentleman living in England, would hardly be in the habit of using it.
We are not aware, indeed, if it is used even in the East as a scent,
though many nations of the Far East, such as the Indians and the
Chinese--particularly the latter--make chests of sandal-wood. If, then,
this unknown man had at any time lived in the East, it is possible he
might have been in the habit of keeping his clothes in such a chest,
which would account for the odour detected by Inspector Jain.
"This clue is slight; still it is tangible, and it is moreover
possible to assume from it that the unknown man came from the East,
and further, that his arrival in England must have been comparatively
recent, since, had he been here for any length of time he would surely
have exchanged this cumbersome box for the portmanteau of Western
civilization. We suggest, therefore, to the police that, supposing, of
course, nothing be forthcoming from the deceased's relatives or
friends, a thorough search be made through the shipping offices and
the neighbourhood of the docks for the existence of any passenger
answering to the description of the deceased, who might recently have
disembarked from one of our great liners.
"Again, we say, the clue is a slight one; but in such a case as this
no fact, however insignificant, is unimportant, and the most slender
circumstance may, if rigorously followed up, ultimately lead to
results wholly unlooked for and disproportionate to it.
"Here, then, is a splendid opportunity for our detectives to cover
themselves with glory, and, by the capture of the perpetrator, to
prevent this--one of the most terrible crimes of recent days--from
being relegated to the already too well-filled limbo of unfathomable
mysteries."
THE STORY
_THE FIRST SCENE: AT CASTERWELL_.
CHAPTER I.
DAVID AND JONATHAN.
Towards the first week in July two young men were seated in a
smoking-carriage on the midday express from Paddington to Reading.
They were alone in the compartment, and at the moment there existed
between them that peculiar silence of sympathy which can be only the
outcome of a perfect friendship. The Jonathan of the pair was slim,
tall, and dark, with a military uprightness of bearing, and a somewhat
haughty expression on his clean-shaven face. His David was younger in
years, but considerably greater in size, and like his namesake of
Judah, was ruddy and of a fair countenance. The one was an eager,
anxious, highly-strung Celt, with his Irish impulse and impetuosity
trained into well-nigh complete obedience by years of experience; the
other a phlegmatic Saxon, of small brain and much muscle. Jonathan's
nineteenth-century name was Laurence Mallow. David answered to the
title of Lord Aldean. They had been tutor and pupil respectively, and
they were still fast friends. The elder possessing the stronger and
more imperious will, continued to control the younger.
Mallow was not popular, nor did he wish to be so. He chose to be
feared rather than loved. He was brilliantly clever, and, therefore,
had many admirers; on the other hand, his intolerance of stupidity
lost him many friends, so that to his expressed satisfaction he moved
more or less isolated amid a crowd of fair-spoken, back-biting
acquaintances. And yet perhaps it was a knowledge of the guarded
manner in which he was received that made him cling the more to the
solitary friend he possessed. People thought and people said that
there was but little about good-natured, thick-headed Aldean to
attract the brilliant young Irishman. There were those who went so far
as to hint that the boy's title and wealth explained all that, albeit
Mallow was well-nigh aggressively independent.
Left an orphan with comparatively little money at an early age, he had
won prizes and taken scholarships at a great public school, and had
maintained himself at Oxford by these early efforts. He left the
University with a full brain and empty pockets, and he had undertaken
the tutorship of Aldean to gain breathing-time while he cast around
him for choice of a career. When Aldean came of age, Mallow left him,
a fair enough scholar and an admirable athlete, and went himself to
London. He became a journalist and a power with his pen. He attached
himself to a weekly publication of high aim and small circulation,
conducted by a genius who had failed to profit by his pen because he
could not write obviously enough for the taste of the general public.
Mallow became one of the props of this journal. When it failed, by
reason of its too lofty aims, he went to India to write letters about
the incomprehensible East, for a newspaper. A while after he returned,
and published a novel which was much condemned and widely circulated.
At the present time, having netted a few hundreds out of the book,
he was going down to Casterwell to stay with Aldean, and to renew
his friendship with Olive Bellairs, whom he loved ardently,
though--knowing full well that she was engaged to a certain Mr.
Carson--hopelessly, in his own peculiar, wrong-headed way.
Aldean, who was now twenty-four, and as good-naturedly stupid as ever,
was in truth more akin to Goliath than to David. He was a gigantic son
of Anak, considerably over six feet in height, and as wide as a church
door. He was sparing of his words, and he usually assented to whatever
was said to him as the safest way out of an argument. But in spite of
his lack of conversation, and the rareness with which he gave
expression to such ideas as he possessed, he had a fund of shrewd
common sense, which, in his position, was worth far more to him than
genius would have been. It was with all his heart and soul that he
admired Mallow, and the very _naiveté_ with which he would express his
admiration endeared him to the young Irishman. Habitually Mallow's
tongue was razor-like in its acerbity, but Aldean--though he took full
advantage of the friendship between them, and spoke pretty plainly
when he judged his lordship deserved correction--he invariably spared
where he would have spared none else. They had indeed established
their friendship on a very durable basis, by the extremely simple
process of shutting their eyes to one another's faults and opening
them very wide to one another's virtues. The young Irishman had his
brilliant flashes of silence. It was on these occasions that he found
Aldean so agreeable a companion--in fact, the boy was as a pet dog to
Mallow; agreeable company, and not given to criticism.
"Aldean!"
"Eh yes, what?" asked his lordship, looking up from _Ally Sloper_.
"Have you read the account of this Athelstane Place murder?"
"Yes--fellow killed with a knitting-needle, isn't it?"
"Yes, thrust into the heart--devilish queer case. The _Morning Planet_
seems to think the unfortunate beggar came from India."
"Who told the 'M.P.' so?"
"No one, apparently; it is a theory based on the fact that the man's
clothes smelled of sandal-wood."
"Bosh! there's plenty of sandal-wood in England."
"No doubt; but Englishmen are not by way of scenting their clothes
with it. I shouldn't be surprised to find that the _Planet_ was right.
At all events it's some sort of clue."
Aldean shook his head. "I thought you said it was a theory?"
"So it is; but a theory may develop into a clue," retorted Mallow,
lighting another cigarette. "If only I had the time, there is nothing
I would like better than to follow up a case like this."
"Well, surely you have the time?"
"I have not; I am giving you what spare moments I have."
"You are--now. But at Casterwell Miss Bellairs, I guess, will see a
good deal more of you than I shall. The moth and the candle, eh?"
"Not at all, Aldean; your simile is quite inapt. I am not a moth,
neither can Miss Bellairs be compared to a candle. She is not the kind
of girl to scorch any poor butterfly that flutters round her."
"All right, old chap, you needn't take one quite so seriously. But as
you do, I may as well be serious too. Do you know I am thinking of
getting married?"
"No; that's news to me. And whom do you intend to honour so far, may I
ask?"
"Miss Ostergaard, if she concurs." Aldean heaved a huge sigh. "By
George! she's a ripping girl."
"Certainly, you might do worse," replied Laurence, musingly. "She's a
very good girl, and clever too. Does she reciprocate?"
"I don't know; she laughs at me."
"That may be just her method of showing her affection. She will be
hard to please if she is not satisfied with a titled Hercules like
you."
"Oh, I don't think she bothers in the least about the title," said his
lordship, dolefully, "she is quite a radical, a--a--what do you call
it--Anarchist, you know. Dr. Drabble has been converting her. He's a
proselytising beast, that Drabble."
"Oh, that's all rubbish. 'In the spring a young girl's fancy lightly
turns to thoughts of love'--not anarchy."
"But it isn't spring," said the literal Aldean, "and Miss Ostergaard
isn't the girl to marry for rank."
"Then make love to her properly, and she'll marry you for love."
"I wish I could; but I'm not a clever chap like you, Mallow."
"My dear boy, I'm not clever; on the contrary, I'm a fool--a perfect
fool, for do I not love Miss Bellairs like an idiot, when all the
while I know well she is going to marry this Carson man from India?"
"So she is; that's queer," said Aldean, reflectively.
"Queer! how do you mean?"
"Oh, nothing, old man. I am thinking of this murder case; and the fact
of both men coming from India struck me, that's all. You see Carson's
just on his way home now."
"Is he? I didn't know that," said Mallow, alertly.
"Yes; Miss Slarge--you know, the Babylonian, mark-of-the-beast
woman--told me that her sister in Bombay had written Carson was on his
way home by the P. and O. liner _Pharaoh_."
"The _Pharaoh_ arrived some time back," said Mallow, gloomily. "He
must be at Casterwell by this time."
"He was not there two days ago when I ran up to town."
"Well, it must be quite two weeks since the _Pharaoh_ arrived. What an
ardent lover the chap must be. I wish I stood in his shoes, that's
all. I wouldn't let the grass grow under them on the way to my 'own
true love'--not that Miss Bellairs can strictly be said to stand in
that relation to a man she has never set eyes upon. The very fact that
she has to marry him should be sufficient to make her hate him."
"By Jove! What a rum go it would be if Carson turned out to be the man
murdered in Athelstane Place!"
Mallow stared. "What on earth put such a wild idea into your head?" he
said.
"I don't know; nor do I know why you should be so ready to call it
wild. The man who was killed came from India--as you say----"
"I don't say so. It is the theory of the _Morning Planet_."
"It is just possible that it might be Carson, seeing that he hasn't
turned up at Casterwell," continued Aldean, not heeding Mallow's
interruption.
"Really, Jim, I didn't credit you with such a vivid imagination."
"Oh, of course it's merely an idea, Mallow. But what strikes me is
that if Carson arrived two weeks ago, he certainly ought to have put
in an appearance at Casterwell before this, if only out of curiosity
to see his future wife."
"My dear fellow, Carson may need a kit before he calls on Miss
Bellairs. He surely would wish to create a good impression, and I
don't suppose he would present himself in sandal-wood scented
clothes."
"I never said he would. But even so, that wouldn't take him a
fortnight."
Mallow leaned back and pinched his chin reflectively. He had no great
faith in his friend's prognostications, still he could not help being
struck by the suggestion coupling Carson with the victim of Athelstane
Place. It was certainly queer that this man from India should be two
weeks in England without fulfilling the very object for which his
journey had been made. He had arrived in the _Pharaoh_ on the 24th of
June the murder had been committed on the 26th, yet so far he had not
presented himself at Casterwell. The prime facts certainly coincided.
It was very odd; Mallow could not deny that.
"But the idea is incredible," he said aloud. "Hundreds of men arrive
from India every week; besides, Carson never was in England in his
life--Miss Bellairs told me so. Why should he be murdered immediately
on his arrival--where was the motive? You have found a mare's nest,
Jim."
"I dare say," replied Aldean, stolidly: "it's a bare idea."
"A very wild and a very absurd one, my boy. There is nothing to
connect the sandal-wood man (as you call him) with Carson."
"Perhaps not, Mallow. But if Carson does not turn up soon I shall
begin to think that my idea is not so ridiculous as you say."
"If he does not turn up," repeated Mallow with emphasis, "that's just
it, but he will turn up if it is only to take from me the only girl I
ever really cared about--a trite saying no doubt, but a true one in
this case."
"Every fellow says the same thing," said Aldean, as the train slowed
down into Reading Station. "Here we are."
Casterwell lies--as every one knows or should know, seeing that it is
one of the prettiest villages in the home counties--amongst the
Berkshire hills, some ten miles from Reading. Lord Aldean's cart was
waiting for himself and his friend. Mallow walked leisurely out of the
station into the sunshine, and watched the porter transfer his
portmanteau to Aldean's groom. Whilst he was standing on the edge of
the pavement a plump little man, rosy in face and neat in dress,
stopped short before him. He carried a black bag, but dropped this to
hold out a friendly hand to Mallow.
"Well, well," he chirped, just like an amiable robin; "and who would
have thought of seeing you here, Mr. Mallow? You're here on business,
I presume?"
"I have come down to stay with Lord Aldean at Casterwell, Mr. Dimbal,"
replied Mallow, graciously.
"Miss Bellairs' busi---- Ah, here is his lordship. How d'ye do, my
lord? On the road to Casterwell, eh? I'm going there myself."
"To see Miss Bellairs, did you say?" asked Mallow, impatiently.
"There's nothing wrong, I hope?"
"Good gracious, no. Why should there be anything wrong?"
"Why, indeed," said Aldean, laughing. "Lawyers and wrong never go
together."
"Ha, ha! very good, my lord; but we are a much-maligned profession.
No, Mr. Mallow, nothing is wrong with Miss Bellairs. On the contrary,
everything is very right. I bring her the good news that Mr. Carson
has arrived."
"Oh," said Mallow, with a glance at Aldean, "have you seen him?"
"Yes, he called yesterday at my office, and to-morrow he comes to
Casterwell to see his future wife. Well, well; good-day, good-day, I
see my fly, I must be off. Good-day, Mr. Mallow; my lord, good-day,"
and the little lawyer bustled off.
"So Carson isn't the sandal-wood man, after all," observed Aldean.
"No, God forgive me! I wish he were," replied Mallow, and frowned.