“As I have never examined a cremated body,” said Mr. Barnes, “I must admit that your statement surprises me. I had supposed that all parts of the body would be brought to a similar state. But even if what you say is true, and granting that from pieces of charred bone it could be demonstrated that a human being had been burned, still I would like you to explain how you could differentiate between man and woman.”
“Perhaps it would be difficult, or even impossible, judging from the charred bits of skeleton alone. But if we remember that a woman’s garb is different from the dress of a man, we might find a clue. For example, if you saw what could unmistakably be recognized as parts of corset steels, what would you think?”
“Of course the deduction would be that the body had been that of a woman, but I should think it an odd circumstance to find that a body prepared for burial had been corseted.”
“The same thought occurred to me, and from it I drew an important deduction, since substantiated by facts. I concluded from the corset steels that the body had not been prepared for burial.”
“I follow you,” said Mr. Barnes, now thoroughly interested in Mr. Mitchel’s analytical method. “You mean that this woman was placed in the coffin clothed as she had died?”
“Practically so, but I did not decide that she had necessarily died clothed as she was when placed in the coffin. My conclusion was that it must have been as essential to dispose of the clothing as of the body. Thus the clothing would have been placed in the coffin with her, even though perhaps not on her.”
“A good point! A good point!” nodded the detective, approvingly.
“So, you see, the ashes of the dead had already revealed two clues. We knew that a human being had been cremated, and we could feel reasonably sure, though not absolutely positive, that it had been a woman. Next, the question arose as to the identity. If cremation would hide that, then the criminal might hope to escape justice by this means.”
“It seems incredible that the ashes could be identified, unless indeed some object, provably connected with a certain person, and which would resist fire, had been placed in the coffin.”
“No, that would not satisfy me. A false identification could thus be planned by your thoughtful murderer. What I sought was some means of identifying the actual remains of a cremated body. I have succeeded.”
“You have succeeded?”
“Yes. I had a theory which has proven to be a good one. If some of the bones of the body resist cremation, or at least retain their form though calcined, it should follow that the teeth, being the most resistant bones, and, moreover, protected by being imbedded in other bones, might well be expected to remain intact. If not all, at least a sufficient number of them might be found to serve the ends of justice.”
“Even if you could find the teeth with shape undisturbed, I fail to see how you could identify the remains by them.”
“The method is as reliable as it is unique. In these days of advanced dentistry, the people of this country have been educated up to such an appreciation of their dental organs that, from the highest to the lowliest, we find the people habitually saving their teeth by having them filled. I knew by personal experience that it is a common practice among dentists to register in a book of record all work done for a patient. In these records they have blank charts of the teeth, and on the diagram of each tooth, as it is filled, they mark in ink the size and position of the filling inserted. Now while the teeth themselves might resist the heat of the furnace, retaining their shapes, we would not expect the fillings, whether of gold or other material, to do so. Thus, I expected to find the teeth with cavities in them. I did find fourteen of the teeth fairly whole, sufficiently so that we might identify them, and know what position in the mouth they had occupied. No less than ten of these teeth had cavities, which, from the regularity of their outline, it was fair to assume had been filled. These I took to my dentist for an opinion. He was at once interested, because it seems that members of the dental profession have long urged upon the police the reliance that may be placed upon the dentist in identifying living criminals or unknown dead bodies.12 He examined the charred teeth, and taking a blank chart of the mouth, he plotted out the size and positions of the fillings which once had been present. Another very interesting point was that we found two teeth, known as the central incisor and the cuspid (the latter commonly called the eye-tooth), united together by a staple of platinum. This staple had of course resisted the heat because platinum melts at so high a temperature. My dentist pointed out to me that this staple had been a foundation for what he called a bridge. One end of the staple had been forced into the root of one tooth, the other end passing similarly into the other. Thus the space was spanned, and an artificial tooth had been attached to the bar, thus filling the space. He also pointed out that the bar was covered with a mass which was evidently the porcelain of the tooth which had melted in the furnace.”
“This is very interesting,” said Mr. Barnes, “but unless you could find the man who did that work, you still could not identify the person cremated.”
“My dentist, as I have said, made out for me a chart of the person’s mouth, which you may examine. You will see that it is quite specific. With that number of fillings, occupying definite positions in special teeth, and coupled with the presence of the tooth bridged in and the manner of making the bridge, it would be an unexampled coincidence to find that two persons had obtained exactly similar dental services. Would it not?”
CHART FURNISHED BY MR. MITCHEL’S DENTIST
“That is sound reasoning,” said Mr. Barnes.
“Very well. I had a statement published in the four leading dental magazines, accompanied by a facsimile of the chart made by my dentist, and I solicited correspondence with any dentist who could show a similar chart in his records.”
“That was a good method, provided, of course, the dentist who did the work subscribed to one of these magazines.”
“Of course the advertisement might not meet the eye of the dentist who treated the dead woman, but even though he were not a subscriber he might hear of this matter through some acquaintance, because, as I have said, this subject of identification through dental work is one that widely interests the dentists. However, success rewarded us. I received a letter from a dentist in one of the New Jersey towns, stating that he believed he could match my chart. I lost no time in visiting him, and, after examining his book, was satisfied that the person who had been cremated that day was an elderly, eccentric woman, named Miss Lederle, Miss Martha Lederle.”
“Mr. Mitchel, you have done a remarkably clever bit of work, and though you have succeeded where I have failed, I must congratulate you. But tell me, after learning the name of the woman how did you trace her to this city?”
“I deserve no credit for that. It seems that Miss Lederle had long had a little fleshy tumor on the inside of her cheek, which had had an opportunity to grow because of the loss of a tooth. Her dentist often advised her to have it removed, lest it might become cancerous. She put it off from time to time, but recently it had grown more rapidly, and at last she called on the dentist and asked him to recommend a surgeon. He tells me that he gave her the names of three, one residing in Newark, and two in this city. Of the New York men, one was Dr. Mortimer.”
“By Jove! Doctor Mortimer!” exclaimed Mr. Barnes. “I begin to see daylight. It was he who supplied the morphine powders, then?”
“Ah, then you know so much? Yes, Dr. Mortimer instigated the transfer of bodies. As soon as I charged him with murder, he thought it safest to tell me the truth and throw himself upon my mercy.”
“Upon your mercy?” said Mr. Barnes, mystified.
“Yes; the man has not committed a crime, at least not the crime of murder. It seems that on the afternoon of the day before that fixed for the funeral of Mr. Quadrant, this Miss Lederle called at his office and requested him to remove the tumor from her cheek. He co
nsented, and suggested the use of cocaine to deaden the parts. The woman insisted that she must have chloroform, and the doctor explained that in the absence of his assistant he would not care to undertake the administration of an anæsthetic. But the woman was persistent; she offered a liberal fee if the operation could be done immediately, since it had required so much time for her to bring her courage to the point of having the tumor removed; then the operation itself seemed so simple that at last the surgeon was overruled, and proceeded. He did cause the patient to remove her corset, and, her garments thoroughly loosened, she was placed on the operating-table. He says he administered very little chloroform, and had not yet attempted to operate when the patient exhibited dangerous symptoms. In spite of his most untiring efforts she succumbed, and he found himself in the dreadful position of having a patient die under an operation, with no witnesses present. He closed and locked his office and walked from the house in great mental agitation. He called at the Quadrants’, and heard there that the coffin would not again be opened. Then a great temptation came to him. The woman had not given him her address, nor had she stated who had sent her to Dr. Mortimer, merely declaring that she knew him by reputation. There was no way to communicate with the woman’s relatives except by making the affair public. He recalled that a similar accident to an old surgeon of long-established reputation, where several assistants had been present, had nevertheless ruined the man’s practice. He himself was innocent of wrong-doing, except, perhaps, that the law forbade him to operate alone, and he saw ruin staring him in the face, just at a time, too, when great prosperity had appeared to be within his grasp. The undertaker, Berial, was an old acquaintance, indebted to him for many recommendations.
“The plan seemed more and more feasible as he thought of it, and finally he sought out Berial, and confided to him his secret. For a liberal fee the undertaker agreed to dispose of the body. Dr. Mortimer supplied him with a drug with which to overcome the watchman at the stables, so that the wagon could be taken out unknown. He himself visited the Quadrant house, and, under the plea of relieving Mark Quadrant of a headache, gave him also a dose of morphine. At the appointed time Berial arrived at the doctor’s office and took away the woman’s body, first replacing the corset, which, of course, they were bound to dispose of. Together they went to the Quadrants’, and there exchanged the bodies. Subsequent events are known to you. Thus the truth has arisen, Phoenix-like, from the ashes of the dead. The question remaining is, what claim has Justice upon the doctor? Gentlemen, is it needful to disgrace that man, who really is a victim of circumstances rather than a wrong-doer? He tells me, Mr. Barnes, that he has not had a moment of mental rest since you asked him whether ashes could be proven to be the residue of a human body.”
“I recall now that he started violently when I spoke to him. Perhaps, had I been more shrewd, I might have suspected the truth then. The difficulty of hushing this matter up, Mr. Mitchel, seems to be the friends and relatives of the dead woman. How can they be appeased?”
“I will undertake that. I think the real estate which she leaves behind will satisfy the one relative. I have already communicated with this man, a hard, money-grubbing old skinflint, and I think that with the assistance of Mr. Berial we can have one more funeral that will satisfy the curiosity of the few neighbors.”
And thus the matter was permitted to rest. There was yet one point which puzzled Mr. Barnes, and which never was made clear to him.
“What of the scar that I could not find on Rufus Quadrant’s foot?” he often asked himself. But as he could not ask either of the brothers, he never got a reply. Yet the explanation was simple. Mark Quadrant told Mr. Barnes that his brother had such a scar, his object being to baffle the detective by suggesting to him a flaw in the identification. The idea occurred to him because his brother Amos really had such a scarred foot, and he so worded his remark that he literally told the truth, though he deceived Mr. Barnes. When the detective repeated this statement to Amos, he noticed the care with which his brother had spoken, and, in turn, he truthfully said that his brother had spoken truthfully.
7 Final Proof, in which this story first appeared, was published in 1898.
8 Ottolengui’s information is quite accurate. Ferdinand Ritter von Hebra’s work is described by Dr. Tilbury Fox in the British Medical Journal of April 15, 1871. The origin of the disease remains unknown; originally thought to be fungoid in origin (hence the name), it is now considered a possible autoimmune response. The variety of the disease that Ottolengui refers to as lichen ruber is referred to in the 2020 Merck Manual as Pityriasis rubra pilaris.
9 That is to say, Morgan is a part-time employee, paid by the day.
10 A colleague or associate (usually in the same profession).
11 A novice or beginner.
12 The first fictional use of dental identification was by Joseph Sheridan le Fanu in his short 1872 novel The Room in the Dragon Volant. There, the victim is identified by his teeth, peculiar in workmanship, the work having been done “by one of the ablest dentists in Paris.” In May 1897, the catastrophic fire at the Bazar de la Charité in Paris claimed over 125 victims, leaving many unrecognizable. Perhaps in an instance of life imitating art, for the first time in the annals of forensic science, some of the victims were eventually identified by means of their dental records.
II: The Missing Link13
“The object of my visit,” began Mr. Barnes, “is of such grave importance that I approach it with hesitation, and I may even say reluctance. Will you give me your closest attention?”
“I understood from your note,” replied Mr. Mitchel, “that you wished to consult me in regard to some case which you are investigating. As you are well aware, I take the keenest interest in the solving of criminal problems. Therefore proceed. But first let me light a Havana. A good cigar always aids my perception.”
The two men were in the sumptuous library of Mr. Mitchel’s new house, which he had bought for his wife shortly after their marriage. It was ten in the morning, and Mr. Mitchel, just from his breakfast-room, was comfortably attired in a smoking-jacket. After lighting his cigar, he threw himself into a large Turkish chair, rested his head upon the soft-cushioned back, and extended his slippered feet towards the grate fire, his legs crossed. As he blew little rings of smoke towards the detective, he seemed absolutely unsuspicious of the story about to be told.
Mr. Barnes, on the contrary, appeared ill at ease. He declined a cigar, and, without removing his overcoat, he leaned his left arm on the low marble mantel as he stood talking, his right being free for gestures when he wished to emphasize a point.
After a brief pause he began:
“Whilst I am not officially connected with the regular police, my young friend Burrows is, and is highly esteemed by the Chief. You will remember him in connection with the Quadrant case. He called upon me about noon on last Sunday. The story which he had to tell was the most remarkable in some respects that I have heard. Briefly, it is as follows: As you know, it is common practice among speculating builders to erect a row of houses, finishing them at one end first, so that, not infrequently, one or two of the row may be sold while the mechanics are still at work on the other end. In this manner ten houses have been built in this immediate vicinity.”
“In the street just back of me,” said Mr. Mitchel.
Mr. Barnes watched him closely at this moment, but he seemed entirely composed and merely attentive. The detective proceeded.
“It appears that two of these houses have been sold and are already occupied. The next four are completed, and the sign ‘For Sale’ appears in the windows. The others are still in the hands of the workmen. The four which are for sale are in the care of a watchman. They are open for inspection during the day, but he is supposed to lock all the doors before going to his home in the evening, and to open them to the public again on the following day. According to this man, he locked all the doors of these four houses on Sat
urday night at six o’clock, and opened them again at eight on Sunday morning. Between eight and nine he showed two parties through one of the houses and, after dismissing the last, was sitting on the stoop reading the morning paper, when he was startled by hearing a scream. A moment later he saw two women rush out of the house next to where he sat, and from their actions it was evident that they were terribly frightened. It was some time before he could get any lucid explanation from either, and when he did he understood them to intimate that some one had been murdered in the house. He asked them to show him to the spot, but they most positively declined. He therefore, with unusual display of common sense, summoned a policeman, and with him visited the room indicated by the frightened women, who made no attempt to run away, though they again refused to go into the house, even with the officer. What the two men found was horrible enough to account for the women’s actions. In the bathtub lay the body of a woman, the head, hands, and feet having been cut off and removed.”
“I should say that, under these circumstances, identification would be most difficult,” said Mr. Mitchel, “unless, indeed, the clothing might afford some clue.”
“The body was nude,” said the detective.
“In that case, you have to deal with a man who has brains.”
“Yes; the murderer has adopted just such methods as I imagine you would pursue, Mr. Mitchel, were you in his predicament.”
Mr. Mitchel frowned very slightly, and said:
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