“A reasonable explanation,” was Thorndyke’s comment, “and quite probable; but of course it is pure hypothesis. As a matter of fact, any one of the three conceivable causes of violent death is possible in this case—accident, suicide or homicide.”
“I should have supposed,” said I, “that we could almost exclude suicide. It is difficult to imagine a man electing to roast himself to death.”
“I cannot agree with my learned friend,” Thorndyke rejoined. “I can imagine a case—and one of great medico-legal interest—that would exactly fit the present circumstances. Let us suppose a man, hopelessly insolvent, desperate and disgusted with life, who decides to provide for his family by investing the few pounds that he has left in insuring his life heavily and then making away with himself. How would he proceed? If he should commit suicide by any of the orthodox methods he would simply invalidate his policy. But now, suppose he knows of a likely rick; that he provides himself with some rapidly-acting poison, such as potassium cyanide—he could even use prussic acid if he carried it in a rubber or celluloid bottle, which would be consumed in the fire; that he climbs on to the rick; sets fire to it, and as soon as it is fairly alight, takes his dose of poison and falls back dead among the hay. Who is to contest his family’s claim? The fire will have destroyed all traces of the poison, even if they should be sought for. But it is practically certain that the question would never be raised. The claim would be paid without demur.”
I could not help smiling at this calm exposition of a practicable crime. “It is a mercy, Thorndyke,” I remarked, “that you are an honest man. If you were not—”
“I think,” he retorted, “that I should find some better means of livelihood than suicide. But with regard to this case: it will be worth watching. The tramp hypothesis is certainly the most probable; but its very probability makes an alternative hypothesis at least possible. No one is likely to suspect fraudulent suicide; but that immunity from suspicion is a factor that increases the probability of fraudulent suicide. And so, to a less extent, with homicide. We must watch the case and see if there are any further developments.”
Further developments were not very long in appearing. The report in the morning paper disposed effectually of the tramp theory without offering any other. “The tragedy of the burning rick,” it said, “is taking a some what mysterious turn. It is now clear that the unknown man, who was assumed to have been a tramp, must have been a person of some social position, for careful examination of the ashes by the police have brought to light various articles which would have been carried only by a man of fair means. The clay pipe was evidently one of a pair—of which the second one has been recovered—probably silver-mounted and carried in a case, the steel frame of which has been found. Both pipes are of the ‘Burns Cutty’ pattern and have neatly scratched on the bowls the initials ‘R. R.’ The following articles have also been found:—Remains of a watch, probably gold, and a rather singular watch-chain, having alternate links of platinum and gold. The gold links have partly disappeared, but numerous beads of gold have been found, derived apparently from the watch and chain. The platinum links are intact and are fashioned of twisted square wire. A bunch of keys, partly fused; a rock crystal seal, apparently from a ring; a little porcelain mascot figure, with a hole for suspension—possibly from the watch-chain—and a number of artificial teeth. In connection with the latter, a puzzling and slightly sinister aspect has been given to the case by the finding of an upper dental plate by a ditch some two hundred yards from the rick. The plate has two gaps and, on comparison with the skull of the unknown man, these have been found by the police surgeon to correspond with two groups of remaining teeth. Moreover, the artificial teeth found in the ashes all seem to belong to a lower plate. The presence of this plate, so far from the scene of the man’s death, is extremely difficult to account for.”
As Thorndyke finished reading the extract he looked at me as if inviting some comment.
“It is a most remarkable and mysterious affair,” said I, “and naturally recalls to my mind the hypothetical case that you suggested yesterday. If that case was possible then, it is actually probable now. It fits these new facts perfectly not only in respect of the abundant means of identification but even to this dental plate—if we assume that he took the poison as he was approaching the rick, and that the poison was of an acrid or irritating character which caused him to cough or retch. And I can think of no other plausible explanation.”
“There are other possibilities,” said Thorndyke, but fraudulent suicide is certainly the most probable theory on the known facts. But we shall see. As you say, the body can hardly fail to be identified at a pretty early date.”
As a matter of fact it was identified in the course of that same day. Both Thorndyke and I were busily engaged until evening in the courts and elsewhere and had not had time to give this curious case any consideration. But as we walked home together, we encountered Mr. Stalker of the Griffin Life Assurance Company pacing up and down King’s Bench Walk near the entry of our chambers.
“Ha!” he exclaimed, striding forward to meet us near the Mitre Court gateway, “you are just the very men I wanted to see. There is a little matter that I want to consult you about. I shan’t detain you long.”
“It won’t matter much if you do,” said Thorndyke. “We have finished our routine work for the day and our time is now our own.” He led the way up to our chambers, where, having given the fire a stir, he drew up three arm-chairs.
“Now, Stalker,” said he. “Warm your toes and tell us your troubles.”
Mr. Stalker spread out his hands to the blaze began reflectively: “It will be enough, I think, if I give you the facts—and most of them you probably know already. You have heard about this man whose remains were found in the ashes of a burnt rick? Well, it turns out that he was a certain Mr. Reginald Reed, an outside broker, as I understand; but what is of more interest to us is that he was a client of ours. We have issued a policy on his life for three thousand pounds. I thought I remembered the name when I saw it in the paper this afternoon, so I looked up our b and there it was, sure enough.”
“When was the policy issued?” Thorndyke asked.
“Ah!” exclaimed Stalker. “That’s the exasperating feature of the case. The policy was issued less than a year ago. He has only paid a single premium. So we stand to drop practically the whole three thousand. Of course, we have to take the fat with the lean, but we don’t like to take it in such precious large lumps.”
“Of course you don’t,” agreed Thorndyke. “But now you have come to consult me—about what?”
“Well,” replied Stalker, “I put it to you: isn’t there something obviously fishy about the case? Are the circumstances normal? For instance, how the devil came a respectable city gentleman to be smoking his pipe in a haystack out in a lonely meadow at two o’clock in the morning, or thereabouts?
“I agree,” said Thorndyke, “that the circumstances are highly abnormal. But there is no doubt that the man is dead. Extremely dead, lf I may use the expression. What is the point that you wish to raise?”
“I am not raising any point,” replied Stalker. “We should like you to attend the inquest and watch the case for us. Of course, in our policies, as you know, suicide is expressly ruled out; and if this should turn out to have been a case of suicide—”
“What is there to suggest that it was?” asked Thorndyke.
“What is there to suggest that it wasn’t?” retorted Stalker.
“Nothing,” rejoined Thorndyke. “But a negative plea is of no use to you. You will have to furnish positive proof of suicide, or else pay the claim.”
“Yes, I realise that,” said Stalker, “and I am not suggesting—But there, it is of no use discussing the matter while we know so little. I leave the case in your hands. Can you attend the inquest?”
“I shall make it my business to do so,” replied Thorndyke.
“Very well,” said Stalker, rising and putting on his gloves,
“then we will leave it at that; and we couldn’t leave it in better case.”
When our visitor had gone I remarked to Thorndyke: “Stalker seems to have conceived the same idea as my learned senior—fraudulent suicide.”
It is not surprising,” he replied. “Stalker is a shrewd man and he perceives that when an abnormal thing has happened we may look for an abnormal explanation. Fraudulent suicide was a speculative possibility yesterday: today, in the light of these new facts, it is the most probable theory. But mere probabilities won’t help Stalker. If there is no direct evidence of suicide—and there is not likely to be any—the verdict will be Death by Misadventure, and the Griffin Company will have to pay.”
“I suppose you won’t do anything until you have heard what transpires at the inquest?”
“Yes,” he replied. “I think we should do well to go down and just go over the ground. At present we have the facts at third hand, and we don’t know what may have been overlooked. As tomorrow is fairly free I propose that we make an early start and see the place ourselves.”
“Is there any particular point that you want to clear up?”
“No; I have nothing definite in view. The circumstances are compatible with either accident, suicide or homicide, with an undoubted leaning towards suicide. But, at present, I have a completely open mind. I am, in fact, going down to Dartford in the hope of getting a lead in some definite direction.”
When we alighted at Dartford Station on the following morning, Thorndyke looked inquiringly up and down the platform until he espied an inspector, when he approached the official and asked for a direction to the site of the burnt rick.
The official glanced at Thorndyke’s canvas-covrered research-case and at my binocular and camera as he replied with a smile: “You are not the first, by a long way, that has asked that question. There has been a regular procession of Press gentlemen that way this morning. The place is about a mile from here. You take the foot-path to Joyce Green and turn off towards the creek opposite Temple Farm. This is about where the rick stood,” he added, as Thorndyke produced his one-inch Ordnance map and a pencil, “a few yards from that dyke.”
With this direction and the open map we set forth from the station, and taking our way along the unfrequented path soon left the town behind. As we crossed the second stile, where the path rejoined the road, Thorndyke paused to survey the prospect.
“Stalker’s question,” he remarked, “was not unreasonable. This road leads nowhere but to the river, and one does rather wonder what a city man can have been doing out on these marshes in the small hours of the morning. I think that will be our objective, where you see those men at work by the shepherd’s hut, or whatever it is.”
We struck off across the level meadows, out of which arose the red sails of a couple of barges, creeping down the invisible creek; and as we approached our objective the shepherd’s hut resolved itself into a contractor’s office van, and the men were seen to be working with shovels and sieves on the ashes of the rick. A police inspector was superintending the operations, and when we drew near he accosted us with a civil inquiry as to our business.
Thorndyke presented his card and explained that he was watching the case in the interests of the Griffin Insurance Company. “I suppose,” he added, “I shall be given the necessary facilities?”
“Certainly,” replied the officer, glancing at my colleague with an odd mixture of respect and suspicion “and if you can spot anything that we’ve overlooked, you are very welcome. It’s all for the public good. Is there anything in particular that you want to see?”
“I should like to see everything that has been recovered so far. The remains of the body have been removed, I suppose?”
“Yes, sir. To the mortuary. But I have got all the effects here.”
He led the way to the office—a wooden hut on low wheels—and unlocking the door, invited us to enter. “Here are the things that we have salved,” he said, indicating a table covered with white paper on which the various articles were neatly set out, “and I think it’s about the lot. We haven’t come on anything fresh for the last hour or so.”
Thorndyke looked over the collection thoughtfully; picked up and examined successively the two clay pipes—each with the initials “R. R.” neatly incised on the bowl—the absurd little mascot figure, so incongruous with its grim surroundings and the tragic circumstances, the distorted keys, the platinum chain-links to several of which shapeless blobs of gold adhered, and the crystal seal; and then, collecting the artificial teeth, arranged them in what appeared to be their correct order and compared them with the dental plate.
“I think,” said he, holding the latter in his fingers, “that as the body is not here, I should like to secure the means of comparison of these teeth with the skull. There will be no objection to that, I presume?”
“What did you wish to do?” the inspector asked.
“I should like to take a cast of the plate and a wax impression of the loose teeth. No damage will be done to the originals, of course.”
The inspector hesitated, his natural, official tendency to refuse permission apparently contending with a desire to see with his own eyes how the famous expert carried out his mysterious methods of research. In the end the latter prevailed and the official sanction was given, subject to a proviso. “You won’t mind my looking on while you do it?”
“Of course not,” replied Thorndyke. “Why should I?”
“I thought that perhaps your methods were a sort of trade secret.”
Thorndyke laughed softly as he opened the research case. “My dear inspector,” said he, “the people who have trade secrets are those who make a profound mystery of simple processes that any schoolboy could carry out with once showing. That is the necessity for the secrecy.”
As he was speaking he half-filled a tiny aluminium saucepan with water, and having dropped into it a couple of cakes of dentist’s moulding composition, put it to heat over a spirit-lamp. While it was heating he greased the dental plate and the loose teeth, and prepared the little rubber basin and the other appliances for mixing the plaster.
The inspector was deeply interested. With almost ravenous attention he followed these proceedings, and eagerly watched Thorndyke roll the softened composition into the semblance of a small sausage and press it firmly on the teeth of the plate; peered into the plaster tin, and when the liquid plaster was mixed and applied, first to the top and then to the lower surface of the plate, not only observed the process closely but put a number of very pertinent questions.
While the plaster and composition were setting Thorndyke renewed his inspection of the salvage from the rick, picking out a number of iron boot protectors which he placed apart in a little heap.
Then he proceeded to roll out two flat strips of softened composition, into one of which he pressed the loose teeth in what appeared to be their proper order, and into the other the boot protectors—eight in number—after first dusting the surface with powdered French chalk. By this time the plaster had set hard enough to allow of the mould being opened and the dental plate taken out. Then Thorndyke, having painted the surfaces of the plaster pieces with knotting, put the mould together again and tied it firmly with string, mixed a fresh bowl of plaster and poured it into the mould.
While this was setting Thorndyke made a careful inventory, with my assistance, of the articles found in the ashes and put a few discreet questions to the inspector. But the latter knew very little about the case. His duty was merely to examine and report on the rick for the information of the coroner. The investigation of the case was evidently being conducted from headquarters. There being no information to be gleaned from the officer, we went out and inspected the site of the rick. But here, also, there was nothing to be learned; the surface of the ground was now laid bare and the men who were working with the sieves reported no further discoveries. We accordingly returned to the hut, and as the plaster had now set hard Thorndyke proceeded with infinite care to open the mould. T
he operation was a complete success, and as my colleague extracted the cast—a perfect replica, in plaster, of the dental plate—the inspector’s admiration was unbounded. “Why,” he exclaimed, “excepting for the colour you couldn’t tell one from the other; but all the same, I don’t quite see what you want it for.”
“I want it to compare with the skull,” replied Thorndyke, “if I have time to call at the mortuary. As I can’t take the original plate with me, I shall need this copy to make the comparison. Obviously, it is important to make sure that this is Reed’s plate and not that of some other person. By the way, can you show us the spot where the plate was picked up?”
“Yes,” replied the inspector. “You can see the place from here. It was just by that gate at the crossing of the ditch.”
“Thank you, inspector,” said Thorndyke. “I think we will walk down and have a look at the place.” He wrapped the new cast in a soft cloth, and having repacked his research—case, shook hands with the officer and prepared to depart.
“You will notice, Jervis,” he remarked as we walked towards the gate, “that this denture was picked up at a spot beyond the rick—farther from the town, I mean. Consequently, if the plate is Reed’s, he must have dropped it while he was approaching the rick from the direction of the river. It will be worthwhile to see if we can find out whence he came.”
The Second R. Austin Freeman Megapack Page 16