“And now, gentlemen,” he said in conclusion, “we will proceed to take the evidence, and we had better begin with that of the medical witness.”
Hereupon Dr Nichols was called, and having been sworn, described the circumstances under which he was summoned to “The Rowans” on the night of the 20th of September, and the result of his subsequent examination of the body of the deceased. “The cause of death,” he stated, “was a bullet-wound of the chest. The bullet entered on the right side between the third and fourth ribs, and passed completely through the chest, emerging on the left side of the back between the fourth and fifth ribs. In its passage it perforated the aorta—the greater central artery—and this injury might have produced almost instantaneous death.”
“Could the wound have been self-inflicted?” the coroner asked.
“Under the circumstances, it could not, for although death was practically instantaneous, no weapon was discovered. If the injury had been self-inflicted, the weapon would have been found either grasped in the hand or lying by the body.”
“Was the weapon fired at close quarters?”
“Apparently not. At any rate there was no singeing of the clothes or any other sign indicating a very close range.”
That was the sum of Dr Nichols’ evidence, and on its conclusion the local inspector was called. His evidence, however, was of merely formal character, setting forth the time at which he received the alarm call from Mrs. Benham and the conditions existing when he arrived. When it was finished there was a short pause. Then the next witness was called. This was Sir Lawrence Drayton, who, after giving evidence as to the identity of the deceased, answered a few questions respecting the collection and his brother’s manner of life, and the articles which had been stolen.
“The report, then,” said the coroner, “that this was a collection of valuable jewellery was erroneous?”
“Quite erroneous. Deceased never desired, nor could he afford, to accumulate things of great intrinsic value.”
“Do you know if many strangers came to see the collection?”
“Very few. In fact I never heard of any excepting those who came after an article on the collection had appeared in the Connoisseur.”
“Do you know how many came then?”
“There was a small party of Americans who came by appointment and were introduced by one of the staff of the South Kensington Museum. And there was a Mr. Halliburton who wrote from some hotel for an appointment. All I know about him is that he was apparently not specially interested in anything in the collection excepting the pieces that were illustrated in the magazine. I believe he wanted to buy one of those, but I don’t remember which it was.”
That was the substance of Drayton’s evidence, and when he had returned to his seat, the next witness was called.
“Winifred Blake.”
Miss Blake rose, and having made her way to the table, took the oath and proceeded to give her evidence. After one or two preliminary questions, the coroner allowed her to make her statement without interruption, while the jury and the audience listened with absorbed interest to her clear and vivid account of the events connected with the crime. When she had finished her narration—which was substantially the same as that which I had heard from her on the night of the tragedy—the coroner thanked her for the very lucid manner in which she had given her evidence and then proceeded to enlarge upon one or two points relating to the possible antecedents of the tragedy.
“You have mentioned, Miss Blake, that you were led to communicate with deceased by a certain article which appeared in the Connoisseur. Did that article give you the impression that the collection described was an important collection of valuable jewellery?”
“No. The article explicitly stated that the chief value of the pieces was in their history and associations.”
“Are you an expert or connoisseur in jewellery?”
“No. As an artist I am, of course, interested in goldsmith’s and jewellers work, but I have no special knowledge of it. My interest in this collection was purely personal. I wished to examine one of the pieces that was illustrated.”
“Would you tell us exactly what you mean by a personal interest?”
“The Connoisseur article was illustrated with two photographs, one of a locket and the other of a pendant. The pendant appeared to me to resemble one which was an heirloom in my own family and which disappeared about a hundred and fifty years ago and has never been seen since. I wanted to examine that pendant and see if it really was the missing jewel.”
“Was the missing pendant of any considerable value?”
“No. It was a small, plain gold pendant set with a single cat’s eye, and the pendant shown in the photograph appeared to answer the description exactly so far as I could judge. Its actual value would be quite small.”
“You say that the actual, or intrinsic, value of this jewel would be trifling. Had it, so far as you know, any special value?”
“Yes. It appears to have been greatly prized in the family, and I believe a good many efforts have been made to trace it. There was a tradition, or superstition, connected with it which gave it its value to members of the family.”
“Can you tell us what was the nature of that tradition?”
“It connected the possession of the jewel with the succession to the estates. The custom had been for the head of the family to wear the jewel, usually under the clothing, and the belief was that so long as he wore the jewel, or at any rate had it in his possession, the estates would remain in the possession of the branch of the family to which he belonged; but if the jewel passed into the possession of a member of some other branch of the family, then the estates would also pass into the possession of that branch.”
The coroner smiled. “Your ancestors,” he remarked, “appear to have taken small account of property law. But you say that efforts have been made to trace this jewel and that a good deal of value was set on it. Now, do you suppose that this tradition was taken at all seriously by any of the members of your family?”
“I cannot say very positively, but I should suppose that any one who might have a claim in the event of the failure of the existing line, would be glad to have the jewel in his possession.”
“Is there, so far as you know, any probability of a change in the succession to this property?”
“I believe that the present tenant is unmarried and that if he should die there would be several claimants from other branches of the family.”
“And then,” said the coroner with a smile, “the one who possessed the cat’s eye pendant would be the successful claimant. Is that the position?”
“It is possible that some of them entertain that belief.”
“Have you any expectations yourself?”
“Personally I have not. But my brother Percival is, properly speaking, the direct heir to this estate.”
“Then why is he not in possession? And what do you mean exactly by the ‘direct heir’?”
“I mean that he is the direct descendant of the head of the senior branch of the family. Our ancestor disappeared at the same time as the jewel—he took it with him, in fact. The reason that my brother is not in possession is that we cannot prove the legality of our ancestor’s marriage. But it is always possible that the documents may be discovered—they are known to exist; and then, if a change in the succession should occur, my brother’s claim would certainly take precedence of the others.”
“This is very interesting,” said the coroner, “and not without importance to this inquiry. Now tell us, Miss Blake, would you yourself attach any significance to the possession of this jewel?”
Miss Blake coloured slightly as she replied: “I don’t suppose it would affect the succession to the property, but I should like to know that the jewel was in my brother’s possession.”
“In case there might be some truth in the belief, h’m? Well, it’s not unnatural. And now, to return for a moment to the man whom you tried so pluckily to detain. You have given
us a very clear description of him. Do you think you would be able to recognise him?”
“I feel no doubt that I could. As an artist with some experience as a portrait painter I have been accustomed to study faces closely and quickly and to remember them. I can form quite a clear mental picture of this man’s face.”
“Do you think you could make. I drawing of it from memory?”
“I don’t think my drawing would be reliable for identification. It is principally the man’s expression that I remember so clearly. I might be wrong as to the details of the features, but if I were to see the man again I am sure I should know him.”
“I hope you will have an opportunity,” said the coroner. Then, turning to the jury, he asked: “Do you wish to ask this witness any questions, gentlemen?” and on receiving a negative reply, he thanked Miss Blake and dismissed her with a bow.
My own evidence was taken next, but I need not repeat it since it was concerned only with those experiences which I have already related in detail. I was followed by Mrs. Benham, who, like the preceding witnesses, was allowed to begin with a statement describing her experiences.
“How did it happen,” the coroner asked when she had finished her statement, “that there was no one in the house when the thieves broke in?”
“I had to take a message for Mr. Drayton to a gentleman who lives at North End. It is quite a short distance, but I was detained there more than a quarter of an hour.”
“Was the house often left?”
“No, very seldom. During the day I had a maid to help me. She went home at six, and after that I hardly ever went out.”
“Were you alone in the house in the evenings when Mr. Drayton was at the club?”
“Yes. From about seven to between half-past nine and ten. Mr. Drayton used to lock the museum and take the key with him.”
“Did many persons know that deceased was away from the house every evening?”
“A good many must have known, as he was a regular chess-player. And anybody who cared to know could have seen him go out and come back.”
“On the night of the murder did he go out at his usual time?”
“Yes, a little after seven. But, unfortunately, he came back nearly two hours earlier than usual. That was the cause of the disaster.”
“Exactly. And now, Mrs. Benham, I want you to tell us all you know about the visitors who came to see the collection after the article had appeared in the Connoisseur. There were some Americans, I believe?”
“Yes. A small party—four or five—who came together in a large car. They sent a letter of introduction, and I think Mr. Drayton knew pretty well who they were. Then about a week later Mr. Halliburton wrote from the Baltic Hotel to ask if he might look over the collection, and naming a particular day—the sixteenth of this month—and Mr. Drayton made the appointment, although it was very inconvenient.”
“Was Mr. Halliburton known to deceased?”
“No, he was a complete stranger.”
“And did he come and inspect the collection?”
“Yes; he came, and Mr. Drayton spent a long time with him showing him all the things and telling him all about them. I remember it very well because Mr. Drayton was so very vexed that he should have put himself to so much inconvenience for nothing.”
“Why ‘for nothing’?” asked the coroner.
“He said that Mr. Halliburton didn’t seem to know anything about jewellery nor to care about any of the things but the two that had been shown in the photographs. He seemed to have come from mere idle curiosity. And then he rather offended Mr. Drayton by offering to buy one of the pieces. He said that he wanted to give it for a wedding present.”
“Do you know which piece it was that he wanted to buy?”
“The pendant. The other piece—the locket—didn’t seem to interest him at all.”
“Did you see Mr. Halliburton?”
“I only saw his back as he went out. Mr. Drayton let him in and took him to the museum. I could see that he was rather a big man, but I couldn’t see what he was like.”
“And are these the only strangers that have been to the house lately?”
“Yes; the only ones for quite a long time.”
The coroner reflected for a few moments, then, as the jury had no questions to ask, he thanked the witness and dismissed her.
The next witness was Inspector Badger, and a very cautious witness he was, and like his namesake, very unwilling to be drawn. To me, who knew pretty well what information he held, his evasive manoeuvres and his portentous secrecy were decidedly amusing, and the foxy glances that he occasionally cast in Thorndyke’s direction made me suspect that he was unaware of Superintendent Miller’s visit to our chambers. He began by setting forth that, in consequence of a telephone message from the local police, he proceeded on the evening of the twentieth instant to “The Rowans” to examine the premises and obtain particulars of the crime. He had obtained a rough list of the stolen property from Sir Lawrence Drayton. It included the pendant and the locket which had been illustrated in the article referred to.
“Should you say there was any evidence of selection as to the articles stolen?” the coroner asked.
“No. Only two drawers had been opened, and they were the two upper ones. The top drawer contained nothing of any value, and I infer that the thieves had only just got the second drawer open when they were disturbed.”
“Did you ascertain how many men were on the premises?”
“There were two men. We found their footprints in the grounds, and moreover, both of them were seen. And certain other traces were found.”
“Dr Nichols has mentioned that some hair was found grasped in the hand of deceased. Has that been examined?”
“I believe it has, but hair isn’t much use until you have got the man to compare it with.”
“I suppose not. And with regard to the other traces. What were they?”
The inspector pursed up his lips and assumed a portentous expression.
“I hope, sir,” said he, “that you will not press that question. It is not desirable in the interests of justice that the information that is in our possession should become public property.”
“I quite agree with you,” said the coroner. “But may we take it that you have some clue to the identity of these two men?”
“We have several very promising clues,” the inspector replied with some disregard, I suspected, for the exact wording of the oath that he had just taken.
“Well,” said the coroner, “that is all that really concerns us,” and I could not but reflect that it was all that really concerned Mr. Joseph Hedges, alias Moakey, and that the inspector’s secrecy was somewhat pointless when the cat had been let out of the bag to this extent. “I suppose,” he continued, “it would be indiscreet to ask if any information is available about the Mr. Halliburton whose name has been mentioned.”
“I should rather not make any detailed statement on the subject,” replied Badger, “but I may say that our information is of a very definite kind and points very clearly in a particular direction.”
“That is very satisfactory,” said the coroner. “This is a peculiarly atrocious crime, and I am sure that all law-abiding persons will be glad to hear that there is a good prospect of the wrongdoers being brought to justice. And I think if you have nothing more to tell us, Inspector, that we need not trouble you any further.” He paused, and as Badger resumed his seat, he took a final glance over his notes; then, turning to the jury, he said: “You have now, gentlemen, heard all the evidence, excepting those details which the police have very properly reserved and which really do not concern us. For I may remind you that this is not a criminal court. It is not our object to fix the guilt on any particular persons but to ascertain how this poor gentlemen met with his most deplorable death; and I am sure that the evidence which you have heard will be sufficient to enable you, without difficulty, to arrive at a verdict.”
On the conclusion of the coroner’s address, the
jury rapidly conferred for a few moments; then the foreman rose and announced that they had agreed unanimously on a verdict of wilful murder committed by some person or persons unknown, and they desired to express their deep sympathy with the brother of the deceased, Sir Lawrence Drayton; and when the latter had briefly thanked the jury, through the coroner, the proceedings terminated and the court rose.
As the audience were slowly filing out, Sir Lawrence approached Miss Blake, and having shaken hands cordially and inquired as to her convalescence, said: “That was a very remarkable story that you told in your evidence; I mean the simultaneous disappearance of your ancestor and this curious heirloom. As a Chancery barrister, unusual circumstances affecting the devolution of landed property naturally interest me. In the court in which I practise one sees, from time to time, some very odd turns of the wheel of Fortune. May I ask if any claim has ever been advanced by your branch of the family?”
“Yes. My father began some proceedings soon after my brother was born, but his counsel advised him not to go on with the case. He considered that without documentary evidence of my ancestor’s marriage, it was useless to take the case into court.”
“Probably he was right,” said Drayton. “Still, as a matter of professional interest—to say nothing of the interest that one naturally feels in the welfare of one’s friends—I should like to know more about this quaint piece of family history. What do you think, Anstey?”
“I think it would be interesting to know just at what point the evidence of the relationship breaks off, and how large the gap is.”
“Precisely,” said Drayton. “And one would like to know how the other parties are placed. What, for instance, would be the position if the present tenant were to die without issue, who are the heirs, and so on.”
“If it would interest you,” said Miss Blake, “I could give you fairly full particulars of all that is known. My grandfather, who was a lawyer, wrote out an abstract for the guidance of his descendants; quite a full and very clear narrative. I could let you have that or a copy of it, if I didn’t feel ashamed to take up your time with it.”
The Second R. Austin Freeman Megapack Page 27