An Eye for an Eye

by William Le Queux

took a seat before him.

  "I've found the woman whom Patterson and I discovered dead last night,and the strangest part about it is that she's alive and quite well."

  "My dear fellow, are you mad?" he asked, looking at me strangely."People aren't in the habit of coming to life again, you know."

  "I'm well aware of that," I responded. "Nevertheless, the fact remainsthat the woman seen by Patterson and by myself is actually alive. I mether in the park, and followed her home to New Hampton."

  "Met her in the park!" he cried. "There was one woman I noticed,fair-haired, and dressed in black."

  "The same," I answered. "Fortunately I recognised her and kept herunder observation."

  Then, in response to his demand, I related to him the whole circumstancein detail.

  "And her name?" he inquired, when I had concluded.

  "Eva Glaslyn, daughter of Lady Glaslyn."

  "Glaslyn!" he ejaculated. "Good heavens! Surely it can't be the same!"

  "Why the same?" I inquired.

  "Oh, nothing!" he answered evasively, quickly seeking to allay mysuspicions. "There was some mystery, or scandal, or something connectedwith that family once, if I recollect aright. I may, however, bemistaken in the name. At any rate, Mr. Urwin, you've acted with tactand discretion, and discovered a most important fact."

  "What have you been doing?" I asked.

  "Well," he answered in hesitation, "the fact is, I've had a somewhatexciting experience."

  "Did you, then, discover the man?" I inquired anxiously.

  "I met a man, but whether he was the one who made the appointment bytelephone I don't yet know," he said. "I waited until a quarter to one,concealed behind some bushes, and presently saw a grey-haired oldgentleman, well-dressed in frock coat, and silk hat, strolling in mydirection. He was quite a dandy with well-pressed trousers, varnishedboots, gold-headed cane and single eyeglass. His air was that of alawyer or doctor. As if in search of some one he lingered in thevicinity, subsequently sitting upon a seat at the very end of the lake,the exact spot which had been indicated."

  "And what did you do?"

  "I waited and watched. There was no one near, yet from his sharpglances in all directions I saw that he was in fear lest some one mightapproach whom he didn't wish to see. He appeared violently agitated,and at last, when he was entirely alone, he placed his hand into hisinner pocket, took out something, and rising from the seat with a swiftmovement cast the object far away into the water."

  "Something he wanted to get rid of. Suspicious, wasn't it?"

  "Of course," said the detective. "After that you may rest assured thatI didn't lose sight of him. When the object he had thrown away hadfallen into the lake he turned, and after glancing up and down in fearthat his action might have been observed, he returned to his seat, andwaited until Big Ben struck again. Then he rose and left the park,strolling airily along the Buckingham Palace Road, peering a good dealunder the bonnets of the pretty women who were looking in the windows ofthe shops. He entered the bar of Victoria Station, drank awhisky-and-soda, and then continuing along to Ebury Street passed twiceor three times up and down in front of a house on the left-hand side.There were a number of people in that street at the time, but theinstant he thought himself unobserved, he dived down the area of thehouse he kept passing and repassing. In a moment I noted that thenumber was twenty-two, and having done so placed a watch upon the house,well satisfied that I had taken the first step towards unravelling themystery."

  "Remarkable," I said, "I wonder what it was he threw away?"

  "That's impossible to tell without dragging the lake, and to do that atpresent would excite suspicion. He evidently went there in order tomeet the assassin, but as the latter did not keep the appointment, thisunknown object, which might prove convicting if found upon him, heresolved to get rid of, and no better place could there be than at thebottom of the lake. There's lots of pieces of evidence there, you bet."

  "Then there must be some mysterious connexion between the appearance ofEva Glaslyn at that spot and this man who got rid of some evidence ofthe crime," I observed.

  "Most certainly," the detective said. "It almost seems as though shecame there for the purpose of meeting him, but he being late she grewimpatient and left before his arrival. At every step we take the enigmabecomes more complicated, more extraordinary, more bewildering."

  CHAPTER EIGHT.

  SOME REMARKABLE EVIDENCE.

  Three days went by, days full of wonder and anxiety.

  Many were the discussions between Patterson, Dick and myself regardingthe extraordinary development of the mystery which had now resolveditself into as complete a puzzle as ever occupied the attention ofScotland Yard. In Ebury Street and at Hampton most careful observationwas being carried on night and day, but according to Boyd absolutelynothing suspicious could be discovered. Lady Glaslyn was, according toDebrett, widow of a Sir Henry Glaslyn, a Scotch baronet who had diedseveral years before, leaving no heir to continue the title, and onlyone daughter, Eva.

  In the meantime the bodies of the man and the woman had been removed tothe mortuary secretly in the early hours of the morning in order not toarouse the suspicion of the neighbours, and a post-mortem had been heldby two local doctors, with the result that it was found possible to holdthe inquest on the afternoon of the third day. The Coroner held hisinquiry in a small back room in the Kensington Town Hall, not far fromthe scene of the tragedy, and, in opening, made a short address to thejury, pointing out the necessity for preserving the utmost secrecy inthe matter, and expressing a hope that no one present would defeat theends of justice by giving any facts to the newspapers.

  "Pardon me, sir," exclaimed the tradesman who had been elected foreman,"but I see two gentlemen of the Press present."

  "Both have assisted us in our inquiries," Patterson briefly explained tothe Coroner.

  "Of course," the Coroner answered, "this is a public court, andtherefore we cannot exclude any one. Yet I am confident the reporterswill respect my wishes."

  This we both promised to do, Cleugh, well-known to the Coroner, speakingfirst.

  The Coroner, when the jury had returned from viewing the bodies, made afew further observations, pointing out to the jury that although theaffair was one of the most mysterious and inexplicable that had ever comebeneath his notice in the course of his twenty years' experience as aLondon coroner, yet they were there to try and decide the cause of deathalone. They had no concern with any other facts except the cause ofdeath, and he trusted they would give the matter their undividedattention.

  Patterson was the first witness. In terse language he gave an accountof his discovery and of his second visit to the house in my company.Then, when he had concluded, I was called and bore out his statement,relating how we had entered the laboratory and found the marvellousscientific apparatus, and how in the pocket of the dead man I had founda penny wrapped in paper. The cards with the strange devices which hadbeen beneath the plates on the dining-table were handed round to thejury for their inspection, and then a statement which I made startledeven the Coroner. It was how the body of the woman at present in themortuary was not the same as the one we had at first discovered.

  "Impossible!" exclaimed the Coroner, while the twelve jurymen stoodaghast at my statement.

  "That is quite true, sir," exclaimed Patterson, rising from his seat."The lady we first discovered was younger, with fair hair."

  "Then there must have been a triple tragedy," observed the Coroner,astounded. "This is most extraordinary."

  I was about to explain how I had recognised in the girl I met in St.James's Park the identical woman whom we had discovered lifeless, but asharp look from the inspector silenced me.

  "We are making diligent inquiries," the officer went on, "and we havereason to believe that we shall be able to make a further statementlater--at the adjourned inquiry."

  The Coroner nodded, and turning to the jury, said--

  "Of course, gentlemen, i
t would not be wise at this stage for the policeto disclose any of the information in their possession. Their successin such matters as this mainly depends upon secrecy. I think we maynow, perhaps, hear the medical evidence."

  The jury stirred uneasily and settled themselves to listen intently asDr. Lees Knowles, the police divisional surgeon, stepped forward and wassworn.

  "I was called by the police to the house," he said, "and found there twodeceased persons, a man and a woman, in the drawing-room on the firstfloor. The attire of the man was rather disarranged, as the police hadalready searched him, but there were no signs whatever of a struggle."

  "You made a cursory examination, of course," suggested the Coroner.

  "Yes. Life had been extinct sometime, and _rigor mortis_ had commenced.There was, however, no external sign of foul play."

  "And the post-rnortem?"

  The Court was silent in anxious anticipation of the doctor's response.

  "Assisted by Doctor Lynes I made a post-mortem, but found absolutelynothing to account for death. There was no mark of violence on eitherof the bodies, and no physical defect or slightest trace of disease.Nevertheless, the position of the bodies when found makes it evidentthat both persons died with great suddenness, and without being able toobtain assistance."

  "Was there nothing whatever to give any clue to the cause of death?"asked the Coroner, himself a medical man.

  "Nothing," responded the surgeon. "One thing, however, struck us aspeculiar. On the inside of the right forearm of both the man and thewoman were identical tattoo marks. The device, nearly an inch indiameter, represented a serpent with its tail in its mouth, the ancientemblem of eternity. The mark on the man had evidently been tracedseveral years ago, but that on the woman is comparatively fresh, andcould not have completely healed over more than a month ago. It is asthough the mark on the man has been copied upon the woman."

  "And what do you think is the signification of this mark?" inquired theCoroner, looking up from the blue foolscap whereon he had been writingdown the depositions.

  "I'm utterly at a loss to know," the doctor answered. "Yet it is verycurious that upon one of these cards we found beneath the plates thereis a circle drawn, while it also seemed that snakes were kept in thehouse as pets. To my mind all three circumstances have some connectingsignificance."

  The jury bent together and conversed in whispers. This theory of thedoctor's seemed to possess a good deal of truth, even though the mysterywas increased rather than diminished.

  Many more questions were put to the doctor, after which his colleague,Dr. Lynes, was called, and corroborated the police surgeon's evidence.He, too, was utterly unable to ascribe any fatal cause. The tattoomarks had puzzled him, but he suggested that the man and woman might behusband and wife, and that in a freak of caprice, to which women of sometemperaments are subject, she had caused the device on her husband's armto be copied upon her own. Opinions were, however, divided as towhether the pair were husband and wife. For my own part I did notregard his theory as a sound one.

  "You did not overlook the contents of the stomach, of course?" theCoroner exclaimed.

  "No, we sent them in sealed bottles to Dr. Marston, the analyst of theHome Office."

  "And have we his report?" inquired the Coroner.

  "Dr. Marston is here himself, sir. He has come to give evidence,"Patterson answered from the back of the room, while at the same time anold grey-haired gentleman in gold-rimmed spectacles rose, and walkingforward took the oath.

  "You received from the previous witnesses two bottles?" suggested theCoroner. "Will you please tell us the result of your analysis?"

  "I tested carefully with group reagents for every known poison, and alsofor ptomaine," he said, "but all the solvents--alcohol, benzol, naphtha,ammonia and so forth--failed. I tested for the alkaloids, such asstrychnine, digitalin, and cantharidin, and used hydrochloric acid tofind either silver, mercury or lead, and also ammonia in an endeavour totrace tin, cadmium or arsenic. To none of the known groups does thepoison--if poison there be--belong. Therefore I have been utterlyunable to arrive at any definite conclusion."

  "Is there no direct trace of any poison?"

  "None," was the answer. "Yet from the result of certain group reagentsit would appear that death was due to the virulence of some azoticsubstance."

  "You cannot, we take it, decide what that substance was?"

  "Unfortunately, no," the renowned analyst answered, apparently annoyedat having to thus publicly acknowledge his failure. "The state of thestomach of either person was not such as might cause death. Indeed,there was only a secondary and most faint trace of the unknown substanceto which I have referred."

  "Then, to put it quite plainly," said the Coroner, "it is your opinionthat they were poisoned?"

  "I can scarcely go so far as that," the witness responded. "All I cansay in evidence is that I found a slight trace of some deleterioussubstance which all tests refused to clearly reveal. Whether it were anactual poison which resulted in death I hesitate to say, as the resultof my analysis is not sufficiently clear to warrant any directallegation."

  "Do you suggest that this substance, whatever it was, must have beenbaneful and injurious to the human system?"

  "I think so. Even that, however, is not absolutely certain. As youknow, certain poisons in infinitesimal quantities are exceedinglybeneficial."

  "Then we must take it that, presuming these two persons actually died ofpoison, it must have been by a poison unknown in toxicology?" observedthe Coroner.

  "Exactly," the analyst responded, standing with his hands behind hisback and peering through his spectacles at the expectant jury.

  The Coroner invited the jury to ask any questions of the analyst, butthe twelve Kensington tradesmen feared to put any query to the man whohad the science of poisoning thus at his fingers' ends, and whoseanalyses were always thorough and absolutely beyond dispute. He was thegreatest authority on poisons, and they could think of nothing furtherto ask him. Therefore the Coroner politely invited him to sign hisdepositions.

  After he had withdrawn, the Coroner, placing down his pen, sighed,leaned back in his chair with a puzzled expression, and once moreaddressed the twelve men who had been "summoned and warned" before him.They had heard the evidence, he said, and it was now for them to decidewhether the two persons had died from natural causes, or whether theyhad met with foul play. In the circumstances he acknowledged that adecision was extremely difficult on account of the many mysterious sideissues connected with the affair, yet he pointed out that if they werein real doubt whether to return a verdict of natural death or of wilfulmurder, there was still a third course, namely, to return an openverdict of "Found dead," and thus leave the matter in the hands of thepolice. He was ready, of course, to adjourn the inquiry, but from whathe knew of the matter, together with the evidence which had just beengiven, it was his honest opinion that no object could be obtained in anadjournment, and further by closing the inquest at once they wouldprevent any inexpedient facts leaking out to the newspapers.

  The jury retired to consult in an adjoining room, and in ten minutesreturned, giving an open verdict of "Found dead." Thus ended theinquiry, and while the law had been complied with, public curiosityremained unaroused, and the police were enabled to work on in secret.

  With Cleugh I lingered behind, chatting with Patterson and Boyd.

  "We're keeping observation at Upper Phillimore Place," Boyd explained,in response to my inquiry. "Funny thing that nobody else calls there,and that the servants have never come back."

  "Have you found the snake that was in the garden?" Cleugh asked ofPatterson, with a significant glance at me.

  "No," he responded, rather confused. "You see any search there mightarouse suspicion. Therefore we are compelled to be content withwatching for the return of any one to the house."

  "But you haven't yet succeeded in establishing the identity of thepair," Dick observed.

  "No. That's
the queerest part of it," Boyd exclaimed. "The owner ofthe house, a builder who has an office in Church Street, close by, saysthat the place was taken furnished by a Mrs. Blain, who gave her addressat Harwell, near Didcot. She paid six months' rent in advance."

  "Harwell!" echoed Cleugh, turning to me. "Isn't that your home, Urwin?"

  "Yes," I gasped. The name of Blain caused me to stand immovable.

  "Why," Dick exclaimed, noticing my agitation, "what's the matter, oldfellow? Do you know the Blains?"

  "Yes," I managed to reply. "They must be the Blains of Shenley Court.If so, they are friends of my family."

  I had never told my companion of my bygone love affair, because it hadbeen a thing of the past before we had gone into diggings together.

  "Who are they?" inquired Boyd quickly. "Tell me all you know concerningthem, as we are about to prosecute inquiries in their direction."

  "First, tell me the statement of the house owner," I said.

  "Well, he describes Mrs. Blain as a middle-aged, rather pleasant lady,who came to his office about a year ago in response to an advertisementin the _Morning Post_. She appeared most anxious to have the house, andone fact which appears to strike the old fellow as