The Vanishing Man

by R. Austin Freeman

  CHAPTER XIX

  A STRANGE SYMPOSIUM

  It came upon me with something of a shock of surprise to find the scrapof paper still tacked to the oak of Thorndyke's chambers. So much hadhappened since I had last looked on it that it seemed to belong toanother epoch of my life. I removed it thoughtfully and picked out thetack before entering, and then, closing the inner door, but leaving theoak open, I lit the gas and fell to pacing the room.

  What a wonderful episode it had been! How the whole aspect of the worldhad been changed in a moment by Thorndyke's revelation! At another time,curiosity would have led me to endeavour to trace back the train ofreasoning by which the subtle brain of my teacher had attained thisastonishing conclusion. But now my own happiness held exclusivepossession of my thoughts. The image of Ruth filled the field of mymental vision. I saw her again as I had seen her in the cab with hersweet, pensive face and downcast eyes; I felt again the touch of hersoft cheek and the parting kiss by the gate, so frank and simple, sointimate and final.

  I must have waited quite a long time, though the golden minutes spedunreckoned, for when my two colleagues arrived they tendered needlessapologies.

  "And I suppose," said Thorndyke, "you have been wondering what I wantedyou for."

  I had not, as a matter of fact, given the matter a moment'sconsideration.

  "We are going to call on Mr. Jellicoe," Thorndyke explained. "There issomething behind this affair, and until I have ascertained what it is,the case is not complete from my point of view."

  "Wouldn't it have done as well to-morrow?" I asked.

  "It might; and then it might not. There is an old saying as to catchinga weasel asleep. Mr. Jellicoe is a somewhat wide-awake person, and Ithink it best to introduce him to Inspector Badger at the earliestpossible moment."

  "The meeting of a weasel and a badger suggests a sporting interview,"remarked Jervis. "But you don't expect Jellicoe to give himself away, doyou?"

  "He can hardly do that, seeing that there is nothing to give away. But Ithink he may make a statement. There were some exceptionalcircumstances, I feel sure."

  "How long have you known that the body was in the Museum?" I asked.

  "About thirty or forty seconds longer than you have, I should say."

  "Do you mean," I exclaimed, "that you didn't know until the negative wasdeveloped?"

  "My dear fellow," he replied, "do you suppose that, if I had had certainknowledge where the body was, I should have allowed that noble girl togo on dragging out a lingering agony of suspense that I could have cutshort in a moment? Or that I should have made these humbugging pretencesof scientific experiments if a more dignified course had been open tome?"

  "As to the experiments," said Jervis, "Norbury could hardly haverefused if you had taken him into your confidence."

  "Indeed he could, and probably would. My 'confidence' would haveinvolved a charge of murder against a highly respectable gentleman whowas well known to him. He would probably have referred me to the police,and then what could I have done? I had plenty of suspicions, but not asingle solid fact."

  Our discussion was here interrupted by hurried footsteps on the stairsand a thundering rat-tat on our knocker.

  As Jervis opened the door, Inspector Badger burst into the room in ahighly excited state.

  "What is all this, Doctor Thorndyke?" he asked. "I see you've sworn aninformation against Mr. Jellicoe, and I have a warrant to arrest him;but before anything is done I think it right to tell you that we havemore evidence than is generally known pointing to quite a differentquarter."

  "Derived from Mr. Jellicoe's information," said Thorndyke. "But the factis that I have just examined and identified the body at the BritishMuseum, where it was deposited by Mr. Jellicoe. I don't say that hemurdered John Bellingham--though that is what the appearancessuggest--but I do say that he will have to account for his secretdisposal of the body."

  Inspector Badger was thunderstruck. Also he was visibly annoyed. Thesalt which Mr. Jellicoe had so adroitly sprinkled on the constabularytail appeared to develop irritating properties, for when Thorndyke hadgiven him a brief outline of the facts he stuck his hands in his pocketsand exclaimed gloomily:

  "Well, I'm hanged! And to think of all the time and trouble I've spenton those damned bones! I suppose they were just a plant?"

  "Don't let us disparage them," said Thorndyke. "They have played auseful part. They represent the inevitable mistake that every criminalmakes sooner or later. The murderer will always do a little too much. Ifhe would only lie low and let well alone, the detective might whistlefor a clue. But it is time we were starting."

  "Are we all going?" asked the inspector, looking at me in particularwith no very gracious recognition.

  "We will all come with you," said Thorndyke; "but you will, naturally,make the arrest in the way that seems best to you."

  "It's a regular procession," grumbled the inspector; but he made no moredefinite objection, and we started forth on our quest.

  The distance from the Temple to Lincoln's Inn is not great. In fiveminutes we were at the gateway in Chancery Lane, and a couple of minuteslater saw us gathered round the threshold of the stately old house inNew Square.

  "Seems to be a light in the first floor front," said Badger. "You'dbetter move away before I ring the bell."

  But the precaution was unnecessary. As the inspector advanced to thebell-pull a head was thrust out of the open window immediately above thestreet door.

  "Who are you?" inquired the owner of the head in a voice which Irecognised as that of Mr. Jellicoe.

  "I am Inspector Badger, of the Criminal Investigation Department. Iwish to see Mr. Arthur Jellicoe."

  "Then look at me. I am Mr. Arthur Jellicoe."

  "I hold a warrant for your arrest, Mr. Jellicoe. You are charged withthe murder of Mr. John Bellingham, whose body has just been discoveredin the British Museum."

  "By whom?"

  "By Doctor Thorndyke."

  "Indeed," said Mr. Jellicoe. "Is he here?"

  "Yes."

  "Ha! And you wish to arrest me, I presume?"

  "Yes. That is what I am here for."

  "Well, I will agree to surrender myself subject to certain conditions."

  "I can't make any conditions, Mr. Jellicoe."

  "No. I will make them, and you will accept them. Otherwise you will notarrest me."

  "It's no use for you to talk like that," said Badger. "If you don't letme in I shall have to break in. And I may as well tell you," he addedmendaciously, "that the house is surrounded."

  "You may accept my assurance," Mr. Jellicoe replied calmly, "that youwill not arrest me if you do not accept my conditions."

  "Well, what are your conditions?" demanded Badger impatiently.

  "I desire to make a statement," said Mr. Jellicoe.

  "You can do that, but I must caution you that anything you say may beused in evidence against you."

  "Naturally. But I wish to make the statement in the presence of DoctorThorndyke, and I desire to hear a statement from him of the method ofinvestigation by which he discovered the whereabouts of the body. Thatis to say, if he is willing."

  "If you mean that we should mutually enlighten one another, I am verywilling indeed," said Thorndyke.

  "Very well. Then my conditions, Inspector, are that I shall hear DoctorThorndyke's statement and that I shall be permitted to make a statementmyself, and that until those statements are completed, with anynecessary interrogation and discussion, I shall remain at liberty andshall suffer no molestation or interference of any kind. And I agreethat, on the conclusion of the said proceedings, I will submit withoutresistance to any course that you may adopt."

  "I can't agree to that," said Badger.

  "Can't you?" said Mr. Jellicoe coldly; and, after a pause, he added:"Don't be hasty. I have given you full warning."

  There was something in Mr. Jellicoe's passionless tone that disturbedthe inspector exceedingly, for he turned to Thorndyke and said in a lowtone: />
  "I wonder what his game is? He can't get away, you know."

  "There are several possibilities," said Thorndyke.

  "M'yes," said Badger, stroking his chin perplexedly.

  "After all, is there any objection? His statement might save trouble,and you'd be on the safe side. It would take you some time to break in."

  "Well," said Mr. Jellicoe, with his hand on the window, "do youagree--yes or no?"

  "All right," said Badger sulkily. "I agree."

  "You promise not to molest me in any way until I have quite finished?"

  "I promise."

  Mr. Jellicoe's head disappeared and the window closed. After a shortinterval we heard the jar of massive bolts and the clank of a chain,and, as the heavy door swung open, Mr. Jellicoe stood revealed, calm andimpassive, with an old-fashioned office candlestick in his hand.

  "Who are the others?" he inquired, peering out sharply through hisspectacles.

  "O, they are nothing to do with me," replied Badger.

  "They are Doctor Berkeley and Doctor Jervis," said Thorndyke.

  "Ha!" said Mr. Jellicoe; "very kind and attentive of them to call. Praycome in, gentlemen. I am sure you will be interested to hear our littlediscussion."

  He held the door open with a certain stiff courtesy, and we all enteredthe hall led by Inspector Badger. He closed the door softly and precededus up the stairs and into the apartment from the window of which he haddictated the terms of surrender. It was a fine old room, spacious,lofty, and dignified, with panelled walls and a carved mantelpiece, thecentral escutcheon of which bore the initials "J.W.P." with the date"1671." A large writing-table stood at the farther end, and behind it aniron safe.

  "I have been expecting this visit," Mr. Jellicoe remarked tranquilly ashe placed four chairs opposite the table.

  "Since when?" asked Thorndyke.

  "Since last Monday evening, when I had the pleasure of seeing youconversing with my friend Doctor Berkeley at the Inner Temple gate, andthen inferred that you were retained in the case. That was acircumstance that had not been fully provided for. May I offer yougentlemen a glass of sherry?" As he spoke he placed on the table adecanter and a tray of glasses, and looked at us interrogatively withhis hand on the stopper.

  "Well, I don't mind if I do, Mr. Jellicoe," said Badger, on whom thelawyer's glance had finally settled. Mr. Jellicoe filled a glass andhanded it to him with a stiff bow; then, with the decanter still in hishand, he said persuasively: "Doctor Thorndyke, pray allow me to fill youa glass?"

  "No, thank you," said Thorndyke, in a tone so decided that the inspectorlooked round at him quickly. And as Badger caught his eye, the glasswhich he was about to raise to his lips became suddenly arrested and wasslowly returned to the table untasted.

  "I don't want to hurry you, Mr. Jellicoe," said the inspector, "but it'srather late, and I should like to get this business settled. What is itthat you wish to do?"

  "I desire," replied Mr. Jellicoe, "to make a detailed statement of theevents that have happened, and I wish to hear from Doctor Thorndykeprecisely how he arrived at his very remarkable conclusion. When thishas been done I shall be entirely at your service; and I suggest that itwould be more interesting if Doctor Thorndyke would give us hisstatement before I furnish you with the actual facts."

  "I am entirely of your opinion," said Thorndyke.

  "Then in that case," said Mr. Jellicoe, "I suggest that you disregardme, and address your remarks to your friends as if I were not present."

  Thorndyke acquiesced with a bow, and Mr. Jellicoe, having seated himselfin his elbow-chair behind the table, poured himself out a glass ofwater, selected a cigarette from a neat silver case, lighted itdeliberately, and leaned back to listen at his ease.

  "My first acquaintance with this case," Thorndyke began withoutpreamble, "was made through the medium of the daily papers about twoyears ago; and I may say that, although I had no interest in it beyondthe purely academic interest of a specialist in a case that lies in hisparticular specialty, I considered it with deep attention. The newspaperreports contained no particulars of the relations of the parties thatcould furnish any hints as to motives on the part of any of them, butmerely a bare statement of the events. And this was a distinctadvantage, inasmuch as it left one to consider the facts of the casewithout regard to motive--to balance the _prima facie_ probabilitieswith an open mind. And it may surprise you to learn that those _primafacie_ probabilities pointed from the very first to that solution whichhas been put to the test of experiment this evening. Hence it will bewell for me to begin by giving the conclusions that I reached byreasoning from the facts set forth in the newspapers before any of thefurther facts came to my knowledge.

  "From the facts as stated in the newspaper reports it is obvious thatthere were four possible explanations of the disappearance.

  "1. The man might be alive and in hiding. This was highly improbable,for the reasons that were stated by Mr. Loram at the late hearing of theapplication, and for a further reason that I shall mention presently.

  "2. He might have died by accident or disease, and his body failed to beidentified. This was even more improbable, seeing that he carried on hisperson abundant means of identification, including visiting cards.

  "3. He might have been murdered by some stranger for the sake of hisportable property. This was highly improbable for the same reason: hisbody could hardly have failed to be identified.

  "These three explanations are what we may call the outside explanations.They touched none of the parties mentioned; they were all obviouslyimprobable on general grounds; and to all of them there was oneconclusive answer--the scarab which was found in Godfrey Bellingham'sgarden. Hence I put them aside and gave my attention to the fourthexplanation. This was that the missing man had been made away with byone of the parties mentioned in the report. But, since the reportsmentioned three parties, it was evident that there was a choice of threehypotheses, namely:

  "(_a_) That John Bellingham had been made away with by Hurst; or (_b_)by the Bellinghams; or (_c_) by Mr. Jellicoe.

  "Now, I have constantly impressed on my pupils that the indispensablequestion that must be asked at the outset of such an inquiry as this is,'When was the missing person last undoubtedly seen or known to bealive?' That is the question that I asked myself after reading thenewspaper report; and the answer was, that he was last certainly seenalive on the fourteenth of October, nineteen hundred and two, at 141Queen Square, Bloomsbury. Of the fact that he was alive at that timeand place there could be no doubt whatever; for he was seen at the samemoment by two persons, both of whom were intimately acquainted with him,and one of whom, Doctor Norbury, was apparently a disinterested witness.After that date he was never seen, alive or dead, by any person who knewhim and was able to identify him. It was stated that he had been seen onthe twenty-third of November following by the housemaid of Mr. Hurst;but as this person was unacquainted with him, it was uncertain whetherthe person whom she saw was or was not John Bellingham.

  "Hence the disappearance dated, not from the twenty-third of November,as everyone seems to have assumed, but from the fourteenth of October;and the question was not, 'What became of John Bellingham after heentered Mr. Hurst's house?' but, 'What became of him after his interviewin Queen Square?'

  "But as soon as I had decided that that interview must form the realstarting-point of the inquiry, a most striking set of circumstances cameinto view. It became obvious that if Mr. Jellicoe had had any reason forwishing to make away with John Bellingham, he had such an opportunity asseldom falls to the lot of an intending murderer.

  "Just consider the conditions. John Bellingham was known to be settingout alone upon a journey beyond the sea. His exact destination was notstated. He was to be absent for an undetermined period, but at leastthree weeks. His disappearance would occasion no comment; his absencewould lead to no inquiries, at least for several weeks, during which themurderer would have leisure quietly to dispose of the body and concealall traces of the crime. The con
ditions were, from a murderer's point ofview, ideal.

  "But that was not all. During that very period of John Bellingham'sabsence Mr. Jellicoe was engaged to deliver to the British Museum whatwas admittedly a dead human body; and that body was to be enclosed in asealed case. Could any more perfect or secure method of disposing of abody be devised by the most ingenious murderer? The plan would have hadonly one weak point: the mummy would be known to have left Queen Square_after_ the disappearance of John Bellingham, and suspicion might in theend have arisen. To this point I shall return presently; meanwhile wewill consider the second hypothesis--that the missing man was made awaywith by Mr. Hurst.

  "Now, there seemed to be no doubt that some person, purporting to beJohn Bellingham, did actually visit Mr. Hurst's house; and he musteither have left that house or remained in it. If he left, he did sosurreptitiously; if he remained, there could be no reasonable doubt thathe had been murdered and that his body had been concealed. Let usconsider the probabilities in each case.

  "Assuming--as everyone seems to have done--that the visitor was reallyJohn Bellingham, we are dealing with a responsible, middle-agedgentleman, and the idea that such a person would enter a house, announcehis intention of staying, and then steal away unobserved is verydifficult to accept. Moreover, he would appear to have come down toEltham by rail immediately on landing in England, leaving his luggage inthe cloak-room at Charing Cross. This pointed to a definiteness ofpurpose quite inconsistent with his casual disappearance from the house.

  "On the other hand, the idea that he might have been murdered by Hurstwas not inconceivable. The thing was physically possible. If Bellinghamhad really been in the study when Hurst came home, the murder could havebeen committed--by appropriate means--and the body temporarily concealedin the cupboard or elsewhere. But, although possible, it was not at allprobable. There was no real opportunity. The risk and the subsequentdifficulties would be very great; there was not a particle of positiveevidence that a murder had occurred; and the conduct of Hurst inimmediately leaving the house in possession of the servants is quiteinconsistent with the supposition that there was a body concealed in it.So that, while it is almost impossible to believe that John Bellinghamleft the house of his own accord, it is equally difficult to believethat he did not leave it.

  "But there is a third possibility, which, strange to say, no one seemsto have suggested. Supposing that the visitor was not John Bellingham atall, but someone who was personating him? That would dispose of thedifficulties completely. The strange disappearance ceases to be strange,for a personator would necessarily make off before Mr. Hurst shouldarrive and discover the imposture. But if we accept this supposition, weraise two further questions: 'Who was the personator?' and 'What was theobject of the personation?'

  "Now, the personator was clearly not Hurst himself, for he would havebeen recognised by his housemaid; he was therefore either GodfreyBellingham or Mr. Jellicoe or some other person; and as no other personwas mentioned in the newspaper reports I confined my speculations tothese two.

  "And, first, as to Godfrey Bellingham. It did not appear whether he wasor was not known to the housemaid, so I assumed--wrongly, as it turnsout--that he was not. Then he might have been the personator. But whyshould he have personated his brother? He could not have alreadycommitted the murder. There had not been time enough. He would have hadto leave Woodford before John Bellingham had set out from Charing Cross.And even if he had committed the murder, he would have had no object inraising this commotion. His cue would have been to remain quiet and knownothing. The probabilities were all against the personator being GodfreyBellingham.

  "Then could it be Mr. Jellicoe? The answer to this question is containedin the answer to the further question: What could have been the objectof the personation?

  "What motive could this unknown person have had in appearing, announcinghimself as John Bellingham, and forthwith vanishing? There could onlyhave been one motive: that, namely, of fixing the date of JohnBellingham's disappearance--of furnishing a definite moment at which hewas last seen alive.

  "But who was likely to have had such a motive? Let us see.

  "I said just now that if Mr. Jellicoe had murdered John Bellingham anddisposed of the body in the mummy-case, he would have been absolutelysafe for the time being. But there would be a weak spot in his armour.For a month or more the disappearance of his client would occasion noremark. But presently, when he failed to return, inquiries would be seton foot; and then it would appear that no one had seen him since he leftQueen Square. Then it would be noted that the last person with whom hewas seen was Mr. Jellicoe. It might, further, be remembered that themummy had been delivered to the Museum some time _after_ the missing manwas last seen alive. And so suspicion might arise and be followed bydisastrous investigations. But supposing it should be made to appearthat John Bellingham had been seen alive more than a month after hisinterview with Mr. Jellicoe and some weeks after the mummy had beendeposited in the Museum? Then Mr. Jellicoe would cease to be in any wayconnected with the disappearance, and henceforth would be absolutelysafe.

  "Hence, after carefully considering this part of the newspaper report, Icame to the conclusion that the mysterious occurrence at Mr. Hurst'shouse had only one reasonable explanation, namely, that the visitor wasnot John Bellingham, but someone personating him; and that that someonewas Mr. Jellicoe.

  "It remains to consider the case of Godfrey Bellingham and his daughter,though I cannot understand how any sane person can have seriouslysuspected either" (here Inspector Badger smiled a sour smile). "Theevidence against them was negligible, for there was nothing to connectthem with the affair save the finding of the scarab on their premises;and that event, which might have been highly suspicious under othercircumstances, was robbed of any significance by the fact that thescarab was found on a spot which had been passed a few minutespreviously by the other suspected party, Hurst. The finding of thescarab did, however, establish two important conclusions; namely, thatJohn Bellingham had probably met with foul play, and that of the fourpersons present when it was found, one at least had had possession ofthe body. As to which of the four was the one, the circumstancesfurnished only a hint, which was this: If the scarab had been purposelydropped, the most likely person to find it was the one who dropped it.And the person who discovered it was Mr. Jellicoe.

  "Following up this hint, if we ask ourselves what motive Mr. Jellicoecould have had for dropping it--assuming him to be the murderer--theanswer is obvious. It would not be his policy to fix the crime on anyparticular person, but rather to set up a complication of conflictingevidence which would occupy the attention of investigators and divert itfrom himself.

  "Of course, if Hurst had been the murderer, he would have had asufficient motive for dropping the scarab, so that the case against Mr.Jellicoe was not conclusive; but the fact that it was he who found itwas highly significant.

  "This completes the analysis of the evidence contained in the originalnewspaper report describing the circumstances of the disappearance. Theconclusions that followed from it were, as you will have seen:

  "1. That the missing man was almost certainly dead, as proved by thefinding of the scarab after his disappearance.

  "2. That he had probably been murdered by one or more of four persons,as proved by the finding of the scarab on the premises occupied by twoof them and accessible to the others.

  "3. That, of those four persons, one--Mr. Jellicoe--was the last personwho was known to have been in the company of the missing man; had had anexceptional opportunity for committing the murder; and was known to havedelivered a dead body to the Museum subsequently to the disappearance.

  "4. That the supposition that Mr. Jellicoe had committed the murderrendered all the other circumstances of the disappearance clearlyintelligible, whereas on any other supposition they were quiteinexplicable.

  "The evidence of the newspaper report, therefore, clearly pointed to theprobability that John Bellingham had been murdered by Mr. Jellicoe andhis body
concealed in the mummy-case.

  "I do not wish to give you the impression that I, then and there,believed that Mr. Jellicoe was the murderer. I did not. There was noreason to suppose that the report contained all the essential facts, andI merely considered it speculatively as a study in probabilities. But Idid decide that that was the only probable conclusion from the factsthat were given.

  "Nearly two years passed before I heard anything more of the case. Thenit was brought to my notice by my friend, Doctor Berkeley, and I becameacquainted with certain new facts, which I will consider in the order inwhich they became known to me.

  "The first new light on the case came from the will. As soon as I hadread that document I felt convinced that there was something wrong. Thetestator's evident intention was that his brother should inherit theproperty, whereas the construction of the will was such as almostcertainly to defeat that intention. The devolution of the propertydepended on the burial clause--clause two; but the burial arrangementswould ordinarily be decided by the executor, who happened to be Mr.Jellicoe. Thus the will left the disposition of the property under thecontrol of Mr. Jellicoe, though his action could have been contested.

  "Now, this will, although drawn up by John Bellingham, was executed inMr. Jellicoe's office, as is proved by the fact that it was witnessed bytwo of his clerks. He was the testator's lawyer, and it was his duty toinsist on the will being properly drawn. Evidently he did nothing of thekind, and this fact strongly suggested some kind of collusion on hispart with Hurst, who stood to benefit by the miscarriage of the will.And this was the odd feature in the case; for whereas the partyresponsible for the defective provisions was Mr. Jellicoe, the party whobenefited was Hurst.

  "But the most startling peculiarity of the will was the way in which itfitted the circumstances of the disappearance. It looked as if clausetwo had been drawn up with those very circumstances in view. Since,however, the will was ten years old, this was impossible. But if clausetwo could not have been devised to fit the disappearance, could thedisappearance have been devised to fit clause two? That was by no meansimpossible: under the circumstances it looked rather probable. And if ithad been so contrived, who was the agent in that contrivance? Hurststood to benefit, but there was no evidence that he even knew thecontents of the will. There remained only Mr. Jellicoe, who hadcertainly connived at the misdrawing of the will for some purpose of hisown--some dishonest purpose.

  "The evidence of the will, then, pointed to Mr. Jellicoe as the agentin the disappearance, and, after reading it, I definitely suspected himof the crime.

  "Suspicion, however, is one thing and proof is another. I had not nearlyenough evidence to justify me in laying an information, and I could notapproach the Museum officials without making a definite accusation. Thegreat difficulty of the case was that I could discover no motive. Icould not see any way in which Mr. Jellicoe would benefit by thedisappearance. His own legacy was secure, whenever and however thetestator died. The murder and concealment apparently benefited Hurstalone; and, in the absence of any plausible motive, the facts requiredto be much more conclusive than they were."

  "Did you form absolutely no opinion as to motive?" asked Mr. Jellicoe.

  He put the question in a quiet, passionless tone, as if he werediscussing some _cause celebre_ in which he had nothing more than aprofessional interest. Indeed, the calm, impersonal interest that hedisplayed in Thorndyke's analysis, his unmoved attention, punctuated bylittle nods of approval at each telling point in the argument, were themost surprising features of this astounding interview.

  "I did form an opinion," replied Thorndyke, "but it was merelyspeculative, and I was never able to confirm it. I discovered that aboutten years ago Mr. Hurst had been in difficulties and that he hadsuddenly raised a considerable sum of money, no one knew how or on whatsecurity. I observed that this event coincided in time with theexecution of the will, and I surmised that there might be someconnection between them. But that was only a surmise; and, as theproverb has it, 'He discovers who proves.' I could prove nothing, sothat I never discovered Mr. Jellicoe's motive, and I don't know it now."

  "Don't you, really?" said Mr. Jellicoe, in something approaching a toneof animation. He laid down the end of his cigarette, and, as he selectedanother from the silver case, he continued: "I think that is the mostinteresting feature of your really remarkable analysis. It does yougreat credit. The absence of motive would have appeared to most personsa fatal objection to the theory of, what I may call, the prosecution.Permit me to congratulate you on the consistency and tenacity with whichyou have pursued the actual, visible facts."

  He bowed stiffly to Thorndyke (who returned his bow with equalstiffness), lighted the fresh cigarette, and once more leaned back inhis chair with the calm, attentive manner of a man who is listening to alecture or a musical performance.

  "The evidence, then, being insufficient to act upon," Thorndyke resumed,"there was nothing for it but to wait for some new facts. Now, the studyof a large series of carefully conducted murders brings into view analmost invariable phenomenon. The cautious murderer, in his anxiety tomake himself secure, does too much; and it is this excess of precautionthat leads to detection. It happens constantly; indeed, I may say thatit always happens--in those murders that are detected; of those that arenot we say nothing--and I had strong hopes that it would happen in thiscase. And it did.

  "At the very moment when my client's case seemed almost hopeless, somehuman remains were discovered at Sidcup. I read the account of thediscovery in the evening paper, and, scanty as the report was, itrecorded enough facts to convince me that the inevitable mistake hadbeen made."

  "Did it, indeed?" said Mr. Jellicoe. "A mere, inexpert, hearsay report!I should have supposed it to be quite valueless from a scientific pointof view."

  "So it was," said Thorndyke. "But it gave the date of the discovery andthe locality, and it also mentioned what bones had been found. Whichwere all vital facts. Take the question of time. These remains, afterlying _perdu_ for two years, suddenly come to light just as theparties--who have also been lying _perdu_--have begun to take action inrespect of the will; in fact, within a week or two of the hearing of theapplication. It was certainly a remarkable coincidence. And when thecircumstances that occasioned the discovery were considered, thecoincidence became still more remarkable. For these remains were foundon land actually belonging to John Bellingham, and their discoveryresulted from certain operations (the clearing of the watercress-beds)carried out on behalf of the absent landlord. But by whose orders werethose works undertaken? Clearly by the orders of the landlord's agent.But the landlord's agent was known to be Mr. Jellicoe. Therefore theseremains were brought to light at this peculiarly opportune moment by theaction of Mr. Jellicoe. The coincidence, I say again, was veryremarkable.

  "But what instantly arrested my attention on reading the newspaperreport was the unusual manner in which the arm had been separated; for,besides the bones of the arm proper, there were those of what anatomistscall the 'shoulder-girdle'--the shoulder-blade and collar-bone. This wasvery remarkable. It seemed to suggest a knowledge of anatomy, and yet nomurderer, even if he possessed such knowledge, would make a display ofit on such an occasion. It seemed to me that there must be some otherexplanation. Accordingly, when other remains had come to light and allhad been collected at Woodford, I asked my friend Berkeley to go downthere and inspect them. He did so, and this is what he found:

  "Both arms had been detached in the same peculiar manner; both werecomplete, and all the bones were from the same body. The bones werequite clean--of soft structures, I mean. There were no cuts, scratches,or marks on them. There was not a trace of adipocere--the peculiar waxysoap that forms in bodies that decay in water or in a damp situation.The right hand had been detached at the time the arm was thrown into thepond, and the left ring finger had been separated and had vanished. Thislatter fact had attracted my attention from the first, but I will leaveits consideration for the moment and return to it later."

  "Ho
w did you discover that the hand had been detached?" Mr. Jellicoeasked.

  "By the submersion marks," replied Thorndyke. "It was lying on thebottom of the pond in a position which would have been impossible if ithad been attached to the arm."

  "You interest me exceedingly," said Mr. Jellicoe. "It appears that amedico-legal expert finds 'books in the running brooks, sermons inbones, and evidence in everything.' But don't let me interrupt you."

  "Doctor Berkeley's observations," Thorndyke resumed, "together with themedical evidence at the inquest, led me to certain conclusions.

  "Let me first state the facts which were disclosed.

  "The remains which had been assembled formed a complete human skeletonwith the exception of the skull, one finger, and the legs from knee toankle, including both knee-caps. This was a very impressive fact; forthe bones that were missing included all those which could have beenidentified as belonging or not belonging to John Bellingham; and thebones that were present were the unidentifiable remainder.

  "It had a suspicious appearance of selection.

  "But the parts that were present were also curiously suggestive. In allcases the mode of dismemberment was peculiar; for an ordinary personwould have divided the knee-joint leaving the knee-cap attached to thethigh, whereas it had evidently been left attached to the shin-bone; andthe head would most probably have been removed by cutting through theneck instead of being neatly detached from the spine. And all thesebones were also entirely free from marks or scratches such as wouldnaturally occur in an ordinary dismemberment, and all were quite freefrom adipocere. And now as to the conclusions which I drew from thesefacts. First, there was the peculiar grouping of the bones. What was themeaning of that? Well, the idea of a punctilious anatomist was obviouslyabsurd, and I put it aside. But was there any other explanation? Yes,there was. The bones had appeared in the natural groups that are heldtogether by ligaments; and they had separated at points where they wereattached principally by muscles. The knee-cap, for instance, whichreally belongs to the thigh, is attached to it by muscle, but to theshin-bone by a stout ligament. And so with the bones of the arm; theyare connected to one another by ligaments; but to the trunk only bymuscle, excepting at one end of the collar-bone.

  "But this was a very significant fact. Ligament decays much more slowlythan muscle, so that in a body of which the muscles had largely decayedthe bones might still be held together by ligament. The peculiargrouping therefore suggested that the body had been partly reduced to askeleton before it was dismembered; that it had then been merely pulledapart and not divided with a knife.

  "This suggestion was remarkably confirmed by the total absence ofknife-cuts or scratches.

  "Then there was the fact that all the bones were quite free fromadipocere. Now, if an arm or a thigh should be deposited in water andleft undisturbed to decay, it is certain that large masses of adipocerewould be formed. Probably more than half of the flesh would be convertedinto this substance. The absence of adipocere therefore proved that thebulk of the flesh had disappeared or been removed from the bones beforethey were deposited in the pond. That, in fact, it was not a body, but askeleton, that had been deposited.

  "But what kind of skeleton? If it was the recent skeleton of a murderedman, then the bones had been carefully stripped of flesh so as to leavethe ligaments intact. But this was highly improbable; for there could beno object in preserving the ligaments. And the absence of scratches wasagainst this view.

  "Then they did not appear to be graveyard bones. The collection was toocomplete. It is very rare to find a graveyard skeleton of which many ofthe small bones are not missing. And such bones are usually more orless weathered and friable.

  "They did not appear to be bones such as may be bought at anosteological dealer's, for these usually have perforations to admit themacerating fluid to the marrow cavities. Dealers' bones, too, are veryseldom all from the same body; and the small bones of the hand aredrilled with holes to enable them to be strung on catgut.

  "They were not dissecting-room bones, as there was no trace of red-leadin the openings for the nutrient arteries.

  "What the appearances did suggest was that these were parts of a bodywhich had decayed in a very dry atmosphere (in which no adipocere wouldbe formed), and which had been pulled or broken apart. Also that theligaments which held the body--or rather skeleton--together were brittleand friable, as suggested by the detached hand, which had probablybroken off accidentally. But the only kind of body that completelyanswers this description is an Egyptian mummy. A mummy, it is true, hasbeen more or less preserved; but on exposure to the air of such aclimate as ours it perishes rapidly, the ligaments being the last of thesoft parts to disappear.

  "The hypothesis that these bones were parts of a mummy naturallysuggested Mr. Jellicoe. If he had murdered John Bellingham and concealedhis body in the mummy-case, he would have a spare mummy on his hands,and that mummy would have been exposed to the air and to somewhat roughhandling.

  "A very interesting circumstance connected with these remains was thatthe ring finger was missing. Now, fingers have on sundry occasions beendetached from dead hands for the sake of the rings on them. But in suchcases the object has been to secure a valuable ring uninjured. If thishand was the hand of John Bellingham, there was no such object. Thepurpose was to prevent identification; and that purpose would have beenmore easily, and much more completely, achieved by sacrificing the ring,by filing through it or breaking it off the finger. The appearances,therefore, did not quite agree with the apparent purpose.

  "Then, could there be any other purpose with which they agreed better?Yes, there could.

  "If it had happened that John Bellingham were known to have worn a ringon that finger, and especially if that ring fitted tightly, the removalof the finger would serve a very useful purpose. It would create animpression that the finger had been removed on account of a ring, toprevent identification; which impression would, in turn, produce asuspicion that the hand was that of John Bellingham. And yet it wouldnot be evidence that could be used to establish identity. Now, if Mr.Jellicoe were the murderer and had the body hidden elsewhere, vaguesuspicion would be precisely what he would desire, and positive evidencewhat he would wish to avoid.

  "It transpired later that John Bellingham did wear a ring on that fingerand that the ring fitted very tightly. Whence it followed that theabsence of the finger was an additional point tending to implicate Mr.Jellicoe.

  "And now let us briefly review this mass of evidence. You will see thatit consists of a multitude of items, each either trivial or speculative.Up to the time of the actual discovery I had not a single crucial fact,nor any clue as to motive. But, slight as the individual points ofevidence were, they pointed with impressive unanimity to one person--Mr.Jellicoe. Thus:

  "The person who had the opportunity to commit the murder and dispose ofthe body was Mr. Jellicoe.

  "The deceased was last certainly seen alive with Mr. Jellicoe.

  "An unidentified human body was delivered to the Museum by Mr. Jellicoe.

  "The only person who could have a motive for personating the deceasedwas Mr. Jellicoe.

  "The only known person who could possibly have done so was Mr. Jellicoe.

  "One of the two persons who could have had a motive for dropping thescarab was Mr. Jellicoe. The person who found that scarab was Mr.Jellicoe, although, owing to his defective eyesight and his spectacles,he was the most unlikely person of those present to find it.

  "The person who was responsible for the execution of the defective willwas Mr. Jellicoe.

  "Then as to the remains. They were apparently not those of JohnBellingham, but parts of a particular kind of body. But the only personwho was known to have had such a body in his possession was Mr.Jellicoe.

  "The only person who could have had any motive for substituting thoseremains for the remains of the deceased was Mr. Jellicoe.

  "Finally, the person who caused the discovery of those remains at thatsingularly opportune moment was Mr
. Jellicoe.

  "This was the sum of the evidence that was in my possession up to thetime of the hearing, and, indeed, for some time after, and it was notenough to act upon. But when the case had been heard in Court, it wasevident either that the proceedings would be abandoned--which wasunlikely--or that there would be new developments.

  "I watched the progress of events with profound interest. An attempt hadbeen made (by Mr. Jellicoe or some other person) to get the willadministered without producing the body of John Bellingham; and thatattempt had failed. The coroner's jury had refused to identify theremains; the Probate Court had refused to presume the death of thetestator. As affairs stood, the will could not be administered.

  "What would be the next move?

  "It was virtually certain that it would consist in the production ofsomething which would identify the unrecognised remains as those of thetestator.

  "But what would that something be?

  "The answer to that question would contain the answer to anotherquestion: Was my solution of the mystery the true solution?

  "If I was wrong, it was possible that some of the undoubtedly genuinebones of John Bellingham might presently be discovered; for instance,the skull, the knee-cap, or the left fibula, by any of which the remainscould be positively identified.

  "If I was right, only one thing could possibly happen. Mr. Jellicoewould have to play the trump card that he had been holding back in casethe Court should refuse the application; a card that he was evidentlyreluctant to play.

  "He would have to produce the bones of the mummy's finger, togetherwith John Bellingham's ring. No other course was possible.

  "But not only would the bones and the ring have to be found together.They would have to be found in a place which was accessible to Mr.Jellicoe, and so far under his control that he could determine the exacttime when the discovery should be made.

  "I waited patiently for the answer to my question. Was I right or was Iwrong?

  "And in due course, the answer came.

  "The bones and the ring were discovered in the well in the grounds ofGodfrey Bellingham's late house. That house was the property of JohnBellingham. Mr. Jellicoe was John Bellingham's agent. Hence it waspractically certain that the date on which the well was emptied wassettled by Mr. Jellicoe.

  "The Oracle had spoken.

  "The discovery proved conclusively that the bones were not those of JohnBellingham (for if they had been the ring would have been unnecessaryfor identification). But if the bones were not John Bellingham's, thering was; from which followed the important corollary that whoever haddeposited those bones in the well had had possession of the body of JohnBellingham. And there could be no doubt that that person was Mr.Jellicoe.

  "On receiving this final confirmation of my conclusions, I appliedforthwith to Doctor Norbury for permission to examine the mummy ofSebek-hotep, with the result that you are already acquainted with."

  As Thorndyke concluded, Mr. Jellicoe regarded him thoughtfully for amoment, and then said: "You have given us a most complete and lucidexposition of your method of investigation, sir. I have enjoyed itexceedingly, and should have profited by it hereafter--under othercircumstances. Are you sure you won't allow me to fill your glass?" Hetouched the stopper of the decanter, and Inspector Badger ostentatiouslyconsulted his watch.

  "Time is running on, I fear," said Mr. Jellicoe.

  "It is, indeed," Badger assented emphatically.

  "Well, I need not detain you long," said the lawyer. "My statement is amere narration of events. But I desire to make it, and you, no doubt,will be interested to hear it."

  He opened the silver case and selected a fresh cigarette, which,however, he did not light. Inspector Badger produced a funerealnotebook, which he laid open on his knee; and the rest of us settledourselves in our chairs with no little curiosity to hear Mr. Jellicoe'sstatement.

  CHAPTER XX

  THE END OF THE CASE

  A profound silence had fallen on the room and its occupants. Mr.Jellicoe sat with his eyes fixed on the table as if deep in thought, theunlighted cigarette in one hand, the other grasping the tumbler ofwater. Presently Inspector Badger coughed impatiently and he looked up."I beg your pardon, gentlemen," he said. "I am keeping you waiting."

  He took a sip from the tumbler, opened a matchbox and took out a match,but apparently altering his mind, laid it down and commenced:

  "The unfortunate affair which has brought you here to-night, had itsorigin ten years ago. At that time my friend Hurst became suddenlyinvolved in financial difficulties--am I speaking too fast for you, Mr.Badger?"

  "No, not at all," replied Badger. "I am taking it down in shorthand."

  "Thank you," said Mr. Jellicoe. "He became involved in seriousdifficulties and came to me for assistance. He wished to borrow fivethousand pounds to enable him to meet his engagements. I had a certainamount of money at my disposal, but I did not consider Hurst's securitysatisfactory; accordingly I felt compelled to refuse. But on the verynext day, John Bellingham called on me with the draft of his will whichhe wished me to look over before it was executed.

  "It was an absurd will, and I nearly told him so; but then an ideaoccurred to me in connection with Hurst. It was obvious to me, as soonas I had glanced through the will, that, if the burial clause was leftas the testator had drafted it, Hurst had a very good chance ofinheriting the property; and, as I was named as the executor, I shouldbe able to give full effect to that clause. Accordingly, I asked for afew days to consider the will, and I then called upon Hurst and made aproposal to him; which was this: That I should advance him five thousandpounds without security; that I should ask for no repayment, but that heshould assign to me any interest that he might have or acquire in theestate of John Bellingham up to ten thousand pounds, or two-thirds ofany sum that he might inherit if over that amount. He asked if John hadyet made any will, and I replied, quite correctly, that he had not. Heinquired if I knew what testamentary arrangements John intended to make,and again I answered, quite correctly, that I believed that Johnproposed to devise the bulk of his property to his brother, Godfrey.

  "Thereupon, Hurst accepted my proposal; I made him the advance and heexecuted the assignment. After a few days' delay, I passed the will assatisfactory. The actual document was written from the draft by thetestator himself; and a fortnight after Hurst had executed theassignment, John signed the will in my office. By the provisions of thatwill I stood an excellent chance of becoming virtually the principalbeneficiary, unless Godfrey should contest Hurst's claim and the Courtshould override the conditions of clause two.

  "You will now understand the motives which governed my subsequentactions. You will also see, Doctor Thorndyke, how very near to the truthyour reasoning carried you; and you will understand, as I wish you todo, that Mr. Hurst was no party to any of those proceedings which I amabout to describe.

  "Coming now to the interview in Queen Square in October, nineteenhundred and two, you are aware of the general circumstances from myevidence in Court, which was literally correct up to a certain point.The interview took place in a room on the third floor, in which werestored the cases which John had brought with him from Egypt. The mummywas unpacked, as were some other objects that he was not offering to theMuseum, but several cases were still unopened. At the conclusion of theinterview I accompanied Doctor Norbury down to the street door, and westood on the doorstep conversing for perhaps a quarter of an hour. ThenDoctor Norbury went away and I returned upstairs.

  "Now the house in Queen Square is virtually a museum. The upper part isseparated from the lower by a massive door which opens from the hall andgives access to the staircase, and which is fitted with a Chubbnight-latch. There are two latchkeys, of which John used to keep one andI the other. You will find them both in the safe behind me. Thecaretaker had no key and no access to the upper part of the house unlessadmitted by one of us.

  "At the time when I came in, after Doctor Norbury had left, thecaretaker was in the cellar, where I could hear him brea
king coke forthe hot-water furnace. I had left John on the third floor opening someof the packing cases by the light of a lamp with a tool somewhat like aplasterer's hammer; that is, a hammer with a small axe-blade at thereverse of the head. As I stood talking to Doctor Norbury, I could hearhim knocking out the nails and wrenching up the lids; and when I enteredthe doorway leading to the stairs, I could still hear him. Just as Iclosed the staircase door behind me, I heard a rumbling noise fromabove; then all was still.

  "I went up the stairs to the second floor, where, as the staircase wasall in darkness, I stopped to light the gas. As I turned to ascend thenext flight, I saw a hand projecting over the edge of the half-waylanding. I ran up the stairs, and there, on the landing, I saw Johnlying huddled up in a heap at the foot of the top flight. There was awound at the side of his forehead from which a little blood wastrickling. The case-opener lay on the floor close by him and there wasblood on the axe-blade. When I looked up the stairs I saw a rag of tornmatting hanging over the top stair.

  "It was quite easy to see what had happened. He had walked quickly outon the landing with the case-opener in his hand. His foot had caught inthe torn matting and he had pitched head foremost down the stairs, stillholding the case-opener. He had fallen so that his head had come down onthe upturned edge of the axe-blade; he had then rolled over and thecase-opener had dropped from his hand.

  "I lit a wax match and stooped down to look at him. His head was in avery peculiar position, which made me suspect that his neck was broken.There was extremely little bleeding from the wound; he was perfectlymotionless; I could detect no sign of breathing; and I felt no doubtthat he was dead.

  "It was an exceedingly regrettable affair, and it placed me, as Iperceived at once, in an extremely awkward position. My first impulsewas to send the caretaker for a doctor and a policeman; but a moment'sreflection convinced me that there were serious objections to thiscourse.

  "There was nothing to show that I had not, myself, knocked him down withthe case-opener. Of course, there was nothing to show that I had; but wewere alone in the house with the exception of the caretaker, who wasdown in the basement out of ear-shot.

  "There would be an inquest. At the inquest, inquiries would be made asto the will which was known to exist. But, as soon as the will wasproduced, Hurst would become suspicious. He would probably make astatement to the coroner and I should be charged with the murder. Or,even if I were not charged, Hurst would suspect me and would probablyrepudiate the assignment; and, under the circumstances, it would bepractically impossible for me to enforce it. He would refuse to pay andI could not take my claim into Court.

  "I sat down on the stairs just above poor John's body and considered thematter in detail. At the worst, I stood a fair chance of hanging; at thebest, I stood to lose close upon fifty thousand pounds. These were notpleasant alternatives.

  "Supposing, on the other hand, I concealed the body and gave out thatJohn had gone to Paris. There was, of course, the risk of discovery, inwhich case I should certainly be convicted of the murder. But if nodiscovery occurred, I was not only safe from suspicion, but I securedthe fifty thousand pounds. In either case there was considerable risk,but in one there was the certainty of loss, whereas in the other therewas a material advantage to justify the risk. The question was whetherit would be possible to conceal the body. If it were, then thecontingent profit was worth the slight additional risk. But a human bodyis a very difficult thing to dispose of, especially to a person of solittle scientific culture as myself.

  "It is curious that I considered this question for a quite considerabletime before the obvious solution presented itself. I turned over atleast a dozen methods of disposing of the body, and rejected them all asimpracticable. Then, suddenly, I remembered the mummy upstairs.

  "At first it only occurred to me as a fantastic possibility that I couldconceal the body in the mummy-case. But as I turned over the idea, Ibegan to see that it was really practicable; and not only practicablebut easy; and not only easy but eminently safe. If once the mummy-casewas in the Museum, I was rid of it for ever.

  "The circumstances were, as you, sir, have justly observed, singularlyfavourable. There would be no hue and cry, no hurry, no anxiety; butample time for all the necessary preparations. Then the mummy-caseitself was curiously suitable. Its length was ample, as I knew fromhaving measured it. It was a cartonnage of rather flexible material andhad an opening behind, secured with a lacing so that it could be openedwithout injury. Nothing need be cut but the lacing, which could bereplaced. A little damage might be done in extracting the mummy and inintroducing the deceased; but such cracks as might occur would all beat the back and would be of no importance. For here again Fortunefavoured me. The whole of the back of the mummy-case was coated withbitumen, and it would be easy when once the deceased was safely insideto apply a fresh coat, which would cover up not only the cracks but alsothe new lacing.

  "After careful consideration, I decided to adopt the plan. I wentdownstairs and sent the caretaker on an errand to the Law Courts. Then Ireturned and carried the deceased up to one of the third-floor rooms,where I removed his clothes and laid him out on a long packing-case inthe position in which he would lie in the mummy-case. I folded hisclothes neatly and packed them, with the exception of his boots, in asuit-case that he had been taking to Paris and which contained nothingbut his night-clothes, toilet articles, and a change of linen. By thetime I had done this and thoroughly washed the oilcloth on the stairsand landing, the caretaker had returned. I informed him that Mr.Bellingham had started for Paris and then I went home. The upper part ofthe house was, of course, secured by the Chubb lock, but I had also--_exabundantia cautelae_--locked the door of the room in which I haddeposited the deceased.

  "I had, of course, some knowledge of the methods of embalming, butprincipally of those employed by the ancients. Hence, on the followingday, I went to the British Museum library and consulted the most recentworks on the subject; and exceedingly interesting they were, as showingthe remarkable improvements that modern knowledge had effected in thisancient art. I need not trouble you with details that are familiar toyou. The process that I selected as the simplest for a beginner wasthat of formalin injection, and I went straight from the Museum topurchase the necessary materials. I did not, however, buy an embalmingsyringe: the book stated that an ordinary anatomical injecting syringewould answer the purpose, and I thought it a more discreet purchase.

  "I fear that I bungled the injection terribly, although I had carefullystudied the plates in a treatise on anatomy--Gray's, I think. However,if my methods were clumsy, they were quite effectual. I carried out theprocess on the evening of the third day; and when I locked up the housethat night, I had the satisfaction of knowing that poor John's remainswere secure from corruption and decay.

  "But this was not enough. The great weight of a fresh body as comparedwith that of a mummy would be immediately noticed by those who had thehandling of the mummy-case. Moreover, the damp from the body wouldquickly ruin the cartonnage and would cause a steamy film on the insideof the glass case in which it would be exhibited. And this wouldprobably lead to an examination. Clearly, then, it was necessary thatthe remains of the deceased should be thoroughly dried before they wereenclosed in the cartonnage.

  "Here my unfortunate deficiency in scientific knowledge was a greatdrawback. I had no idea how this result would be achieved, and in theend was compelled to consult a taxidermist, to whom I represented that Iwished to collect small animals and reptiles and rapidly dry them forconvenience of transport. By this person I was advised to immerse thedead animals in a jar of methylated spirit for a week and then exposethem in a current of warm, dry air.

  "But the plan of immersing the remains of the deceased in a jar ofmethylated spirit was obviously impracticable. However, I bethought methat we had in our collection a porphyry sarcophagus, the cavity ofwhich had been shaped to receive a small mummy in its case. I tried thedeceased in the sarcophagus and found that he just fitted the cavityloos
ely. I obtained a few gallons of methylated spirit which I pouredinto the cavity, just covering the body, and then I put on the lid andluted it down air-tight with putty. I trust I do not weary you withthese particulars?"

  "I'll ask you to cut it as short as you can, Mr. Jellicoe," said Badger."It has been a long yarn and time is running on."

  "For my part," said Thorndyke, "I find these details deeply interestingand instructive. They fill in the outline that I had drawn byinference."

  "Precisely," said Mr. Jellicoe; "then I will proceed.

  "I left the deceased soaking in the spirit for a fortnight and then tookhim out, wiped him dry, and laid him on four cane-bottomed chairs justover the hot-water pipes. I turned off the hot water in the other roomsso as to concentrate the heat in these pipes, and I let a free currentof air pass through the room. The result interested me exceedingly. Bythe end of the third day the hands and feet had become quite dry andshrivelled and horny--so that the ring actually dropped off the shrunkenfinger--the nose looked like a fold of parchment; and the skin of thebody was so dry and smooth that you could have engrossed a lease on it.For the first day or two I turned the deceased at intervals so that heshould dry evenly, and then I proceeded to get the case ready. Idivided the lacing and extracted the mummy with great care--with greatcare as to the case, I mean; for the mummy suffered some injury in theextraction. It was very badly embalmed, and so brittle that it broke inseveral places while I was getting it out; and when I unrolled it thehead separated and both the arms came off.

  "On the sixth day after the removal from the sarcophagus, I took thebandages that I had removed from Sebek-hotep and very carefully wrappedthe deceased in them, sprinkling powdered myrrh and gum benzoin freelyon the body and between the folds of the wrappings to disguise the faintodour of the spirit and the formalin that still lingered about the body.When the wrappings had been applied, the deceased really had a mostworkmanlike appearance; he would have looked quite well in a glass caseeven without the cartonnage, and I felt almost regretful at having toput him out of sight for ever.

  "It was a difficult business getting him into the case withoutassistance, and I cracked the cartonnage badly in several places beforehe was safely enclosed. But I got him in at last, and then, when I hadclosed up the case with a new lacing, I applied a fresh layer of bitumenwhich effectually covered up the cracks and the new cord. A dusty clothdabbed over the bitumen when it was dry disguised its newness, and thecartonnage with its tenant was ready for delivery. I notified DoctorNorbury of the fact, and five days later he came and removed it to theMuseum.

  "Now that the main difficulty was disposed of, I began to consider thefurther difficulty to which you, sir, have alluded with such admirableperspicuity. It was necessary that John Bellingham should make one moreappearance in public before sinking into final oblivion.

  "Accordingly, I devised the visit to Hurst's house, which was calculatedto serve two purposes. It created a satisfactory date for thedisappearance, eliminating me from any connection with it, and bythrowing some suspicion on Hurst it would make him more amenable--lesslikely to dispute my claim when he learned the provisions of the will.

  "The affair was quite simple. I knew that Hurst had changed his servantssince I was last at his house, and I knew his habits. On that day I tookthe suit-case to Charing Cross and deposited it in the cloak-room,called at Hurst's office to make sure that he was there, and went fromthence direct to Cannon Street and caught the train to Eltham. Onarriving at the house, I took the precaution to remove myspectacles--the only distinctive feature of my exterior--and was dulyshown into the study at my request. As soon as the housemaid had leftthe room I quietly let myself out by the French window, which I closedbehind me but could not fasten, went out at the side gate and closedthat also behind me, holding the bolt of the latch back with mypocket-knife so that I need not slam the gate to shut it.

  "The other events of that day, including the dropping of the scarab, Ineed not describe, as they are known to you. But I may fitly make a fewremarks on the unfortunate tactical error into which I fell in respectof the bones. That error arose, as you have doubtless perceived, fromthe lawyer's incurable habit of underestimating the scientific expert. Ihad no idea that mere bones were capable of furnishing so muchinformation to a man of science.

  "The way in which the affair came about was this: The damaged mummy ofSebek-hotep, perishing gradually by exposure to the air, was not only aneyesore to me: it was a definite danger. It was the only remaining linkbetween me and the disappearance. I resolved to be rid of it and castabout for some means of destroying it. And then, in an evil moment, theidea of utilising it occurred to me.

  "There was an undoubted danger that the Court might refuse to presumedeath after so short an interval; and if the permission should bepostponed, the will might never be administered during my lifetime.Hence, if these bones of Sebek-hotep could be made to simulate theremains of the deceased testator, a definite good would be achieved. ButI knew that the entire skeleton could never be mistaken for his. Thedeceased had broken his knee-caps and damaged his ankle, injuries whichI assumed would leave some permanent trace. But if a judicious selectionof the bones were deposited in a suitable place, together with someobject clearly identifiable as appertaining to the deceased, it seemedto me that the difficulty would be met. I need not trouble you withdetails. The course which I adopted is known to you with the attendantcircumstances, even to the accidental detachment of the righthand--which broke off as I was packing the arm in my handbag. Erroneousas that course was, it would have been successful but for the unforeseencontingency of your being retained in the case.

  "Thus, for nearly two years, I remained in complete security. From timeto time I dropped in at the museum to see if the deceased was keepingin good condition; and on those occasions I used to reflect withsatisfaction on the gratifying circumstance--accidental though itwas--that his wishes, as expressed (very imperfectly) in clause two, hadbeen fully complied with, and that without prejudice to my interests.

  "The awakening came on that evening when I saw you at the Temple gatetalking with Doctor Berkeley. I suspected immediately that something hadgone amiss and that it was too late to take any useful action. Sincethen, I have waited here in hourly expectation of this visit. And nowthe time has come. You have made the winning move and it remains onlyfor me to pay my debts like an honest gambler."

  He paused and quietly lit his cigarette. Inspector Badger yawned and putaway his note-book.

  "Have you done, Mr. Jellicoe?" the inspector asked. "I want to carry outmy contract to the letter, you know, though it's getting devilish late."

  Mr. Jellicoe took his cigarette from his mouth and drank a glass ofwater.

  "I forgot to ask," he said, "whether you unrolled the mummy--if I mayapply the term to the imperfectly treated remains of my deceasedclient."

  "I did not open the mummy-case," replied Thorndyke.

  "You did not!" exclaimed Mr. Jellicoe. "Then how did you verify yoursuspicions?"

  "I took an X-ray photograph."

  "Ah! Indeed!" Mr. Jellicoe pondered for some moments. "Astonishing!" hemurmured; "and most ingenious. The resources of science at the presentday are truly wonderful."

  "Is there anything more that you want to say?" asked Badger; "because,if you don't, time's up."

  "Anything more?" Mr. Jellicoe repeated slowly; "anything more?No--I--think--think--the time--is--up. Yes--the--the time--"

  He broke off and sat with a strange look fixed on Thorndyke.

  His face had suddenly undergone a curious change. It looked shrunken andcadaverous and his lips had assumed a peculiar cherry-red colour.

  "Is anything the matter, Mr. Jellicoe?" Badger asked uneasily. "Are younot feeling well, sir?"

  Mr. Jellicoe did not appear to have heard the question, for he returnedno answer, but sat motionless, leaning back in his chair, with his handsspread out on the table and his strangely intent gaze bent on Thorndyke.

  Suddenly his head dropped o
n his breast and his body seemed to collapse;and as with one accord we sprang to our feet, he slid forward off hischair and disappeared under the table.

  "Good Lord! The man's fainted!" exclaimed Badger.

  In a moment he was down on his hands and knees, trembling withexcitement, groping under the table. He dragged the unconscious lawyerout into the light and knelt over him, staring into his face.

  "What's the matter with him, Doctor?" he asked, looking up at Thorndyke."Is it apoplexy? Or is it a heart attack, think you?"

  Thorndyke shook his head, though he stooped and put his fingers on theunconscious man's wrist. "Prussic acid or potassium cyanide is what theappearances suggest," he replied.

  "But can't you do anything?" demanded the inspector.

  Thorndyke dropped the arm, which fell limply to the floor.

  "You can't do much for a dead man," he said.

  "Dead! Then he has slipped through our fingers after all!"

  "He has anticipated the sentence. That is all." Thorndyke spoke in aneven, impassive tone which struck me as rather strange, considering thesuddenness of the tragedy, as did also the complete absence of surprisein his manner. He seemed to treat the occurrence as a perfectly naturalone.

  Not so Inspector Badger; who rose to his feet and stood with his handsthrust into his pockets scowling sullenly down at the dead lawyer.

  "I was an infernal fool to agree to his blasted conditions," he growledsavagely.

  "Nonsense," said Thorndyke. "If you had broken in, you would have founda dead man. As it was you found a live man and obtained an importantstatement. You acted quite properly."

  "How do you suppose he managed it?" asked Badger.

  Thorndyke held out his hand. "Let us look at his cigarette-case," saidhe.

  Badger extracted the little silver case from the dead man's pocket andopened it. There were five cigarettes in it, two of which were plain,while the other three were gold-tipped. Thorndyke took out one of eachkind and gently pinched their ends. The gold-tipped one he returned;the plain one he tore through, about a quarter of an inch from the end;when two little white tabloids dropped out on the table. Badger eagerlypicked one up and was about to smell it when Thorndyke grasped hiswrist. "Be careful," said he; and when he had cautiously sniffed at thetabloid--held at a safe distance from his nose--he added: "Yes,potassium cyanide. I thought so when his lips turned that queer colour.It was in that last cigarette; you can see that he has bitten off theend."

  For some time we stood silently looking down at the still form stretchedon the floor. Presently Badger looked up.

  "As you pass the porter's lodge on your way out," said he, "you mightjust drop in and tell him to send a constable to me."

  "Very well," said Thorndyke. "And by the way, Badger, you had better tipthat sherry back into the decanter and put it under lock and key, orelse pour it out of the window."

  "Gad, yes!" exclaimed the inspector. "I'm glad you mentioned it. Wemight have had an inquest on a constable as well as a lawyer. Goodnight, gentlemen, if you are off."

  We went out and left him with his prisoner--passive enough, indeed,according to his ambiguously worded promise. As we passed through thegateway Thorndyke gave the inspector's message, curtly and withoutcomment, to the gaping porter, and then we issued forth into ChanceryLane.

  We were all silent and very grave, and I thought that Thorndyke seemedsomewhat moved. Perhaps Mr. Jellicoe's last intent look--which I suspecthe knew to be the look of a dying man--lingered in his memory as it didin mine. Half-way down Chancery Lane he spoke for the first time; andthen it was only to ejaculate, "Poor devil!"

  Jervis took him up. "He was a consummate villain, Thorndyke."

  "Hardly that," was the reply. "I should rather say that he wasnon-moral. He acted without malice and without scruple or remorse. Hisconduct exhibited a passionless expediency which was rather dreadfulbecause utterly unhuman. But he was a strong man--a courageous,self-contained man, and I had been better pleased if it could have beenordained that some other hand than mine should let the axe fall."

  Thorndyke's compunction may appear strange and inconsistent, but yet hisfeeling was also my own. Great as were the misery and suffering thatthis inscrutable man had brought into the lives of those I loved, Iforgave him; and in his downfall forgot the callous relentlessness withwhich he had pursued his evil purpose. For he it was who had broughtRuth into my life; who had opened for me the Paradise of Love into whichI had just entered. And so my thoughts turned away from the still shapethat lay on the floor of the stately old room in Lincoln's Inn, away tothe sunny vista of the future, where I should walk hand in hand withRuth until my time, too, should come; until I, too, like the grimlawyer, should hear the solemn evening bell bidding me put out into thedarkness of the silent sea.