“You say ‘for the last year or two’—what was his previous occupation?”
“He was originally a dental mechanic; but when my husband took the studio, as it contained a jeweler’s and enameler’s plant, Mr. Boles came there and began to make jewellery.”
Here I caught the eye of Inspector Blandy, and a certain fluttering of the eyelid recalled his observations on Mr. Boles’s “neo-primitive” jewelry. But a dental mechanic is not quite the same as a plumber’s apprentice.
The inquiry now proceeded to the circumstances of Peter Gannet’s disappearance and the dates of the various events.
“Can you remember exactly when you last saw Mr. Boles?”
“I think it was on Tuesday, the 21st of April; about a week before I went away. He came to the studio and had lunch with us, and then he told us that he was going to spend a week or ten days at Burnham in Essex. I never saw or heard from him after that.”
“You say that you went away. Can we have particulars as to when and where you went?”
“I left home on the 29th of April to stay for a fortnight at Westcliff-on-Sea with an old servant, Mrs. Hardy, who has a house there and lets rooms to visitors in the season. I returned home on Thursday, the 14th of May.”
“Between those two dates, were you continuously at Westcliff, or did you go to any other places?”
To this she replied in the same terms that she had used in her answers to Blandy, which I have already recorded. Here again I suspected that the coroner had received some help from the Inspector for he inquired minutely into the witness’s doings from day to day while she was staying at Westcliff.
“In effect,” said he, “you slept at Westcliff, but you frequently spent whole days elsewhere. During that fortnight, did you ever come to London?”
“No.”
“If you had wished to spend a day in London, could you have done so without your landlady being aware of it?”
“I suppose so. There is a very good train service. But I never did.”
“And what about Burnham? That is not so very far from Westcliff. Did you ever go there during your stay?”
“No. I never went farther than Southend.”
“During that fortnight, did you ever write to your husband?”
“Yes, twice. The first letter was sent a day or two after my arrival at Westcliff and he replied to it a couple of days later. The second letter I wrote a few days before my return, telling him when he might expect me home. I received no answer to that, and when I got home I found it in the letter box.”
“Can you give us the exact dates of those letters? You see that they are important as they give, approximately, the time of the disappearance. Can you remember the date of your husband’s reply to your first letter? Or perhaps you have the letter itself.”
“I have not. It was only a short note, and when I had read it I tore it up. My first letter was written and posted, I am nearly sure, on Monday, the 4th of May. I think his reply reached me by the first post on Friday, the 8th, so it would have been sent off on Thursday, the 7th. My second letter, I remember quite clearly, was written and posted on Sunday, the 10th of May, so it would have been delivered at our house early on Monday, the 11th.”
“That is the one that you found in the letter box. Is it still in existence?”
“No. Unfortunately, I destroyed it. I took it from the letter box and opened it to make sure that it was my letter, and then, when I had glanced at it, I threw it on the fire that I had just lit. But I am quite sure about the date.”
“It is a pity you destroyed the letter,” said the coroner, “but no doubt your memory as to the date is reliable. Now we come to the incidents connected with the disappearance. Just give us an account of all that happened from the time when you arrived home.”
In reply to this, Mrs. Gannet told the story of her alarming discovery in much the same words as she had used in telling it to me, but in greater detail, including her visit to me and our joint examination of the premises. Her statement was amplified by various questions from the coroner, but her answers to them conveyed nothing new to me with one or two exceptions. For instance, the coroner asked: “You looked at the hall stand and noticed that your husband’s hats and stick were there. Did you notice another walking-stick?”
“I saw that there was another stick in the stand.”
“Did you recognize it as belonging to any particular person?”
“No, I had never seen it before.”
“Did you form any opinion as to whose stick it was?”
“I felt sure that it did not belong to my husband. It was not the kind of stick that he would have used; and as there was only one other person who was likely to be the owner—Mr. Boles—I assumed that it was his.”
“Did you take it out and examine it?”
“No, I was not interested in it. I was trying to find out what had become of my husband.”
“But you assumed that it was Mr. Boles’s stick. Did it not occur to you as rather strange that he should have left his stick in your stand?”
“No. I suppose that he had gone out of the studio by the wicket and had forgotten about his stick. He was sometimes inclined to be forgetful. But I really did not think much about it.”
“Was that stick in the stand when you went away from home?”
“No. I am sure it was not.”
“You have mentioned that you called at Mr. Boles’s flat. Why did you do that?”
“For two reasons. I had written to him telling him when I should be home and asking him to come and have tea with us. As he had not answered my letter and did not come to the house, I thought that something unusual must have happened. But especially I wanted to find out whether he knew anything about my husband.”
“When you found that he was not at his flat, did you suppose that he was still at Burnham?”
“No, because I learned that he had returned about a week previously at night and had slept at the flat and had the next day gone away again.”
“Did you know, or could you guess, where he had gone?”
“No, I had not the least idea.”
“Have you any idea as to where he maybe at this moment?”
“Not the slightest.”
“Do you know of any places to which he is in the habit of going?”
“The only place I know of is his aunt’s house at Newingstead. But I understand from Inspector Blandy that inquiries have been made there and that his aunt has not seen or heard of him for some months. I know of no other place where he might be.”
“When you were describing your search of the premises, you said that you did not look in the studio. Why did you not? Was it not the most likely place in which he might be?”
“Yes, it was. But I was afraid to go in. Since my husband and Mr. Boles had been on bad terms, they had quarrelled dreadfully. And they were both rather violent men. On one occasion—which Dr. Oldfield has mentioned—I heard them actually fighting in the studio, and I think it had happened on other occasions. So, when I could find no trace of my husband in the house, I began to fear that something might have happened in the studio. That was why I was afraid to go there.”
“In short, you were afraid that you might find your husband’s dead body in the studio. Isn’t that what you mean?”
“Yes, I think that was in my mind. I suspected that something awful had happened.”
“Was it only a suspicion? Or did you know that there had been some trouble?”
“I knew nothing whatever about any trouble. I did not even know whether the two men had met since I went away. And it was hardly a suspicion; only, remembering what had happened in the past, the possibility occurred to me.”
When the coroner had written down this answer, he sat for a few moments looking reflectively at the witness. Apparently, he could think of nothing further to ask her, for, presently, turning to the jury, he said:
“I think the witness has told us all that she knows about this affair, but possib
ly some members of the jury might wish to ask a further question.”
There was a short pause, during which the members of the jury gazed solemnly at the witness. At length one enterprising juryman essayed a question.
“Could we ask Mrs. Gannet if she knows, or has any idea, who murdered her husband?”
“I don’t believe,” the coroner replied with a faint smile, “that we could ask that question, even if it were a proper one to put to a witness, because we have not yet decided that anyone murdered Peter Gannet, or even that he is dead. Those are precisely the questions that you will have to answer when you come to consider your verdict.”
He paused and still regarded the jury inquiringly, but none of them made any sign; then, after waiting for yet a few more moments, he read the depositions, took the signature, released the witness, and pronounced the name of her successor, Dr. Thorndyke; who came forward and took the place which she vacated. Having been sworn, he deposed, in answer to the coroner’s question:
“I attended Peter Gannet in consultation with Dr. Oldfield last January. I formed the opinion that he was suffering from arsenic poisoning.”
“Had you any doubt on the subject?”
“No. His symptoms were the ordinary symptoms of poisoning by arsenic, and, when I had him in the hospital under observation, it was demonstrated chemically that there was arsenic in his body. The chemical tests were made by Professor Woodfield and by me.”
He then went on to confirm the account which I had given, including the analysis of the arrowroot and the barley water. When he had finished his statement, the coroner asked, tentatively:
“I suppose you were not able to form an opinion as to how, or by whom, the poison was administered, or whether the poisoning might have been accidental?”
“No. I had no first-hand knowledge of the persons or the circumstances. As to accidental poisoning, I would not say that it was impossible, but I should consider it too improbable to be seriously entertained. The poisoning affected only one person in the house, and when the patient returned home after the discovery it did not recur. Those facts are entirely opposed to the idea of accidental poisoning.”
“What do you say about the arsenic that Dr. Oldfield found in the ashes?”
“I agree with Sir Joseph Armadale that there must have been some contamination of the ashes. I do not associate the arsenic with the body of the person who was burned—assuming the ashes to be those of a burned human body.”
“On that matter,” said the coroner, “perhaps you will give us your opinion on the fragments which Sir Joseph Armadale has shown us.”
He handed the box to Thorndyke, who took it and examined the contents with an appearance of the deepest interest, assisting his eyesight with his pocket lens. When he had—apparently—inspected each separate fragment, he handed the box back to the coroner, who asked, as he replaced it on the table:
“Well, what do say about those fragments?”
“I have no doubt,” replied Thorndyke, “that they are all fragments of human bones.”
“Would it be possible to identify deceased from these fragments?”
“I should say that it would be quite impossible.”
“Do you agree that the ashes as a whole may be assumed to be the remains of a burned human body?”
“That is an obviously reasonable assumption, though it is not susceptible of proof. It is the assumption that I should make in the absence of any reasons to the contrary.”
That concluded Thorndyke’s evidence, and when he retired, his place was taken by Professor Woodfield. But I need not record the Professor’s evidence since it merely repeated and confirmed that of Thorndyke and Sir Joseph. With the reading and signing of his depositions the body of evidence was completed and when he had returned to his seat, the coroner proceeded to his summing up.
“In opening this inquiry,” he began, “I said that there were three questions to which we had to find answers. First, are these ashes the remains of a human being? Second, if they are, can we identify that human being as any known person? And third, if we can so identify him, can we decide how he came by his death?
“Let us take these questions in their order. As to the first, it is definitely answered for us by the medical evidence. Sir Joseph Armadale and Dr. Thorndyke, both authorities of the highest eminence, have told us that all the fragments which are large enough to have any recognizable characters are undoubtedly portions of human bones; and they agree—as, indeed, common sense suggests—that the unrecognisable remainder of the ashes must also be presumed to be fragments of human bones. Thus our first question is answered in the affirmative. The bone ashes found in the studio are the remains of a human being.
“The next question presents much more difficulty. As you have heard from Dr. Thorndyke, the fragments are too small to furnish any clue to the identity of deceased. Our efforts to discover who this person was must be guided by evidence of another kind. We have to consider the persons, the places and the special circumstances known to us.
“As to the place, these remains were found in the studio occupied by Peter Gannet; and we learn that Peter Gannet has disappeared under most mysterious circumstances. I need not repeat the evidence in detail, but the fact that when he disappeared he was wearing only his indoor clothing, seems to preclude the possibility of his having gone away from his home in any ordinary manner. Now the connection between a man who has mysteriously disappeared, and unrecognisable human remains found on his premises after his disappearance, appears strongly suggestive and invites the inquiry, What is the nature of the connection? To answer this, we must ask two further questions: When did the man disappear and when did the remains make their appearance?
“Let us take the first question. We learn from Mrs. Gannet’s evidence that she received a letter from her husband on the 8th of May. That letter, we may presume, was written on the 7th. Then she wrote and posted a letter to him on the 10th of May, and we may assume that it was delivered on the 11th. Most unfortunately, she destroyed that letter, so we can not be absolutely certain about the date on which it was delivered, but we can feel little doubt that it was delivered in the ordinary way on the 11th of May. If that is so, we can say with reasonable confidence that Peter Gannet was undoubtedly alive on the 7th of May; but inasmuch as Mrs. Gannet found her letter in the letter box, we must conclude that at the date of its delivery, Peter Gannet had already disappeared. That is to say that his disappearance occurred at some time between the 7th and the 11th of May.
“Now let us approach the problem from another direction. You have seen the kiln. It is a massive structure of brick and fire-clay with enormously thick walls. During the burning of the body, we know from the condition of the bones that its interior must have been kept for several hours at a temperature which has been stated in evidence as well over 2000° Fahrenheit; that is to say, at a bright red heat. When Dr. Oldfield examined it, the interior was just perceptibly warm. Now I don’t know how long a great mass of brick and fire-clay such as this would take to cool down to that extent. Allowing for the fact that it had been opened to extract the ashes, as it had then been reclosed, its condition was undoubtedly favourable to slow cooling. We can confidently put down the time taken by the cooling which had occurred at several days; probably somewhere about a week. Now Dr. Oldfield’s inspection was made on the evening of the 15th. A week before that was the 8th. But we have seen that the disappearance occurred between the 7th and the 11th of May; and the temperature of the kiln shows that the burning of the body must have occurred at some time before the 11th and almost certainly after the 7th. It thus appears that the disappearance of Peter Gannet and the destruction of the body both occurred between those two dates. The obvious suggestion is that the body which was burned was the body of Peter Gannet.
“Is there any evidence to support that conclusion? There is not very much. The most striking is the discovery among the ashes of a porcelain tooth. You have heard Mr. Hawley’s evidence. He identifies tha
t tooth as one of a very distinctive kind, and he tells us that it is identically and indistinguishably similar to a tooth on the denture which he supplied to Peter Gannet. He will not swear that it is the same tooth; only that is is the exact facsimile of that tooth. So you have to consider what are the probabilities that the body of some unknown person should have been burned in Peter Gannet’s kiln and that that person should have worn a denture containing a right upper lateral incisor of the type known as Du Trey’s, in all respects identical with that in Peter Gannet’s denture; and how such probabilities compare with the alternative probability that the tooth came from Peter Gannet’s own denture.
“There is one other item of evidence. It is circumstantial evidence and you must consider it for what it seems to be worth. You have heard from Dr. Oldfield and Dr. Thorndyke that some months ago Peter Gannet suffered from arsenic poisoning. Both witnesses agree that the suggestion of accidental poisoning cannot be entertained. It is therefore practically certain that some person or persons administered this poison to Gannet with the intention of causing his death. That intention was frustrated by the alertness of the doctors. The victim survived and recovered.
“But let us see how those facts bear on this inquiry. Some unknown person or persons desired the death of Peter Gannet and sought, by means of poison, to compass it. The attempted murder failed; but we have no reason to suppose that the motive ceased to exist. If it did not, then Peter Gannet went about in constant peril. There was some person who desired his death and who was prepared, given the opportunity, to take appropriate means to kill him.
“Apply these facts to the present case. We see that there was some person who wished Gannet to die and who was prepared to realize that wish by murdering him. We find in Gannet’s studio the remains of a person who may be assumed to have been murdered. Gannet has unaccountably disappeared, and the date of his disappearance coincides with that of the appearance of these remains in his studio. Finally, among these remains, we find a tooth of a rather unusual kind which is in every respect identical with one known to have been worn by Peter Gannet. Those are the facts known to us, and I think you will agree with me that they yield only one conclusion: that the remains found in Peter Gannet’s studio were the remains of Peter Gannet, himself.
The Third R. Austin Freeman Megapack Page 231