“Now,” said the Superintendent when the brief greetings had been exchanged, “the first thing will be for Mr. Gray to identify the various parties. It is a mere formality, but it is necessary to connect his statements with actual persons. You will just look at the prisoners, Mr. Gray, and if you recognise any of them, you will tell us who they are and what you know about them.”
With this, he led me to the door, which was then thrown open by one of the guardians.
CHAPTER XVII
SOME STATEMENTS AND A TRAGEDY
(Jasper Gray’s Narrative)
As I stood for a moment in the open doorway and looked through into the large room beyond, I was sensible of an uncomfortable thrill. The grim spectacle on which I looked was an impressive illustration of the omnipotence of the law and its inexorable purpose when once set in motion. The room was as bare as the other, containing only a central table and a number of chairs ranged along the walls, on six of which, spaced at wide intervals, the prisoners were seated, each guarded by two constables. A single comprehensive glance took them all in; and then my eyes wandered back to Mrs. Hardcastle, and I hoped that Mr. Brodribb had not seen her.
She sat, rigid and ghastly, a very image of despair. The misery and deadly fear that her haggard face expressed wrung my heart in spite of my knowledge of her wickedness, though, to be sure, the whole extent of her wickedness was not then known to me. But even if it had been, her dreadful condition would still have shocked me.
“I recognise this lady,” I said huskily in answer to the Superintendent’s question. “I saw her in Pentecost Grove the day I escaped with Miss Stella Hardcastle. She was then dressed as a nurse.”
“It is a lie!” she exclaimed, casting a tigerish glance at me. “This young fool has mistaken me for some stranger.”
The Superintendent made no comment and we passed on to the next chair.
“This is James Trout,” said I. “All I know about him is that he gave me a bad half-crown and that he tried to prevent the other man from stabbing me.”
“Have you ever seen this man before?” the Superintendent asked when we came to the next prisoner. The man looked at me wolfishly, and as I answered in the affirmative, he uttered a sort of snarl. And again I was struck by his resemblance to Mrs. Hardcastle.
“He gave the name of Jacob Silberstein to the policeman,” said I, “but I heard some of the people address him as Mr. Zichlinsky.”
The three remaining prisoners were Ebbstein, Gomorrah, and the cab-driver, Louis, and when I had identified them we went back to the other room and once more the door was shut. The Superintendent took his seat at the table between Dr. Thorndyke and Mr. Brodribb, the strange gentleman laid a large notebook on the table before him and uncapped a fountain-pen, and I was given a chair next to Mr. Brodribb and provided with a blotting-pad, paper and pens and ink.
“You will listen to any statements that are made, Mr. Gray,” said the Superintendent, “and if any of them appear to you to be incorrect you will make no remark but write down the correction for our information later. And I need not say that you are to regard anything that you may hear as strictly secret and confidential.”
I signified that I clearly understood this, and the Superintendent then addressed Dr. Thorndyke.
“I think we had better begin with Trout. He is the most likely subject.”
As Dr. Thorndyke agreed, the Superintendent gave the name to one of the constables on guard, who then opened the door, and, entering the large room, presently returned accompanied by Trout, who was given a chair opposite the middle of the table and facing the Superintendent. The latter looked at him doubtfully for a moment or two as if considering how he should begin; but Trout solved the problem by opening the proceedings himself.
“You are makin’ a rare to-do about that bit of rope, sir,” he complained. “I don’t see why I’ve been brought here along o’ them foreign crooks. Suppose I did pinch that rope—which I didn’t. But suppose I did. It’s nothin’ to make all this fuss about.”
“You are quite right, Trout,” said the Superintendent. “The mere stealing of the rope is no great matter. We could let the dock company deal with that. It is a much more serious matter that we are concerned with; and the way the rope question comes into it is this: a piece cut off that rope—how long did you say that piece was, Doctor?”
“Thirteen feet,” Dr. Thorndyke replied.
“A piece thirteen feet long was cut off that rope, and this piece was taken to a house at Stratford—Number Five, Piper’s Row.”
He paused and looked steadily at Trout, who in his turn gazed at the Superintendent with an expression of astonishment and unmistakable alarm.
“The persons who took that piece of rope to that place,” the Superintendent continued, “also conveyed there the body of a man who had been murdered and they used the rope to hang that body from a beam.”
“But,” protested Trout, “that man hadn’t been murdered. The inquest found that he hung himself.”
“Yes, but we have since ascertained that he was murdered—drowned in a very unusual way. Now wait a moment, Trout. Before you say anything I must caution you that whatever you say will be taken down in writing and may be used in evidence against you at your trial.”
“My trial!” gasped Trout, now evidently terrified. “What do you mean, sir? Why are you cautioning me like this?”
“Because I now charge you with the murder of this man, Sir Edward Hardcastle, whose body was found in that house.”
“Me!” shrieked Trout, turning as pale as a bladder of lard. “You charge me! Why I don’t know nothin’ about it!”
“You are charged,” the Superintendent continued in calm, even tones, “together with Maurice Zichlinsky, Solomon Gomorrah, Louis Shemrofsky and Marie Hardcastle, with a conspiracy to murder the person I have named. Now, remember my caution. You are not bound to say anything and you had better think carefully before you do say anything. If you wish to make a statement you can do so, and it will be taken down in writing and you will be required to sign it. But there is no need for you to say anything at all.”
Trout reflected with an alarmed eye on the officer. Evidently he was thunderstruck by the turn of events and mightily puzzled how to act. At length, he said cautiously: “Supposing I was prepared to make a statement—though I don’t know nothin’ about the affair, mind you—”
“If you don’t know anything, your statement wouldn’t help us much,” the Superintendent remarked dryly.
“Well, if I was able to tell you anything at all, would you drop this charge against me?”
“No,” was the prompt reply. “I can make no promise or bargain with you. But if you are innocent, it will clearly be to your advantage that the true facts should be known. But don’t decide hastily. You had better go into the other room and think it over; and while you are considering whether you would like to make a statement, we will have Shemrofsky in.”
“Don’t you take no notice of what Shemrofsky says,” Trout implored with obvious apprehension. “He’s the biggest liar as ever drove a cab.”
“Very likely,” said the Superintendent. “But we shall have to listen to him if he wants to say anything. And if he chooses to tell lies, that is his lookout.”
Here the Superintendent nodded to Trout’s custodian and uttered the single word, “Shemrofsky,” whereupon the officer conducted his charge back to the other room and shut the door. There followed a short interval, during which we all sat looking at the closed door, awaiting the emergence of the other prisoner. Suddenly, a murmur of voices and a confused sound of movement was audible from within. Then the door flew open and a constable rushed out.
“The woman prisoner, sir!” he exclaimed in a dismayed tone. “There’s something the matter—”
Before he could finish, the Superintendent and the two doctors had sprung to their feet and darted in through the open doorway. From where I sat I got a glimpse of a row of prisoners and constables craning forward with h
orrified faces, and opposite to them Mrs. Hardcastle supported by two officers. When I first saw her, she was sitting bent forward with her head nearly on her knees; but then the officers raised her until she leaned back in her chair, when her arms fell down at her side, her head fell back and her chin dropped, leaving her mouth wide open. That was the last that I saw of her, for at that moment the door closed; and when, after a considerable interval, it opened again, her chair was empty.
As the Superintendent and the two doctors returned to their places Mr. Brodribb looked at them enquiringly.
“Too late,” said the Superintendent. “She was dead when the doctor got to her.”
“Dear, dear!” Mr. Brodribb murmured in a shocked tone. “Poor creature! I suppose her deathwas not—er—”
“Natural?” said Dr. Thorndyke. “No. It was apparently cyanide poisoning. She must have kept a little supply concealed on her person in case of an emergency. Probably one or two tablets.”
“Yes,” growled the Superintendent, “and we might have expected it. Ought to have had her searched. However, it’s too late to think of that now.”
But in spite of these expressed regrets, I had the feeling that he was less disturbed by the tragedy than I should have expected. And so with the others. Even the sensitive, soft-hearted Mr. Brodribb took the catastrophe with singularly calm resignation. Indeed, it was he who gave voice to what was probably the general view.
“A shocking affair. Shocking. And yet, perhaps, in view of what might have been—”
He did not finish the sentence, but I gathered that he was rather more relieved than shocked by what had happened. And, later, I understood why.
After a decent pause, the business was resumed. Once more the door opened and now the cabman, Louis, was led out by an officer and brought up to the table; and a glance at him told me that, on him, at least, the recent tragedy had fallen with shattering effect. His face was blanched to a tallowy white and damp with sweat, his eyes stared and his thin, bandy legs trembled visibly.
The Superintendent regarded him with a critical eye, and addressed him in passionless but not unfriendly tones.
“Sit down, Shemrofsky. The officer who arrested you has cautioned you that anything that you say may be used in evidence against you. Now, bear that caution in mind.”
“Yes,” replied Shemrofsky, “I shall remember. But zere is noding against me. I drive a cab. Zere is no harm to drive a cab.”
Mr. Miller nodded but made no comment, and Shemrofsky continued: “Zey say I take avay ze young lady, but zat is not true. Ze young lady get into ze cab by herself. Madame tell me vere to drive and I drive zere. Ze young lady get out of ze cab and go into ze house. I do not make her go. Madame could tell you I know noding of vot she do. But now Madame is dead and zere is nobody to speak for me.”
“Very well,” said the Superintendent. “We will let that pass. But there is another charge; and I caution you again that anything you say may be used in evidence against you. Don’t forget that.”
Shemrofsky turned, if possible, paler and stared apprehensively at the officer. “Anozer charge!” he exclaimed.
“Yes. It refers to a gentleman who was brought from Piccadilly, near Dover Street, to Number Fifty Pentecost Grove. In that house he was murdered, and his body was taken to Number Five Piper’s Row, Stratford. The murder was committed by Maurice Zichlinsky, Solomon Gomorrah and certain other persons; and I charge you with being one of those other persons. Now, remember my caution.”
For a few moments Shemrofsky gazed at the Superintendent in speechless consternation. Then he broke out, passionately: “You charge me zat I help to kill zat chentleman! I tell you I haf noding to do vid zat. I did not know zat anybody kill him. Somebody tell you lies about me. If Madame vas here, she vould tell you zat I chust drive ze cab vere I am told. Zat is all. I know noding of vot zey do.”
The Superintendent wrote down these statements, though the gentleman at the end of the table was apparently the official scribe. But he made no remark, and presently Shemrofsky continued: “Somebody have tried to put ze blame on me. But I shall tell you all zat I know. Zen you vill see zat I haf noding to do vid killing zis chentleman.”
“Do you mean,” said the Superintendent, with ill-concealed satisfaction, “that you wish to make a statement? You are not bound to say anything, you know. But if you wish to make a statement, you may; and it will be taken down in writing, and, when you have read it and find it correct, you will be required to sign it. But do exactly as you think best.”
“I shall tell you all vot I know,” said Shemrofsky, whereupon the Superintendent glanced at the recording officer—who took a fresh sheet of paper—and advised the prisoner to stick to the truth and begin at the beginning.
“You had better start,” said he, “by telling us what you know as to how this gentleman came to Pentecost Grove.”
“He came in my cab,” said Shemrofsky. “I vill tell you how it vos. Vun morning—it vas a Vednesday—Madame say to me zat a friend is coming to see Mr. Zichlinsky—zat vas her broder—and as he vould not know ze vay she vould fetch him in my cab. So she get in ze cab and tell me to drive to Dover Street, Piccadilly. Ven ve get zere, I valk ze horse slowly. Zen ze chentleman come. Madame push up ze trap vid her umbrella and I stop. Ze chentleman get into ze cab and I drive to Pentecost Grove as I haf been told. Madame and ze chentleman get out and go into Mr. Ebbstein’s house.”
“Ebbstein’s!” exclaimed the Superintendent. “I understood it was Gomorrah’s.”
“No, it vos Ebbstein’s. Vel, zey go in and I take my cab to ze yard. I see ze chentleman no more and I hear noding about him. Zen, on Sunday, Gomorrah come to me and say zat Mr. Zichlinsky want me to take ze chentleman to Stratford. He tell me to come for him at night a liddle before eleven. Ven I come to ze house—Mr. Ebbstein’s—Gomorrah tell me ze chentleman haf got drunk. He vos very drunk; so Gomorrah and Ebbstein haf to help him out to ze cab.”
“What do you mean by ‘help him out’?” asked the Superintendent. “Was he able to walk?”
“No, he vos too drunk. Zey haf to carry him out. Zey sit him in ze cab and zen Mr. Zichlinsky get in and sit by his side. Zey tell me to let down ze glass front, so I let it down and zen I drive to Stratford. Zey tell me to go up Stratford High Street, and ven I get zere I pull up ze trap and Mr. Zichlinsky tell me vich vay to go. Presently ve come to a row of houses vich seem to be empty, all but vun, vere I see a man standing at an open door. He make a sign to me and I stop and pull up ze glass front. Zen ze man get in and help Mr. Zichlinsky to take ze chentleman out of ze cab and carry him into ze house. Zey shut ze door and I drive avay and go home.”
“Was there any light in the house?” the Superintendent asked.
“Zere vos a lantern on ze floor chust inside.”
“With regard to this man,” said Mr. Miller. “Was he anyone that you knew?”
“It vos very dark,” Shemrofsky replied, evasively. “I could not see him plainly.”
“Still,” said the Superintendent, “he was quite close to you when he got into the cab. I don’t want to press you, but if you know who he was you had much better say so.”
“Vell,” Shemrofsky replied, reluctantly, “it vos very dark. I could not see vell, but ze man seem to look a liddle like Mr. Trout.”
“Ha! And what happened after that?”
“Noding. I go home and zat is all I know.” The Superintendent reflected awhile. Then he held out his hand to the scribe, who passed him the written statement. When he had glanced through it he read it slowly aloud, including the questions.
“Now, Shemrofsky,” he said, “is that all you know? Or would you like to add anything to it?”
“Zat is all I know,” was the reply; whereupon “the deponent” was provided with a pen, an instrument with which he seemed unfamiliar, but with which he contrived to make some sort of mark, which the Superintendent countersigned as witness. Then Shemrofsky was conducted back to the other room, whence Trout was b
rought forth to take his place.
“Well, Trout,” the Superintendent said, genially. “Have you thought it over?”
“Yus,” was the reply: “and I am going to make a statement. I ain’t going to lump in with them foreign crooks. I don’t ’old with their ways and I’ve told ’em so over and over again.”
“Then I take it that you are going to tell us all that you know about this affair and that you are going to make a true statement.”
“I am,” replied Trout, “though, mind you, I don’t know anything but what I’ve been told.”
“What you have been told,” said the Superintendent, “is not evidence. Still, it is your statement, so you can say what you please. You had better begin at the beginning and take the events in their proper order.”
“The beginning of the affair, as I understand,” said Trout, “was when this gent came to Ebbstein’s house. He came in Shemrofsky’s cab with Madame—she was Zichlinsky’s sister, I believe. They went in together, but Madame came out again almost at once and went into Gomorrah’s house. Shemrofsky told me this. The rest of the story I had from Gomorrah.
“It seems that Madame took the gent into Ebbstein’s work-room. There was no work being done there that day, so the women what worked for him had been given a day off. There was three men there: Zichlinsky, Ebbstein and Gomorrah; and as soon as Madame was gone, the whole three set about the gent. But he gave ’em more trouble than they had bargained for. They had meant to hang him and they’d got the rope ready, but they couldn’t manage him; and all the time, he was fairly raising Cain—hollering ‘murder!’ fit to fetch the roof off. Just then a woman runs in and says there was two coppers coming up the street. Ebbstein wanted to knife the gent straight away, but Zichlinsky wouldn’t let him; but as they was close to the pickle tub, they got him bent down and Zichlinsky shoved his head down into the brine and held it there while the other two lifted his legs. They held on like that until the coppers had passed out of the street, and when they took his head out of the brine he was dead.”
The Third R. Austin Freeman Megapack Page 106